Must…begin…writing…again.
Alas, as these words are written, the blog itself is inaccessible to me. I know not why, but it will be fixed by the time you read this. I promise.
Today’s subject matter: X-3.
Just got out of the theatre, which is usually a bad time to review a movie. In this case, however, I doubt my opinions will sway a great deal for or against, so here they are.
X-3 was epic. It was fun. Better, it was sinister fun. The sheer power of the Phoenix managed to keep me actively interested in the flow of events up until the climax – for which the audience is whetted early on. When I am the ‘x’ in the hypothetical audience, the audience is not disappointed. As a movie, there were great flaws. Flawed effects, flawed dialogue, flawed logistics, etc… But as sheer unabashed cathartic entertainment, I just didn’t care about the flaws.
I don’t want to say too much, of course, since you should see it for yourself (after seeing X-1 and X-2). The X-Men universe is infinitely malleable. Part of its beauty is that, like many stories with primordial roots in the Comic-book cosmos, it’s flaws and failures can always be overlooked in favour of its successes and possibilities. The story is good (at least potentially) even when the storyteller doesn’t quite get it right. It’s like lego, if you’ll take the analogy. Most comic universes, however, are only half as versatile as the X-Men universe, since it is so sprawled out in time and space. Characters can come and go, with only a Wittgensteinian thread to connect them. Okay, scrap the philosophy. It was a great epic movie. It unleashed the pent-up rageful desire I have had to destroy things, preferably the world, all weekend. I loved it for its power, though don’t expect any Oscars.
Feeling this is sufficient, I refuse to give a number rating at present. If I were to give it a number rating, that rating would probably seem kind of low given the positive tone of this review. I think at present my analysis of the movie series thus far is X-1 was the best, next X-3, then X-2. I enjoyed all three of them.
[1]
It may seem counterintuitive, but now that my schoolwork is basically completed I may not be posting as regularly as before. You see, until now I’ve been tied to my laptop for approximately 12 hours daily, and blogging was a helpful, low-energy diversion. Now I have no reason to be on the internet in the first place. Still, we’ll see where the summer season takes us. This may prove to be my only relief from the mind-numbing monotone of manual labour.
Speaking of which, it’s a little premature, but I can hardly contain my excitement at the mere prospect of working overseas. I applied for my first English teaching positions a few days ago – in Russia and China. Either location, provided the terms of employment are decent, would be fantastic.
Now for my reviews.
Dirty Pretty Things (imdb): Despite the title, and a number of early scenes designed to frighten off the faint of heart, this is by no standard a pornographic movie. It is the touching story of two immigrants (one illegal, one on probation) trying to make it in London, without losing their dignity in the process. They are caught between the fear of strict laws that demand exportation should they try to live ordinary lives, and a criminal underbelly that seeks to exploit them in every way imaginable. In a slightly comical turn, they make it out alive, but not unscathed. I’ll recommend it with a warning: be patient, it’s slow, but it’s worthwhile.
7.5/10
Lucky Number Sleven (imdb). I liked it for all the reasons Roger Ebert didn’t. Don’t read his review if you haven’t seen the movie yet – also, don’t watch the previews on TV. They are clumsy, uninteresting, and give away too much. Anyway, here’s Ebert:
When a movie makes it clear that its characters are going through a charade for the amusement of the director (and when the characters themselves make it clear they all but know they are actors in a movie), I get restless: They’re having such a good time with each other, why do they need me?
And here’s me: No doubt the characters are going through a charade, no doubt the plot runs circles around viewer, no doubt this movie is self-aware, and hints at all of this. But why shouldn’t it? The movie is unusually honest about its deception, and lighthearted about the con (both internal and external), which means it’s a riot to watch if only the viewer can get over his conceit that he is somehow needed to solve the mystery. Sit back Ebert, relax – they don’t need you. Luckily, however, they’ve opened up the story and let you in, and all you have to do is get over the detective complex and enjoy it.
My one complaint about this movie is the walk-through at the end. I felt more could have been left open. But it was an obvious throw-back to Hitchcock’s fading lead-the-audience-on-then-show-them-how-you-did-it way of doing movies (with healthy doses of James Bond and internal references to all of this), so I’m willing to chalk this up to a personal caveat and let it slide. Mike, for instance, was very glad for the run-through at the end.
My final take? Minor flaws did little to damage the overall experience. The biggest mistake was releasing an absolutely terrible trailer that endangers some of the effects of watching the movie unprepared. Something more along the lines of the old Conspiracy Theory trailers would have been much better.
For the first half, I was was prepared to give it 9.5/10, but in the end I had to drop it down to
9/10
Thank you for Smoking (imdb):
“You know the guy who can pick up any girl? I’m him on crack.”—Nick Naylor
Sleven was clever because it was self-aware; its director was a genius. Smoking is clever because, well, it just is, meaning its writer was a genius. Once again, ignore the TV teasers, which don’t do it half the justice it deserves. A movie whose protagonist is an unapologetic tobacco lobbyist can be one of two things: (1) retarded, or (2) unbelievably clever. This one definately falls into the latter category.
It tried a little too hard to be heart-warming at points, but even these points were wrapped in its twisted (but sincere) humour. Amusingly enough, in a movie all about smoking, not a single cigarette is lit. Apart from its success as an intelligent, amusing comedy, this movie has additional merit for its reflections, both explicit and implicit, on art of spin and its place in media, public life, and everyday conversation.
If you’re tired of comedy based on sexual puns and booger jokes, this one’s for you. It’s hard to rate because it’s original and doesn’t fall within normal categories. Therefore I give it three ratings:
Structural Stuff (plot, filming technique, character development etc.): 8/10 – it’s not distracting, it doesn’t make the film great, it’s all perfectly satisfactory.
Spin Factor (dialogue, treatment of subject matter, writing, delivery): 10/10.
Final Rating: 9/10. It really doesn’t deserve a 10/10, but when it’s all over, I really want to give it one. We’ll settle for 9.
[7]
I’ll be disappearing during Spring Break, so there probably won’t be a lot of new material here. This, then, is compensatory (viz. way too long).
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What to post? What to post? I’m in one of those situations where I have so much I could write about that when it comes time to pour out the words the funnel gets clogged and you get nothing but a few gooey drops. Well, I guess we’ll just have to settle for drops then.
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[5]
My stomach for cultural paraphernalia of all sorts, good and bad, is like a great gaping hole in my soul. This applies to literature, music, film, and so on (not precisely sure what falls under ‘so on’, but there must be something there). Today I’d thought we’d talk about music a little bit. Here’s my report.
Metric: As I’ve said, Emily Haines is the new voice of sexy. This music is simple and a little repetitive, so I doubt it will still be a big part of my life in a few months. The older album, Old World Underground, Where are you now? is better than the new one. Emily Haines ought set off solo, emphasizing her lighter touch.
Arcade Fire: I’ve only heard a couple of songs, but they’re lots of fun and I hope to pick up Funeral very, very soon.
Elliot Brood: Now this is cool. Dark bluegrass and a storyline to boot. Check out the video “Cadillac Dust” on their website.
controller.controller: They’re are several people in this band, but it sounds like Jimi Hendrex bought himself a drum machine a let loose. Repetitive but catchy guitar hooks with a dance-hall beat.
Raised by Swans: I think I’ve listened to the song “Violet Light” about 50 times in the last week – and I’m only exaggerating slightly. Grant Lawrence quotes a magazine describing them as “the sound of intimate conversation and late night cigarettes”. I probably can’t improve on that, so I won’t bother trying. My nerves have been pretty fired up lately, and I think maybe this and my Mendelssohn cd are all that have kept me sane (supposedly that’s the correct spelling).
The Shins: We all saw Garden State. The album’s great. Blah blah blah.
I could go on, but these have been my novelty fix for the past week or two (actually, Metric has been in the house since December, as have The Shins).
Did I miss anything? Feed my frankenstein.
[3]
Reviewing Syriana is a necessarily political endeavour, which is precisely what the filmmakers wanted. The film is political from start to finish, and it is rhetorically deliberate from start to finish.
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