When I see a movie, there's a part of me of course that dissects the movie, that criticizes it. But I could never be a film critic because those criticisms are for me, so that I can become a better filmmaker hopefully by understanding what worked and didn't work for other filmmakers. I don't see the point of publishing my criticisms, particularly when the chances of the filmmaker seeing them is zero to none. Why should I criticize if not to be constructive?
When I see a movie, there's a part of me of course that has a gut reaction, that likes or dislikes the films for a variety of reasons that likely aren't technical. They can turn technical quickly, though. Liking the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice because it is so pretty ends up a compliment to the art direction and the fluid cinematography. Finding Twilight hilarious when it isn't supposed to be derides a bad story, bad acting, and so on and so forth.
When I see a movie, I want to enjoy it for whatever reasons. I never go into a movie wanting to hate it. Sometimes I'll go in expecting to not find it a good movie, but that doesn't matter because I still want to be entertained, which is why I've seen all three Twilight films despite holding no love for the franchise - they entertain me even if I don't think they're good.
It does matter to me if I think a movie is good or bad, but it matters equally if I think a movie is entertaining or not. As a movie-goer, I am an expert in neither, but in constant practice of deducing both.
Which one is more important to me? Well, that depends who I am watching that movie. If I am Sarah the Aspiring Filmmaker, it probably matters more to me if the movie is well-made or not. If I am Sarah the Amateur Movie-Lover, I don't really care about any faults of Tron: Legacy because I'm enjoying the ride so much. So I'll miss them, I won't discuss them, and I won't care.
These two sides overlap, of course. There's no helping letting them get in the way of one another, but that's good, because my favorite movies - maybe not the best movies ever made, but my favorite movies - fulfill both sides.
And I will criticize movies that people will roll their eyes about and tell me that it's not a "thinking" movie or that it doesn't deserve analysis or that I should shut up and just enjoy the ride, though honestly I don't do that to the extent several people I know do. To that I say it doesn't matter what the intention of the film was, it's what I take away that matters. If I take away from Tron: Legacy that lightcycles are badass, that's fine. If I take away from The Twilight Saga: Eclipse that Bella faces a common, old choice in fantasy fiction of choosing between the fantasy and the normal world in having to choose between her suitors, that's fine too. It's a selfish cause for me, to criticize films, because it gives me more to understand, helps me become better at my craft.
So what's the point of me rampantly denouncing the Twilight series as atrocious all over the internet? Sure, I do think they are bad movies, but who the hell is it going to help for me to criticize? Sure, some people have to do it as their careers and I don't deride them for that because they tend to be higher-profile, people listen to them (I amongst them) and listen to their advice based on their criticisms of films. That's great, because that can keep me from having a movie-going experience I might have regretted. Or, perhaps, it might keep me from having a movie-going experience that I would've enjoyed just the same, though it's likely hardly a life-ending dilemma if I miss out on Sucker Punch since the reviews came back bad.
It's the role of some to do that. It's not my job. Nobody's paying me, and even if they did, I don't want to. I don't like tearing down people's work for an invisible audience.
It always comes back to Ratatouille for me any time I breach these topics. Anton Ego knows where it's at. Even "bad" art takes effort, takes time, takes skill. Somebody wanted to do this and, likely, someone wanted it to be good. I'm sure there are the cases where it's ALL marketing, but honestly, there is something to this superhero trend - superheroes are interesting, fascinating, and sure, marketable - more than just some fat cat producer-type thinking it'll be a cash cow. That's part of it, but considering the things we see that work in these big budget flicks, even they have parts that stand up and shout "I WANT THIS TO BE GOOD." Everyone's definition of good might be a little different though. Put your cynicism aside, I'm not talking about one of those definitions being "it made money" - the definition I think would be most similar to that is "those explosions were so well-done the audience loved them." And sure, it takes some work to make good explosions, let's not pretend otherwise.
Whether it's a "bad" Hollywood blockbuster or a "bad" independent production, someone wanted to do something they thought would be good/entertaining. And why should we begrudge them that? We don't have to buy the tickets to see the movie if we don't want to, and if your cynicism is right, and in this case I imagine it is, not buying movie tickets will hurt all of these productions more than some scathing reviews. Saying "this is shit" will only go so far. Word-of-mouth is still powerful. For instance, I saw a rather terrible musical production on my college campus recently. What was I going to do to make sure none of my friends suffered the unfortunate fate of wasting their time seeing it? Not writing a nasty review in the school paper - I just told them it wasn't worth their time. Obviously, they'd make up their minds in the end if they were determined to see it, but it was one of those cases where it was so truly bad, I had to tell people it wasn't worth it. But my defense wasn't "well, the art direction was bad and the sound levels were rough and the script was jumbled" even though it was all true. My defense was "it's bad. It's boring. It's not worth it." Simple and still true.
Anyway, I'm going off on about fifteen tangents right now, so I will leave it at this. I think film criticism is, at a professional level, a generally good idea. However, as an aspiring filmmaker, criticism to me is important but a subject that must be handled well. When it comes to criticism, that's where we get into the specifics, complimenting and deriding different aspects. But if you criticize my film and you don't offer any suggestions, why should I listen to you? If you could make it better, then tell me how and I'll take your advice to heart. And if you have a gut reaction, an emotional reaction, a reaction that doesn't fit nicely into a proper critique, that's probably more important to me. I don't care as much if these small factors are good - if you liked my piece, or it made you feel something, that's important to me.
One of my classmates recently said that the best thing she ever heard from our professor was that her piece was doing what she had been trying to get her piece to do.
That's a pretty awesome feeling to know you're doing it right.
Showing posts with label movie critics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movie critics. Show all posts
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Ego: Anton Ego and yours.
When I think about which Pixar movie is my favourite - and believe me, as a clear lover of everything Pixar, I think about this often enough - Ratatouille usually isn't at the top of my list (though it is never at the bottom). But that isn't because I don't love it - I truly do. Ratatouille was a grand experience - my first real foray into appreciating animated "kids" movies as, well, not an adult, but a seventeen-year-old, who might normally think they're too good for an animated movie and fully capable of seeing every movie at that age (three years later, I still get thrown off when I get carded 'cause I'm just so used to seeing everything regardless of rating, something my thirteen-year-old self would be jealous of). I'd seen most of the other Pixar movies, I'd lived through the Disney renaissance, but not like this.
The main thing I take away from Ratatouille is not the beautiful main message of the film, the one whose slogan rings throughout - "anyone can cook" - and translates into a tale of rising above one's circumstances based on talent and drive. The most beautiful and meaningful message any film has given me is also the most grounding of them - Anton Ego's stunning review of his meal at Remy's hands.
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more."
One reason I admire film critics and all people who love film is how they love finding something new to share with everyone else. It's such a pleasure to ask a friend, "have you seen ___?" and to hear them reply in the negative. Then, you are granted the opportunity to open their eyes to that world.
But it is that same admirable quality that I also can't stand in film critics, people who love films, and oftentimes even in myself. Because, as much as I love film myself, most people do not care nearly as much as people like me and people who dedicate themselves to a life of loving, understanding, and analyzing film.
We all have different opinions. Like everyone else, I fall prey to being upset when someone disagrees with something I feel so strongly about - people who refuse to see Star Wars or people who avoid animated movies because they're "for kids" or people who are too stuck up to appreciate the badassery of Death Race or people who are too bored with film to listen to my recommendations. But all of those people exist and I'd be a fool to hate all of them for those reasons. I love film, but people who only like it or don't like it at all are not any worse or better than me by that mere characteristic.
Ego's speech from Ratatouille, particularly the first few sentences, often give me the swift kick in the rear I think everyone involved in film (other fields too, I'm sure, but the entertainment and art fields in particular fall prey to this most, I feel) really needs. We all need a reminder that our opinions, what we say and what we write and all the time and energy we dedicate to our field isn't the be all and end all. So many people simply do not care about what we have to say or what we do. Saying that one movie sucks or one movie is awesome doesn't really matter at all, because we're all going to make up our own minds, and so many people won't even bother to do as much as they simply don't care enough to see the movie. You might praise some obscure title non-stop, but that won't it an instant classic. You might get a few more viewers, but there's no guarantee, no matter how influential your position is. Even Oprah doesn't reach everyone.
Our dedication and love for our craft matters to us, but not to everyone, so we shouldn't get frustrated or try to change the world to fit our style. I would never discourage anyone from doing what they love - considering my life as a film student, this is not news - but I would recommend not obsessing over it to the point where you simply cannot accept a contrary point of view.
Now, where does this all come from? Of course, it comes from a combination of Ego's speech always being with me and from the few negative reviews Toy Story 3, which I previously reported brought me to crazy-ass tears. There are two ways I can spin this little speech of my own. Firstly, I can say that it is totally the opinion of the reviewers to say what they will. As much as I may be prejudiced against and frustrated by the reviews, they're just opinions and they don't change how the movie made me feel.
The other thing to take away, though, is where the reviews are coming from. I won't dare to presume that these couple reviews come from anyplace unnatural or forced, but I know there are critics in the world who do enjoy being mean or contrary for the sake of their own enjoyment and to be different in some way or another. Or they choose to only look at a movie or other work of entertainment/art from a certain perspective so as to find the negative angles. To those critics, I say shame on you. Let your opinions come from your heart as well as your head. We can praise the technical achievements or complain about ordinary dialogue, but what really matters is what the film does for you, personally, and that's all we can take away. Each review is individual to the person who writes it and we might agree or we might not. We all appreciate different works for different reasons, and that's fine by me. I mean, my love for Toy Story 3 comes from somewhere deep in my heart, though I'd also defend most other aspects of the film. Other films, though intelligent and well-made and good in so many respects, may still leave me wanting more or totally emotionless.
I want to be involved in a movie I watch, not detached and watching it for the sake of observing it. As a film student, I do plenty of observing and, though it's useful, it's also work. Some films take work and it pays off, but others don't give me anything. And I like films that can absorb me and fill me up - there are good films that give and good films that take.
Anyway, I'm rambling. My point, simply enough, is that first and foremost, no man is an island and no one should ever assume that what they love would capture anyone else in the same way. As a film major with so few film major friends, I am reminded again and again that my friends really don't want to talk about movies 24/7, although I most certainly could. We lovers of cinema shouldn't be so full of ourselves... and believe me, plenty of us are that full of ourselves.
Second and final point: Within that larger scope of life on Earth in general, there is the smaller scope of the film world. Within it, none of us are the same. There are those who make film for entertainment and those who make it for art. There is plenty of success and plenty of failure in both categories. Let's not be snooty or untrue to our own tastes. I won't pretend I like something because other people do, but I also won't trash on something other people like just to be different. I wish more people lived by that.
The main thing I take away from Ratatouille is not the beautiful main message of the film, the one whose slogan rings throughout - "anyone can cook" - and translates into a tale of rising above one's circumstances based on talent and drive. The most beautiful and meaningful message any film has given me is also the most grounding of them - Anton Ego's stunning review of his meal at Remy's hands.
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more."
One reason I admire film critics and all people who love film is how they love finding something new to share with everyone else. It's such a pleasure to ask a friend, "have you seen ___?" and to hear them reply in the negative. Then, you are granted the opportunity to open their eyes to that world.
But it is that same admirable quality that I also can't stand in film critics, people who love films, and oftentimes even in myself. Because, as much as I love film myself, most people do not care nearly as much as people like me and people who dedicate themselves to a life of loving, understanding, and analyzing film.
We all have different opinions. Like everyone else, I fall prey to being upset when someone disagrees with something I feel so strongly about - people who refuse to see Star Wars or people who avoid animated movies because they're "for kids" or people who are too stuck up to appreciate the badassery of Death Race or people who are too bored with film to listen to my recommendations. But all of those people exist and I'd be a fool to hate all of them for those reasons. I love film, but people who only like it or don't like it at all are not any worse or better than me by that mere characteristic.
Ego's speech from Ratatouille, particularly the first few sentences, often give me the swift kick in the rear I think everyone involved in film (other fields too, I'm sure, but the entertainment and art fields in particular fall prey to this most, I feel) really needs. We all need a reminder that our opinions, what we say and what we write and all the time and energy we dedicate to our field isn't the be all and end all. So many people simply do not care about what we have to say or what we do. Saying that one movie sucks or one movie is awesome doesn't really matter at all, because we're all going to make up our own minds, and so many people won't even bother to do as much as they simply don't care enough to see the movie. You might praise some obscure title non-stop, but that won't it an instant classic. You might get a few more viewers, but there's no guarantee, no matter how influential your position is. Even Oprah doesn't reach everyone.
Our dedication and love for our craft matters to us, but not to everyone, so we shouldn't get frustrated or try to change the world to fit our style. I would never discourage anyone from doing what they love - considering my life as a film student, this is not news - but I would recommend not obsessing over it to the point where you simply cannot accept a contrary point of view.
Now, where does this all come from? Of course, it comes from a combination of Ego's speech always being with me and from the few negative reviews Toy Story 3, which I previously reported brought me to crazy-ass tears. There are two ways I can spin this little speech of my own. Firstly, I can say that it is totally the opinion of the reviewers to say what they will. As much as I may be prejudiced against and frustrated by the reviews, they're just opinions and they don't change how the movie made me feel.
The other thing to take away, though, is where the reviews are coming from. I won't dare to presume that these couple reviews come from anyplace unnatural or forced, but I know there are critics in the world who do enjoy being mean or contrary for the sake of their own enjoyment and to be different in some way or another. Or they choose to only look at a movie or other work of entertainment/art from a certain perspective so as to find the negative angles. To those critics, I say shame on you. Let your opinions come from your heart as well as your head. We can praise the technical achievements or complain about ordinary dialogue, but what really matters is what the film does for you, personally, and that's all we can take away. Each review is individual to the person who writes it and we might agree or we might not. We all appreciate different works for different reasons, and that's fine by me. I mean, my love for Toy Story 3 comes from somewhere deep in my heart, though I'd also defend most other aspects of the film. Other films, though intelligent and well-made and good in so many respects, may still leave me wanting more or totally emotionless.
I want to be involved in a movie I watch, not detached and watching it for the sake of observing it. As a film student, I do plenty of observing and, though it's useful, it's also work. Some films take work and it pays off, but others don't give me anything. And I like films that can absorb me and fill me up - there are good films that give and good films that take.
Anyway, I'm rambling. My point, simply enough, is that first and foremost, no man is an island and no one should ever assume that what they love would capture anyone else in the same way. As a film major with so few film major friends, I am reminded again and again that my friends really don't want to talk about movies 24/7, although I most certainly could. We lovers of cinema shouldn't be so full of ourselves... and believe me, plenty of us are that full of ourselves.
Second and final point: Within that larger scope of life on Earth in general, there is the smaller scope of the film world. Within it, none of us are the same. There are those who make film for entertainment and those who make it for art. There is plenty of success and plenty of failure in both categories. Let's not be snooty or untrue to our own tastes. I won't pretend I like something because other people do, but I also won't trash on something other people like just to be different. I wish more people lived by that.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Television Shows I Will One Day (Re)Watch ... + Bright Star
Rewatch:
- Battlestar Galactica (again; seen two times through, but will never get tired of... or have the time again...)
- Cowboy Bebop (I've seen it many times, but it's been years and recently I've been recalling just how truly amazing it is)
- True Blood (maybe I'll skim some of the first season, but I'd like to revisit it)
- Heroes (...first season. I saw it many times, but that was before the subsequent seasons were so bad)
- Glee (once the first season ends, I look forward to revisiting it and loving every moment)
- Chuck (...it's so good and I miss it so much. DON'T KILL ME; I never saw the season 1 finale)
Watch:
- Lost (when it finishes)
- Breaking Bad (...I'll start it eventually)
- Upstairs, Downstairs (I loved Gosford Park; this seems appropriate)
- My So-Called Life
- Freaks and Geeks
So mostly, I wrote this post because I really, really, really want to rewatch Cowboy Bebop. And Battlestar Galactica (but I always want to be watching BSG; I hope there is a parallel universe somewhere where all I do is watch BSG). But mostly, recently, particularly because I am (or rather, should be) writing a paper on Yoko Kanno, frontwoman of The Seatbelts, responsible for the brilliant soundtrack to the only anime I've ever given the time of day to. Cowboy Bebop was my favourite TV series prior to discovering Battlestar Galactica (yeah, I like me some space settings), and sometimes I forget why. Not because it's not brilliant, but because I haven't touched it in so long. I want so badly to have the thirteen (fifteen including the movie) hours necessary to just watch the whole thing. Stupid frakking homework.
On a brighter (no pun intended) note, I saw Bright Star earlier this afternoon. My mother (rightfully) thought it was slow, but I enjoyed the pace of the movie. It didn't feel slow to me because it didn't drag and the pace was steady; no rushing thither and hither (something that pissed me off about Becoming Jane was its sort-of-ending where the back-and-forth just contrasted far too much with the rest of the movie and was just blegh... but there are other reasons I don't like Becoming Jane that much that I won't get into here). Anyway, not only did I fall head-over-heels in love with the GORGEOUS Ben Whishaw, but I also loved Abbie Cornish's performance (as many have already noted in the critical world, but I don't have the bonus of advanced screenings and a career devoted to the habits that I have to find time to indulge). She was a real treat, as was the whole movie. I normally don't like historical/period romances very much. Atonement bothered me, Becoming Jane was annoying, the only ones I really tend to like are Jane Austen adaptations (Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice were both delightful, in my opinion). But I really did enjoy watching Bright Star and only felt about two ounces of guilty over it (but I blame that on my torn eye between the buzzed-about Abbie Cornish and the beautifulbeautifulbeautiful Ben Whishaw). And even if the movie wasn't a spectacular sensation, the delicacy of it and how well put together it was reflects very strongly on Jane Campion, who directed the film extremely well. No wonder she's one of the only three women to ever be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director. And as Lina Wertmuller made Swept Away (comment on the politics all you want, that is one effed-up movie) and Sofia Coppola disgraced The Godfather, Part III (thank god she's a better writer/director than actress), I think she's probably my favourite of the small club. I know it's a tough season alongside James Cameron, Jason Reitman, Clint Eastwood, Peter Jackson, and even another woman (thank goodness!) Kathryn Bigelow, but I really admired Jane Campion's work in the direction of Bright Star. I just wonder to myself how long until someone updates Wikipedia with a listing of fact vs. fiction for the film (I know next to nothing about John Keats so I wouldn't know myself).
Anyway, that's all I've got to say for now. Might see Zombieland before the long weekend's out, but I wouldn't count on it. But Friday = Where the Wild Things Are! Please let it be amazing!
- Battlestar Galactica (again; seen two times through, but will never get tired of... or have the time again...)
- Cowboy Bebop (I've seen it many times, but it's been years and recently I've been recalling just how truly amazing it is)
- True Blood (maybe I'll skim some of the first season, but I'd like to revisit it)
- Heroes (...first season. I saw it many times, but that was before the subsequent seasons were so bad)
- Glee (once the first season ends, I look forward to revisiting it and loving every moment)
- Chuck (...it's so good and I miss it so much. DON'T KILL ME; I never saw the season 1 finale)
Watch:
- Lost (when it finishes)
- Breaking Bad (...I'll start it eventually)
- Upstairs, Downstairs (I loved Gosford Park; this seems appropriate)
- My So-Called Life
- Freaks and Geeks
So mostly, I wrote this post because I really, really, really want to rewatch Cowboy Bebop. And Battlestar Galactica (but I always want to be watching BSG; I hope there is a parallel universe somewhere where all I do is watch BSG). But mostly, recently, particularly because I am (or rather, should be) writing a paper on Yoko Kanno, frontwoman of The Seatbelts, responsible for the brilliant soundtrack to the only anime I've ever given the time of day to. Cowboy Bebop was my favourite TV series prior to discovering Battlestar Galactica (yeah, I like me some space settings), and sometimes I forget why. Not because it's not brilliant, but because I haven't touched it in so long. I want so badly to have the thirteen (fifteen including the movie) hours necessary to just watch the whole thing. Stupid frakking homework.
On a brighter (no pun intended) note, I saw Bright Star earlier this afternoon. My mother (rightfully) thought it was slow, but I enjoyed the pace of the movie. It didn't feel slow to me because it didn't drag and the pace was steady; no rushing thither and hither (something that pissed me off about Becoming Jane was its sort-of-ending where the back-and-forth just contrasted far too much with the rest of the movie and was just blegh... but there are other reasons I don't like Becoming Jane that much that I won't get into here). Anyway, not only did I fall head-over-heels in love with the GORGEOUS Ben Whishaw, but I also loved Abbie Cornish's performance (as many have already noted in the critical world, but I don't have the bonus of advanced screenings and a career devoted to the habits that I have to find time to indulge). She was a real treat, as was the whole movie. I normally don't like historical/period romances very much. Atonement bothered me, Becoming Jane was annoying, the only ones I really tend to like are Jane Austen adaptations (Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice were both delightful, in my opinion). But I really did enjoy watching Bright Star and only felt about two ounces of guilty over it (but I blame that on my torn eye between the buzzed-about Abbie Cornish and the beautifulbeautifulbeautiful Ben Whishaw). And even if the movie wasn't a spectacular sensation, the delicacy of it and how well put together it was reflects very strongly on Jane Campion, who directed the film extremely well. No wonder she's one of the only three women to ever be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director. And as Lina Wertmuller made Swept Away (comment on the politics all you want, that is one effed-up movie) and Sofia Coppola disgraced The Godfather, Part III (thank god she's a better writer/director than actress), I think she's probably my favourite of the small club. I know it's a tough season alongside James Cameron, Jason Reitman, Clint Eastwood, Peter Jackson, and even another woman (thank goodness!) Kathryn Bigelow, but I really admired Jane Campion's work in the direction of Bright Star. I just wonder to myself how long until someone updates Wikipedia with a listing of fact vs. fiction for the film (I know next to nothing about John Keats so I wouldn't know myself).
Anyway, that's all I've got to say for now. Might see Zombieland before the long weekend's out, but I wouldn't count on it. But Friday = Where the Wild Things Are! Please let it be amazing!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Ancitipating District 9... and a TDK rant.
So here I was all sad that there wasn't a movie both adventurous and interesting, a movie in the same vein as The Dark Knight, that both excites and provokes me, and here comes District 9, a movie that I have not yet seen but deeply want to now. I hadn't heard much of it beyond a title and that Peter Jackson was involved until recently, when Entertainment Weekly did a cover story on it last week. Since then, I have really wanted to watch this movie and have heard a great deal about it.
Unfortunately, I am currently on vacation in Venezuela, but when I get home, I am getting to the nearest movie theatre and watching District 9 (...and then Julie & Julia, The Hurt Locker, Inglorious Basterds, and Taking Woodstock).
Don't tell me what happens! I want to see for myself. I don't want to be overexposed because I want to be thrilled by what I see not thinking, "oh I remember reading about this part" (although, I have to admit, reading about and seeing the Joker in a nurse's uniform is still different enough for the visual to be hilariously awesome).
BTW, I am skimming rottentomatoes at the moment in a slight pit of boredom and saw that some critic, I forget who, commented that The Dark Knight does not seem to recognize the absurdity of its premise, or something similarly phrased. And, in return, I say, you, sir, are full of shit. "Oh man, a guy who dresses up like a bat and fights crime." Yeah, it sounds ridiculous. So does "a bunch of hobbits going on a journey with elves, dwarves, and men to fight evil and destroy a ring of power." It upsets me when people have to reduce a telling story to the superficial premise. I did it with Harry Potter ("ooh a book about some boy wizard. sounds stupid") before I read the books and realized that I was mistaken; yes, the superficial premise is there, but that's not what the story's about. And why not dress up like a bat to fight crime? It seems pretty practical: you have a dark exterior, you can hold out your "wings" to fly and... yeah, that's about all that's different about Batman's get together and, let's say, a dude who just dresses up in armour with weapons to fight crime.
Yeah, that is clearly totally absurd. Oh wait, I'm forgetting about the maniac who is known as the Joker. Hmm... well, firstly, he's insane... and secondly, ...he dresses funny and refers to himself as the Joker? I think the first one covers it all: he's insane, Mr. Movie Critic, and why not do crazy things like pretend you're a court jester with some grenades and guns if you're insane?
Anyway, this started out as excitement and anticipation to see District 9 and ended with The Dark Knight. Don't all my posts? My apologies, as I've said before, The Dark Knight is simply among the best films I've ever seen.
Unfortunately, I am currently on vacation in Venezuela, but when I get home, I am getting to the nearest movie theatre and watching District 9 (...and then Julie & Julia, The Hurt Locker, Inglorious Basterds, and Taking Woodstock).
Don't tell me what happens! I want to see for myself. I don't want to be overexposed because I want to be thrilled by what I see not thinking, "oh I remember reading about this part" (although, I have to admit, reading about and seeing the Joker in a nurse's uniform is still different enough for the visual to be hilariously awesome).
BTW, I am skimming rottentomatoes at the moment in a slight pit of boredom and saw that some critic, I forget who, commented that The Dark Knight does not seem to recognize the absurdity of its premise, or something similarly phrased. And, in return, I say, you, sir, are full of shit. "Oh man, a guy who dresses up like a bat and fights crime." Yeah, it sounds ridiculous. So does "a bunch of hobbits going on a journey with elves, dwarves, and men to fight evil and destroy a ring of power." It upsets me when people have to reduce a telling story to the superficial premise. I did it with Harry Potter ("ooh a book about some boy wizard. sounds stupid") before I read the books and realized that I was mistaken; yes, the superficial premise is there, but that's not what the story's about. And why not dress up like a bat to fight crime? It seems pretty practical: you have a dark exterior, you can hold out your "wings" to fly and... yeah, that's about all that's different about Batman's get together and, let's say, a dude who just dresses up in armour with weapons to fight crime.
Yeah, that is clearly totally absurd. Oh wait, I'm forgetting about the maniac who is known as the Joker. Hmm... well, firstly, he's insane... and secondly, ...he dresses funny and refers to himself as the Joker? I think the first one covers it all: he's insane, Mr. Movie Critic, and why not do crazy things like pretend you're a court jester with some grenades and guns if you're insane?
Anyway, this started out as excitement and anticipation to see District 9 and ended with The Dark Knight. Don't all my posts? My apologies, as I've said before, The Dark Knight is simply among the best films I've ever seen.
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