Bram Stokem's dracula with Gary oldman

Ebert didn't like him because he's egoistic but I thought he was cool.
and Mike doesn't like ebert because he thinks he's egoistic but I think he's cool.
;)

My reviews are short these days haha.

The Thomas Crown Affair

The Thomas Crown Affair was released in 1968 and was the origin of that legendary song, The Windmills of Your Mind. A remake was done in 1999. I will be reviewing and comparing both of them. (For the best rendition of The Windmills Of Your Mind ever, you might want to check out Dusty Springfield..)

The original movie was about a man who was, perhaps, a bit too sold on his own mind.. for better and worse. He seemed to be completely bored with life, but could pull off amazing feats using the intellect alone, and he did -- just for kicks. For example, stealing several bags of cash from a bank without ever getting caught and without having to set foot inside a bank, and when he didn't even really need the money.

Thomas Crown and Vicki Anderson (somebody sent by the bank's insurers to help convict Tommy) have a jeopardous affair, a strange embrace between two twisted psyches that gives the term "sleeping with the enemy" new meaning. It is a "psychological" movie in the fullest sense. Much of the movie hangs on the subtlest nuances.

The characters in the first movie were in some way deeply human and conflicted despite their almost sociopathic extremities, so it wasn't entirely impossible to garner some level of affection for them. The ramped-up characters in the remake were more self-confident, more comfortable, smoother, more decisive in their absurdities -- a bit too self-confident, maybe: they were cold as ice and smooth as stone, almost invariably, and I found it impossible to find any kind of affection for either character, except in particular sparse moments in the film. They had no human vulnerability or warmth to them; there was no meaning to their interactions.

..But no, they weren't graceful enough to be boring. Their antics pulled at the resource of their own mental abstractions over their once-human egos, a language mutually understood by both of them even if, most of the time, they were merely both alone together. There are some sensually passionate scenes in the movie, but I wonder if that in itself is one of the lies that we're sold by the media: that such cold-hearted psycho-mavens can ever actually enjoy passion, that their connection lies just a kiss away..

Basically, for most of the movie its makers merely used the Thomas Crown affair story as a framework in which to proffer more of the same sensationalistic bone-chilling psycho-social foolery that, apparently, Americans are idolizing these days.

The original film was criticized for having a thin plot-line, but I didn't personally see it that way. The film is all about psychological nuance, so whenever there is dialog there is content. The glider scene with the debut of The Windmills of Your Mind was also so fulcral to the whole movie that I'm tempted to consider everything else in that movie, past and future, to be merely context-setting for that one consummate moment (now that's what separates a box-office hit from a cult classic..).

By contrast, the 1999 version didn't quite have the same charm, being just another Hollywood ego-sater (they didn't even have The Windmills of Your Mind sung for any scene, because they knew they couldn't live up to that), but I'll hand it to them: their story of the heist was much more enthralling and intricate and demonstrative of Thomas Crown's genius. However, the heist wasn't the only aspect of the story they changed.. they diametrically changed the ending from a sad one to a happy one, which was 90% of the movie's message in the original film, so it's basically not even The Thomas Crown Affair anymore. It's another lucrative Hollywood endeavor.

The first story was bittersweet and highlighted the weakness of the mind to immediately change its course, however much one might want it want to. The 1999 story included some of that, but it wasn't poignant in the same way, not being in the denouement of the film. The first film also showed Tommy Crown's amazing guile and altruism in allowing his potential companion to decline; the second film allowed him to use his skill to break her down and cajole her into trusting again -- with no possible sacrifice for him, and they both assumably lived happily ever after.. though on rather tenuous bases, if you ask me. Or if you ask his therapist -- who, interestingly enough, was played by the same woman who played his lover in the previous film, now 31 years the wiser. (Quote: "If you've found a female mirror image, and think you're going to form a rewarding relationship..")

Overall, I think the first incarnation of the film is a "cult classic" for a reason. The second film was just too cold, for the most part, to empathize with the characters, though the whole process where he established trust between them, once and for all, was very touching. Also, the original film was fraught with all the tensions and perils of being human; in the second, they were both übermenschen to everyone else and to its audience, knowing only secretly, somewhere deep down (or maybe only occasionally, for the script), that they had truly only lost their way home. Actually though, to be honest, only she knew this in the 1999 version. In the 1968 version, perhaps, in his own way, only he knew.

BTW, here's a Radiohead music video that these two movies reminded me of.

Alice in Wonderland (2010)

There's not much to say about this movie, but well, it's been a while since I've updated my blog.

First of all, Mia Wasikowska was __absolutely__beautiful__ in this movie; oh, my God, *swoon*. The things they can do with makeup are amazing -- not to say that she's ugly in real life, just.. there were some -- okay, many -- moments in this movie where I just wanted to jump out of my skin to kiss her. And for reasons I don't completely understand, one scene with her, with her particular face and her hair, wearing this really shiny metal armor, was one of the most titillating things I've seen in my life. (I'm still waiting for the DVD to come out, so that I can capture images from that scene..)

The beginning part of the movie, that is, the part before Alice goes down the rabbit hole, was elegant.. not overwhelmingly fantastic, but just generally well-done, flawless. I get the impression that Burton conveyed precisely the context and set-up he wanted to without falter: a Victorian-age scenario in which a fundamentally free-spirited young woman is totally lost within the binds of a suffocatingly strict and overbearing family and society.

To be honest, I thought that Mia's performance lacked a little bit of..spunk. Not to the degree that it stands out as awkward or ineffective, but just enough that one might think to wonder where the beef is, so to speak, despite the acting being consistently..adequate and sufficient. This goes not only for the pretext part of the film, but also for Wonderland portion. For example, when she's supposed to show that she's brave, it's believable, and yet at the same time, you wouldn't have noticed she's brave by what she does if you didn't know that she's supposed to be..

But it's not really that bad, and hardly noticeable; I just thought it was odd for a $250,000,000 movie. And on the other hand, I've noticed that these oddly mild roles seem to make it much easier to balance odd and impossible forces in a film..

The Wonderland segment of the movie lacked nothing to be desired either. The scenery, I would say, was ideal...with one exception: the lighting. Sadly, the dreary, dismal lighting in Wonderland was the one aspect of this film that's uniquely Burtonian, yet also the one thing that somewhat dragged down the entire movie. It would have been so beautiful otherwise. (I say that because I really resonated with the scenery and *not* with the lighting.)

I have to admit, I didn't have high expectations for this movie. Although I was absolutely certain that I had to see it just to find out (because I LOVE Alice in Wonderland story, and because it has Johnny Depp), the only preview of this movie I ever had was a psychedelic image of Johnny Depp that seems frightfully similar to his role in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, which I have to say was an absolutely horrible movie (and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was my absolute favorite movie as a child). I wouldn't have even watched it if I'd known. In fact, I don't think ever did finish watching it.

But Johnny Depp's character in this film was pretty satisfying.. basically, because I *adore* crazy people. I mean really batsh*t insane characters. And especially cool is that he's the kind of crazy person who's clever and really has his wits about him when he needs them. But that's not to say the mad hatter is not actually crazy; believe me: he is. This is demonstrated by one really sad, funny, and endearing part of the movie near the end: when Alice tells him that this is all just a dream of hers (because she firmly believes it's so), it implies that he'll cease to exist when she wakes up...and he *believes it*. You can tell this by purely by his facial expression.

I've heard one critic comment that the film has sacrificed much of the heart of Lewis Carrol's original Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and that's definitely true. In case you don't know, the story and dialogue were completely changed. The charm and cognitive stimulation of the original book are completely lost in this film; the only things left are the characters and this concept of a heroic belief in the impossible. [SPOILER] Basically, the whole movie crescendos into a moment or two in the end in which Alice defeats an evil dragon by believing "6 impossible things before breakfast," and has come to realize that Wonderland is actually real -- that it's not just another one of her scary dreams. That's it. That's the whole point of the movie. [/SPOILER] The absurdities and twists of logic that made Carrol's original story what it is are few, far between and superficial in this movie.

I was just somewhat disappointed by the vacuous direction (read: not *directing*) of this movie. It was basically $250,000,000 and an hour and 49 minutes dedicated to showcasing (per se) the concept of "believing in the impossible." But I say "somewhat" because the moral of the story isn't everything to me: I liked Depp's character, *LOVED* Mia Wasikowska's physical appearence, admired certain aspects of the directing (/casting/writing?) skill, and enjoyed the execution of scenery. Overall, I thought this movie was well-done and better than expected. (I was actually intrigued and surprised by the quality of what I surmised was the directing, and only later found out that it was by Tim Burton.)

Note: I watched this movie in 2-D, not 3-D. None of us really wanted to deal with those retarded red and green/blue and yellow/whatever glasses, and the IMAX's showing just didn't fit into our schedule..so YMMV.

American Psycho

'American Psycho' seems just like that kind of bad rehash of novel where the rewriters take only the book's superficial elements, those that were originally used contextually to convey something true, and then represent them verbatim in cinemagraphic form, like some sort of Aspergian scribe, and yet with just enough remixing of the elements added to adapt to the alternative medium that it makes me think of the amoral profiteer who abides by some perfect pragmatism. The authors took the same tools and copied them to the new medium, when the apt thing to do, had they understood its artistic quality, would have been a retooling of the message prior to its conveyance.

Perhaps it's just the same old tale, though; throughout history the works of true geniuses have been ill-understood and simply copied and rehashed by their devotees, as opposed to having been significantly understood and expounded upon or adapted.

For example, in the novel, the narrator occasionally breaks form and talks directly to the reader about something completely irrelevant: critiques and analyses of some of his favorite bands. (Entire chapters are devoted to this.) This technique helps to drill in to the reader the utter detachment of a character who believes and behaves as if "the inside doesn't matter"; it's all about external circumstances and his image. In the movie, on the other hand, he randomly goes into (verbatim) spiels about certain bands and their music with a kind of deranged fervor, just prior to, and climaxing in, bludgeoning someone to death. This gives the viewer a completely different impression. For me, the impression was marked mainly by my wondering what the hell would drive somebody to want to start talking excitedly and sophisticatedly on the topic of a certain artist (like Phil Collins) right before killing someone. The impression may have been different for different people, but I have almost no doubt that it didn't make the appropriate impression on anybody.

In another shining example, Bateman is made *so* perturbed by the sight of his coworkers' (arguably) superior business cards that he becomes irascible, then actually goes mad. This happens on multiple occasions, and while it's meant to signify his imbalanced priorities — or, more accurately, the dourness with which he wants first and foremost to fit in —, its characteristic disharmony with the rest of the motif leaves one feeling more as if he's somehow acquired some sort of business-card-specific psychosis, that perhaps he should just go see a psychologist/therapist about.

In another example, in the novel people consistently laugh off or otherwise fail to take seriously his recounting of the horrible things he's done, furthering the impression of his isolation, lack of ability to connect, and perhaps even his confusion over whether he did indeed do any of those things. In the movie, though, this only happens *once* (with his lawyer), which serves only to outline his unheard catharsis, and perhaps also to show, in denouement, that he never really did all those things he thought he did. In the novel this fact is left continually unclear (to help create for the reader the sense of Bateman's acute isolation), while in the movie you're somewhat duped into believing it's real until the very end.

Oh, there was also a point in the movie at which Bateman was seemingly told by an automated teller machine, "feed me a stray cat" (which he then attempted to do). It may have been funny and perhaps even developmental in the novel, but again, in the movie it was simply discordant with everything else, there having been nowhere to place it, as he had not been prone to hallucinations, and we were barely even hinted at that time that his murderous outings were merely fabrications of his mind. Also, Christian Bale himself — mainly his visage — just did not complement well the utter insanity and frustration of his played character, Patrick Bateman. And nor did I ever have any clear picture of what manner of development or real emotions were supposed to have been going on from the time in which he seemed just a little bit vain, to the time in which his behavior was totally batshit insane. Basically, nothing in this movie came together.

Finally, the really ironical thing here is that, while the movie strikes me as a badly done mishmash of tools used contextually in a novel, for the novel, by a master, the novel itself reads distinctly like a *movie script* — so much so that it's hard to convince myself that I'm reading a novel, not a screenplay, which was intended to be read. The obvious solution, it seems to me? Just make a really looong movie (I suppose it would have to be a mini-series) out of it.. ;)

**note: this is an unfinished rewiew, as i haven't actually read the novel yet. i plan to read it soon, though. :)

Enchanted

At first I was afraid this movie would be horribly lackluster. The entire animated beginning was self-aware and effective at creating the most generic summation and rehash of all the Disney fairy tales combined, and with a perceptible yet not even overtly self-teasing accentuation on the ridiculous patness of it all, but it failed to deliver much, if any, abstract humor and generally failed to be endearing or entertaining at all. Now begins the real-life segment. Enter Giselle, whose real-life counterpart looks nothing like any previous animated Disney star (which I thought was going to bring the whole movie down for me — but in the end, I loved her), meeting with full force the harshness and total oddity of NYC, hence opening for plenty of opportunities for humorous misunderstandings, but none were forthcoming: the only semi-funny thing she did, at least at start, was to mistake a poor, incredulous midget for 'Grumpy'. Then we eventually meet Robert Philip, a kind of guy who takes everything so suavely that if Mary Poppins descended upon him hanging from her umbrella, he may or may not blink, and then would proceed to ask her if she could see 8th Street from where she was because he's late for work and 8th St. is often congested at that time of day. He was pretty much the same guy I complained about previously in Hancock, with only a slightly different face.

But unlike Hancock, it's probably necessary or even vital for this movie to have Robert Philip be represented by such a character, because otherwise either his constant amazement and/or bewilderment, or lack of said bewilderment, would probably detract from that beautiful interplay we see between the Disney-real and the really-real. To my delight, this movie was not all just laughs and a romantic story. Of course one might expect that, in such a movie, inevitably there would be some synthesis between the Disneyesque and the realistic that brings one to a higher integration; but the way this facet was engaged in some of the parts seemed truly brilliant to me. It made me wonder if this could have been done any other way: Amy Adams' acting as a sweet, innocent fairy-tale character might have been flawless, and Patrick Dempsey's character was, though principally unfazeable, not otherwise too out of the ordinary as a human being. In some parts, this really brought it together in a way that could almost defy the imagination. I was really happy to see it.

And while Mr. Philip may ooze moderation from every pore (if and when Mr. Philip should choose to sweat), his reaction to the fantastical display by Queen Narissa, near the ending, was definitely satisfying enough. The unbelievable sort of got more and more real through the course of the movie, but never really crossed that line into "Holy Shit! What The Fuck!?" (for our unwitting muggles) until that event, and that's just the kind of thing I love in a movie.

As for the humor, don't get me wrong: overall it was not without its moments. Which reminds me: I also found remarkable the integrity with which the main Disney-made-real characters, Giselle and Prince Edward, stuck to their ideal characters, even when confronted with the chaos of the unknown and the overbearing power of familiarity, re what passes as mundane and tainted life for you, me, and, no doubt, the writers. But, in fact, it wasn't just this integrity: it was also the playing on those subtle differences between the two realities that only the clever mind would think to capitalize on, as opposed to merely subliminally avoiding.

One thing about the ending: while this Disney movie proffers to present a realistic perspective on all previous Disney fantasies — a reality check of sorts —, the ending was basically as idealistic and Disneyesque as you can get. [Begin Spoiler] The two estranged lovers predictably paired up with each other, the evil queen was spectacularly defeated, and everyone lived happily ever after. Literally — it was written in the sky with stars [End Spoiler]. It sort of makes me want to take back all those nice things I said about synthesis and integration, but oh well. I guess you can't blame Disney for being Disney, in "The End."

The only other thing I have to say is that I'm now left with a mild and puzzling crush on Amy Adams (or at least the character she played..), despite my better judgement, which is to not fall in love with an actor Just because she play an endearing character. ...unless it's been several endearing characters. ...or unless they star in a TV show, hence consistently playing an endearing character across many distinct episodes. But otherwise, bah...stupid movies!!

The X Files: I Want to Believe

I have to say that I thought this was a good movie..but that could be just because my expectations were set pretty low as a result of their *first* movie. But what I found is that the emotional story (particularly between Mulder and Scully) was satisfying and rich with development; the twists were sufficiently twisty without going overboard and keeping the viewer in a constant state of confusion for its own sake; the ambiguities (near the ending) were appropriate and not overboard; and the main problem to be solved was refreshingly down-to-Earth - as in not particularly paranormal (even if somewhat implausible) - because I'd long since grown tired of all the X-Files' fantastical mind-candy and stopped watching it. And yet even without being paranormal (as such), it was a quite stirring scenario..in the mainly disturbing way.

One caveat: my sister had complained that the movie didn't provide enough suspense in regard to what paranormal thing might happen next. Perhaps my having tired of the typical X-Files motif, combined with my very low expectations, allowed me to appreciate the movie for its *other* qualities, but Your Mileage May Vary.

The above being said, there *was* a plot-thread that seemed to comprise a paranormal theme. I say "seem to" because they left that determination rather...indeterminate, but if I had to guess I'd say that the viewer is supposed to assume that it was paranormal.

My only one gripe with the movie is that Father Joe didn't seem to be very believable, in *any* aspect or interpretation. He basically just looked cool..his facial features did go pretty well with the falling snow and ice scapes (which seem to be a common theme with the X-Files movies thus far). Speaking of Father Joe, though, one element of the movie I really did appreciate was its ballsy positioning regarding the Catholic priesthood. In the spirit of the X-Files, that too was of course neither all one way nor all the other, but I would venture to say that it was certainly a lot of both.

Overall rating: 4 stars. Not a must-see within the wider realm of movies, but should be worth your time at least if you were even somewhat of an X-Files fan.

I Am Legend

This movie was very bad. The one aspect I did like about it is that it illustrated a world abandoned by humans (a city overgrown by weeds, etc.) and one man's plight to survive in it. I love that kind of theme. But that's one of my own personal quirks, so for you, my readers, this movie had no saving grace.

The movie was pretty monotonous.. it was the same settings, the same area, with no other characters (not even extras), over and over again day by day. That alone just leaves me with a very empty feeling - the feeling that I'd just watched a mostly abysmal movie. But of course, there *were* the zombies..

The zombies were supposed to be humans that had been converted by disease, but yet they were portrayed with a completely different cultural mentality.. they were just supposed to be *automagically* evil. Oh, and also super strong. Since when does disease make people superhuman? Oh, well. BTW, they also went through a lot of trouble to try to feast on the one human surviving in that area..you'd think a group that large would starve to death if that were their main source of food. But the main thing that bothered me about them wasn't even the lack of realism; it was that they tried to keep the zombies' portrayal at a totally superficial level...even though half the movie was about them. And they did try to get into somewhat sentimental areas with them, for example something involving them having a leader, but without providing any character development or elucidation at all. It was all just disconcerting.

But here's the stupidest part..
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***BEGIN SPOILER***
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The hero dies without reason. Firstly, the scenario that they made for him die in was *completely transparently* ad hoc/contrived/gratuitous/whathaveyou. I mean even *bad sci-fi* is better than this was, at least it's colorful. I'd never seen something so obviously pulled out of a writer's arse in a movie. And it's not EVEN just that -- add to it that even *within* the gratuitous scenario that had they set up for him to die in, his death was unreasonable. He could have *easily* done something differently in order to defy death, or rather, to not *jump into* it (there was enough room in the compartment)..AND they could have easily changed the scene so that he couldn't have done that, but yet they didn't. So they obviously just put no effort into it at all...probably just like the rest of the movie.
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***END SPOILER***
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The bottom line here is that I don't get how such a dismal writer/director was graced with the likes of Will Smith, and I'd recommend not wasting your time with this movie. Unless, of course, you're one of the millions of moviegoers who are apparently easily impressed..