And it’s the 23rd. This is when my design conference is, as well as my design report being due. It’s also the day after the second of my supplementary exams, but that’s not really relevant.
What am I going to do? Well, I’m going to procrastinate and write weblog entries that end in the word “tree”.
That’s right folks, it’s a movie review. I saw this a while ago, and I have been waiting for the chance to write about how utterly awful it is and basically just have a rant, and why the hell not? After all, this is my pathetic and pointless area to spout in, I may as well make the most of it.
To start with, I rather like the Harry Potter books, they are well written, witty and generally very engrossing, the later of the series being an excellent example of how fantasy writing should be done (rather than an entire chapter describing the grass on which the hero stands). I was also rather pleased with the way in which the first two movies were modelled on the books, a good balance between the necessity of alteration for a different media and holding true to the original story. Do I need to write the big “however” now?
However, (guess I do), this movie is awful, in every single way. The strong cast of actors from the previous series are brushed aside rather brusquely to make way for the poorest choice of actors yet in the series to fumble over a script which is vaguely related to the original book.
Right, actors. Unfortunately, the whole series is plagued by particularly bad actors in the lead roles. Daniel Radcliff, who was terrible in the first movie, and mildly better in the second one, manages to convey all the rage of a dead tomato, unfortunately, this is not really what the role calls for and so he appears more comical than frustrated. Ron (whose real name I cannot remember), gives his usual less-than-comical faces and unsubtle lines and generally makes a mess of it as usual. But, they are only kids, and the real criminal here is responsible for the script and direction, so lets have a good look at them.
Right, script, or storyline, or removal thereof. See, the book is filled with many many interweaving little events, small things that keep the interest going throughout the book, things that make it come alive and really pull you in to the entire fictional universe. Of course, if you are a new director with a wodge of cash to throw at a movie that will get an audience regardless of quality, who needs these little things. Precisely the thoughts of El’Poncho D’Brainless, so naturally, every single subplot, is chopped out, removed or just generally rearranged in a way to spoil any surprise and make the whole affair utterly boring. Result? Two hours of non-stop boredom and waiting for something intersting to happen.
I could go on and on about this. Hang on, I have gone on and on about this. And I intend to go on much more, so keep reading and be damn grateful for the opportunity. The fact is that there is a lot wrong with this movie. The children all wear teenage clothing which is a bit strange considering the book explicitly states this as muggle clothes and that all in the magic realm wear different. There are so many cutscenes of irrelevant scenery and the whole film feels like a b-grade teen movie (starring an anorexic and soon to be anorexic couple of lesbians), crossed with an 80s sitcom (ie, not funny).
So, hopefully that should have stopped you from going and seeing it.
WARNING: This, and probably the next four or so entries into this very interesting and highly entertaining read, is going to be a rant. Sorry in advance.
As you have probably guessed, this particular rant is about a certain tennis player and a very very annoying singer. No names need to be mentioned, but when you get news items blaring in your face about how this braindead blonde shows how wonderful Australia is by babbling in a way that even a beauty pageant contestant would be ashamed of, you tend to get a little pissed off.
Some background. A while ago, a relatively unheard of, extremely dull singer bounced onto the scene with another CD full of really repetitive songs about love or something or other. Like all singers who seem to go on and on and on about this, the music was samey, repetitive, and exactly like everything else out there. Naturally, it got lapped up, because this wonderfully lacklustre whore was around 18 (I have forgotten the exact figure). Of course, as you know, fame like this doesn’t last very long and so she needed something more to keep going.
Well, as luck would have it, she got cancer. Now cancer is a particularly nasty affliction and it is a truly horrible way to die when it is dangerous, but she got one of the weakest and almost certainly curable types around. Never mind that far greater have had far worse and talked far less about it than her, we got endless segments about her on TV, mushy articles about bravery in magazines and the entire Australian Music Awards got awarded to this unfortunately cured bimbo. Now her career is founded she can continue milking the victim role whilst simultaneously doing the same crap forever and ever.
The other character of this magical pantomime is a typically bad tennis player. Like most bad tennis players out there, he only has one trick up his sleeve. In this case, a serve, a rather strong serve, but that’s it. Most of the time, he is lucky to get the ball in, let alone play tactically. It shames me somewhat that Australia has produced some of the finest tennis players in history, yet all the spotlight goes on players like this git and Patrick Rafter, who was also a one trick dog, (serve and volley anyone?).
However, this talentless player is Australian, and therefore amazingly good, never mind that there are far more interesting characters and far more skillful players around than him. After countless dodgings of the Davis cup due to injury and generally acting like a prick most of the time, the Australian public still laps it up.
A match made in heaven between these two horrible examples of the need for contraception?