Film

  • Horst: I do. I love you. Isn't that silly?

     

    ...what are you doing?

    Max [arranging the pile of rocks]: Arranging these. We've been sloppy. They could beat you for it.

     

    Don't love me.

    Horst: It's my secret.

    Max: Don't love me.

    Horst: It makes me happy.

     

    And I have a signal. When I rub my left eyebrow at you, like this, it means, "I love you." I bet you didn't know that.

    Max: Don't love me.

    Horst: I can't help it.

    Max: I don't want anyone to love me.

    Horst: Too bad.

    Max: I can't love anybody back.

    Horst: Who's asking you to?

    Max: Queers aren't meant to love - they don't want us to!

     

    You don't love me, you don't love me...

  • To be brutally honest, I've never fully liked Alice In Wonderland. It's really nitpicky, what I'm sure my cousin would call elitist reasons. That said and regardless, I always find myself drawn back to it. Whether it's Nick Willing's Alice, American McGee's Alice, or television adaptions such as this one (fans of Napoleon Dynamite will love the casting choice for Alice), I always find myself enjoying offspring of the books.

    I should probably put it this way: in total, I am not happy with Alice In Wonderland; however, it has many moments of brilliance which make faithful remakes of the original totally enjoyable.

    So, when I saw the trailer for Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland, I was skeptical. As anyone who knows me knows, I love Burton. Nightmare Before Christmas and Edward Scissorhands are fantastic and delightful. Beetlejuice is one of my all time favorite movies. Corpse Bride is Burton at his traditionally most realized.

    Yet, well, he screwed up my Hatter. I prefer the Hatter in a more traditional making, quite like American McGee's before he gets demented (see the opening movie of the video game to see what I mean). Johnny Depp is not that Hatter.

    Yet, after seeing the movie today...well, it's Burton's best yet, I think. It's everything by him at it's most realized. I don't think I've seen so perfectly flawless a movie since The Exorcist, Shortbus, or Show Me Love.

    You have to first realize that it is not a remake of the first two books but a sequel. That is an important fact. For, artistically, it opens up very different paths and expectations.

    And in that vein, Burton has created a movie that stays true to the books, often in ways that fit the madcapped tone that simultaneously stays true to the books' lunacy and fits Burton's own, capable at times of embellishing self-consciously (I didn't know tone could do it 'til now) until it becomes something else entirely, both familiar and different. And yet in so many ways it still allows signature Burton themes to roam free.

    The artful and insane landscapes that so often make his movies (Edward Scissorhands comes to mind) as well as the utterly on-point thematic nature of the film. No matter how crazy it became or what it was doing, it was flawless in terms of shots, landscape, and musical score for every scene.

    And for a book that was literary nonsense, the movie maintains this while bringing coherency on some level at all times (often the emotional one).

    That probably doesn't describe it right or clearly. But oh well. It was amazing and I'm buying it the second I get the chance.

  • It's far too early in the summer (I might say that it actually shouldn't be summer at all) for me to feel this tired, this worn.

     

     

    We were watching Lord of the Rings today, the family and I, and there came the scene where Faramir is interrogating Sméagol. While I hate the changes, for the most part, that they made to Faramir's character (there really wasn't any resolution or accurate message to be drawn from the whole thing; they mistreat Sméagol and then we're supposed to hate him when he betrays them; uhh...what?), it's an excellent scene when Sméagol is lying on the floor in the corner, going back and forth between his two personalities.

    Now, I like the more twisted and depressing, we know this. But it really is this wonderful scene of his trust and strength just breaking down, him succumbing to the corruption around him.

     

    And yet, at this pivotal scene, at multiple times during it's short run (meaning there was a handful of comments being inserted), all I hear from some of the family members is, "God, is he ugly," and similar comments. My favorite part is when they're laughing while he's sobbing.

    Now, I've never been much of one to harp too much over fictional characters; I'll be brutally honest - I don't understand crying when Dumbledor dies. I mean, he's awesome and all...but I don't get it.

     

    But a complete lack of an emotional connection with a character? Well, we all know as a matter of living that that just doesn't happen for most people.

    Yet I know the reason for their disconnect. Every five seconds I had to hear some comment about how ugly he is or some other remark.

    Because apparently conscious creatures don't deserve attention or respect or understanding if they have an ugly mug.

    Save the dog because it's cute but let's ignore the starving man on the street because he hasn't had a bath in a few days and probably isn't looking the best.

     

    We so easily put first our own comforts and desires before bothering to consider that of others.

    It's pathetic.

  • --Quote of the Day--
    *My younger sister and I are picking out movies*
    Me: Have you ever seen The Man In the Iron Mask?
    Sister: *points at Leonardo Decaprio* He's cute.
    Me: Tasha, we've been over this before – you're too young to have a sexuality!

     

    It's not denial if I'm knowingly denying it. :{D

     

    Day of just playing pool with the siblings while listening to music? Best way to spend a day ever. Though the little bastards' taste in music is going to ruin the quality of mine.

  • Random things about me:

    Listening to heavy metal through ear phones will always put me to sleep, just about. I love metal, but, if I'm not moving, there's just something absolutely lulling about it.

    There's something so incredibly comforting about the night (when I'm not plagued with depression or stress). I love the morning (which is why I've been actually bothering to try to wake up earlier this year), but there's something regally gorgeous about the night.

    I think I've almost fully lost faith in most of humanity - but this time I'm alright with that.

    I really, really like quotes, even after all this time. Which doesn't make sense because all sorts of mishaps happen when you take things out of context like that - background is always direly important. But I still use them almost compulsively.

    I really like contradictions. That's why, for example, both The Exorcist and Show Me Love are my favorite movies. There are some parts of The Exorcist that are just bad. Some of the acting still cracks me up in how over the top it seems, the violence is so rediculous sometimes to the point of me not able to take it seriously, and some of the choice of music and placement of that music is pathetic in how beating-you-over-the-head it is. Show Me Love is meant to be more like a home movie than a professional move in its film-work  so it's often incredibly awkward. Some of the actions of the characters are just funny in how bizarre they are. Yet both have these awesome themes and metaphors through them. Plus The Exorcist just nails so many parts, in terms of acting and what the characters are saying. They both basically cover all the bases, from dry humor (in part because of how ridiculous they sometimes are - I love awkward humor) to drama to fantastic filmwork to metaphors. It's a conglomorate mess that shouldn't work - and yet it does.

    I would know I found the right girl if she proposed to me instead of the other way around, I almost definitely want to adopt in the future, and I'm completely okay with being securely lower middle class. All of these things about me terrify my mother.

    I occasionally feel pathetic and selfish when my depression disables me to do anything or I feel unmotivated to do stuff because I know others have it so much worse than I do.

    On the flip side of that, my dad was talking to me about my major a couple days ago, and I was explaining why, while I love history, I could never do it as a major; see, part of this is that you have to search through a ton of books and do research before a paper for history while English only requires wrestling with one text in a completely thorough fashion, which allows for a deeper and more thorough look through the text and I'm better at that than what I would have to do for history. My father thinks this means that I chose English because it's easier; he says as much with utter disgust. Well, one, no. I just explained what it was for you guys. However - so what if it was? You see, my dad also finds it so irritating and incapable of judging his oldest son for the fact that I'm slower at getting things done and put things off. Ignoring that fact that he can't let so trivial a thing such as the means I get things done (it's not like they don't get done) not get in the way of how he views and treats me, let me put it this way - I go suicidal periodically throughout the year. He should be happy I'm still breathing to this day. You see, I have to monitor what I do, when I do it, and how I do it because something as simple as doing something when I really don't feel like dealing with work can mess up my entire emotional well being for the day. Yes - I take a while to do things. I have to take a while to do them. For my well-being. To be honest, I'm not apologizing to my parents, ever, for how I've lived my life. Every choice I've made were well-thought-out, logical choices which I had to make in the face of their oppressive (in, honestly, places that didn't even begin to affect them, so I don't understand why they felt the need to intrude upon my autonomy), immature, and selfish "parenting". I've done things I regret - how I raised myself will never be one of them.
    (sorry for dumping that on you guys, but I've needed to say something about that incident for a while now)

    I just dropped my laptop off my bed; thankfully, it's okay.

    I still have some of the coolest friends in the world.

    I honestly can't take what little I've heard of Like Water From Chocolate by Common Sense seriously. It keeps sounding like he's trying to combine street rap (so saying purposely inappropriate things and trying to be "real") and political rap (so talking about revolutions and caring about the black community, etc.). He sounds like a fool; I may have lost nearly all respect for him from this album alone (though I still need to listen to the album more fully to really be able to speak on it; "6th Sense" off the album is nearly flawless, though).

    I really want to get another rodent - and soon. I miss constantly caring about something, anything/anyone.
    z211862988Thanks for the picture, Rachael

     

    Btw, if it so interests any of you: http://www.themixtapeexchange.co.nr/

  • I watched District 9 a couple of days ago. While I had very high expectations for it...I was disappointed. I was actually surprised how much so. I was going to write in detail about it, but I'm tired and have already done so on Facebook. Therefore (while I still do love you all), I'm simply going to quote what I wrote on Facebook:

    First, I agree entirely with you, A-----, that the special effects and acting were phenominal. And I loved the documentary style and how they did it, maybe because it was just so different from normal movies.

    Second, my complaint actually wasn't that it wasn't happy. I like the depressing, the warped, etc. The aliens got away, anyway - to me, that's a happy ending (at least partially).

    R------ - the basic plot of the movie is that a alien mother ship stops over a part of South Africa and is unable to move further on. Eventually, the government drills into the ship to find millions of starving aliens aboard.

    The government builds a bunch of low income housing and the place easily turns into a ghetto. Poverty, crime, et cætera. People stereotype the aliens, assume they want to kill humans for the fun of it, ban them from different establishments (there are signs reading Humans Only), et cætera.

    The idea is that it's supposed to be an allegory for apartheid South Africa (or, at the very least, racism or marginalized group descrimination).

    Here's my complaint. While, yes, it opperates quite well like a regular action flick (actually, too much so; without the advanced concepts, it's strickingly like a formulaic action movie) and has the basic concept of this allegory of suffering and prejudice, let's shed the allegory for a bit and actually look at the aliens as a suspect class and marginalized group.

    While some parts are *perfect* (like the woman commenting about how the aliens will take over a buisness and kill everyone while, in the background, an alien is digging through the garbage for food), there's the aspect that nearly ALL the whites in the movie are in position of power, all the blacks (except a select few) are in positions of poverty, gangs, etc.

    Well, this is just accuracy of current South Africa (caused by apartheid) - fine. But that means different levels of damage against marginalized groups (the descrimination and isolation of the aliens) and the results of the above on sociol-economic issues for blacks. This isn't addressed. Rather, all humans are treated in a color-blind fashion (despite the obvious racial division throughout the movie) and the aliens are thought of sadly only because of the actions taken against them by the humans. The movie could have probed these different levels and effects of descrimination through these different levels - but it doesn't.

    My second complaint was the blatant descrimination toward the alien within the movie itself.

    First off, Wikus is pretty much an abhorrent character at the beginning. On top of clearly being xenophobic, he happily massacres tons of babies, and he's a spineless twat.

    Of course, that's just the beginning. And I like the concept of giving us a character like that to see his development. I actually really like that concept.

    Here's the problem though - he doesn't really adequately change. The worst part is when he decides to steal Christopher's ship and doesn't bother to even flinch when he hears the poor guy being beaten above him as his son looks up, asking "Father?". In fact, as the boy then looks toward Wikus in fear, Wikus just lies to the kid and says it'll be alright. I mean, how do you do that and live with yourself?

    And THEN, after crashing the only means that Christopher has to get home, he has the audacity to try to fun away when he's in a full metal body suit and could have easily saved Christopher when he's, once again, getting the living shit beat out of him.

    And then there's the fantastic aspect that Wikus continues, way until the end of the movie, to refer to Christopher as a Prawn, a term already clearly defined and well known to be derogitory towards the group. If we are to use the allegory of an apartheid South Africa, the aliens can be thought of as blacks. It's essentially like calling them niggers the whole movie through.

    The issue with this slow and rediculous character development for Wikus is...he's the main character and he's gets so much focus it's rediculous. I mean, it's one thing to have the plot like this but then we focused on Christopher. But, no, it's pretty clear our sympathies are meant to go towards Wikus.

    Christopher is the one who's been isolated in South Africa, has his people shot with no issue, has them starved and cheated in this ghetto - and we're focusing on Wikus.

    I mean, there wasn't even much sympathy given towards Christopher. In the scene that *should* have been really powerful (when he finds the room where they're expirimenting on his people) - the damn camera stays on Wikus most of the time! I mean, is it human-centrism? I don't get it. Regardless, for a movie trying to point out the cruelties of one to another, it's a pretty bad slap to the face to focus on the human so singularly when the cruelties are happen ten-fold to the other species.

    Basically, District 9 had amazing potential. They could have really probed the different levels of descrimination in a really creative way, as I mentioned above. Rather, they just ignored it.

    Then they could have *at least* given attention to the plight of the aliens. There are racist movies from the 90s with a black and white main characters thatare more sympathetic and better at highlighting the marginalized character as a multi-dimentional character than District 9 was.

    Sorry; I was really disappointed.

     

    I think I'm going to do an album review of Darkness On the Edge of Town. Music makes me happy and an album review would require me to submerge myself in the album for a while in order to do a proper review. Plus I actually want to go through old Bruce stuff that I've listened to for ages but never given a critical eye to. It also lets me probe and explore this music I love in more depth.

    In other news, I have to write a 10 page paper for my Atheism class by Thurs. While it's a topic I actually will enjoy (arguing that religion is not the cause for evil but often the tool used by others to cause evil)...I don't want to write a 10 page paper (that's longer than anything I had to write for last semester, with my 4 English courses. Then again, had I not been given caps on pages, I could have easily hit 10). Plus it means doing research for it.

    Alright, it probably won't be that difficult, but I feel lethargic. Heh, and second semester is coming up. Joys and yays.

  • It's late, sugar isn't helping, and I'm slightly depressed. Can I watch The Exorcist right now instead of doing hw?


  • I think I'm most definitely falling in love with this movie.

    (note: Åmål is a small town in Sweden)

  • For whatever reason, today, I had a sudden flash of memory of the movie Radio. The trailer is below if you're not famliliar:

    That, in turn, made me think of Flowers For Algernon (please tell me you all remember reading this way back when?? If not, you can read it here, in blog format: http://flowers-4-algernon.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2007-10-15T12%3A12%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7 - start at the bottom and then work your way up the page to earlier and earlier entries). And my childhood comes flooding back to me.

    May 20

    I would not have noticed the new dishwasher, a boy. of about sixteen, at the corner diner where I take my evening meals if not for the incident of the broken dishes.
    They crashed to the floor, shattering and sending bits of white china under the tables. The boy stood there, dazed and frightened, holding the empty tray in his hand. The whistles and catcalls from the customers (the cries of "hey, there go the profits!" . "Mazeltov!". . . and "well, he didn't work here very long" which invariably seem to follow the breaking of glass or dishware in a public restaurant) all seemed to confuse him.
    When the owner came to see what the excitement was about, the boy cowered as if he expected to be struck and threw up his arms as if to ward off the blow.
    "All right! All right, you dope," shouted the owner, "don't just stand there! Get the broom and sweep that mess up. A broom . . . a broom, you idiot! It's in the kitchen. Sweep up all the pieces."
    The boy saw that he was not going to be punished. His frightened expression disappeared and he smiled and hummed as he came back with the broom to sweep the floor. A few of the rowdier customers kept up the remarks, amusing themselves at his expense.
    "Here, sonny, over here there's a nice piece behind you...."
    "C'mon, do it again."
    "He's not so dumb. It's easier to break'em than to wash'em. . ."
    As his vacant eyes moved across the crowd of amused onlook-ers, he slowly mirrored their smiles and finally broke into an uncertain grin at the joke which he obviously did not understand.
    I felt sick inside as I looked at his dull, vacuous smile, the wide, bright eyes of a child, uncertain but eager to please. They were laughing at him because he was mentally retarded.
    And I had been laughing at him too.
    Suddenly, I was furious at myself and all those who were smirking at him. I jumped up and shouted, "Shut up! Leave him alone! It's not his fault he can't understand. He can't help what he is! But for God's sake . . . he's still a human being!"

  • What movie can you watch again and again?
    The Exorcist, easily. Or Schindler's List.

    I just answered this Featured Question; you can answer it too!