Internal consistency, sequels and playing games.

Yesterday was Tuesday, and Tuesdays in Amsterdam means Sneak Previews in the cinema. As a pair of somewhat avid moviegoers, Housemate and me gave Fate a chance to fuck us over, and got tickets to an unknown movie. Tagging along with us was the magnificent person who shall remain unidentified, except for the moniker “Liz”, which nobody will get but I will, and this is all that matters, really. Usually Boyfriend tags along as well, but he is working outside of the country this week, so no such luck for me.
Liz, Housemate and myself had settled into our red velvet seats, already getting a bit sugar high-y on cokes and chocolate chips, and ready to be entertained. By this time advertising and suchlike had already told us the movie we were going to be enjoying:

----- Saw III. -----

Now this immediately instilled me with the feeling I might not enjoy myself all that much. I liked Saw, the first instalment of this increasingly crap continuum of thought, but more from a “what would I do” perspective than from a movie-going one. Ok, from here on in, I will start spoiling all of them, so if you haven’t seen them, save yourself the effort.

*****SPOILERLINE******SPOILERLINE*****SPOILERLINE*****

Saw started with two men in a basement, chained to the wall by chains around their ankles, and a tape-recorder telling them that they are playing a game. One of them, a doctor, is given a gun and is told he has to kill the other within a set period of time, otherwise his wife and child will be killed. Alternatively, they can use whatever is in the room to get out, and walk away. Well…walk. As all there is in the room except for a pile of debris are a couple of saws… Now me, in a situation where I have to choose between a stranger and the people I love, I would’ve shot the stranger before the tape had time to finish. The basic “You will have to kill him otherwise your wife and child *BANG* be killed. Should you not” and then turn of the tape and start calling out to whatever person is behind this to come and get me. Granted, not the nicest thing to do, but hey, I never pretend to niceness.

During the movie, we get some flashback-material telling us who the game-master is, a serial killer named Jigsaw who gives his victims a game to play, where they will have to do something to save their own live. These things range from killing other people to climbing through a room of razor wire, and as one can imagine, it gets a tad gruesome. But interesting nonetheless, I will admit.

Saw II was a loose sequel to the first, where we have a game consisting of the traditional group of stereotypes in an old house, where they have to go through a series of tests to get to some antidote against the poison that permeates the air. Already the movie had lost me there. The house is so old, so rickety, so obviously falling apart that pumping it full of poisonous gas with any degree of effectiveness would also mean all small animals and probably most of the people living around the house would end op very dead from the sheer volumes of gas in the air. The house should also quickly start behaving like one of those tube thingies you sometimes see at gas-stations, where people attach it to a blower and it stands up straight, sometimes with comically flailing arms.

So the premise of this movie sucks from the get go. This is bad, but not too bad, movies can have a stupid idea as long as they remain internally consistent, I always say. This movie, however, isn’t. Well, it pretends to be, but it isn’t. The characters respond to situations in ways blindingly stupid. Again, me, in a situation like that, would directly start cataloguing what type of people our little group is made off, what everybody can and cannot do, and how good everybody is at what they do. Granted, this might have little or no effect but just on the off chance there is a toxicologist in the house I would do a little round up. And then slap the inevitable toxicologist for not making himself known before I needed to start counting.

This is off course something these people do NOT do. What they do, however, is start fighting, being uncontrolled, and generally idiotic. Not a problem, panic works itself out, I say. But then they are told that they will survive if only they follow the rules. Now this killer has been operating for a while, and is known for letting the people who play his games to it’s extreme point live. So there is no reason to believe this situation should be otherwise. Nonetheless, they start breaking rules as were they professional boxers, and the rules the noses of their counterparts. Fair enough, again, see what it does, perhaps the insanely intelligent criminal has made some mistakes and hopes that by making you follow rules he will get away with them.
Obviously, you stop breaking rules after the first few people die. Well, after the first does, I’d say. The reasoning is very simple: No breaking of the rules: Live! Breaking of the rules: Die! What would you choose?

This is not to say that the insanely intelligent killer has not made any mistakes. In fact, he made a lot. Quite apart from the filling a house with poisonous gas and leaving the antidotes inside, he has set up traps that rely on luck more than I do when playing pool. People get basically killed because they just happen to be at point A when somebody else does something at point B. Granted, it was said that the thing at point B should not be done, but there was no way the killer would know that anybody would be at point A. In one to me memorable moment one of the characters sees a vial of antidote in a glass cage and sticks both hands in, only to get stuck in the mechanic of the cages entry. Now, any sane person in her situation would call out for help, or better yet, not put both hands in at the same time, but use one hand to get the antidote and the other to stop the mechanism from locking. Luckily for old Jiggy, this character was distracted by something shiny when they handed out the brains, and she perishes.

Good, Saw II annoyed the freaking shite out of me. Not just for the complete randomness of the deaths, which didn’t really mesh well with my idea of “rules”, I mean, if a “rule” is “do not stand somewhere when someone does something sometime” I would ask for a bit of clarification. No the real reason it annoyed me was the fact that we get to see what happens outside of the house, and outside of the house the police are talking to the serial killing genius, currently dying from cancer of the something. Judging by his general behaviour, cancer of the personality is most likely the case.
For in the name of all that is good and beautiful in the world is this a boring man. And the cop he is talking to, incidentally the father of one of the people in the house, is not much better. So we are treated to half reasonable slasherpic, half emochatter. And I hate emo-everything, let alone the chatter version.

At least the movie ends with a reasonably interesting twist, and once more, people get fucked over in ways they would not have been had they just listened to the nice boring psychopath. This is always a good thing. I will at one point become a psycho, especially if these movies keep being churned out of whatever godsforsaken hellhole they churn these out of, and I would like to have the idea that it pays of to listen to a killer firmly entrenched in the collective mind.

But yesterday… Saw III. And indeed, another notch, hup and tackle closer to the seemingly inevitable point where I will pick up the closest thing to me and start bashing people over the head with it. I will hope for y’all’s sake that this happens while I am visiting a cotton candy maze.

The movie starts out with some gore, then going on to some gore, and segues smoothly into some gore. Only problem is that moviemakers nowadays don’t realize gore for it’s own sake does not really work. I mean come on people, even porn has the occasional flimsy storyline to get from action to action, and sex and gore being some of humanities pressing wants the two should have something in common. Now for all those who might state that sometimes porn does not have a storyline and gore should therefore not be forced to do the same: this is true, but that is what movies like “faces of death” are for. Also: Your mother shakes chickens in hell you froofy porn fiends.

Saw III, or “descent into perpetuity, step 3” as I will call it from now on, does pretend to follow the same basic rules the first step did, but it really doesn’t. The games can no longer be survived, and the people just die horribly. Now I have no beef whatsoever with someone who needs to kill people in elaborate ways. Sure, it is not the way I would have chosen, but I at the same time make it a point to not verbally disagree with people who need to kill people.
A good thing that the perpetrator of these kills, not the classic Jigsaw but a whiney apprentice, is punished in the end for her transgressions. Silly girl, going around killing people horribly without giving them a chance on a disfigured but functional live.

Well, functional… Not to want to toot my own horn here, but I am well aware of the fact my reasonable to good looks have gotten me out of some dire situations. Should some insane maniac decide to maim or deform me, I’m sure I would be a good deal less functioning. Even worse, I will probably stop functioning altogether. I’m hardly gorgeous but I am vain as a motherfucker, so being unable to look into a mirror for fear of cracking will make my life a bit less fun. But hey, saving up for plastic surgery beats not having to save up for a coffin in this matter, so ignore this sidetrack.

Anyways. Story. Well, story… Female Doctor is kidnapped by Apprentice Whiner to take care of Dying Jigsaw. Meanwhile, a Grieving Father wakes up in a box. Apparently Female Doctor has to keep Dying Jigsaw alive for the time Grieving Father takes to finish, positively or negatively, the task set in front of him. We will get back to GF in a second.

In order to get FD to cooperate with the insane scheme of DJ, AW fastens around the neck of FD a collar designed to discharge a few rounds of ammunition into the pretty face of FD. This collar is linked to the heart monitor of DJ and both the mechanism that links the two machines and the triggers to discharge the rounds are mounted on the outside of the collar. The key to this contraption is enormous, and placed with little ceremony but a lot of obviousness around the neck of AW. This immediately annoyed me. Well, not immediately, it takes a while for the movie to get up to speed enough to annoy me, before this, I was just bored. The only thing keeping me form walking out was the fact both Liz and Housemate are two incredibly attractive women, and they were nestled basically in my shoulder because of all the gore. Hey, it might be platonic but it is the basic reason I surround myself almost exclusively with beautiful women.

Ok, but it annoyed me. Why? Because this doctor is smart and level-headed, and she should have been able to figure out a way out of this. Hell, even I got the basic point. If it were me, I would have cornered AW somewhere in the enormous and sharp item-filled warehouse the incarceration takes place in and quietly slit her throat. Then put something between triggers and calmly disengage the lock. Perhaps, as an encore, kill the bedridden maniac DJ. But then, perhaps that oath they all have to take would keep her from doing this, but then, you know, call the cops.

The above does not happen, for some reason as “DJ might scare if you, FD, kill me, AW, and then he might try to help me and pull some wires out of the heart monitor.” Or somesuch nonsense (the actual reason given, I kid you not). OBVIOUSLY the insane maniac is going to go through a lot of trouble acquiring a FD able to rescue him and then kill her at the drop of a hat. Yes… AW, yes I’m sure.

What does, however happen, is a rather graphically shown piece of impromptu brain surgery, and a lot of psychological torture of both AW and FD, and some pretty gold lighted flashbacky memory scenes from DJ. Useless, meaningless till the next instalment flashbacks, but hey, they are all gold and nice and people love each other.
As an aside, “Bedridden Maniac DJ” will become my stage-name when I start organizing karaoke nights when I am in a nursing home.

Meanwhile we see GF traversing a maze with some trap type situations. Basically he is put face to face with three people he blames for the death of his son and the sequential too light sentencing of the person who drove over the tricyclewielding toddler. A very ugly toddler, it must be said. We get a lot of flashbacks (AGAIN. Flashbacks can be nice but ever since Memento they have become overused if nothing else) about dad grieving and dad being a basic dickhead to his daughter and dad brandishing a gun.

Anyway, he is put in situations where he will get a chance to forgive those involved in the accident that took his son. First off, in a freezing room, he runs into the naked body of the woman who saw the whole thing happen but fled the scene. She is occasionally sprayed with water, and understandably freezing. GF father spends a lot of time overacting and not saving this woman, until she finally is covered with a layer of ice, and THEN he forgives her and tries to free her. A bit late there, you hack.

In the next room he meets the judge who sentenced the driver that killed the son to roughly 6 months. Apparently the whole thing was really an accident or whatever, but still GF is very vengeful. Apparently not liking the fact that your son dies and that nobody really seems to care is a bad thing in a person, at least according to the schlocks we will for lack of a better word call the “Script writers” of this interminable piece of utter drivel.
Ok, so he meets up with Judge, who is tied down at the bottom of a metal container. Into this container feeds the meat-grinder next to it, which is itself fed by an onslaught of very decomposed pigs. You have to admire some creativity here. GF can save Condescending Judge by finding a key hidden in the pile of toys the Dead Son used to own. He can also put all the stuff of DS into an incinerator, which will burn everything except the key.

Now in the freezing room, at least GF himself suffered some damage, to unhook the woman he had to press his face into some freezing metal pipes to get to the key that would save her. In this instance however, he merely has to incinerate some toys. Granted, toys with an emotional meaning, but ultimately just foam-rubber and plastic. He does this, after much overacting deliberation and some flashbacks, and saves CJ.

Anyway, judge saved, room left, he gets to the last of his tests, the man that ran down DS. Now this man is put into a machine that slowly turns around, twisting arms, legs and ultimately neck in positions these things were never meant to be in. This obviously results in some bones splintering and whatnot. The key to this contraption is in a glass or plastic case and can only be taken out by triggering the shotgun in that same case and aimed at the key.
Again, were it me, I would either try to break the case and get the key out from the side, staying out of the line of fire, or kick and mangle the case until the aim is off or the gun fires. GF goes for the key, is missed by the shot himself, but CJ is conveniently in the line of fire, so we waist neither bullet nor a chance to have another gruesome but unlikely death. The question whether it is a smart or at least commendable effort to warn someone who is RIGHT IN FRONT OF A GUN that this gun IS GOING TO GO OFF NOW is not really tackled in this movie, but apparently it is just another piece of proof that GF is in all likelihood one of the most incredible dickwads seen in history. (A piece of proof I agree with, this time)

Regretfully, by the time GF is anywhere near the key or the killer of DS, the killer’s head has already turned round far enough to compete with most owls and that girl from that movie in the “Guess who can read their own underwear labels” sweepstakes.
So another corpse, another dollar, and GF is presented on the leaving of this room with a gun and a single bullet.

Now we flash back to DJ, AW and FD, where AW has gotten jealous enough of the relationship between DJ and FD (she despises him, he needs her) to want to kill FD. DJ begs her not to, AW shoots FD anyways, and RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT GF comes in, we find out FD is the wife of GF, and that this is again an example of the amazing timing DJ has. A little bit of explanation follows, AW was apparently displeasing DJ or something.

GF starts to take care of FD, who has been shot in the stomach and might still live, but obviously GF has learned very little, and kills DJ by applying a circular saw to his neck area. Heart-monitor stops, charges go off, FD buys the farm.
And another tape starts playing, telling GF that DJ WAS the only person who knew were the daughter of GF and FD is.

Fade to black.

*****Spoiler End*****Spoiler End*****Spoiler End*****

All this, and what feeling does it leave when you walk out? Well, the feelings of anger, sadness, and confusion rivalled for my attention. Anger that this piece of crap was made, sadness for all those who did like it and need to be put down as soon as possible, and confusion about who would fund this disaster.

Also, it gave me 6 pages of blog, a rare occurrence, but then, it did piss me off a bit, in case it wasn’t clear from the above paragraphs.

Please, please do not go and see this movie. If it bombs, perhaps we will not have to see the 4th…

Stripes at “GET THE FUCK OF MY SCREEN”

Kevin.

Sometimes, there is just no disappointment.

This, in itself, can be remarkably disappointing, of course, but it does not really count, now does it? It always does a heart good to vent some ire and resentment at a cruel and uncaring world, and it always helps if one has a place to start from. Regretfully, my last few movie experiences have left me placeless, and bereft of irritation, so I will just have to wing it. But wing it I will.

First off, James Bond, Casino Royale. Because I kept hearing it was a surprisingly entertaining movie, and because it was the first Bond in a long while that was at least roughly based on a Fleming novel, I decided to chance it again. And as can be deduced from all above, I was not disappointed.

Sure, the man portraying this incarnation of the double-O really is ugly, despite a reasonable body I would say he is about as doable as the first ms. Bond, were she to be unearthed today. (This is absolutely no dig at the Rigg, loved that woman, but OHMSS was in 1969, and nobody looks right after 25+ years of being dead) In all fairness, this is slightly disappointing, after all, he is supposed to be getting the girl(s) and I always enjoy on screen smootching a good deal more when all participators are cute. No such luck this time.
But the movie, at least, was reasonably action filled, as a Bond needs to be, a good deal dumber than real life would ever be, as a good Bond needs to be, and storywise a mess of such momentous proportions that Lord of the Rings has something to be when it grows up. Things that are blatantly clear and obvious cannot get solved without the intervention of such a number of hints and information bombs that wading through those alone would take a good one and a quarter hour, and we have not even seen a good dress yet at this point in time.
But seriously, go see it. The movie is entertaining enough on it’s own, and as a Bond it does a good deal better than the previous few.

Next on offer last week was the movie based on Patrick Suskind’s incredible novel “Perfume, story of a murderer”. Now I love this book. Not in the least because I love the psychology of scent and the effects it has on our memory and emotions. The book goes into the creation of a scent so perfect that all who smell it are filled with love for the person wearing it. A story of the murder of several attractive young girls, by the hands of a deformed and plaguescarred dwarf.

The movie presents the themes and ideas from the book in a remarkable manner. Slowly passed for the most part, with some of the irreverent humor of the book, it really did a good job evoking the feelings the book evokes in me.

In a strange complement to the Bond movie described above, the main character in this movie is a good deal more attractive than he should be. Not that he is the most beautiful boy I have seen in a long time or anything, but he is certainly no deformed dwarf. All’s I can say is that I never pictured the literary Grenouille with eyelashes so lush and long they could entangle a stampeding bull-herd.

I have been paying attention to eyelashes a lot, lately, as an aside. I blame the fact that Boyfriend as incredible eyelashes, all starry and long and gorgeous. I, with my reasonable length and no curl, am jealous. Stupid bastard. On the other hand, I get to look at them, and he never sees them. So HA!

Ok, anyways. I understand that the realm of scent is very difficult to put into a motion picture, and I am happy to say the allusions in this film are very successful. Colours and setting work together to form a picture where one can practically see how it must have smelled.

The fact that the two most beautiful women in the movie share the same beautiful but strangelooking haircolour helps in seeing how they might have smelled somewhat alike, if this makes any sense.

It won’t, go see the movie, you’ll understand what I mean.

A very short blog this time, very sorry. Have a couple of ideas on the line, but can’t find all the words to post them here in the way I want to. Will try again later.

Till that time,
Stripes at half open.

Kevin.