I saw Spider-Man 3 this weekend, finally.
It was terrible.
The worst thing about it appeared to be this...
Dude... robbing a bank is one thing, but seriously... you stole Steve's SHIRT?
So, Kevin's a big Bond fan, you know.
I.
Am.
Not.
To put it mildly, I think Bond sucks. I think Bond movies suck. I frequently degenerate into periods of loathing in which I think everyone involved in Bond movies (sometimes including Bond fans) should be taken out, lined up against the wall and shot. Bond is a jackass, womanizing cretin with delusions of godhood and the movies range from the unbelievably bad to the helplessly stupid and banal.
(ok, that was maybe not quite so mild, but I seriously cannot deal with Bond.)
Anyway.....
This is pretty common knowledge that I hate Bond. If I can manage to shut up the feminst part of my brain that gets completely peeved every time Bond treats a woman like she's two tits, a hole and a heartbeat (heartbeat optional, and usually the warranty expires on heartbeat by the end of the movie), I can stand... a few of them. But really, I'd rather wash my eyeballs out with powdered glass.
So, Kevin tells me I should watch Casino Royale, that it's a lot different from the rest of the Bond movies, and that I might not hate it quite so much.
After rather a lot of belaboring on the point, I agreed that I'd give it 15 minutes.
I watched the whole thing. I still don't like James, and for me, it's hard to watch a movie in which I have no sympathy for the main character. In fact, I'd really, really like to see James Bond LOSE sometime. And not get laid. That'd make me happy. And honestly, if I'm going to spend an entire film hoping the 'good guy' loses, I'm not sure it's worth watching the movie.
But it didn't make me run screaming from the room, utterly disgusted with my husband for thinking it was a good film.
I probably don't really want to see it again. But it wasn't terrible.
And for me, about Bond, that's high praise indeed.
So, Liz and I went to see Brokeback Mountain on Friday...
Here's your Possible Spoiler Alert. Click at your own risk.
I had a couple of different motivations for seeing the film, which is so far out of my normal genre preferences as to be like traveling to Mars... dramas are really not my thing. I can't stand to have my emotions jerked around, especially when that's the sole point of a given scene. On the occasion that I am interested in a drama, I prefer to watch them in my own livingroom where I feel more comfortable indulging in a good cry.
I heard about the film shortly before all the massive hype started right after Kevin and I netflixed The Order and I spent a day or so trying to decide if I'd liked The Order or not. (I concluded that I did. It made me think and it was fascinating, if probably wholy inaccurate look at some catholic history...) I was vaguely interested, as I like westerns, and then a little more intrigued by the description. Hmmm, I thought, could be interesting.
I pinged Liz with the idea of doing a girl's night, then discovered the first opening was going to be very limited. I even priced the theoretical idea of flying up to see the film. Ha. Although at <$200, I did a little more than just dismiss it out of hand. In the end, though, I decided I'd catch it on DVD if nothing else.
I had great hopes for the movie. As I told a few friends, gays get a really bad treatment by hollywood. So often they get only two roles: the flat, flaming comedic minor character or the tragically going to die of AIDs boring role (or die tragically at the hands of homophobes. Or commit suicide. etc etc. How tragic. Yawn.) In either case I have rarely seen a gay character portrayed with much in the way of interest in him/her as a person, just as a 'lifestyle' to either mock or mourn.
(also, I find gay men fairly sexy in a similiar manner to most men's attraction to lesbianism... in a vouyeristic sort of way. I wouldn't actually - like many guys I know - want to be involved in sex with a gay couple. I certainly don't feel they have any need whatsoever to be 'converted'. I just want to watch. It might be weird, but there it is, and if I said the idea of watching Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal make out wasn't a big part of my wanting to see the movie, I'd be lying.)
I was slightly amused when we arrived at the theater... for one thing, I got carded for the movie, which led Liz and I to a discussion about the rating of the movie (it was R. I do not look less than 17. Really. Even on my best days.) Ah well, it was funny. For the second, watching the other people in the audience was intriguing. There were a lot of women (in pairs) and a few men (alone.) I noted that for the most part, people didn't sit in the same row as other groups. Weird dynamics going on there.
The pre-movie commercials were even more crack-smoking than usual and I wonder what marketing bracket they thought they were appealing to - companies being especially weird these days about 'supporting' gay causes. Witness the recent ballyhoo over GM's car ads in gay magazines...
Despite having great hopes for the movie, I didn't have much in the way of expectations... I had no idea what the plot was or anything in the way of 'spoilers' already under my wing.
That being said: I liked the movie. I did. And yet...
It was sort of dull. There was almost nothing in the way of 'action.' I don't even mean fights and exploding star destroyers... I mean, really, very little actually happened. The only plot was the love between these two men and the events of their lives that slowly got destroyed, consumed in a passion that they weren't allowed to share.
If it had been a movie about Jake's older sister Janie who was in love with a married man, there'd have been nothing of interest to critics or movie-goers. It was only because they were gay that made this from a quiet tragedy into the social commentary and award-hopeful hype. Now, on that basis, I agree. It's groundbreaking material, especially for a movie. It deserves to be honored, lauded and awarded. And yet, it could have been so much more.
There are some really great moments, and there are some major eye-rolling moments. I found the wives of both men to be spineless and insipid. Perhaps it was just the whole failure of communication thing, but Ennis's wife waited until years after their divorce to even explain that she knew about Jack. I find that beyond revolting. Spineless, weak... stupid.
Perhaps there was no way to mend a relationship that was nothing more than two children and a farce to hide the truth, but... it might have been nice for the confrontation to take place before the divorce instead of afterwards. Reminds me, perhaps, too much of my mother, who never mentioned any of the things my father did or didn't do during their marriage until it was much too late for any repairs to be attempted.
I found it easier to feel sorry for Jack, who was sneered at by his in-laws (not for being gay, but for coming from a poor background. His wife was pretty, smart, wealthy and almost entirely uninterested in him. I guess Jack felt that if he couldn't be happy, the least he could be was comfortable.
I ache for the intolerance that exists - even, especially now - that keep people from being comfortable with who they are, that keeps people apart from the ones that they love. Social stigmata is so ugly, cruel, and pointless. Honestly, what the HELL do people care that someone else is gay? There are so many sins to hate (according to the bible) and so many sinners to love, why are gays met with so much more visceral brutal cruelty than anything else? No one beats a person to death who disrespects their parents.... I just don't understand it... perhaps I simply can't.
Things have gotten better than they were. I know that, I hope for that every day. Things continue to get better, one tiny little step at a time. I know we all wish for great leaps, but I think those tiny steps are all we can realistically hope for. That this movie exists, that it's doing well in theaters, and that it really... shows what it's like, how hard it is... that's another tiny step.
That being said, it's still a slow, sometimes boring movie. There's less actual portrayed sex on screen than in your typical James Bond movies. The kissing is intense, bordering on violent, and I think that will revolt some of the fence-sitters who go to see the movie. And yet, the people who really OUGHT to see the movie wouldn't be caught at a showing in the same theater while it might be playing for fear all the muscles would go limp in their wrists or something.
I wish I understood that fear. Maybe if I could understand, I could counter it. Somehow. As close as I can get, the logic goes this way: I think it's icky and gross and I don't like it and it shouldn't be allowed.
Maybe I do understand. I feel that way about Republicans.
Matt recently posted an interesting site in his blog.
Intrigued, I went and filled out the survey thingie. The recommender gave me the following recommendations:
Clerks, which I have seen and enjoyed a lot.
And Almost Famous which I have not.
Today, when I was checking my Netflix queue, I checked the recommendations...
Number one Reccomended? "Almost Famous."
All right, already. I'll watch it. Sheeeeeesh.
Well... Netflicks has been steadily sending us movies and I've been steadily watching them. Except The Others. I skipped that one.
Quick Sum up...
Panic Room: Lukewarm suspense, lackluster performances, and just all around disappointing.
Final Destination: For a "please unplug your brain before entering the theater" movie, it was pretty cool....
Acting: Eh.... Jodie Foster doesn't do panic as well as she does other things. In this film, it took threatening her daughter in order to get her to stop pressing her fingers to her temples in the classic "You can't see me, but boy do I have a headache" sort of mannerism. Kristen Stewart is an impressively expressive little girl, except, of course, that for about the first 20 minutes of the film, I thought she was a boy. Country music singer Dwight Yoakam plays the evil, nasty bad guy and Forest Whitaker plays the nice, caring bad guy, with Jared Leto hanging out to play the good looking but rather stupid bad guy. It amazed me that there was very little chemistry between any of these actors and actresses. Even Foster and Stewart in some cute mother-daughter scenes were unable to manage more than scratch the surface of emotions. And the one time they came close, the script changed the subject so fast I was almost positive that I'd imagined it.
Panic Factor: none. I wasn't nervous or scared or even startled. And the only surprise I got was that Whitaker didn't manage to get away. Which seemed sort of a shame.
Special Effects: Well, the fire was sort of cool. The rest of it was pretty standard fare.
Plot: Well... my biggest problem was this: we have a panic room... castle keep... etc etc. With no food? I mean, yes, you don't expect to be in there for long, since the idea is to hide inside, call the police and the police come rescue you. However, there were three cases of survival gear in that room. And no food. No concentrates, no canned goods, no beef jerky. Excuse me? I don't think so. Some paranoid rich guy comes up with this scheme and he's not going to think of MOUTHWASH and forget to pack a candy bar!
Overall: Bleh... bleh bleh bleh.
Acting: Um... it's a horror movie, people don't act, they give passionate speeches just before they die and they scream a lot. Not to mention the fact that you've got your various steriotype roles. Here's Devon Sawa as the "reluctant hero" and Ali Larter as "the brainy, but outcast girl that's really quite pretty" and Kerr Smith as the "god, what an asshole popular guy, because of course, they all are, that's why they're popular, because they're such assholes." Forgive me, rambling a bit there... Despite all this, it works. Sawa is both cute and vulnerable. Larter looks more like she's really talking and less like she's reading off a teleprompter than most horror movie heroines. Smith has a lot of bravado, but he really portrays the fear and aggressive denial. I was impressed.
Panic Factor: 7 (scale of ten). The death scenes, including the dream sequence where Alex is imagining the airplane crash before it happens, are just beautiful. The earlier ones have nice build up... here you see the instrument of death... cue creepy music... cue wind for no reason... cue amorphous blob floating around in the reflection... but there's no slasher in this film, no evil "madman with a pick-axe" sort of thing... so all the deaths are accidental. Death in the everyday mundane. And my god, I'll never be able to hear "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver with a straight face again. (Of course, that's assuming I could in the first place, but we'll let that pass).
Special Effects: Fairly standard. Lots of bottled blood and nasty sharp things. I thought the bit with the downed live wire was overdoing it a lot, but the end scene really made up for it... hehe!
Plot: Well... it's a horror movie, it doesn't really have a plot, does it? I mean, the whole idea of a horror movie is to give you a bit of a chill, remind you that your life doesn't suck that much, and take $10 from your wallet and give it to the movie company... I still liked it. It set up the premise and was surprisingly true to its premise. If you accepted the idea that death had a design and Alex screwed it up, but it was going to get back its own... everything else was inevitable.
Overall: Get some popcorn, sit back, enjoy. And don't play John Denver music.
Well, first off....
We all know I have a major crush on Vin Diesel, and if you didn't, you obviously have not been paying attention. Oh... my my my my my... He's right up there on my cute-o-meter with the extremely gorgeous and equally funny Oded Fehr (how can you take an Arabian Knight seriously who prefers to carry a tommy-gun? Take him to bed, yes. Take him seriously, no.)
Spoilers Ahead (well, no, not really, but if you want to pretend the plot isn't as obvious as a zit on prom night...)
To be perfectly honest, xXx is trash. Utterly, completely, totally... trash.
Yeah, so what?
For two hours, you don't care that this is a thirteen-year-old boy's wet dream (fast cars, faster babes, and a lot of explosions slapped together with a haphazard explanation done in bad Russian accents), you don't care that the music is too loud, the lines have more mozerella than a triple cheese pizza, that the whole thing is just screaming to have a nintendo game made from it.
You're completely unsurprised by Danny Trejo showing up as the Columbian Drug Lord (I mean, come on, who else ever plays the completely over-the-top Mexican-Scumbag?) You're totally prepared for Asia Argento to be a secret agent... and of course, you're completely aware that, once again, the good guys (or, in this case, the Bad Dude - as opposed to the Bad Guys) will save the day. Sort of.
And yet, every little thing... just perfect.
The action sequences... wow. An avalanche filmed like it was an act of love, every detail just blows you out of your seat... amazing! The stunts (most of them done by Vin himself) are just intense, and, shot from several different angles all at once (while, admittedly, sort of reminiscent of hard-core Anime kung-fu fighting) are breathtaking.
And then there's the little things that just made it so perfect. Xander chasing Yelena (and just right here, I have to say that I thought she was adorable... no $10,000 per breast silicone job on that girl!) across the dance floor "But I'm a really good dancer!" with just the right tone of anticipated rejection... the way, completely tattood-up-the-wazzoo X can sit, perfectly at ease, in a very ritzy Prague resturant and not look completely out of place... the very-not-cool coat that he always wears... the brief moment, watching The Evil Villian Yorgi slaughter a bunch of Russian scientists, where he wipes his eyes before impatiently peering through his techno-specs... and gods! the way that man kisses!
Color this one as the best "park your brain at the door, get an extra-large popcorn and do not hold the artificial butter-flavored grease, and hold on to your chair" action flicks I've seen in quite a while!
When I was a child, my parents used to pack up the car twice a summer and drive to upstate New York.
I'm not talking about New York city, which is maybe seven hours from here, either.
I'm talking about getting up at o'dark-thirty and driving all the way to Plattsburg, New York, which is about ten miles from the Canadian border. It is about 800 miles, the way my parents went, which while it may be slightly shorter to drive through New Jersey... well, let's just say that New Jersey has its own issues and move right along, shall we?
We stopped for breakfast in Maryland, just off Route 15. My parents stopped every two hours for bathroom breaks and to change drivers. I sat in the backseat. When I was eight or so, my mother taught me about mile markers and what they meant. So that I didn't have to ask "how much farther?" because I could do the math myself.
My grandparent's house is 8 miles off of Interstate 87, mile marker 142. My parent's old house in Louisa was 8 miles off Interstate 64, mile marker 142. I always found that oddly fascinating.
I bring this up because I want to give you a brief comparison. I know what it's like to be bored. To have nothing to do and no room to do it in.
I was reminded of this today, sitting in the theater, watching K-19, observing Harrison Ford pretend to have a Russian accent. Nothing to do, and no room to do it in.
About halfway through this badly paced, extremely dull film, I leaned over and whispered to my husband, "I'm bored."
Thirty minutes later, when action is finally starting, I leaned over and whispered "Great. Now I'm bored and I'm nauseated."
I have seen this movie, and I have seen it done better. It was called Das Boot. I have seen this movie before, done somewhat better and it was called Hunt for Red October. I have seen this movie done badly, and it was called Crimson Tide.
"Are we there yet? How much further?"