Big Summer Movie!

If you have anything of a geek in your body at all, you should probably go see The Dark Knight at some point. As superhero movies go, this one's up there with the first of the X-Men trilogy and the first Spiderman. The plotline is well enough developed to carry the special effects, the hand to hand combat, the chase scenes, and the techie gadgets.

Yes, there may be spoilers in the rest of this, read with caution.

This may only be due to Heath Ledger. And I would say that even if I weren't dangerously close to being in the category of people who are only seeing The Dark Knight in his honor. Ledger's take on the Joker is brilliant. To paraphrase the WaPo's film critic -- you can see the broken boy peeking out from behind the makeup. The Joker is twitchy, goading, sadomasochistic, terrifying and often appears saner than the population around him: at one point, he comments that people are calm as long as everything goes according to the plan -- no matter how terrible that plan is. He's a man who has stared straight into the void and realized that you can ask why all you want but an answer won't be forthcoming. The Joker exposes the madness of the paradigm by taking it to it's logical extreme.

I was underwhelmed by the film's other two leading men. (The effect was probably intensified by my lack of finding either Christian Bale or Aaron Eckhart attractive in the least. Conversely, my sister grins a little when talking about Christian Bale who's "just so cute.") Bale doesn't need a wide range to play his character. He has to be brooding and gruff with a side of plastic playboy. Aaron Eckhart was not bad, but he didn't manage to capture much of an edge to add to his character.

Sadly, Maggie Gyllenhaal was visibly constrained in her role. Rachel had more guts in her left little finger than Harvey had in his whole body, and yet she's stuck playing second fiddle to him and Batman both. Sad times. She's definitely an improvement over the withering "Betty" from The Incredible Hulk, but it's rather maddening to her Harvey Dent mourned as "the best of us" and Rachel essentially forgotten.

Which brings me around to my next feminist beef with the film. It's my understanding that Commissioner Gordon's daugther, Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl, aka Oracle, has far more of a role in the Batman universe. So why is Commissioner Gordon's son the child who is somewhat developed in the film? (Daughter appears, but only to be shielded from seeing bad things by mom.) Ergh. Come on, people! It's okay for girls to want to grow up to kick some supervillain ass!

But, honestly, I wasn't expecting a feminist subtext, and the film was a definite improvement on strongly anti-feminist subtext of The Incredible Hulk and the somewhat less anti-feminist subtext of Prince Caspian.

mmm...catharsis

My excuse for seeing Wanted is that I, as a Russian major, must support the foray of director Timur Bekmambetov into American cinema.

My reason is that he's a slick and stylish director, and I like slick and stylish movies -- even if they're a bit low on the substance part. That and I'm in a mood where an ultraviolent flick is good for the mental health.

To begin, Wanted meets my basic demand -- it was worth the ticket price. (5.50 -- yay, for the local cinema's ladies' night!) Bekmambetov used an interesting series of cuts to keep the exposition from being too dull. (Can the Time Warp be dull?) The car chases were thrilling. The violence was creative and artful. The pacing felt a little slow at moments, but overall, it worked.

The movie relies heavily on a voice-over from James McAvoy. I'm not certain how I feel about it. I suspect it was a nod to Fight Club. The film also bears some strong similarities to Bekmambetov's campy Russian vampire film of gloriousness Night Watch. Both films open with a lesson in the history of the film's universe -- in Night Watch, the formation of a truce between the armies of light and darkness and here, the formation of the mysterious Fraternity. Both films have an underlying theme of creating and preserving balance (more on that later). The parallels between Wesley and Anton (the protagonist of Night Watch) are extensive -- wimpy dude suddenly finds himself killing things in visually nifty ways. And there are daddy issues.

Oh yes, and Konstantin Khabetsky -- who played Anton in Night Watch and appears to be Johnny Depp to Bekmambetov's Tim Burton -- appears as a Russian assassin with a collection of pet rats and a damn good bottle of vodka. (Platinum Russki Standart -- I wants it, precious!) His character is a little "off" -- I think blazhennii might be the Russian word for him -- and throughly delightful. We also have an Easter egg with the buzzing flies. Poor flies.

James McAvoy did well with his character he was believable whether he was wimping out, babbling in terror, or kicking ass. Morgan Freeman was predictably solid and created enough ambiguity around his character to make the twist that shall not be revealed fairly satisfying. Angelina Jolie was the weak link. Yes, she's hot with the guy and tattoos. But she apparently has two modes in this movie. Grim face and smirk. What happened to the Angelina Jolie of Girl, Interrupted?

If you go to this film, go expecting style, enterntainment, creative ways of inflicting a lot of damage. Do not go if you want a lot of substance.

But lest it be said that film has no substance at all, I will argue that it has some. The theme of balance provides some meat -- particularly if you wanted to force the film into conversation with the larger body of Russian philosophical work on the difference between egotism and individuality. Our assassin squad seems to operate with a binary of the wolves and the sheep. Are you going to be a sheep, blindly stumbling to your "destiny," or are you going to be a wolf and take destiny into your own hands? The movie doesn't provide a clear answer -- which I do think was on purpose -- and I like that. I wish that the film had taken a little more time to explore not playing that game at all -- which is suggested by the wishes of Wesley's father for his son, but whatever. Summer action flick.

Also, no one in their right mind should bring their six year old to this film. Someone did. The film is rated R for a reason. Shame on you, parent who did so!

Deus Ex Machina makes for Cool Special Effects

I dragged the siblings out to see Prince Caspian on Friday.

I should note that I don't remember much of anything from the novel. I didn't bother going to see The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. But Eddie Izzard is the voice of Reepicheep -- who is basically the only character I remember from the novel. So, yes! (And if Eddie Izzard is involved, the fundies can't be too involved.)

After I got the bits of my mind that are familiar with post-colonial theory and feminist theory to shut up, I enjoyed the film quite a bit. The special effects were superb. The casting and the acting were both quite good, and I was just jonesing for some sword and sorcery action, of which there was plenty, convincing shot while still managing to avoid extreme gore. (I was impressed with how the violence was handled -- it didn't feel like a PG rated movie at all.)

That said -- you could tell that Mr. Lewis was a citizen of an empire. The Narnians (all magical creatures) need human leaders -- because apparently, Narnia has never been right except when sons of Adam and daughters of Eve are in charge of things. Uh-huh . . . yeah. This is not a movie about Narnia gaining independence -- this is a movie about Narnia fighting to have an benevolent dictator ruling over them.

Trumpkin the dwarf was a delight in the film. He's cynical and sarcastic. He raises the difficult theological and ethical questions of the film. (Unfortunately, the film chooses not to deal with these questions.) He questions the existence of Aslan, asking where he has been and why he hadn't come to the aid of the Narnians before now. He calls out the pretensions of the Pevensie siblings. One of the best lines in the movie is when he overhears Lucy refer to him as the DLF (dear little friend), stops short and yells back, "Don't you think that's a bit patronizing." He and Lucy do form a true friendship in the course of the growth of both characters. Unfortunately, his resolution with Aslan doesn't share the same charming sense of mutuality. He reluctantly kneels, and Aslan roars establishing his dominance.

I'm also a bit hesitant to award the film firm feminist credentials. Lucy is goodness itself -- the eternal feminine. She's charming, but ultimately well on her way to climbing up on the pedestal of the cult of true womanhood. There's no edge to her, no bite, no kick. She's no Lyra Belacqua (of the excellent novels, not the travesty of a film).

Susan's portrayal is even more disturbing from a feminist angle. Certainly, the girl can kick some ass and demonstrates as much courage as her brothers. I can even justify the scene where Caspian rides in and rescues her from Telmarine soldiers (the odds of her winning that fight on her own where none). However, as best I can tell, the lesson Susan needed to learn from Narnia is nothing more than anti-feminist backlash.

The film opens with Susan shutting down (rudely, yes) a boy who is trying (badly) to ask her out. He comments that Susan is a bit of loner. Over the course of the time in Narnia, Susan begins crushing on Caspian, kissing him before being returned to our world. Aslan comments that she and Peter have learned what they needed to in Narnia. And in Susan's case, this lesson is, apparently, that she does need a boy in her life -- or in the terms of religious fundamentalism, she comes to terms with complementarianism. Returning to London, she gives the boy she blew off a smile.

Oh, please . . . and Philip Pullman has pointed out, Susan is later excluded from Narnia because she's too interested in boys. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Poor girl.

So, in sum, go to see Prince Caspian because it's got cool special effects, well-written dialogue, sword and sorcery goodness, and Eddie Izzard. But beware the subtext.

So, The Fountain...

NO! No! and No!

And now I know what not to write.

Seriously, why was the Inquisitor speaking in Gnostic/Cathar code speech? Why? No.

Just don't bother. Not even really worth a breakdown of everything that was wrong with it.

And this is the best thing on TV?

So, I'm watching a movie that never should have been made: Billy the Kid Versus Dracula.

Oh, yes. I kid you not.

Billy is our blond-haired blue-eyed, all-American hero. Or so it seems from the first thirty minutes, and I'm not sure how much more I'll be watching. Oh yes. And the rather wooden Dracula just isn't doing it for me; although, I'll admit I'm a bit spoiled on Alucard who is teh sex. I don't know, I just prefer my living dead to be a little more, um, animated. Oh, and we have the sweet and pure virgin betrothed of our Billy, Betty, who maketh me long for Winona Ryder's Mina. Needs to add some teeth to the part. Oh, oh, we have thinly veiled symbols -- lambs are showing up all over the ranch with their innocent little throats ripped out. And now our precious Betty is tore between her "uncle" and her fiance. Ah, alas and alack!

But in summary -- vampires should be sexy. This is my firm belief.

This is a not a sexy vampire. (Although, at an hour in, the actor has a little more of an edge to him than I first thought, but still no Gary Oldman.)










This is a sexy vampire.













And this is my late night ramble.

Keira Knightley has Magic Legs

(hate to think of what search strings that'll attract)

Just got back from the third Pirates movie. I have no intentions of any real spoilers, just a handful of comments, but one or two might make it in, depending on what you count as a spoiler.

1) Very, very dark humor. The tone for the whole movie is set by the opening scene. Which is a mass execution. With a moment of very morbid humor as one of the victims isn't tall enough to reach the noose. It's well...let's say the amount of human suffering in this movie almost pushes it past the point of being enjoyable. The director was walking a thin rope. I'll have to watch again before I can say how well or badly he did.

2) Johnny Depp -- brilliantly pointless!

3) Can I give Davy Jones a hug? He and Tia Dalma have what is arguably the best scene in the movie.

4) Barbossa. I do believe I am also in love with him. Or at least want to hug him, the little scoundrel!

5) The title of this post: Keira Knightley has magic legs. Despite having spent the entire movie running about on pirate ships with flithy men with their teeth rottening out, her legs are perfectly devoid of hair at the end. An obvious give to the myth that women were naturally endowed with hairless legs! (Why, yes, I do realize it's Disney, it's ridiculous and over the top anyway, and this movie is based in myth with not a shred of reality. It still struck me as a THINGS DON'T WORK THAT WAY moment.) I was also a little disturbed by the exploitation of potential places to hide weapons on a female body for a cheap laugh. That went past the extreme dark humor into flat out inappropriate.

ETA: So, in my bumping about the interweb ramblings, it seems I have suddenly managed to land myself within the top ten of Google hits, at least at one point last night, for searches regarding the legs of Miss Keira Knightley. In fact, I do believed I have just received my first spam comment, which while it expresses a rather revolting sentiment and abuses the English language, I have decided for the time being to leave up. Anyhoo, because I am a little frightened by being in the top ten for searches that I do believe were purposed to find photo's of Keira Knightley's legs or more prurient discussions of her legs, the radical feminist within me would like to comment that it is rather disgusting behavior to reduce the value of a woman to whether or not her legs are "thick" or "shapley" or "smooth" or "hairy" or whatever. And frankly, I didn't notice what her legs looked like because I was too busy thinking that there was no way under the sun that they could be that hairless!

At this point, I will digress into stating that I think the portrayal of Elizabeth Swan in the Pirates movies -- while far from a feminist's dreams come true (please see above notes regarding cheap laughs) -- is quite refreshing. After all, it's not every day that we get a film or a series of films in which the leading lady develops from a damsel in distress and the object of our hero's desires into her own independent operative, acting to further her own goals, which may or may not be a cross-purposes with those of the hero. And, she's also damn kick-ass. And Keira Knightley isn't even the main eye candy of the film, kudos to Orlando Bloom for, by his pretty-boy status, adding some genderfuck into the mix with oh, so, sexy chest scars.

Further, I would like to note that this blogger endorses the crazy notion that most beauty standards are misogynistic and imposed upon women by the patriarchy for whatever reason. (See this post from Laura, Of I'm Not a Feminist, But... for more on that.) Therefore, this blogger hasn't shaved her won legs in nearly a year and has no intentions of doing so at anypoint in the near future. Why? Because of the revolutionary notion that my legs do not exist for the benefit of someone else's thrills but exist mostly to get me from point A to point B and somwhere after that for my own thrills and chills. My legs -- I will shave them if I want, and won't shave them if I don't want.

But, wait, I hear the chorus now chanting that, but Keira Knightley is an actress and puts her legs up for view by the denizens of the world. She should give the audience what they want -- smooth, hairless legs! A straw man, to whom I can only reply: Keira Knightley is an actress. She is paid to act, not to satisfy your culturally inflicted need for hairless legs on women. Does the dominant culture use actresses to satisfy their sexual fantasy? Yes. Should they? No, probably not. And they particularly shouldn't do so based on a single physical attribute of the woman in question. Love/lust after Keira Knightley because she's had a tendency to play women who are rather awesome and manage at least some degree of independent existence. Not because of her legs!

Thank you. I will now go eat a sausage, zuchinni, and sweet corn casserole. Because sausage is a particularly tasty form of tasty, tasty murder!

More Movie Mutterings...And Some Instrumental Music Mumblings

I picked up a copy of The Aviator today. It was an incredibly good movie the first time around, and I'm more impressed on the second viewing. Excellent acting aside, the cinematography was just something else. I'll need to watch it again to try and unravel just what is going on the over saturation of color, but it's pretty nifty.

And now to move from commentary to just ripping off my betters... *cough* ...reporting.

I went to my aunt and uncle's church this morning. The story behind this particularly congregation --the persona non grata of many of the more "established" Maury County CofC's -- is that they broke off from one of the other CofCs in the county several years ago. I'm not sure what the real reasons were, at this point, I don't think it matters. At any rate the new church, Maury Hills was promptly accused of sacrificing chickens in the CofC gossip mill. (My uncle laughs and says KFC does a nice job at fixing up the sacrificial chickens.) They've since tried to make it their goal to be a congregation for people who have been burned by others within the CofC. They've also caused a hullabaloo by holding an annual joint worship service with the county's single Disciples of Christ congregation on the anniversary of the split between the Disciples and the Churches. (Anyone else think the Disciples walked away the rhetorically superior name?) My comment on the former is that I can make it through a whole worship service without any uncontrollable twitches. On the latter, I think that's just really nifty. Basically, I like them. So, anyway, those familar with CofC bickering can guess what the hullabaloo over having a joint worship service with the DofC was --

-- Instrumental music! (In fact, the junior preacher at the well-established CofC -- Westies, for those of you who know my code -- previously attended by yours truly was recently reported to have preached on how you can't use any instruments in a worship service. Except a tuning fork. I kinda wish I had witnessed these Bible gymnastics first hand. They must have been impressive to get that conclusion! ETA: His message was not endorsed by the elders, or most of the congregation.)

But back to the first CofC mentioned, Maury Hills. Today their preacher spoke on the issue of instrumental music versus a capella singing. (My aunt commented that he actually looked nervous.) And in a nutshell, his message was this: we have a capella rather than instrumental music as a matter of choice, not a matter of command. And most profoundly, he finished up his sermon with the thought: what if the only thing God hears is the worshipper's heart?