Three-Movie Weekend

From the archive of unfinished posts:

The Wrath of the Titans, directed by Jonathon Liebesman and starring Sam Worthington, was, I think, actually better than its predecessor. Clash of the Titans was decent, in a b-movie kind of way, but it had one problem: it tried to tell the story of a classic myth and failed to do so. Wrath broke with every mythic convention I can name, and was better for it. Because it hardly acknowledged myth, it didn't really have expectations to fill. I'd watch it again.

The Raven was shockingly well done. When I first saw the trailer, all I could think about was how badly this movie wanted to be Sherlock Holmes, but it turned out to be more than that. Cusack played a shockingly convincing Poe, the circumstances/traps were appropriately squirm-worthy and awful, and the mystery was downright decent. I would be willing to own this movie.

The thing you've got to understand is that The Three Musketeers is ridiculous, hands down. The Musketeers are primarily in tight leather, one of them is practically a ninja, they uncover DaVinci plans for steampunk airships and build them, and Orlando Bloom has a pompadour. In summation? It's awesome. One for all and all for one!

Cheers!

Prometheus

Ridley Scott's latest Sci-fi/Horror/Survival flick, starring Noomi Rapace as scientist Elizabeth Shaw, an...interesting...prequel to the Aliens series.

I am beginning to hatch a theory that the more special effects Ridley Scott - who brought us such titles as Blade Runner (1982), Gladiator (2000), Kingdom of Heaven (2005), and the Alien franchise (1979-present) - has access to, the grosser his films are bound to get. Primarily, I regret to say, Prometheus was gross.

Yes, the effects were praiseworthy. Yes, I enjoyed all of the design. Yes, I appreciated the multiracial cast of characters. Yes, the script had great Alien-esque moments. Yes, the performances of the actors were stunning. However, my first and foremost gut reaction is that this film was disgusting. It was like Scott sat down with the design and animation team and said "I want this to be as gritty, organic, nasty, and invasive as you can possibly make it without our audiences physically barfing, okay?" Because that's about how I would describe the pale, writhing-in-black-goo penile snakey Elder God facesuckers that the film's progenitors of the human race created.

Not to say that it wasn't realistic in the sense that if one was actually on an alien planet going up against bio-engineered creatures of mass destruction, that's probably what it would be like, so props in that direction, but seeing it in movie-theater high-definition, that's something else entirely.

That being said, the stars of the show were Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender, and Charlize Theron, for their performances. Fassbender played a spookily accurate android, Theron was appropriately blunt, no-nonsense and corporate, and, most importantly, Rapace more than carried the strong main female role. I don't know if anyone could quite pass Sigourney Weaver's Ripley (flamethrower, anyone?), but Rapace did a heck of a job.

In short? I'd recommend seeing it at least once. It's a good concept and well-executed to boot, but bring your brown paper bags. Cheers.

The Hunger Games

thoughts on the film, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, and the phenomenon in general.

For those of you who read my last post about The Hunger Games, if you were enraged by my flippancy, now you will receive justice. However, let's take things one at a time.

Item One: The Film

I had the uncanny good fortune of being able to see The Hunger Games movie at Cinetopia. Sadly the livingroom theatre was sold out for that day, but any of the auditoriums are preferable to the cramped and scummy stadium seats of your typical moviehouse. I could therefore cite the quality of the picture, the hugeness of the sound, but when it came down to it, The Hunger Games is, quite simply, a good movie.

First of all, the cast was excellent. All of the principles were aptly chosen. Jennifer Lawrence, by now a veteran huntress with Winter's Bone behind her, was Katniss Everdeen through and through. She was serious, intense, and internal - just like her counterpart Katniss from the book. Josh Hutcherson  as Peeta Mellark was likewise perfect. His expertise was in his delivery, expressions...pretty much in everything. We didn't see much of Liam Hemsworth as Gale Hawthorne, other than him brooding, so he's had yet to impress me. I guess that he's Thor's little brother has to count for something, though. Lenny Kravitz was the perfect Cinna, and, fun fact, it helped that he and Jennifer Lawrence were already friends, seeing as she worked with his daughter on X-Men: First Class. Wes Bentley cut an excellent Seneca Crane, Elizabeth Banks was the spitting image of Effie Trinket, and Donald Sutherland was an aptly venomous President Snow.

But the brilliance wasn't just in the cast. The cinematography of this film also exceeded my expectations. The scene which comes to mind is when Katniss and Peeta, having been chosen as tributes, stumble onto the train headed for the capitol. Something about the looks on their faces combined with the way the camera moved to show the opulence of the train car highlighted the pointlessness of that opulence, of how very wrong it was to plunge these two children into so many changes and in such a succession.

Likewise, the score is brilliant. Written by James Newton Howard, the orchestrated moments in the movie are potentially the most powerful. Then again, with most of M. Night Shamalan's films under his belt, I'm not surprised. (Whatever you think of Mr. M. Night Shamalamadingdong, as he is sometimes called around here, you have to admit that his movies are beautifully scored.)

In all, I went to this film with a bit of an attitude. Was I ever wrong. Hindsight 20/20 all around with this series.

For more information on the film, visit the official movie page and IMDb.

Item Two: Catching Fire

The strange thing about this series for me is that I stopped dead in the middle. After finishing The Hunger Games I downloaded book two, Catching Fire, for the kindle and began reading immediately. Sadly, I couldn't quite finish two books in a day, and I had to depart for my dearly beloved college town the next. I stopped directly in the middle. After that I couldn't quite find the will to keep reading.

And then I watched the movie.

Seeing it on the screen brought the story back to life for me, which is saying something. (I don't want to give the plot of the second book away entirely, but the first half seems a little innocuous in comparison to the end of the first book: it has its own merits, of course, but it's hard to keep up something as engaging as the conclusion to the 74th annual Hunger Games.) After watching Jennifer Lawrence's Katniss live through that arena, I had to know more. I had to know what happened, and I stayed up way too late finishing book two and most of book three.

The plot twist in book two also impressed me. At first glance I thought it was something that even Suzanne Collins could pull off with little success, but she made it work for her. The Quarter Quell was very different than the year which preceded it, and I salute her for making it work.

Item Three: Mockingjay

The thing about Mockingjay is that I have heard more complaints about it than with the other two books combined. I'm not sure what it is that makes some Hunger Games fans unhappy about this third and final volume, because I honestly thought it was brilliant. The discontent could stem from the fact that it comes off as much more real, and therefore much more hopeless, than the other two books, but something in that appealed to me as a reader.

***Not even going to try to be non-spoilery in the next part, fair warning***

Mockingjay has a lot to say about the dynamics of revolution. That the story depends so wholly on Katniss as a figurehead, and a televised one at that, speaks a lot to the concept of the funded cause. The only way that the revolution in Panem could have kept going was by the aid of Capitol money and therefore Capitol sedition: it is only the causes picked by members of the dominant regime which get the backing and the momentum to continue and, ultimately, succeed. That, I think, is some serious food for thought.

In Other News...

The Hunger Games as a phenomenon has exploded. Hot Topic is carrying Hunger Games memorabilia, including the Mockingjay pin, there's a game for the iPhone called Hunger Games: Girl on Fire, there is a facebook page devoted to becoming a Capitol citizen where you can get a free physical Panem ID card, and there's a Hunger Games adventure game, also on facebook. There are t-shirts, journals, several spoofs, even a book of philosophy. The Hunger Games is the next big thing, just like I thought it would be when I initially felt resistance to the growing fad. Only this time, I think I'm okay with a little bit of fanaticism.

Later today I will be attending a lecture on the fashion of the capitol and what it has to say, socially and politically, and how these choices control the people of the capitol. For a blog on that, please see Hyperbole's sister blog: tangential!

If you're interested in how Philosophy relates to all this, please consider Amazon. After all, the lecturer I'm hearing is published in this book. Cheers!

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Honestly, my mind is still racing to catch up. I haven't devoured a book the way I devoured The Hunger Games since right before fall quarter, the exhausting two-day stint wherein I completed both Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and Brom's The Child Thief.

There are a few reasons this parallel came as a surprise. I admit that at first I was a little resistant to reading The Hunger Games, though with 20/20 hindsight it was a foolish reaction. On some level I feared a sort of fiction-following rebound. In the gaping hole that the cinematic conclusion Harry Potter left behind in addition with the fact that the last piece of the Twilight saga is nearly at hand, part of me wondered if the fanatical attention given to Hunger Games wasn't just to fill the massive media vacuum both franchises have and will inevitably leave behind. To some extent I think the Hunger Games film is meant to do just that, but more on that front later.

This resistance was tough to shake, especially when I opened the book and was immediately confronted with not only first-person but also present tense narrative. I have close to no conception why, but either of these on their own is enough to shut me down to a fiction book, let alone both in tandem. As I said, I couldn't tell you why, though if asked I suppose I would answer that something in the cadence of it feels all wrong ninety percent of the time. That being said, just how hooked I was, and in such a short amount of time, is a testament to Suzanne Collins' sheer mastery.

The massive hooks throughout the book, and possibly the best aspect of Collins' writing, consist of tremendous amounts of suspense coupled with extremely visual, imaginative prose. It's little wonder the movie companies couldn't wait to sink their claws into it - turning this into a storyboard would be a piece of cake. Paring it down to the length of a single film? Maybe not so much.

***Now we enter the potential Spoiler zone. Read on at your own risk***

On the subject of the trailer, having watched it now that I'm in the know I completely understand all my friends and acquaintances who claim they're already bracing themselves for disappointment. The casting all along the board seems all wrong, Katniss seems hopelessly toned down, and the visual look of what the audience gets from the meager two minutes of trailer seems listing far off-course from the look and feel of the book. Danger! Here there be monsters!

Which of course comes back to the whole 'divorce the book and the movie so that you don't get mad' business.

My other reservations lie in how self-sufficient this first volume is. Not for a second did the conception even enter my mind that the entire games would be over and dealt with in the first novel. The suspense throughout its entirety was insane - the driving plot to stay alive, to kill or be killed, to keep up a farce in order to earn food and water - but what does that leave? The only remnant from the first novel which will inevitably carry over to the subsequent two is the love-triangle which is hardly even a triangle. I congratulate Collins on the portrayal of a girl who is confused and doesn't know what she wants, thinks, or feels - that she "can't explain how things are...because [she] doesn't know [her]self" (373). But is that really enough to go on for two more books, after the whirl, desperation and brutality of the games? It teeters dangerously close to that media vacuum I mentioned before - worse, the teen-romance portion of the vacuum that verges on the inane. I can only hope this'll be incorporated into that hindsight 20/20 bit.

In all I have my doubts, clearly, but I'm determined to reserve judgment. Suzanne Collins has impressed me once, and done a thorough job of it. I am more than willing to believe that she can do it again.

Interested in purchase? Say no more.

Double Whammy

Two books in two days, BAM!
And did I mention I finished Sherlock Holmes? No? Oh. Well then.

Sherlock is awesome. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is awesome. Look into it.

Book no. 1: The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.


Suffice it to say that my initial response to The Graveyard Book was:
"The Graveyard Book is over and done -
one of the best I've ever read -
and now that day is long past gone
I'm ready to sleep like the dead."

Reading fiction, especially children's-to-young-adult fiction, doesn't usually inspire me to write poetry, let alone rhyming lines, let alone at three o'clock in the morning.

Get thee to a bookstore. NOW.

Especially if you have a love of ghost stories. Gaiman is a wizard, I swear.

However, the volume that currently consumes my thoughts is none other than

Book no. 2, Brom's latest work: The Child Thief.


Do you, dear reader, recall how the 2003 film version of Peter Pan, starring Jeremy Sumpter (Peter) and Jason Isaacs (Hook), sought to re-inject some of the darkness of faery back into the tale which had been inevitably candy-coated through mediums like Disney? Brom's retelling of J.M. Barrie's classic novel gives that film a cold, back-handed, lip-splitting slap to the face.

This overhaul begins in modern New York, in Brooklyn, steeped in its drugs, thug violence, and urban brutality and desperation. Cue Peter, the Child Thief, ready to tempt his newly-found runaways into the Mist and out of this world, into one which is different in every way and yet equally cruel. Welcome to Avalon.

Like Brom's other works, The Child Thief is impossibly dark. In a way, rightfully so. Brom invites his audience to re-examine J.M. Barrie's own Peter, the first Peter, the true Peter. Brom quotes Barrie's novel, “The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two.” And if that was't enough, he found another gem: ""I forget them after I kill them," he (Peter) replied carelessly.”

Personally, I had forgotten those lines. In light of them, the world of The Child Thief seems a logical, even a natural, inference to make. And while Brom's Peter occasionally shows the flippancy and the childishness that might excuse his predecessor - for surely a child would not understand death, not really, not the way an adult would - he has no excuses. He asks for none. He kills and has been killing all his long, ageless life.

Which brings me to a word of caution: this book is graphic. Terribly graphic. The kind of graphic that should never be translated into visual representations of any kind. If you can't take the thought of glistening entrails being anywhere other than inside one's body, close the book, put it back on the shelf, this one's not for you. (For the record, the language is also vulgar as hell.) Furthermore, whether or not your are opposed to the language, the portrayal, the violence, anything, this is the kind of book that once you're hooked, you're sunk, it's over, goodnight. The novel is 480 pages long. I read more than half of it today and forgot to eat. That hasn't happened to me before.

And yet, as much as it - as he - is terrifying, Brom's words and Peter's winning nature are enchanting. I found myself hoping, wishing for a reason for all the brutality, for the battles and the senselessness, and at first I thought there was. But Brom has a way of bringing out the painfully human in things which are portrayed as superhuman: of tearing away all artifice and illusion, of standing the most charismatic leader beside the most corrupt tyrant and stripping them both down to nothing more than greed, and lust, and grit, and pain. Identical. And, for some reason, it's impossible not to watch.

As harsh as I am toward Brom's Peterbird, I have to admit, he did a marvelous job in crafting him. The only spoiler I will give is a phrase used throughout the book: "...because Peter's smile is a most contagious thing." Sociopath or not, kidnapper or not, Peter is charismatic as hell. I fought with the concept of his faults all through the novel, wanting to make him into the simple hero minds like Disney's made him into, to make him into a person who was good, and only good. It wasn't possible. And that's okay. If I'd been a runaway, I'd only have had one answer, and it was the same, beginning of the novel to its end:

"I go willingly."

So if you have a mind, and a strong stomach, and perhaps even a touch of dark humor about you, pick up The Child Thief. But beware: it's not like you remember it.

Red Riding Hood

starring Amanda Seyfried as Red (Valerie) and directed by Catherine Hardwicke. Wait, you say, Catherine Hardwicke? The director of Twilight?

Yes, folks. The director of Twilight.

My first reaction when seeing the trailer and knowing this fact was "Why, world? Why didn't you let it be Tim Burton?"

In spite of this, I tried very hard not to judge it based solely on the choice of director. My dad might tell you otherwise, having watched the movie with me (sorry, dad!), but I really did try. It didn't work incredibly well. Too much of the film was just too predictable.

First, the introduction was trying too hard to be Twilight. The establishing shots of foggy, groggy, Pacific North-West style rolling forest hills could have been cut and pasted from Hardwicke's aforementioned project. Second, the acting, barring only miss Seyfried (by grace of her portraying a young lady with a million times more grace and dexterity than Kristen Stewart's Bella - then again, it doesn't take much), was pretty atrocious. I also bar Gary Oldman from this judgment, who I hope was paid extremely well in compensation for the terrible accent he had to put on. Last, and most important, was the severe incongruousness.

The setting (temporal): the village where the story plays out is one where Red/Valerie is arranged to marry the Blacksmith (Henry), as she will have a much more secure financial life with him, rather than with the woodcutter she loves (Peter). The houses are what you would imagine: simple, wooden, rustic. The costuming hints at a period piece while deftly side-stepping any real temporal commitment. When Gary Oldman (Father Solomon, who also happens to be the only character with a costume which could potentially be dated) appears on the scene, his thick pseudo-German accent would hint that they are somewhere in Europe. As he and his entourage arrive on horseback and the village, if it is truly as isolated as is professed by our heroine and narrator, would almost certainly not know of a Werewolf specialist from overseas, I have to conclude that they are somewhere at least on the same continent. All of the other actors speak with American accents.

The setting (physical): I said village, right? Rustic, scenic, isolated. The aforementioned costuming throws logic to the winds and the peasants of this community dress in fine, bright fabrics. There is an array of colors, from bright blue to bright yellow, and in hues that simple folk of their bent would almost certainly be unable to afford or make. What use would they have of a forest-green work shirt, let alone finery, when Red tells us in the very beginning that the rest of the world doesn't even know her village's name? (Thanks to IMDb's lovely reminder, I can also gripe about the glass windows, which only the rich could afford.) Back to the clothes. To give credit where it is due, I understand that this is meant to be a fantasy and that these kind of things can, and do, slide. But aesthetically speaking, to have a dingier, grittier village would have lent all the more visual power and command to Red's beautiful cloak, which was much more realistic: while it was bright red, as promised, it was coarse-woven and a gift from Red's granny. It seemed just as it should be.

So ultimately I forgive the costumes. What I can't quite forgive, as this is a period piece, was that Peter's hair was clearly moussed. Not only was this a serious affront in the period piece category, it made him an Edward-wannabe and, similar to the effect it had on Robert Pattinson, took away practically all of Shiloh Fernandez's attractiveness. And, for those of you who are interested, I don't know if you've looked at other pictures of him, but he is SMOKIN'. So seriously, I don't know what they were thinking with the hair gel. I can only hope that, in spite of bad hair choices, we'll see more of him in better-directed, better-written movies.

And now to give credit where it really is due. The cinematography was quite good. It didn't make up for the writing, but there were some extremely lovely moments, especially Red's hallucination-scenes wherein her cloak gets much longer and is usually being blown around in the wind as she walks through untouched snow. SO visually appealing. So kudos to the crew for that.

I will also own that the Wolf was meticulously animated. While I still prefer Van Helsing's man-wolf, the oversized, lean Wolf of Red Riding Hood ranks right up there with the best. I may even place it as my second-favorite werewolf design in film. (Perhaps third, with American Werewolf in London holding an honorary second place.)

The next credit-award is possibly what shocked me most of all: I actually didn't predict who the Wolf was. It distracted me even from the poor acting for almost the entire second half of the film. There are some false threads and enough ambiguity that the reveal was refreshing. I won't spoil that part, just in case anyone wants to find out on their own.

What amused me the most about this film, however, was the blatant murder-mystery-game feeling the whole production had. Gary Oldman literally said something to the effect of "Bar the entrances. No-one leaves!" I burst out laughing.

My conclusion is that someone got drunk, played The Werewolves of Miller's Hollow, watched Twilight, and spat out "I HAVE A WONDERFUL IDEA."

Tim Burton, Danny Elfman, you make me mourn what this movie could have been.

Red on IMDb
Red's YouTube Trailer
The best game in Existence: The Werewolves of Miller's Hollow and its two expansions, New Moon and The Village!

Priest

Was just like I hoped it would be. It would be an ideal double-feature with Constantine, Van Helsing, Underworld, or even Legion for optimum levels of ass kicking, badassery, and supernatural crap of some denomination.

Paul Bettany: perfect, I only wish they'd have let him keep his glorious British accent.

Karl Urban: perfect in every way. Put a gold star on the black hat.

Maggie Q: could have participated in the badassery more, but had her moment and so I am satisfied.

Cam Gigandet: had his good moments, his bad moments: if only they'd have let him actually tan rather than giving him the Jersey treatment!

The Vampires: one of the most original vampire concepts this side of Western Media in the last decade. Perhaps longer.

The design: superb. I've no idea how much the design for the film looks like the designs from the original korean graphic novels (serialized in the states by the juggernaut Tokyopop), but here's a list of everything that I can judge went into the aesthetics for the movie: Assassin's Creed for the costumes of the Priests/Priestesses (Paul Bettany especially), super turbo mega awesome motorcycles a la FFVII Advent Children, futuristic Cowboys/space western/twisted western, steam power meets Blade Runner cyber-city, windswept post-apocalypse desert, enough conducting explosions to orchestral music to make V proud, blood gore violence and, of course, who could forget? a fight on top of a moving train.

In short: BRILLIANT.

Go watch it.

Pinky Spud and the Unwitting Felons on Holiday: Vegas, Baby!

Day 3: Retreat! Hell!

Broken photos?! Still??
Yeah, yeah. I'm on it.

Where even to begin? The sunrise is as good a place as any. I distinctly remember waking up in the neighborhood of 5:15 in the morning entangled in my headphones cable, turning over to investigate, and in doing so being confronted by the strangest sky. I sat up, looked straight at a rising, pumpkin-orange sun, and had the foresight to jot down the phrase “tangerine and key lime sunrise” before completely zonking out again, but not quite enough foresight to grab the camera sitting next to my bed and take a picture of it. Lame.

Once I was actually conscious breakfast proceedings began with Starbucks and Mad Zeppelin! (which was soundly won by my mom). After that victory, we high-tailed it to Mandalay Bay and their Shark Reef Aquarium. It, happily, was home to a Komodo Dragon AND a healthy Python, as well as some of the prettiest piranhas ever witnessed. The best, though, was probably the octopus just due to the fact that he was swimming all over the place. Every other octopus I’ve ever seen since I was young enough to be scared of them has always been hiding and perfectly still. This guy was goin’ crazy. [photo]

After adventures in Sharkington, we broke out the rental car (whut?!), and headed to MGM. Where there are lots of lions. Like this one. [photo] But more importantly, there is the lion habitat, which, much to my happiness, is harm-free and humane. And oh lawd are they fat and happy. I mean look at her. Can that even be comfortable unless one is totally pampered? [photo] [photo] In fact, there was so much lion-ness going around, that I became a lion! [photo]

(No. I did not purchase that hat.)

Next we parked at Paris, breezing through it and taking a shortcut through the Sugar Factory in order to get, that’s right, THE PHOTO. [photo]
Courtesy of my mom <3 So the idea is that you have a fancy holder for your lollipop, right? But even better, it comes with a little plastic case-dome-thing so that you can wrap it up and save it for later. And it’s fancy. MOVING ON.

We popped back into the Bellagio for some Cirque shopping, including some birthday presents for some of my favorite people… The best discovery of the day next to the moment I saw a book of Cirque sheet music for piano, vocals, and guitar (EEP!) was the umbrella rotunda, yet another décor choice which endeared the Bellagio to me. [photo]

Next we headed over to the vicinity of Caesar’s Palace and made the terrible decision of stopping in at Serendipity 3 for “coffee and sweets.” I would like to note that serendipity is defined as “ser•en•dip•i•ty [ser-uhn-dip-i-tee] –noun 1.an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident. 2.good fortune; luck: the serendipity of getting the first job she applied for” (dictionary.com). In our case, this is hardly accurate. While everything was delicious, it arrived with the kind of fanfare that can only be responded to with “oh NO.” The sundae I ordered, the ‘Lookie Lookie Gimme Cookie sundae,’ could have fed a small nation and was NOT on the “for two” part of the menu. My parents also ordered something to share, which could have fed at least a district or two. This is not to say that the presentation was not spectacular, or that the quality was poor, only that the portions were HULKING and far too much for any of us to handle. Hot damn if all of the designs for the store weren’t adorable, though. [photo]

After suffering minor cardiac arrest and getting stomach pumps, we trekked to Caesar’s Palace, which is gorgeous, but the most confusing, labyrinthine structure we’ve been in yet. There were replicas of classical works everywhere, and after questing to find our way OUT of the Forum Shops, we quested for the Apollo Belvedere copy I’d glimpsed from the car on Sunday. We found him, passing the Winged Nike of Samothrace and Caesar Augustus along the way. [photo]

But we weren’t finished yet. It was barely evening and after all this is Vegas, so heading back wasn’t on the list yet. We schlepped (our word of the day) down to a place called Rave Motion Pictures and watched Battle: Los Angeles. It was actually much better than I expected it to be. Then again, it has Michelle Rodriguez as a tough chick. And aliens. Go see it. Or at least the trailer.

And that, other than bad hotel salads, was the end of the day. Now I have to recharge my mental and physical batteries, an effort I plan on pursuing well into tomorrow next to the pool (weather-gods willing), and get ready for Cirque du Soleil’s O. Sleep tight, all.

Inception

I've been trying to conjure up a phrase evocative enough to describe my reaction to this movie, but the only fitting one I arrive at over and over again is: Holy S***.

Honestly. My brain is swiss cheese. Or a colander.

Inception, courtesy of 2010's charming film lineup, is a psychological wonderland that, I think, filmmakers will be unable to trump for decades. Possibly even the duration of my lifetime. Directed and written by Christopher Nolan, the master behind the script and direction for 2000's addition to the mindf*ck list Memento, which by comparison is charming, outdid himself thoroughly. I think the respect in which he excelled the most is in the conclusions department. For, twisted and strange as it is, Memento has a definite end, an origin: a wellspring, if you would. To rephrase, Memento has a defined beginning, middle, and end: it's just that they're out of order.

Inception is a different beast entirely. Epiphany: that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Inception is the kind of film which, above all else, makes you think. It is a nonstop rollercoaster which keeps you wondering and when at last you think you understand, the world is once more turned on its head. Somehow, I am possessed to say that this is the best kind of storytelling. It's messy. Everyone who views it is going to have a different take on what everything means and on what precisely happened at every turn of the story. It will be debated. In short: uncertain, but uncertain in a tailored way, in a way that makes me step back and, hands on hips, say "isn't it beautiful?"

But I get ahead of myself. For those of you who haven't seen this film, it has a lot to do with layers and layers and layers of un-reality and the single layer of what, we must assume, based on what we are given, really is reality. But there's a problem with this setup. Like in House of Leaves , we may have an unreliable narrator on our hands as an audience. Or we may not.

What I am ultimately trying to get to, I think, is that this film is (arguably) entirely an exercise in authorial intent taking the back seat to individual interpretation. It doesn't matter what Nolen wanted us to see, because we make the choices as to what it is we do see. Every audience member is going to have their own interpretation of this film because, ultimately, each audience member is, independently of every other viewer, calling the shots.

When my parents received this as a Christmas gift, a friend of the family nodded with a knowing smile and said "I'll...be interested to hear your take." And that's just it. This film is less a film and more a puzzle, the ultimate brain teaser, and the ultimate conversation starter. (Perhaps also the ultimate argument-starter.) And it is so because there are so many parts of it which can be interpreted in so many different ways. Perhaps even an infinite number of ways. In one of my English classes we discussed as a group how each individual viewer of any piece of art inevitably projects their knowledge, their past experiences, and their biases onto that piece when they perceive it. If that's so, every viewing is going to be different somehow, even if it's only slight, because ultimately no two people are exactly the same.

I'm tempted to take the evil route here. The evil route is when I start referencing my fledgling understanding of quantum physics and alternate universes, ultimately asserting that under these parameters an infinite number of interpretations is absolutely possible, but that's beside the point. The point is thus: I can't remember the last time I watched a movie that was so ultimately baffling, inconclusive, and simultaneously so masterful. Ambiguous storytelling is so difficult to execute in a way which is even mildly convincing. Inception does so with grace.

I would definitely recommend this film. The music (Hans Zimmer) is superb, the cast is stunning, the visuals breathtaking, the story worth it (I think so anyway - I ended up forming conclusions, it's just that if I were to discuss them here this review would be an entirely different monster!) I only have a few pieces of advice: be plenty awake, sit back, buckle in, and be ready when the kick comes.

How to Train Your Dragon

I cannot believe I forgot to review this, especially in light of how much I love it.
How to Train Your Dragon is most definitely in my top ten movies of the year. If I actually made a study of "top" lists, it'd probably be in the top five. Directed by Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders, this film is based upon the book of the same title by Cressida Cowell. (It can be got here; check it out.)

I think the thing that attracts me to this movie the most is the animation. The motion is simply superb. The way in which Toothless moves, especially, is wonderful, from the way he flies to when he's trying to learn to smile. There's a fluidity there which does the animators a huge amount of credit. The music - composed by John Powell - is excellent and deserves more than the passing mention I'm providing here. And while the film is reputedly very loosely based upon its literary origin, the writing for the script in and of itself is fantastic and its strength is only bolstered by the star-studded cast: my personal favorite parts will always be Jay Baruchel as Hiccup's narration. I mean really. What could be better than the following monologue with a hint of hesitation and a dash of sarcasm?

"This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. My village. In a word? Sturdy, and it's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunset. The only problems are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have Dragons."
[I prefer the closing narration, but I don't want to spoil it here.]

Oh, and did I mention that this is DreamWorks Animation's fifth most successful film? Yeah.
So go out there and catch yourself some Dragons.

How to Train Your Dragon Links!
Trailer Addict
IMDb
Wiki

Tangled

This review is so late I almost wonder at the point of writing it anymore. However, I have such incredible, undying loyalty to this film that I simply can't not.

Tangled is one of the best movies I've seen all year. Not just in the animated or musical category, out of all of them. I went to see it in theaters three times. I bought it on DVD the day it came out. It is WONDERFUL.

A confession: I didn't actually realize that it was a musical until I saw it for the first time. In classic Disney style, of course, it was. Perhaps I didn't expect the combination of musical with the newer computer animation.

This is hardly a review, really a blurb, but it will have to do for now. Tangled is heartfelt, funny, and intelligent, a la Disney style. Also, who could resist Flynn Ryder? I mean really.

Le Pacte des Loups

Better known on this side of the pond as The Brotherhood of the Wolf.

Released in 2001 and directed and adapted for the screen by Christophe Gans, it stars talents such as Samuel Le Bihan, Mark Dacascos and Monica Bellucci. If that didn't make such painfully obvious, the acting is superb.

If I were to recommend and/or caution potential viewers about this film, I would mention its gratuitous violence. In retrospect (having seen this movie twice now) it has gratuitous everything. Gratuitous violence, gore, nakedness, sex, incest, wit, intrigue, convolution of the plot, and wine. A relative of mine refers to this quality as having "something of everything," but more often he refers to this quality as "the best movie ever." And I have to say, there are a great many beautiful things about this film, the imagery and cinematography not the least. The costumes are exquisite, the locations are beautiful, even the transitions are artfully done. The entire atmosphere is complete in a way which puts this film, in my eyes, on the level of my other personal classics, like Le Violon Rouge and The Last of the Mohicans (the Daniel Day-Lewis one, of course).

The writing is also particularly praiseworthy, but IF AND ONLY IF it is viewed in its original French. Not only does the language lend a sense of overall completeness and fluidity, it's just nice to listen to. There are so many historical films which are voiced in American accents - or other accents which are equally wrong - and the English dubbing of this film takes a heavy toll on its quality.

A supernatural thriller set in the French countryside, it is narrated in retrospect by a nobleman who witnessed it all with the expectation that his world is about to convulse a second time with the advent of the French Revolution. Despite the film's location and alleged historical-fiction background, the main storyline contains a substantial amount of martial arts - quite good martial arts, might I add.

The story itself centers around the Beast of Gévaudan and the many plots which surround it. To avoid spoilers, and possibly to watch it again, I will cut this review short.

Curious? Watch a trailer!

Southern Comfort

Now for another installment from the English 227 LGBT broadcast.

Southern Comfort, directed by Kate Davis and released in 2001, is a documentary detailing the lives and journeys of Robert Eads and the people dear to him.

Honestly, much of this film seemed to me to go hand in hand with Freeheld. The connections between them are monotonously obvious, but my mind drew them nevertheless: in both, the person who is the primary focus of the piece is battling terminal cancer and both have themes of struggle against and rejection from parts of the larger "normative" societies they live in. However, Southern Comfort has a host of themes and issues all its own.

For one, it centers around the lives and struggles of Transfolk, who, we discussed several times in class, are "a minority within a minority," especially where education and awareness are concerned. There seems on a whole to be less opportunity for Transfolk to form their own communities, become established as an identity, and be accepted outside of the larger LGB superminority. In a way, Southern Comfort is a motion against this lack of proverbial social screentime.

The film takes its name from another institution which is working towards stronger Transfolk communities, the convention Southern Comfort. It is the largest conference of its kind in the United States and has a reputation of safety and inclusiveness for all LGBT people.

Throughout the documentary, Robert and the people nearest and dearest to him - his "chosen family," as he would say - discuss the issues and concepts of passing, identity formation, rejection, acceptance, self-creation, and the attempt at forging the ideal community. All of these are legitimate, important, and exceedingly prone to triggering conversation (or debate).

Like Freeheld, Southern Comfort is poignant, heart-felt, and vivid, and, also like Freeheld, I would absolutely recommend it.

Links
IMDb
Wiki, both for the film and the convention

Postscript!
Fun Fact for all you Grammar Geeks:
I have it on very good authority that
Transgender is an adjective.
Transsexual is a noun.
And don't let Dictionary.com tell you otherwise!

Freeheld

This was one of the many films we watched in my English GLBT literature class.

Released in 2007, Freeheld was directed and produced by Cynthia Wade, with the help of additional producers Matthew Syrett and Vanessa Roth. It has won several awards, including the Academy Award for Best Short Documentary in 2008. Significant, suspenseful, and heartfelt, the documentary tells the story of Lieutenant Laurel Hester, a policewoman dying of lung cancer who is, despite it, fighting for the right to leave her pension to her partner, Stacie against the ruling of the Ocean County, New Jersey Board of Chosen Freeholders.

This film is shot with a brutal sort of honesty. Little is withheld, especially with regards to the physical and emotional deterioration of both Laurel and Stacie as their - and their community's - campaign against the Freeholders goes on. While Freeheld can be very empowering in the regard that a community comes together to try and make a difference in the face of adversity and discrimination, it is also starkly grounding: after all, 2007 was not that long ago.

I would recommend this film for all of these reasons, especially for its down to earth, unyielding honesty about the nature of communities, the nature of the American court system of not very long ago at all, and especially the nature of the human condition at its most sensitive time - at its close.

Additional Information at:
IMDb
Wikipedia

Paris is Burning

I must ask for your forgiveness, world at large! I am presenting my reviews out of order. Fie and for shame!

Paris is Burning is a documentary I encountered through my English 227 class. Directed by Jennie Livingston and released in 1990, it chronicles the lives of New York's underclass of the late 1980s, namely the attendees of 'Balls' - events some of us might argue could be called Drag Shows. The film has received twelve very well-deserved awards, and is considered one of Miramax Films' earliest successes.

I think my favorite part of this documentary is that it presents the viewer with vocabulary - words like House, Reading, Shade, Voguing, and Mopping - and educates the viewer not only through explanations offered by the Ball-goers, but through demonstration. My second favorite part is that it represents so totally and unabashedly a slice of life which is so often swept under the carpet, and not just in the sense that it deals with people who have sexual, gender, or image identities which are counter to what is considered socially "normative." It also has a lot of statements to make about oppression based on other forms of identity, especially race. The quote that honestly stuck with me the most throughout the whole film speaks to all of the above. The shot, I recall, was of a young man standing on the sidewalk in the pseudo-night of New York city, and he said: "I remember my dad - he'd say you have three strikes against you in this world. Every black man has two - that they are black and they are male. But you're a black and you're a male and you're gay.... If you're gonna do this, you're gonna have to be stronger than you ever imagined." Something in those words, for me, epitomized the struggles prevalent in the whole film. Not even in the specifics of it, just in that simple phrase, "You're gonna have to be stronger than you ever imagined."

It's a wonderful piece of work. I would love to own it, to see it again, to talk to scores of people about it and get their thoughts. It made me want to go to New York and see what I can, two decades later, and sort through the city for traces of that culture.

Interested? Check it out!
IMDb
Wiki

Kick-Ass

Kick-Ass, which recently hit the DVD release, is the perfect descriptor for itself. It was KICK. ASS. Bold, double underlined, and in red. For good measure.

It had everything a gritty urban adventure needed, from the cocaine dealers to the tattooed gang bangers, and everything a superhero movie needed, from deep dark comic book pasts to big guns. Especially the big guns.

But in the end, there were a few things that really surprised me. First was the casting. What a star-stud. Mark Strong as Frank D’Amico was brilliant. After his recent appearance in Sherlock Holmes as Lord Blackwood, I am not at all surprised that film makers are chomping at the bit to see more of him. I realize in both movies he had some kind of distinguishing physical feature on his face to make him stand out: Lord Blackwood had his off-kilter tooth (dare I say snaggletooth?) and Frank had a very unique pseudo-circular scar a little above the bridge of his forehead on the left side. It’s little things like that just make my day. Then of course there was Nicholas Cage. I’ve never thought that he was badass before. Honestly, I’ve never been a big Cage fan. Even in National Treasure (which I do have a bit of a guilty pleasure for) I thought he was mediocre at best. But this…I dunno. There was a kind of charm to his performance of vigilantism in this film. And then there’s Kick-Ass. Aaron Johnson was wonderful. With his talent I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of him, [especially with those cheekbones, not gonna lie,] but the shocking thing is how much we may have seen of him already. I personally did not recognize the transition between The Thief Lord’s Prosper and Kick-Ass’ Dave Lizewski. In singing his praises as Dave/Kick-Ass, his voice-crack was hilarious, and his momentary imitation gay voice was priceless. I laughed so hard because I honestly believed it. Oh gracious me. But my absolute favorite, for writing, for design, for physicality, for performance, was definitely Chloe Moretz’s Hit Girl. She was so darling when not in costume, and she was definitely the most badass in costume. I mean, what more could you ask for? Purple hair, classic Robin mask, combat boots, tartan skirt, more weapons than can even be imagined, and a mouth like a sailor. She was GREAT. Quite a performance for a girl of 13, too. Can’t wait to see her again.

One aspect of this film which caught me off guard with its quality was the soundtrack. I’m out to find it, it was so good. [Note: this is a huge compliment. I usually only go after the instrumental soundtracks. Like Clint Mansell’s score for The Fountain. It’s scrumptious.] There were so many times that my dad and I reacted with “Oh, I know this song!!” that it added a new level to the whole experience. The best by far was when they broke out a remix of the beginning of 3 Doors Down’s Kryptonite and led it right into Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation. Seriously. It’s like chocolate milk and kahlua: it just works.

The visuals of this film I could rant about for days. The strobe-light fight scene was definitely one of the best. The use of sight-through-news broadcast, or youtube video, or security camera, or teddy-cam, all of it was great. The direct references to comic books were also great when it’s a film about super heroes outside of the comic books, as well. That little visual self-reference was satisfied-nod-worthy.
But all in all? Basically? This thing was a hit, and it shocked me. It’s not that I doubted its ability to rock the house, I just never expected it to become my new favorite film.

Well. Since I enjoyed that so much, I guess it’s time to finally go and watch Kill Bill Vol. II.

In the words of my new favorite superhero, show’s over, motherf*****s.

Links
IMDb
Trailer

Shutter Island

May I open this one with a great big SPOILER ALERT.
Then again, I think you're all pretty aware that I'm liberal with the details on this blog, so I don't know why I was compelled to do so. Moving on.

For a true beginning to this review, I'm going to lay it out there plain and simple: I expected a lot more from this film. I love Leonardo DiCaprio - I believe he's very talented - and I'm also a huge fan of Emily Mortimer. However, this movie definitely left something to be desired in multiple courts.

The Plot is my main concern. In fact, I think I may be experiencing the same kind of disenchantment with Shutter Island as many other people of my acquaintance experienced with Avatar: in the end, it did exactly what I expected it to, and so it was a let-down. I mean really. When the major plot twist, that the gung-ho main character is actually insane, gets predicted by someone in the room within the first half hour of the film, there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, and in this case it rank of someone failing miserably at trying to pull a Tyler Durden. I would rather have watched a hackneyed and predictable story about a bad-guy insane-asylum-gone-experimental-medical-facility post-World War II featuring a detective with post-traumatic stress disorder which, naturally, he then uses to solve the case and escape; the blind leading the blind, the traumatized spiraling into the insane in order to understand the insane and thereby gleaning a glimmer of truth to cling to. I would have adored that, run-on sentence and all. Eaten it up. But of course that's not how things seem to work right now. The only redeeming quality of the plot was the very end, the very conscious decision of Teddy/Andrew to commit mental suicide and be ice-pick lobotomized: "to die a good man" rather than "to live as a monster."

The other main aspect that I was disappointed with, honestly, was the score. It kills me to say so, as movie music is one of my favorite things in life, but there it is. Upon looking into it further, it kills me even more to see that the score wasn't original: it was hand-selected tracks from various classical sources! Oh Hollywood Gods, why do you do these things? [Give me a moment to compose myself.] I must give credit where credit is due: I desired the 'silence is more terrifying than sound' effect, and they gave it to me in spades (once I waited a while for it). However, my complaint, in light of the aforementioned discovery, is with the use of certain tracks. Every once in a while a piece would be chosen that just screamed that the film was trying too hard to be suspenseful and thereby ruined the entire setup. During the sequence wherein Teddy and Chuck are being driven to the compound on Shutter Island to work on their missing persons case, the music was so repetitive and over the top I actually laughed and said "I can'e even take this seriously right now." That same track happened at least twice more, and it totally pulled me out of the film. It became a parody of itself, and I cannot see how that could have been the intent for the piece. It did the song no credit, and it did the visual film no credit, either.

Because, dear readers, if you've even made it this far, I hate to bag on this film. I really do, and not least because the cinematography was brilliant. Stunning, even. The contrast in lighting between the waking hours on Shutter Island and Teddy's dreams of his home and wife were excellent. The stark lighting and bleached-out effect for every flash of lightning during the migraine scene was gorgeous, an almost poetic representation of the characteristic photosensitivity, as was the transition with every flash between that waking world and the dream world, witnessed only by brightness and the presence or absence of Teddy's five o'clock shadow and subtle beard. The devastatingly still sequences of Teddy's flashbacks to the war and the concentration camps were exquisitely horrifying, and beautiful because they were so. But by far my favorite shot caused a reference I can only hope was intentional: Teddy's wife, during one of his dreams, is pictured standing at the window with her back to him. At this point in the film it is an accepted idea that she was killed when their apartment was set ablaze by an arsonist. In this shot where she lingers at the window, her back is cut away so to speak, to reveal that she is hollow and made of a charcoaled log with still-glowing lines of ember. In several traditions, Faery or Elfin women, as well as some dryads, are described as beautiful women having holes in their backs which reveal that they are hollow and made of wood. The use of this image in Shutter Island was not only well done, it was striking, worked gloriously in the context of the story as well as in that of the nightmare, and ultimately demonstrated Teddy's idealistic view of his wife: as a beautiful, even supernatural creature beyond the bounds of humanity and thereby beyond the bounds of mortality. It reflected his inability to let her go using mythological connotation with a twist of logic. It was brilliant.

And to touch on the performance itself, there was not a single actor who I found lacking in skill or conviction. I continue to be impressed with both Leonardo DiCaprio and Emily Mortimer. I was also very impressed by Ben Kingsley and Mark Ruffalo. There was no lack of talent or fervor in the cast, and I commend them for making the most of that which they were given. It was only that which they were given that I had quips with.

So, in short, overall I was disappointed. I feel that this had potential to be much more than what it was, especially with the visual brilliance displayed throughout the film. But, I think now that I have detained you for long enough.

Snatch

Oh my goodness have I delayed on this review and I apologize to the Film Deities for said delay. This film deserved immediate attention and I can no longer conjure the reason it did not receive it.

Snatch is a jewel of a film. Released in 2001, it can only be called an action flick with every good thing: con artists, incompetent thieves, bare-knuckle boxing, gypsies - throw in one cute dog and one bat-shit crazy pig farmer and you've pretty much got it down. Written and directed by Guy Ritchie, it's one hell of a ride. Infused with a host of unique characters and with one of my favorite plot twists of all time, the film's cherry-on-top is a star-studded cast featuring names like Jason Statham, Benicio Del Toro, Alan Ford, Dennis Farina, and, that's right, Brad Pitt.

The whole cast was impressive, but I think the best performance goes to Brad Pitt. For those of you who know me well, you'll already be aware of the fact that my conversion to Brad Pitt fandom was fairly recent. That conversion would have come much quicker if I had seen Snatch sooner than I did. He portrays Mickey O'Neil, a lightning-fisted and almost completely unintelligible Irish "Pikey." (Wiki article on said derrogative term here.) I think it's one of the best performances he's ever done. The accent was perfect, the attitude was marvelous, he as a whole was simply excellent.

I would highly recommend this movie to everyone I know, just know that it is VERY heavily curse-laden. If you have no problem with this (and even if you do but are willing to set it aside for about two hours), watch it and see what happens. My dad has repeatedly grouped it with Bank Job and The Italian Job (2008), in a way as their predecessor. [And hey, the marvelous Jason Statham is in all three! That's always a plus.] Snatch is quickly becoming one of my favorite films, and I can't wait to see it again.

Until next time, dear readers. And remember, don't Snatch.

Links
IMDb
Trailer (Sadly censored. apologies. Had trouble with my videos.)

Boondock Saints

Yes, the first one. No, I had never seen it before. Please get all your sin and sacrilege responses out now.

Feel better? Good. Let's move on.

A little bit of background, for the books. The 1999 film The Boondock Saints is the comedic and action-packed brainchild of writer and director Troy Duffy, for whom I gained an insane amount of respect in the span of approximately two hours. I can't even touch on how many aspects of this movie I adored, so you're just going to have to put up with me when I say "all of them." Especially the (SHOCKER) Willem Dafoe in drag there in the end. Not gonna lie. I just about busted a lung I was laughing so hard. [Mostly at myself: for a split second there I actually thought it was a woman.]

Speaking of Willem Dafoe, oh gracious, what a wonderful cast! And Mr. Dafoe was not even the most exciting star-stud it featured. Billy Connelly was, honest to god, the last person I expected to appear in an action flick, especially this one, so when I realized it was him I thought it was Christmas. He was fantastic as Il Duce (which I believe translates to 'the Duke'), and he, now he had a great plot twist. I will actually try and stay mute as to the majority of the twists in this one, being they're just too delicious. The aforementioned Willem Dafoe played a fabulous [and I mean insert rainbows here kind of fabulous, though the character himself certainly did NOT accept the existence of said rainbows until the very last minute] FBI agent with just a twist of insanity. Overall, wonderful performance. And then there were Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus as the MacManus brothers. They were funny, convincing siblings in all the right ways, as well as solemn and poised. Their banter was fantastically delivered and their characters were flawless: their personalities were even projected in their stances and walks.

I especially appreciated the use of Irish-Catholic heritage and faith as a device in The Saints' killings. The coins over the eyes were a nice touch. The rosaries were nicer. The family prayer was my favorite. And, as though the brothers needed one more thing make them wholly inseparable, their hand tattoos, one reading Veritas, the other Aequitas, or Truth and Justice, were a wonderful choice. I also approved, then, of Il Duce's tatoo on his hand, though I couldn't determine quite what it was.

To note, the whole idea of killing in the name of god usually doesn't sit well with me. For some reason, in this case, it did. Yes it was vigilantism, but somehow it felt right, necessary, in the context of the world woven by the film. The Saints were undeniably heroes in my mind, though they were perhaps a little bumbling, like all human beings can be, and terrifyingly absolute in their judgment. Perhaps it was the light nature of the film's tone on the whole that made me glide over this particular age-old quip of mine. But whatever the reason, I loved the MacManus brothers, and I don't think anything is going to change that.

Overall, glorious, amusing, wonderful, IRISH, mob-gang-decimating good fun.
I can't wait to see it again, and I would recommended it a hundred fold.

And shepherds we shall be,
for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,
that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee
and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Ink

I wish I could have captured my first impressions about this glorious and strange film right as they occurred, but alas, fate did not tend that way. Since I do not have my initial impressions and reactions, I will offer first facts and then recollections.

In the facts department, Ink was released in 2009 and appears to be entirely thanks to the handiwork of Jamin Winans. The film is produced by his production company, Double Edge Films with the aid of Kiowa K. Winans. It was written and directed by Jamin Winans, and the score was composed by him as well. It leaves a very distinct "what CAN'T he do?" feeling.

Now the recollections. My first recollection is how sheerly visual the film was. At first I found myself wondering if it were going to be so abstract as to have no dialog at all. Even then I found it had nothing wanting: the aesthetics are incredibly engaging, as are the dynamics of the forces at work. The Storytellers, Incubi, and Ink himself are all terribly fascinating to look at and watch, and thereby they are ideal. My favorite aspect of the movie by far was the design: it had me wanting to run off and make things, which is increasingly the sensation I get when I really, really enjoy something.

The concept was also superb. It was certainly surreal enough for me. In some capacity it reminded me of The Fountain, and in another of Neil Gaiman's Sandman. For fear of spoiling anything, I'll avoid saying much more, but it was, in my experience, one of those stories which only makes sense at the very last moment, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The actors, too, were remarkably good. The only complaint I lodge on this front is with the Drifters (Steven Brown and Shauna Earp). Though they were described as poorly acted to me, I don't think they were so much poorly done as overdone. I didn't mind them too terribly most of the time. I think I'd have to see the film again to have a real opinion on this front. On the other hand, the rest of the cast was glorious. I especially liked Jeremy Make as Jacob, also known as The Pathfinder. He was excellent. And, though it was a short-lived appearance, Jeffrey Richardson's Incubus Prince was glorious. I would have loved to see more of him. Then again, I love antagonists.

In the end, I was impressed with how poignant and heartfelt this movie was. It kindof blindsided me, and it was a pleasant surprise, indeed.

Links for your convenience and leisure:
See the trailer here at TrailerAddict.com
The film is available to purchase through Amazon, as well as through the Official Ink Website.
IMDb is perfectly thorough, and Wiki is busy discussing it as well (just for you, my wiki-addict reader: you know who you are)
And last but certainly not least, if you're interested in Double Edge, pay them a visit right here on Blogspot!

Stay thirsty, my friends.