Enya - Epona (1987) [Original Post]
Sunday, October 07, 2018
Saturday, October 06, 2018
Letterboxd: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Up to this point I've made very little effort to see Batman v
Superman: Dawn of Justice. I've been a fan of Superman and Batman on the
page (and screen) for most of my conscious life, but it was clear from
previews this wasn't going to be for me. What I failed to grasp was how
totally and utterly terrible the experience would be.
It's difficult to think of any arena where this film doesn't meet with failure. At times it barely functions as a narrative film, shuffling from one sequence to the next, clumsily delivering pieces of information for future reference. I wouldn't like to say too many negative things about wardrobe or extras in the film, but nobody is spared the wrath of an ever-present layer of computer-rendered muting, damning almost all facets to condemnation.
The visual hue is evident to announce this as a Zack Snyder film, but it still stuns me the same director who so lovingly adapted Frank Miller's 300 is responsible for this! Sprinkled references to The Dark Knight Returns recall Snyder's previous passions, but the source material is so completely failed, it raises questions about how much blame the director should be allocated. The sense of a compromised vision is here. It's just a question of whether or not Snyder should've been here at all, bending to interests that weren't his.
As Warner Bros play catch-up with Marvel's superhero universe, someone probably thought it would be clever to organically sew the seeds of a Justice League sequel into the plot of Dawn of Justice. If only that were something they actually did! Commerce enters the room every time Gal Gadot is on screen, serving a sub-plot that has nothing to do with the rest of this film! It culminates in an interlude of Quicktime trailers for future DC players who are so utterly tainted by the bad taste of this film - I don't even want to think about seeing more!
No one is more soiled by the whole experience than Superman and Batman themselves. They plod and grimace their way through a film, barely motivated or engaged, full of sound & fury signifying nothing. They enter the movie idiots, long before the war is settled with a very obtuse reference to the ubiquitous "Martha": mother of macguffins.
The biggest shock of the film comes in the final act, when the obligatory rampaging CG monstrosity manages to focus the film toward something more enjoyable. Which is to say, everything in the preceding acts was so utterly miserable. This vision of Doomsday, like every other DC Comics character featured in the film, is only vaguely reminiscent of the comic book original. They managed to make a fairly shallow character even less remarkable.
Wonder Woman doesn't quite steal the show, but comes damn near close, arriving in full costume to cut a car in half, and smack the beast around without the baggage now dragging the title heroes down. Its enough to qualify as one of the three positive things I counted, but the commercial for his spin-off -- a photo -- wasn't necessary.
What were the other two positives? Laurence Fishburne isn't the Perry White of comics fame, but he's always a pleasant presence, and had a nice enough Wizard of Oz joke about Clark Kent disappearing back to Kansas. The other was the music cue for Lex Luthor. Presumably from JunkieXL's contribution, it's deliciously over the top, and could've been very fun had it been in contrast to a more crisp villain. Instead, it trips and smashes its face, accompanying an excruciatingly lame attempt to update an all-time classic.
The rest of the film is miserable. Utterly miserable. I'm stunned just how bad it is. Top to bottom: no good. During the movie I noticed I had a thorn caught in the back of my trousers and accidentally pushed it into my finger tip. That wasn't the worst thing that happened to me! The only benefit to having seen it is that there is absolutely no reason I ever need to think about it again. Except, perhaps, in my nightmares. Not to be confused with a "Knightmare", which probably should've been excised all together. Yeesh!
It's difficult to think of any arena where this film doesn't meet with failure. At times it barely functions as a narrative film, shuffling from one sequence to the next, clumsily delivering pieces of information for future reference. I wouldn't like to say too many negative things about wardrobe or extras in the film, but nobody is spared the wrath of an ever-present layer of computer-rendered muting, damning almost all facets to condemnation.
The visual hue is evident to announce this as a Zack Snyder film, but it still stuns me the same director who so lovingly adapted Frank Miller's 300 is responsible for this! Sprinkled references to The Dark Knight Returns recall Snyder's previous passions, but the source material is so completely failed, it raises questions about how much blame the director should be allocated. The sense of a compromised vision is here. It's just a question of whether or not Snyder should've been here at all, bending to interests that weren't his.
As Warner Bros play catch-up with Marvel's superhero universe, someone probably thought it would be clever to organically sew the seeds of a Justice League sequel into the plot of Dawn of Justice. If only that were something they actually did! Commerce enters the room every time Gal Gadot is on screen, serving a sub-plot that has nothing to do with the rest of this film! It culminates in an interlude of Quicktime trailers for future DC players who are so utterly tainted by the bad taste of this film - I don't even want to think about seeing more!
No one is more soiled by the whole experience than Superman and Batman themselves. They plod and grimace their way through a film, barely motivated or engaged, full of sound & fury signifying nothing. They enter the movie idiots, long before the war is settled with a very obtuse reference to the ubiquitous "Martha": mother of macguffins.
The biggest shock of the film comes in the final act, when the obligatory rampaging CG monstrosity manages to focus the film toward something more enjoyable. Which is to say, everything in the preceding acts was so utterly miserable. This vision of Doomsday, like every other DC Comics character featured in the film, is only vaguely reminiscent of the comic book original. They managed to make a fairly shallow character even less remarkable.
Wonder Woman doesn't quite steal the show, but comes damn near close, arriving in full costume to cut a car in half, and smack the beast around without the baggage now dragging the title heroes down. Its enough to qualify as one of the three positive things I counted, but the commercial for his spin-off -- a photo -- wasn't necessary.
What were the other two positives? Laurence Fishburne isn't the Perry White of comics fame, but he's always a pleasant presence, and had a nice enough Wizard of Oz joke about Clark Kent disappearing back to Kansas. The other was the music cue for Lex Luthor. Presumably from JunkieXL's contribution, it's deliciously over the top, and could've been very fun had it been in contrast to a more crisp villain. Instead, it trips and smashes its face, accompanying an excruciatingly lame attempt to update an all-time classic.
The rest of the film is miserable. Utterly miserable. I'm stunned just how bad it is. Top to bottom: no good. During the movie I noticed I had a thorn caught in the back of my trousers and accidentally pushed it into my finger tip. That wasn't the worst thing that happened to me! The only benefit to having seen it is that there is absolutely no reason I ever need to think about it again. Except, perhaps, in my nightmares. Not to be confused with a "Knightmare", which probably should've been excised all together. Yeesh!
Friday, October 05, 2018
Letterboxd: Hunt for the Wilderpeople
Find the local fat kid and go on an unannounced hike in the nearest
area of nature. Local authorities, to say nothing of casual observers,
probably won't find your adventure in kidnapping terribly exotic, or
charming.
Taika Waititi's episode of life in country New Zealand is ready for export, but may be too mundane for anyone living, or familiar with, similar semi-rural areas.
The regional characters all ring true, risking becoming unremarkable, if not for the charismatic personalities of its performing cast, and the availability of tongues in cheeks. Rachel House goes particularly big as the bombastically concerned child welfare worker, who seems as interested in filling the farthest conceivable corners of her job listing, as she is actually doing good for children.
Waititi, like many of his countrymen, keeps an eye on the unimpressive, dwelling self-deprecatingly on coveted mod-cons usually taken for granted in American cinema. It can be stretched a little thin, as with the director's cameo as a junkfood obsessed priest, but it creates a consistent and authentic vibe to the picture.
Hunt for the Wilderpeople is predominantly a two-man show that could work on stage, with a little more writing, and the right cast.
Sam Neill keeps a stiff upper lip as the lovably cantankerous countryman ill at ease with his feelings, but full with emotion. Julian Dennison stands out as motormouthed Ricky Baker, a foster kid just trying to come to terms with a series of bad situations that are out of his control. It will be fascinating to see if Dennison keeps this screen energy into maturity, and how he will use it in the future. Both elicit genuine affection as they do an odd couple's dance toward friendship.
Survival and genuine action help keep the movie rolling, punctuating the chase with subdued comedy. Like other Waititi films, the laughs aren't as frequent as they could be. It wilfully stops short of being a great film, settling for good.
Taika Waititi's episode of life in country New Zealand is ready for export, but may be too mundane for anyone living, or familiar with, similar semi-rural areas.
The regional characters all ring true, risking becoming unremarkable, if not for the charismatic personalities of its performing cast, and the availability of tongues in cheeks. Rachel House goes particularly big as the bombastically concerned child welfare worker, who seems as interested in filling the farthest conceivable corners of her job listing, as she is actually doing good for children.
Waititi, like many of his countrymen, keeps an eye on the unimpressive, dwelling self-deprecatingly on coveted mod-cons usually taken for granted in American cinema. It can be stretched a little thin, as with the director's cameo as a junkfood obsessed priest, but it creates a consistent and authentic vibe to the picture.
Hunt for the Wilderpeople is predominantly a two-man show that could work on stage, with a little more writing, and the right cast.
Sam Neill keeps a stiff upper lip as the lovably cantankerous countryman ill at ease with his feelings, but full with emotion. Julian Dennison stands out as motormouthed Ricky Baker, a foster kid just trying to come to terms with a series of bad situations that are out of his control. It will be fascinating to see if Dennison keeps this screen energy into maturity, and how he will use it in the future. Both elicit genuine affection as they do an odd couple's dance toward friendship.
Survival and genuine action help keep the movie rolling, punctuating the chase with subdued comedy. Like other Waititi films, the laughs aren't as frequent as they could be. It wilfully stops short of being a great film, settling for good.
Originally Posted: https://letterboxd.com/dialmformicker/film/hunt-for-the-wilderpeople/
Letterboxd: John Wick
The memory of John Wick is simultaneously vague, yet vivid. Static,
in hues of blue, existing successfully as a mascot-driven proof of
concept, but lacking any lasting impression to go beyond the poster, or
stills.
The franchise-starter thrives in a reasonably barren market, but can only masquerade as a cult favourite, underachieving in most of the categories that mint genuine, high-concept action classics.
Keanu Reeves anchors the film as its stoic, uber-capable protagonist, at last returning to the man-in-black action heroes he made famous at the turn of the millennium. The cache of The Matrix is self-evident, but fans will see strands of his Constantine, if so inclined, as he navigates the secret world of this movie's cartoon New York City.
Unlike earlier examples in Reeve's oeuvre, John Wick can only muster an impersonation of style.
A decade of bland, pseudo-realism in corporate blockbusters has clearly bludgeoned the audience if this is celebrated at all. Digital photography is clean and crisp, but there's no real vision behind the design or cinematography, relying on Instagram filters to elevate it above the high-contrast of contemporaries, like The Expendables.
The greatest disappointment of John Wick lies in its failure to utilize a strong supporting cast.
Its one-note attempt at style carries over to the creation of utterly forgettable friends and foes. Indeed, the movie plays almost like a well connected student film, puzzled together over a series of improvised weekends shared with famous friends paid in barbecue. It may not be worth watching if not for its cult of participating personalities.
Ian McShane stands out as a hotel owner savvy to the goings on of his clientele, who just happen to include criminals and assassins. The riff of clear conditions applies Highlander's church neutrality to creating some semblance of a character around McShane's natural charisma. Under different circumstances, he could function as the franchise centre, rendering Wick a recurring presence in his world, rather than vice versa.
Willem Dafoe is under utilized as a seasoned vet of the killing game. It's hard to remember if his allegiances are unclear, or if his character is just poorly realized. His presence invites the mind to wander to a better like-minded movie, where his wader-wearing gang leader was unforgettable in Streets of Fire.
Matrix alum Daniel Bernhardt had more to contribute. Pro-wrestler turned actor Kevin Nash at least brings a natural physicality to his cameo role. All of these characters would've been better had they received any of the creative attention the Continental Hotel received.
Gimmick is not a dirty word, and in the case of John Wick, it's really what's missing. The action is too lowkey, and the story too shallow, to allow a character as minimal as John Wick to carry an entire picture. Everything about the movie suggests this should be a world populated with colourful, memorable characters. The choice to deny that only makes it underwhelming.
The franchise-starter thrives in a reasonably barren market, but can only masquerade as a cult favourite, underachieving in most of the categories that mint genuine, high-concept action classics.
Keanu Reeves anchors the film as its stoic, uber-capable protagonist, at last returning to the man-in-black action heroes he made famous at the turn of the millennium. The cache of The Matrix is self-evident, but fans will see strands of his Constantine, if so inclined, as he navigates the secret world of this movie's cartoon New York City.
Unlike earlier examples in Reeve's oeuvre, John Wick can only muster an impersonation of style.
A decade of bland, pseudo-realism in corporate blockbusters has clearly bludgeoned the audience if this is celebrated at all. Digital photography is clean and crisp, but there's no real vision behind the design or cinematography, relying on Instagram filters to elevate it above the high-contrast of contemporaries, like The Expendables.
The greatest disappointment of John Wick lies in its failure to utilize a strong supporting cast.
Its one-note attempt at style carries over to the creation of utterly forgettable friends and foes. Indeed, the movie plays almost like a well connected student film, puzzled together over a series of improvised weekends shared with famous friends paid in barbecue. It may not be worth watching if not for its cult of participating personalities.
Ian McShane stands out as a hotel owner savvy to the goings on of his clientele, who just happen to include criminals and assassins. The riff of clear conditions applies Highlander's church neutrality to creating some semblance of a character around McShane's natural charisma. Under different circumstances, he could function as the franchise centre, rendering Wick a recurring presence in his world, rather than vice versa.
Willem Dafoe is under utilized as a seasoned vet of the killing game. It's hard to remember if his allegiances are unclear, or if his character is just poorly realized. His presence invites the mind to wander to a better like-minded movie, where his wader-wearing gang leader was unforgettable in Streets of Fire.
Matrix alum Daniel Bernhardt had more to contribute. Pro-wrestler turned actor Kevin Nash at least brings a natural physicality to his cameo role. All of these characters would've been better had they received any of the creative attention the Continental Hotel received.
Gimmick is not a dirty word, and in the case of John Wick, it's really what's missing. The action is too lowkey, and the story too shallow, to allow a character as minimal as John Wick to carry an entire picture. Everything about the movie suggests this should be a world populated with colourful, memorable characters. The choice to deny that only makes it underwhelming.
Originally Posted: https://letterboxd.com/dialmformicker/film/john-wick/
Friday, September 28, 2018
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Monday, September 24, 2018
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Monday, September 17, 2018
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Friday, August 17, 2018
Thursday, August 02, 2018
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