2010
Rated R
255 minutes

***

Steven Soderbergh is certainly one of the most intriguing directors of all time. He was, and continues to be, a pioneer of independent filmmaking, whilst simultaneously leading a double life as a successful mainstream filmmaker. He makes no apologies for either incarnation. He has no need to. It’s likely that most of the people buying tickets to the “Oceans” films have no idea that “Che” even exists. And he continues to feed his indie audience with challenging films that leave them little room to complain about selling out. Though it cost almost as much as one of his mainstream films, the $65 million “Che” is not your typical Hollywood biopic. There’s very little back-story, romance, and certainly no cheesy revelatory moments that spoon-feed the uninitiated as to how Ernesto “Che” Guevara came to be a face on dorm room walls. Instead, it gets right to the meat of the revolution, giving the reasons behind the t-shirt packaged rebellion without condoning or admonishing it. This is not an origin story. We’re just thrown into the action, seeing him do what made him famous.

The story is told in two parts. The first, titled “The Argentine,” deals principally with the behind-the-scenes of the Cuban Revolution, occasionally narrated by an interview that Guevara gave in New York in 1964 and inter-cut with a controversial speech he gave to the U.N. It’s an exciting, non-partisan look at a man who was considered a freedom-fighter by some and a murderer by others. Part two, entitled “Guerilla,” skips ahead several years to Che’s fall in Bolivia as he fails to rinse and repeat his Cuban success.

It’s a riveting film, but not exactly light viewing. I’m rarely convinced that any film needs to be over three hours long, even when broken into two parts. There were certainly moments where it could have been trimmed down. But it’s also incredibly focused. So much so that college professors from many different departments could make a case for the educational properties of this epic. Written from Che’s diaries and other factual source materials, it’s part war film, part history lesson, and part political treatise. “The Argentine,” in particular, is chock full of thoughtful dialogue about a thoughtful revolution.

Benicio Del Toro is astoundingly at ease in Guevara’s skin. During the black and white sequences, it practically feels like a documentary. And that is more to do with his performance than with Soderbergh’s hand-held camera.

Del Toro’s performance also conveys the impression that with Che, what you see is what you get. He had no private life or dark secrets. The interviewer asks him what is the most important quality a revolutionary can possess. He responds “Love… Love of humanity, justice and truth”. That tells you everything you need to know about his motivations. You don’t see his private life because he forsook it for the cause. The Che on the posters was not a man; he was a revolutionary machine. He completely embodied the symbol that he became. And while that unwavering motivation contributed to his success in Cuba, it also led to his failure and downfall in Bolivia.

At the start of “Guerilla,” Fidel Castro reads a letter from his M.I.A. colleague. “When people hate their government,” Che observes, “it’s not to hard to take a town”. Unfortunately, for his mission in Bolivia, there’s also the reverse. Che says, “In a real revolution, one either wins or dies.” The trouble is that he’s absolutely right. It recalls the computer in “War Games”. He was too driven by his mission. Therefore, he was programmed to fail.

Now you can absorb “Che” with the Criterion Collection DVD, presenting high-definition digital masters of the film on two discs with audio commentaries. The third disc includes a making-of documentary, interviews with historians and people who were actually part of the Cuban Revolution and the Bolivia campaign, a short piece about the camera used to shoot “Che” and documentary short, “The End of the Revolution,” which was filmed in Bolivia shortly after Che’s execution. After all that, you still won’t know Che’s favorite color or what he liked to eat for breakfast, but you’ll surely understand what he was all about.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct). 

February 16, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2008
Rated R
108 minutes

***

At 2:30 in the morning, it’s tempting to accept a ride from anyone who seems to be in the ride-giving business. And who knows, maybe it’s your lucky day. But maybe the guy behind the wheel actually has nefarious plans that don’t involve reuniting you with your fluffy duvet anytime soon.

“Shuttle” is one of these worst-case scenarios. Returning from a trip to Mexico in the wee hours, Mel and Jules, who have been friends for, like, 10 million years, are anxious to get home. The driver of a small shuttle service offers to undercut Big Shuttle and take the girls downtown. The pouring rain and a cash shortage encourage them to accept. Seth and Matt, just want an excuse to talk for a bit longer to the cute girls they met in Mexico, so they manage to worm their way onto the shuttle too. Also along for the ride is a squirrelly family man named Andy. Perhaps the doomed passengers realize something is wrong when the driver insists on taking a traffic detour in the middle of the night, but by then it’s too late. They’re already trapped on a shuttle with a mad man in the bad part of town where cell phones don’t work. His true intentions aren’t revealed until the very end, but it quickly becomes clear that he doesn’t mean for anyone to get home.

Despite a few “twists,” Edward Anderson’s script isn’t particularly inspired. This is one of those thrillers in which the main characters have ample escape opportunities but, for whatever flimsy reasons, decide not to take them. The protagonists are pretty cookie cutter “young person” and their conflicts, designed to create character development, are pretty trite. “Shuttle” purports to be smarter than it is. Still, keeping the driver’s motive a secret makes for a riveting enough story. You also have to give credit for a reasonably original ending. It helps that the acting is competent enough to not be distracting. You might not take much away from this film, but it’s an entertaining way to spend an afternoon. And maybe it will give you pause the next time you need a ride somewhere. Remember, ladies: Yellow Cab takes credit cards.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

February 4, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2008
Unrated
13 minutes

*

So there’s this obscure series of sci-fi films with a bit of a cult following. It’s about a small faction of religious types who rise up against all odds to defeat an evil empire. It’s a six part-series. The first three are kind of terrible with really stiff acting, terrible dialogue, some irritating characters and too much of a focus on this silly little made-up religion. But then they get it together for the next three. The writing gets way better, the bad guy acts more badass, the special effects are less green-screen heavy and the actors are much more natural. One actor, who plays a smuggler initially caught up in the war by accident, is even pretty sexy. I heard he adlibbed several of his cooler lines. Anyway, you probably haven’t heard of these movies but they apparently heavily influenced a few filmmakers out there. People like Kevin Smith, Edgar Wright and Adam Bertocci.

Now Smith and Wright understood the obscurity of these films and therefore used a light touch when referencing them in their stories. But Bertocci, the writer, director, editor and star of “Brooklyn Force”, took it all the way. What’s the point of a light reference when you can make nearly all your dialogue into a paraphrase of “Star Wars”? I theorize that, when coming up with the idea for the film, his thought process was thus:

It could be like those quote-athons you have with your buddies, only recorded on film. I could make other people watch it and they would be super impressed with my powers of recollection. Better still I could use all those light sabers I have laying around my studio apartment and show off my After Effects skills by making them look like real, working light sabers! All those “Star Wars” sound effects I’ve been storing on my hard drive could really come in handy here too. Now all we need is a plot… it doesn’t have to be a very strong plot. Just some good vs. evil story that will make it seem like the references are completely fitting and not just an excuse to show off how much I love “Star Wars”. Something about the gentrification of Williamsburg and an indie record store to give it some hipster cred. Oh, and I can ask that cute girl from work to be in it. Didn’t she say she was an actress? Maybe it will give me a chance to get to know her better…

I know there are things called “fan films” and that this probably falls into that category. But I guess I don’t see the point in the fan film. Look, I love Star Wars like every other cinephile born in the late seventies. But when I have a jones for it, I’ll watch the original movies. Not some nerd’s love letter to them. “Brooklyn Force” is a tedious little movie, even at a mere 13 minutes. Or maybe I’m just bitter because Bertocci’s film erroneously claims, “Episode 3 is underrated”.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct). 

February 2, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2009
Unrated
81 minutes

***

Apart from actual taste, there is nothing more subjective than musical taste. One man’s auditory honey is the most annoying sound in the world to someone else. In the mid-eighties, I thought I hated UB40. I cringed whenever they came on the radio. That said, sometimes a band, known primarily for their album of covers, can surprise you.

UB40 formed in Birmingham, England in 1978. Named after a document issued to people filing for unemployment benefits, they were among a number of pasty white Brit musicians getting into reggae at that point. They were drawn to the political messages, feeling a kinship to the problems of unemployment in Jamaica and, yes, they were probably also smoking some ganja.

Shot on a hot summer night in Cologne, Germany in 1981, “Food For Thought” captures the early days of the band, just after the release of their second album. Like their first record, it was a hit in their native country. They were riding high on success (and other things), spreading their appropriation of the reggae sound to guilty white folks across Europe. They weren’t exactly the Clash, but they weren’t incomparable. They wouldn’t be noticed by the Yanks for another 3 years. And sadly their original work would never chart in the U.S.

For that reason, it’s hard for a Yank like me to watch “Food For Thought” without that American stigma attached to it. The “Sliver” soundtrack doesn’t even exist yet in this snapshot of UB40’s career, but it was always in the back of my mind as I watched the Campbell brothers sweat and bop on stage among a bevy of trumpet players and a real live, bona fide Jamaican called Astro. It doesn’t help that the audience consists of mostly white, mustachioed Germans with dubious hair. These people take songs like “The Earth Dies Screaming” very seriously. They also recall the inevitable future: Republicans blasting “Red Red Wine” from their Ferraris.

But in 1981, it’s all about the politics and the Sinsemilla. Back then there was nothing ironic about a ginger man in sunglasses and a tucked-in baseball jersey, playing sax under lyrics like “the poor can scream but no-one hears/the concrete jungle sings the blues”. “Don’t Let it Pass You By” is about how life is short and there’s nothing beyond so you might as well get high. In “Burden of Shame” the band apologizes to South Africa for being British.

UB40’s origins won’t be news to pre-existing longtime fans. Thus, this DVD will be a huge treat for them: An earnest and flawless performance of the band’s first two records. Bleeding hearts like me, without the aid of a certain herb, may still be bored by the droning ska rhythms, but they have to respect the band’s message. The only audiences I can imagine being truly disappointed by this performance are those cheesy dudes who only ever owned “Labour of Love”. They’ll be waiting for that one song that, thankfully, will never be played.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

January 20, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2010
Rated R
118 minutes

**

In the new film by the Hughes Brothers (“From Hell”), it’s 30 years post-apocalypse and things are hella not cool, you guys. The world is a scorched junkyard full of pockmarked and be-goggled road warriors ready to rape, pillage and eat you. Apparently, this is what the world looks like without God. Fortunately, there’s also this dude named Eli (Denzel Washington) who heard a voice in his head giving him a mission. He’s got a keen sense of his senses and therefore has no trouble taking out any number of bad guys all by his lonesome and in record time. Of course, he’d rather not if he can help it. All’s he wants to do is get this very special book “west” like the nice voice asked him to. But wouldn’t you know it, there’s another man with designs on the book and he isn’t going to make it easy for Eli.

The first 30 minutes of “The Book of Eli” set the scene. You’ve got your standard decayed America, full of billboard ruins and skeletons in stalled cars. Our titular protagonist wanders around killing cats for their cosmetic properties and scoring precious commodities like shoes and wet wipes off of dead bodies. He camps in abandoned houses and makes friends with rats to break up the monotony. Though, as bad as things are, he still has a working iPod. He is an old man by modern standards. One of the few left who remembers how “things were before.” Perhaps it’s because he’s so old that it’s taken him 30 years to walk 3000 miles.

Eventually, he stumbles across a lawless frontier town and stops to replenish supplies. Unfortunately, he chooses the wrong lawless frontier town in which to make a pit stop. Run by a sort of Future Al Swearengen named Carnegie (Gary Oldman), it makes Deadwood look like a country club. Carnegie has been desperately searching for the very book that Eli carries. It’s “a book of power” that he “grew up with” and provides “the right words for our faith.” (Can you guess what this book might be? Hint: It’s not “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”.) All of the copies, save one, were burned after the war because some determined the book to be the cause of this whole mess (go figure). Carnegie says he can use the book as a weapon to control the weak-minded. Carnegie is supposed to be the bad guy, but he sure says a lot of things that make sense.

When Carnegie discovers that Eli carries the book in question, he sets his team of cronies (led by an underused Ray Stevenson) on him. Choosing to join Eli is Carnegie’s stepdaughter, Solara (Mila Kunis), a prostitute who also happens to be the most beautiful girl in the world. How she maintains such a flawless complexion in a time without lotion is a genetic marvel. If you ask me, her beauty secrets are the real Holy Grail. But instead they insist on focusing on the book.

The whole movie feels a bit like a squandered opportunity. We didn’t really need another post-apocalyptic story, but if you’re going to do it, and get Gary Oldman to play the bad guy, you could try and be a little more creative. Instead, it’s all pretty cookie-cutter from the washed-out tones to the wardrobe to the passages of scripture that Eli spouts before kicking ass. I suppose the “twist” ending is supposed to make up for the cliché, but instead it seems silly and rather unresolved. I also left the theatre feeling a little conned, as though a colleague invited me to a “party” that actually ended up being a bible study (with no beer at all!). I’m not sure what, exactly, the Hughes Brothers wanted to accomplish with “The Book of Eli”, but I’m pretty sure Mel Gibson and Kirk Cameron would approve.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com.

January 15, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2009
Rated R
90 minutes

****

On the surface, it might seem like just another Awkward Michael Cera Comedy. It’s true that element is present, but it’s also so much more. “Youth in Revolt” is the story of a precocious Bay Area teenager named Nick Twisp (Michael Cera) whose affinity for Frank Sinatra and Italian cinema only briefly distracts from his raging hormones. When his mother’s redneck boyfriend (Zack Galifianakis) gets in trouble with some naval officers, they decide to lay low in a camping trailer park in Ukiah. It’s there that Nick meets and falls head-over-heels for Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday), an undeniable beauty and his intellectual equal. However, several elements keep him from being with his beloved including Sheeni’s religious parents and an over-achiever Adonis of a boyfriend named Trent. Nick creates id-like alter ego, Francois Dillinger, in order to undertake extreme measures necessary to get the job done, including blowing up part of Berkeley so that he will be sent to live with his dad in Ukiah.

It’s never an easy feat to adapt a beloved book. Besides the usual outcry from Superfans, a 500-page adolescent hipster-training manual from 1993 would need some editing to become a 90-minute feature film. It was important to have a light touch so as to preserve the essence of C.D. Payne’s rich characters. But Gustin Nash was up to the task and managed to write a script with good sense of modern timelessness. (e.g. He quickly did away with the ubiquitous cell phone conundrum with a quick line about how Nick can’t afford one.) There were other small tweaks as well. Cera’s Nick isn’t quite as incessantly bonered as the literary version (perhaps, by making him two years older, he’s had time to come to terms with his all-consuming sexuality). Die-hard fans may miss references to “T.E.s” and “I’m Single, Let’s Mingle”. But obsessing over these little differences is nitpicking an otherwise extremely enjoyable film. Nash’s script serves as not only excellent shorthand for the novel but also an entertaining and, in terms of its cinematic peers, original comedy film.

In general, Cera haters have a valid complaint. If his brand of charming awkwardness isn’t your thing, you’re going to have a hard time watching any of his movies. But, in this case, I hope the dissenters give him another shot. While normal Nick is still very Cera-esque, his turn as Francois definitely showcases another level to his talents. Francois is crude, hard and physical comedy gold. Cera isn’t the only one who gets to show what else he can do. There isn’t a single weak link in the cast. Zack Galifianakis, normally typecast as the lovable weirdo, gets to be completely un-charming as redneck, Jerry. Justin Long is spot on as Sheeni’s druggy guru older brother. And while Steve Buscemi and Fred Willard have a hard time stretching their acting muscles, they are still perfectly cast in roles well within their means.

Also notable is the film’s structure. For a film based on a fictional journal, Arteta and Nash managed to avoid the usual voiceover trappings, using this type of exposition sparingly. It’s hardly noticeable, whilst still giving the uninitiated viewer a clear overview of the protagonist. Whimsical animated sequences transition the story from one location to another (or serve to…ahem…accurately illustrate a mushroom trip).

Michael Cera has lamented that C.D. Payne’s novel would have made a better mini-series than a feature film. Indeed there are several characters that were cut and others could have been developed more. But since they signed up for a feature, this was certainly the way to do it. And for those without the mental baggage of the book, “Youth in Revolt” is just a good, solid comedy.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com.

January 9, 2010
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: 1 Comment

2009
Rated PG-13
114 minutes

***

“Sometimes you remember a week for the rest of your life,” says blue-eyed puppy dog Richard Samuels (Zac Efron) to his jaded, older love interest. That’s certainly true if your week involves scoring a bit part alongside Orson Welles. The trouble lies in how to keep Orson from outshining everything and everyone else. In some ways, Richard Linklater struck gold when he found Christian McKay. The man completely embodies Orson Welles in appearance and charisma alike. He’s like walking Cliff’s Notes for the legendary genius and charming egomaniac. Unfortunately for the rest of the film, he’s easily the most memorable thing about it.

Set in 1937, Efron plays a plucky teenage actor who scams his way into bit part in Welles’ fascist adaptation of “Julius Caesar”, a week before it’s due to open. Along the way, he becomes smitten with Orson’s ambitious assistant, Sonja (Claire Danes) and learns a few important lessons about “how the world works”. Since this is show business, the “world” in question is theatre, and the lessons are learned the hard way.

“Me & Orson Welles” is Zac Efron’s first real attempt to shed the cheesy teenybopper image bestowed upon him by the Cult of Disney. It’s an admirable career move. He wants to grow up and he wants to do it without snorting anything. And though Efron does show a lot of promise as an actor (he handles old-timey posturing very well) it’s almost unfair to, in his first non-family outing, pair him next to Christian McKay. True, being outshined by Orson Welles is part of Richard’s character. But it backfires because Christian McKay similarly steals the spotlight from Efron, even when they’re not sharing a scene.

Another problem with the film is that it lacks the usual depth of a Linklater story. There are no existential conversations here, nor keen observations about finding your potential. Perhaps it’s because the story is about actors, but it all seems rather shallow and self-absorbed. The principal lesson here is that one does what they have to in order to get ahead, be it calculated sexual liaisons or refraining from talking back to your boss, even when you know you’re right. Is everything really as simple as “you can’t always get what want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need”?

There are some wonderful moments and a few gems of dialogue. But what everyone is going to be talking about is Christian McKay. Sonja says that the “principal occupation of the Mercury Theatre is waiting for Orson.” Similarly, the principal occupation of the “Me & Orson Welles” audience is wading through the Me parts to get to more Orson. Better luck next time, kid.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com. 

December 16, 2009
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2009
Rated PG-13
127 minutes

0 stars

Full disclosure: I haven’t read the books. I only recently watched the first movie in the name of informed journalism because I knew that would be reviewing “New Moon.” I had a reaction that I didn’t expect. Based on what I already knew about what my favorite gossip blogger calls “Twitards,” I suspected that I wouldn’t love it. I knew about the abstinence “metaphors.” But I didn’t expect to find a story so rich with anti-feminist ideology. A quick Google search tells me that many a literary scholar has already touched on the Bella-as-a-battered-woman interpretation, so I’ll try not to rehash. But I will say that I absolutely agree with it and don’t see it so much as an interpretation as the only way to read the damned thing. The same Google search also tells me that the movies are very similar to the books. So I feel pretty confident in my understanding of the “Twilight” universe.

I watched “Twilight” at home with a friend. But my “New Moon” experience was with an audience. Dear god, the audience! Naturally, it was mostly female. Tweens and their mothers, divided into opposing teams of Edward and Jacob. They were so pumped for the movie that they cheered for the production company logo. They cheered for first appearances of their team mascots. They whooped whenever a male character appeared without a shirt. I felt like I was attending a Barely Legal Chippendales show with my young cousin and horny aunt. I’ve been more comfortable staring directly into a stripper’s backside. I’m not even joking.

I won’t really try to avoid spoilers because if you’re reading this, you’ve most likely either read the books and know what’s going to happen, or you’re morbidly curious and don’t really care. If you don’t want to be spoiled, consider this your warning.

“New Moon” opens with Bella, on the eve of her 18th birthday, having an anxiety dream about getting old while her immortal boyfriend, Edward, stays young. A legitimate worry, to be sure, but she follows it up with a declaration that she’s already old at 18. This is something that teenagers and people in their early 20s like to do, and it drives older folks absolutely fucking nuts. Bella is actually a pretty typical teenager in a lot of ways, none of them positive. She constantly ignores the sound advice that more experienced people give her, choosing to do the rash thing at every turn. She sneaks out. She makes ridiculous declarations like “I don’t really like music” just to sound rebellious. She treats the nice boys terribly, always opting to make time with the troublemakers instead. This is the shit that new parents worry about when they learn they’re having girls. And, for some reason, this character is serving as a role model for teenage girls all over the world. Excuse me while I go have a panic attack.

So anyway, Bella has a really eventful birthday. The possessive Edward has a scowl-off with Jacob, one of the many friends Bella has been ignoring ever since she got a boyfriend. Later, at Bella’s oddly formal birthday party, she gets a paper cut. This abruptly ends the festivities since half the attendees immediately want to eat her. After all this, Bella still doesn’t get what she really wants for her birthday: eternal life. Instead, she settles for a really awkward kiss goodnight from a guy who acts like he has history’s worst case of Blue Balls.

The next morning, with furrowed brow, Edward dumps her like one would a stray puppy. Literally. When he’s done, he actually leaves her in the middle of the woods and she just curls up into a whimpering ball until nighttime. She doesn’t belong in his world, he tells her. She’s not good for him. Considering how many times he’s told her that both he and his entire family would love to gobble her up like a bucket of fried chicken, he makes a valid point. And with that, the Cullens disappear from the town of Forks and from Bella’s life.

Brokenhearted, Bella immediately becomes a useless lump. So useless, in fact, that she doesn’t even try to find her way home from the woods and must be rescued by a shirtless fellow named Sam. (Can anyone tell me why no one, not even Bella’s dad, bats an eyelash when a half-clothed man walks out of the woods with an unconscious teenage girl? They just thank him and get on with their day.) After that, she sits moping in a chair for two solid months. Seriously. That’s a whole montage: Bella staring out the window while seasons change. Her dad tells her that he’s worried about her and her behavior isn’t normal. And guess what? He’s right!

Bella finally decides to get out of the house and that’s when the trouble starts again. After seeing a movie with one of her long-neglected friends, she goes on an impromptu joy ride with one of the Port Angeles rapists. As she straddles the bike, phantom Edward pops up like the angel on her shoulder to tell her that she’s being reckless. Instead of heeding his warnings, she takes this as a cue to become an adrenaline junkie. She decides that being haunted by Edward’s morality ghost is better than nothing. And then she selfishly drags the doting Jacob into her plan to be a moron.

Meanwhile, Jacob has his own problems. Shirtless Sam and his gang of equally shirtless cliff divers have been courting him to join their mysterious group. After an awkward third-wheel date with Bella and that nice blonde boy, Jacob flips out. Anyone who’s seen “Teen Wolf” recognizes this as werewolf puberty. The next time Bella sees Jacob, he’s a changed, shirtless man. Fortunately for her, he’s wolfed out just in time to save her stupid ass from evil vampires in Edward’s absence.

Bella takes this opportunity to become a complete and total hypocrite. “It’s wrong,” she lectures him about being a werewolf. “It’s not a lifestyle choice,” he retorts. “I was born this way.” Leave it to a Mormon to compare being a bloodthirsty monster to homosexuality. I bet Stephanie Meyer even thinks that’s a really open-minded viewpoint. Anyway, Jacob tells her they can’t be friends anymore because he could flip out at any time. By way of example, he points to Sam’s scarred girlfriend. At this point, I’m surprised Bella isn’t totally smitten with him, seeing as how she has such a boner for men who want to hurt her. But nay, she still prefers her predator boyfriends scrawny and sparkly.

And then Edward’s sister returns to tell her that Edward, believing Bella dead, now has a death wish of his own. It’s here that things really start to drag as Bella has to save Edward and then get saved about 100 more times herself. The girl really is useless. Also, Dakota Fanning is there. Of course, the audience is meant to think that this is all so romantic and sweet. Love against the odds. Romeo and Juliet. And the worst part is, most of the audience does think that.

As you can see, “New Moon” is not for me. It seems like it should be. I’m a fan of supernatural stories. I was once a brooding teenager who dreamed of gothic romance. But I absolutely hate what Stephanie Meyer has done. She’s reversed everything that Joss Whedon did for female empowerment. She’s taken all the sex out of the sexy vampire. She’s boiled the “inner demons” metaphor down to nothing, and dressed it with a slightly condescending and bigoted sauce. If you liked the books and the first movie, you will probably love “New Moon.” It’s going to make a ton of money and Stephanie Meyer is going to continue to be lauded and rewarded. I know that there will always be bubblegum pop for tweens but this is so much worse than the Backstreet Boys. This is, to borrow a phrase from the source material, a lion in lambskin. It’s intellectually and socially detrimental to both literature and cinema, simultaneously. The fact that so many girls will see this movie and drink up the messages like poisoned Kool-Aid depresses the hell out of me. But there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve already picked your team.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com.

November 20, 2009
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment