Yes, short sequence is "once a month"-ish.
Well, as I probably have stated before, I'm disastrous at scheduling my blogging-points. Even when I have tons and tons of time on my hands, as I have right now, I simply forget. And yes, I know that I said I had a lot to say about some movies, shamefully I have to admit that most of it, well sucked. Not the movies, but what I had to say, certainly.
Now those of you who think that what I say here sucks anyway, why are you here? The rest of you shure will appreciate me not clogging up your time with, well, suckage.
So, what did I see this week. Three DVD's and one cinema-visit. The DVD's? It, The Dreamers, and Jeux d'Enfants. The cinema? Lucky Number Slevin.
Now that last one is not possible to review, for me, without spoiling it, but I can say that you should go watch it, it was entertaining and fun. Plus, Josh Hartnett is in a towel for a good scene, and though it isn't the best body ever, there is a thing to say for the entire beggar/chooser-thing.
The other three, will, in order:
It: Yes, the Stephen King-film, based on the book of the same title. And, as usual, the book is better. The fear and apathy of the book can never, ever be really put on film, and therefore any film will lose something in the translation. But the movie is okay, I guess, well, I think it is quite a good watch, even at it's three hour length. I do tend to watch the movie right after I finish reading the book. This to dull the books' edge a bit, I think.
Nuff said about this one, you either like King, and you will like this then, or you don't, and you won't.
The Dreamers. Bernardo Bertolucci's film of morality and sexuality experienced and broadened unchecked, and ended by the intrusing of the outside world. Three teenagers, a brother and sister, twin children of a French auther and his English wife, joined by an American student in a sumptuous apartment in Paris.
Their first meeting a thing of chance, a riot at a movie-theater. The three are film-buffs and quiz each other constantly on classic films. They hit it off right away and within two nights the hapless American is in the twins' home. From then, without the intrusion of the parents, on holiday to the seaside, the limits of the three are tested, broadened, stretched and snapped.
I love this movie. Not only because I'm a bit of a film-buff myself, and would've loved to be part of such a movie-dreamers-group. And not only because I think that the twins, for all their weirdness and disquieting closeness are as far as I'm concerned very, very attractive.
But a bit of both, I guess. The period of social change, the movie is set in the 60's, and the freedom given from these social revolutions, lends the film indeed a dreamlike, detached quality, the testing and stretching of boundaries is something I myself find really imortant, forcing one to discern ones own standpoints in life and perhaps realigning them to current views.
The movie ends a bit dully, I have to say, but nonetheless is one-and-three-quarters good and about ten minuts bad, and this is a good score, in my book.
Plus, I hope to one day find a person, boy or girl, that will play the movie game with me, and allow the same reprecussions. Not that they are truly outrageous, but most people don't like a good game anymore.
Last, Jeux d'Enfants. Two children get into a game of cap-ou-pas-cap. Dare or not. They have to give each other dares, and when one succeeds, he or she gets to dare the other.
Yes, games again, and again, a movie I truly like. French, and scored on different renditions of "La vie en rose" the movie blends childlike fantasy with the truth of children. The kids grow up, leave each other, hurt each other, fall in love, marry, but not each other, ruin each other and build each other up into an open ending that denotes either a double suicide or true unending love.
As said, love this love this love this. The game progresses and ages along with them with sometimes truly disatrous consequences but they are both addicted to it and to each other, wit all the hurt an addiction can bring.
But still, to me, it is a deeply romantic movie. They are Catherine and Heathcliff. Destined for each other, and destined to break each other.
Watching these two movies back to back might have been a bad plan. Suffice it to say, had I watched Dangerous Liasions after these two I'd have not been able to trust anyone for a week, but also would've fallen in love with most people I'd meet on the street.
I can say: watch. watch both these movies, and if you do like them, or agree with me on the review at least, let me know. Most people I know don't know the films and I can't convince them to watch "a French movie" cause of the Artsy-factor, and I would love to discuss them.
Post a comment, and if you do want to talk, post an MSN-adress or something.
For now, this is it, I'll try to do more, honest, somehow I'll find a rythm.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Friday, March 31, 2006
Yes, Yes, YES FINE! I’LL do a review again, sure.
Actually, I’ll do a couple in short sequence, having seen a couple of movies the last week and having something to say about most of them. But this is the first.
I was reading a review of “Brokeback Mountain” a few weeks ago where the critic had the pleasure of seeing the movie along with the last of the test-audiences. In this audience, at the end of the movie, someone remarked: “They never should have made this movie.” I agree. Not because BbM is a bad film (because it isn’t), or because it is wholly about somebody who is so unable to communicate that it is amazing for anyone, let alone at least three people, to fall head over heels for him (because it is).
No, Brokeback Mountain should not have been made because the world that makes the movie a possibility should not be there. People should NOT be killed because they love in an uncommon configuration. The world should be made in such a way that the subject matter of BbM can only be conceived in a general “what if the world was really fucked up” way, and serve as a cautionary tale along the lines of “look how good we have it”.
The fact that viewing the movie gives one the distinct impression that even though it is not based on a true story for as far as the writers know, it might, and probably will, have been played out just so, somewhere, is a sad and twisted thing to have in a world.
The knowledge that indeed a good parent only ten years ago would’ve cried at the kitchen table when their child vacated it’s closet is not a good thing to have. And yes, a good parent would’ve done just that, not for the loss of grandchildren but for the knowledge that someone somehow wants to hurt their child based on a stupid and ultimately inconsequent preference, and what parent would not weep?
But Brokeback Mountain was made, and, in my personal opinion, it needed to be made, given the world as we have it before us. Perhaps it will, in a small way, change the world so that our children’s children can watch this movie and see it as nothing more than fiction.
Yesterday, I went to “the New World” and god, if ever there was a movie that should simply not have been made, and which ads very little, if anything, to the world it now inhabits, it is this one.
Furthermore, should my children’s children find out that this movie has changed the world in even the smallest way and should they not do anything about this fact, I will rise from my grave, urn, crypt, riverbed or concrete pillar to haunt them till they even take their own lives or that of the scriptwriter(s). And yes, I would prefer for them to kill rather than to be killed, but one can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.
Now there are a few things I need to say in favor of this movie.
Start with the lead. Not Colin Farrell. His character has no arc, no change, no development, nothing. He is just Colin Farrell, nice-bodied but whiny-faced catalyst to a story he has no idea of how to handle. He has a tendency for grand roles but nowhere near the acting skills to pull of high-drama.
Let’s for now and all face it people: Farrell is beefcake. Good face, good body. He is an actor for romantic comedies and action flicks, nothing more. He should not be allowed to puppy-dog his way through another historical drama or any other thing that requires him to have depth or layers. For Christ sakes, he is out-acted by Christian Bale in this flick and nobody can accuse him of a consistent acting-strength
No, the lead, without a doubt goes to (and I need to google spelling here) Q'Orianka Kilcher. Her character, Rebecca (Pocahontas, though she is never called this during the movie) is as far as my limited acting experience can deduce, extremely difficult to pull of, and she does it. Wonderfully. Starting out as an innocent, growing half insane with grief and abandonment, turning into a woman that makes a conscious choice to better her life and ending a mature stranger in a world she doesn’t understand but can view as she does herself, with apparent humour and elegance.
Now I would put it to most present day actresses to do this believably, honestly. Just about the only thing in this movie I have nothing negative to say about is she.
The scenery and camerawork is simply sublime. The deserted landscapes, the boats, the people moving through waving grasslands and marshes are all lovingly, slowly set up, making for truly astounding imagery. Fair enough, most of the movie is visually perfect, beautiful and poignant. But only visual.
And don’t get me wrong, I am a visual person. I LIKE looking at pretty things/people. But there just aren’t enough in this movie, and when they do saunter ‘cross the screen they do so very, very little that watching them is a chore. An actual chore. A boring one.
And the movie is just too damn long. EVERYTHING takes ages. And it’s basically stupid. I’m sorry but it is. At the end of the film the two main characters meet again in England. John Smith, having left his Indian wife alone amongst strangers, meets up with her at her new husbands’ estate near London. They talk, for the first time in about five years, and he tells her that he has heard of her through the courtiers and nobles in town. Apparently our redskin has made quite an impression and is widely known as “her ladyship” and who would’ve thought?
Well, everybody...
Considering she is the most beloved daughter of the most powerful chieftain in, well, Virginia, I would say that merely becoming “her ladyship” is quite a step DOWN, you mongrel. She was a Princess! A goddess to her tribe, loved by all, and now she is a nobody with a good dress.
Stupid.
Simply stupid.
And then there is the sweet and simple scene in the beginning of the movie where we use the “pointing/touching and saying the word” method of language transference. She touches his lips, says “(&*&(“ and he says “lips” and they have both learned a new world. So on with eyes. And skin. And arms. Ears. Nose. Hair. Nose-hair. Earwax.
And this lengthy but useless filler is done by the Indian girl with sweetness and innocence, but by the western invader with a look that suggests that any moment now he is going to take her hand downwards out of the screen and say “erection”.
(I’m sure at least one porn-parody will use this technique)
This is not wrong, until we consider the fact that the girl is all but 13 or something like that.
And then it becomes wrong…
And wrong it stays. We KNOW Pocahontas was an Indian princess, and we KNOW that she is a good deal younger than Disney would have us believe, but in this movie that has been brought to the attention so very, very well. She is a young child, she plays games with her brothers, walks barefoot, smiles a lot, is sweet and kind and caring and she is about to be poked by some murdering Englishman with his one-eyed gopher and somehow it is icky.
Yes they love each other. Sure. But it is still icky.
And dull.
So very, very dull.
Seriously, dull. I could write this review in about real time with the movie and it would consist of basic phrases. Hmm, lemme try this.
The first five minutes:
A boat.
Another boat.
Another boat.
The boats.
Boats, different angle.
Boats again.
Shore, behind boats.
Boats.
BoaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Dull.
Very dull.
If you do go and see it, see it because of the female roles, even though there are only two of any consequence. Ignore the males, watch the scenery and if you ever think “I want to leave but I’ll stay to see if anything will happen” just leave, cause it won’t.
I was reading a review of “Brokeback Mountain” a few weeks ago where the critic had the pleasure of seeing the movie along with the last of the test-audiences. In this audience, at the end of the movie, someone remarked: “They never should have made this movie.” I agree. Not because BbM is a bad film (because it isn’t), or because it is wholly about somebody who is so unable to communicate that it is amazing for anyone, let alone at least three people, to fall head over heels for him (because it is).
No, Brokeback Mountain should not have been made because the world that makes the movie a possibility should not be there. People should NOT be killed because they love in an uncommon configuration. The world should be made in such a way that the subject matter of BbM can only be conceived in a general “what if the world was really fucked up” way, and serve as a cautionary tale along the lines of “look how good we have it”.
The fact that viewing the movie gives one the distinct impression that even though it is not based on a true story for as far as the writers know, it might, and probably will, have been played out just so, somewhere, is a sad and twisted thing to have in a world.
The knowledge that indeed a good parent only ten years ago would’ve cried at the kitchen table when their child vacated it’s closet is not a good thing to have. And yes, a good parent would’ve done just that, not for the loss of grandchildren but for the knowledge that someone somehow wants to hurt their child based on a stupid and ultimately inconsequent preference, and what parent would not weep?
But Brokeback Mountain was made, and, in my personal opinion, it needed to be made, given the world as we have it before us. Perhaps it will, in a small way, change the world so that our children’s children can watch this movie and see it as nothing more than fiction.
Yesterday, I went to “the New World” and god, if ever there was a movie that should simply not have been made, and which ads very little, if anything, to the world it now inhabits, it is this one.
Furthermore, should my children’s children find out that this movie has changed the world in even the smallest way and should they not do anything about this fact, I will rise from my grave, urn, crypt, riverbed or concrete pillar to haunt them till they even take their own lives or that of the scriptwriter(s). And yes, I would prefer for them to kill rather than to be killed, but one can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.
Now there are a few things I need to say in favor of this movie.
Start with the lead. Not Colin Farrell. His character has no arc, no change, no development, nothing. He is just Colin Farrell, nice-bodied but whiny-faced catalyst to a story he has no idea of how to handle. He has a tendency for grand roles but nowhere near the acting skills to pull of high-drama.
Let’s for now and all face it people: Farrell is beefcake. Good face, good body. He is an actor for romantic comedies and action flicks, nothing more. He should not be allowed to puppy-dog his way through another historical drama or any other thing that requires him to have depth or layers. For Christ sakes, he is out-acted by Christian Bale in this flick and nobody can accuse him of a consistent acting-strength
No, the lead, without a doubt goes to (and I need to google spelling here) Q'Orianka Kilcher. Her character, Rebecca (Pocahontas, though she is never called this during the movie) is as far as my limited acting experience can deduce, extremely difficult to pull of, and she does it. Wonderfully. Starting out as an innocent, growing half insane with grief and abandonment, turning into a woman that makes a conscious choice to better her life and ending a mature stranger in a world she doesn’t understand but can view as she does herself, with apparent humour and elegance.
Now I would put it to most present day actresses to do this believably, honestly. Just about the only thing in this movie I have nothing negative to say about is she.
The scenery and camerawork is simply sublime. The deserted landscapes, the boats, the people moving through waving grasslands and marshes are all lovingly, slowly set up, making for truly astounding imagery. Fair enough, most of the movie is visually perfect, beautiful and poignant. But only visual.
And don’t get me wrong, I am a visual person. I LIKE looking at pretty things/people. But there just aren’t enough in this movie, and when they do saunter ‘cross the screen they do so very, very little that watching them is a chore. An actual chore. A boring one.
And the movie is just too damn long. EVERYTHING takes ages. And it’s basically stupid. I’m sorry but it is. At the end of the film the two main characters meet again in England. John Smith, having left his Indian wife alone amongst strangers, meets up with her at her new husbands’ estate near London. They talk, for the first time in about five years, and he tells her that he has heard of her through the courtiers and nobles in town. Apparently our redskin has made quite an impression and is widely known as “her ladyship” and who would’ve thought?
Well, everybody...
Considering she is the most beloved daughter of the most powerful chieftain in, well, Virginia, I would say that merely becoming “her ladyship” is quite a step DOWN, you mongrel. She was a Princess! A goddess to her tribe, loved by all, and now she is a nobody with a good dress.
Stupid.
Simply stupid.
And then there is the sweet and simple scene in the beginning of the movie where we use the “pointing/touching and saying the word” method of language transference. She touches his lips, says “(&*&(“ and he says “lips” and they have both learned a new world. So on with eyes. And skin. And arms. Ears. Nose. Hair. Nose-hair. Earwax.
And this lengthy but useless filler is done by the Indian girl with sweetness and innocence, but by the western invader with a look that suggests that any moment now he is going to take her hand downwards out of the screen and say “erection”.
(I’m sure at least one porn-parody will use this technique)
This is not wrong, until we consider the fact that the girl is all but 13 or something like that.
And then it becomes wrong…
And wrong it stays. We KNOW Pocahontas was an Indian princess, and we KNOW that she is a good deal younger than Disney would have us believe, but in this movie that has been brought to the attention so very, very well. She is a young child, she plays games with her brothers, walks barefoot, smiles a lot, is sweet and kind and caring and she is about to be poked by some murdering Englishman with his one-eyed gopher and somehow it is icky.
Yes they love each other. Sure. But it is still icky.
And dull.
So very, very dull.
Seriously, dull. I could write this review in about real time with the movie and it would consist of basic phrases. Hmm, lemme try this.
The first five minutes:
A boat.
Another boat.
Another boat.
The boats.
Boats, different angle.
Boats again.
Shore, behind boats.
Boats.
BoaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Dull.
Very dull.
If you do go and see it, see it because of the female roles, even though there are only two of any consequence. Ignore the males, watch the scenery and if you ever think “I want to leave but I’ll stay to see if anything will happen” just leave, cause it won’t.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)