all happy times are alike; sucky times suck for each one in their own unique way. i have two requirements for a make-it-better-please film: that the film be good, and that it enhance (restore?) my belief that the world is ultimately a kind, benign place. with those in mind, here goes:
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I should have posted on Dark Knight and schooled Arnab, but instead I watched other things. The Last Winter was an indie horror about global warming, and Larry Fessenden is an interesting director, and it had a good cast, and it mostly sucked. So I tried Six Reasons Why, a Canadian indie that Netflix convinced me was something I’d like, and it has Colm Feore in it, and was a post-apocalyptic Western thingy shot on about a 48 cents per day budget. And you can see almost every penny in it. Sucked. Sucked, sucked, sucked.

So then I watched about 45 minutes of Blades of Glory, which didn’t suck, but wasn’t good. And Netflix wouldn’t send me Spaced or Mad Men, and that, too, sucked.

I’m still kind of reeling, stunned by this, but I’ll jump out on the limb and assert (and later reflect and expand upon the assertion): this is the best American pop/genre film since Silence of the Lambs.

How’s that for pumping up your expectations? More crazy-ass assertions to come on the centrality of anarchy and disorder to great American pop . . .

I’ve been expecting someone to post on this all week. Since no one has, I’ll clear the decks before the Dark Knight comments appear (sadly I’m in Europe, where it doesn’t open for another week or so, so I’m looking forward to hearing your reactions). I was very enthusiastic about the second Hellboy right after watching it; a week on and I’m a little less enthralled. Still, this is the most visually inventive and lush movie I have seen in a long time. Setting aside plot, character and dialogue, the movie is worth watching just for the endless delight of its imagery. There is a forest god straight out Princess Monokoke, a bustling troll market that looks better than anything George Lucas managed, a character who is entirely gaseous, and a massive mechanical army, complete with cogs and clockwork machinery.

The movie itself is perfectly fine. The leads play off each other well, with Selma Blair particularly good. There is one wonderful scene involving a Barry Manilow song. But you watch this primarily to drink in the imagination of Guillermo del Toro.

You’ve got to wonder how certain pitch meetings ever closed the deal. Imagine sitting down with this Irish fellow, a hot young prospect in an industry starting to stretch its global legs and move past the endless green hills & spirited lasses & the troubles & gnarled-wise-drunken old men & pubs of romanticized Eire. He says he’s got this crackin’ idea for horror (horror? in Irish film? feck yeah!), feeding on the European terrors of gen mod. “Great,” says the Film Board, “jes great. So what’s the pitch?”

Cows. Yeah, no, I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out. End of meeting. Except… (more…)