Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts

Friday, June 5, 2015

My Weekend Plans

The weekend has come and, for the life of me, I find myself torn.

I’ve not yet seen the Entourage movie, you see, but so too have I to date missed Human Centipede III. Given that I work evenings, I only have a realistic chance of catching one or the other, and tough decisions must therefore be made.

In one film, lips are firmly, permanently attached to the ass of a person only a little ways ahead, seemingly never to be removed, as all are imprisoned at the whim of a screaming madman, trapped in a system beyond either their understanding or control. This movie sucks, it goes without saying, a whole lot of ass.

In the other, a centipede is made out of the still living bodies of humans.

Would I like to see both? No, no clearly I would not. Given my druthers I would watch neither, but there are times when my druthers are not to be had, and as such I must watch at least one, and to that end tough choices await me as I decide which one it shall be…

Huh?

What do you mean I DON’T have to watch at least one?

Both films are purely optional? Really?

You don’t say…


Well, that solves that problem for me, I suppose. Perhaps I’ll go to karaoke this weekend…

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Why I'm Not Allowed to Make Big-Budget Hollywood Films


I want to make a movie.

Basically, I want a film where a Centaur in a near-future Detroit goes to work for the police force.

Part man, part horse, all cop.

I’ll be running it film noir style, when he starts out investigating the murder of a particle physicist, killed shortly before the activation of his new, clean-energy producing centaur-fuge, but as the story progresses he’ll be drawn deeper into a world-spanning conspiracy, as what seems at first to be a simple murder investigation quickly spirals beyond his control, and he realizes that he’s discovered the crime of the centaur-ey.

Meanwhile, his parents, two tradition-minded centaurs, who still live in the forest, hunt with bows, and help adventurers briefly in the third act, disapprove strongly of his choice to become a cop in Neo-Detroit, and much will be made of the friction between our lead and his father. This conflict will be the emotional centaur of our story.

But don’t worry, I won’t be overly centaur-mental with how I handle it.

I’m in talks with Antony Hopkins, as I’m confident he’ll give a centaur-de-force performance in my little film. He always does. I’m not sure, however, if I’ll be using him as the father, or as the chief of police under which our lead works. The chief will be an older, wiser, Obi-Wan-style figure in our lead’s life, who helps him find the answers he needs to resolve both the case AND his friction with his family.

Sort of a mentor-centaur.

It will also feature an original soundtrack by Pat Cenitar.

Will this movie be successful? Who can say? Financially I would imagine not. Artistically? Also unlikely, I imagine it’ll be centorture to watch.

Still, if you judge a film by its ability to make me laugh my head off, I think this one will do quite well…

NEXT WEEK: I want to make a movie about a blind, retired army colonel, who hires a lady centaur to take care of him over the Thanksgiving weekend. I’ll call it: Centaur a Woman.

Monday, August 13, 2012

An Essay: Watching Dark Knight Rises


As you may well know, Kat and I, like everyone else in the world, recently went to see Dark Knight Rises. I’d have written this earlier, but couldn’t, as I only saw it Thursday last due to my longstanding policy of waiting to see movies with Batman in them until I could see them in IMAX.

Totally worth it, by the way. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.

You see, the couple sitting behind Kat and I talked the whole way through the first part of the film, and for a good long while that was unbearably irritating. The one who’d clearly not been in charge of choosing the film, a woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties, kept asking inane questions about what was going on in the movie. Things she should have known, and for a while it took me completely out of the moment. Kat, also, was annoyed by this, because this is annoying in an objective way. You don’t just talk the whole way through a movie, especially a movie where tickets are $19 due to the IMAX nature of the theater, and ESPECIALLY when the movie features Batman. It’s natural we’d be bothered by it.

However, I never got around to politely but firmly requesting her silence that I might enjoy a movie I’d waited years to see, because soon something happened that changed my view of the situation entirely.

During one of the early scenes with Alfred, the woman behind us turned to her date and asked “Is that his father?”

And that’s the moment I realized: This woman had never experienced Batman until that moment.

It wasn’t a simple case of her coming to the film franchise late, she’d literally never had a Batman experience of any kind before that moment. She’d missed the cartoon, she knew nothing of the comics, she’d somehow managed not to see seven major blockbuster Hollywood films of varying qualities. She was too young for the ‘60s television series, no doubt, but it still plays in reruns now and again. And yet, somehow, she’d managed to navigate somewhere near four decades of life without ever having been exposed to Batman in any meaningful way.

Perhaps this isn’t the case, but if you can think of a better explanation for the fact that she honestly didn’t know that Bruce Wayne was an orphan, I’d love to hear it.

And with that, my annoyance dissipated, replaced by a cauldron of more complex emotions. I did still want to enjoy the film, of course, but also I was fascinated by what was happening one row back. I was bearing witness to a fully-grown human being, being exposed to Batman for the first time in her life. I was jealous, in a way, of the sense of wonder now available to her, wonder that she’d never known to that point and which I, obsessed with the character as I am, can only distantly recall. I was deeply, deeply glad for her, obviously, because she was finding, late or not, something amazing about our culture, and I wondered if, coming to it later in life than anyone I’d ever met, she’d be able to take the same kind of joy in Batman that I’d spent a lifetime cultivating.

For the record: She absolutely was able. By halfway through the film she’d stopped asking questions regarding what was going on and was simply letting the experience wash over her, drinking in as much as she could of it while it was happening and trusting that she could fill in the gaps in her knowledge at some later date. Which is correct, I think, as far as approaching a movie like that goes. And at that point I was glad that she’d done this at one of the Nolan Batman films, rather than at one of the Schumacher ones. She’d never heard of Batman, only to stumble into one of the most perfect examples of the form available for public consumption.

A point with which she seemed to agree, as I overheard her asking the gentleman who’d brought her to watch the DVD’s of the other two films in the trilogy with her at some point as they were leaving the theater.

My point? Merely this: I saw Dark Knight Rises on Thursday, and it was awesome, but more importantly, I learned what kind of geek I am, because no matter how irritating the chatter behind me got, I was overcome with joy to hear it. Joy at witnessing somebody coming with fresh eyes, untainted by prior knowledge of the franchise, to experience something I care very deeply about and, having seen it, coming to understand what it is I love about Batman. And that made the annoyance I felt completely worthwhile, in my opinion, because I am, it turns out, the kind of geek that wants to share his love of culture with the world, and who believes that sharing Batman is the REAL joy of loving him in the first place.

Dark Knight Rises was, in short, awesome. A breathtaking piece of filmmaking that I want to see again at least once before it leaves the big screen. An immensely satisfying conclusion to a trilogy that only grows in importance in my mind with the passage of time. But the real show I saw Thursday last was taking place right behind me.