He'd hold the world to his breast
And whisper wind into the sails
Of vessels lost at sea.
But on the moon too is a man
Who calls the charging tide
Wide gapes Poseidon's mouth
Dry, dying of thirst.
Oh that mother's milk filled the ocean
Frothing on the shore.
Instead seas swell with salty tears
As Atlas turns his back.
Look up and grains of sand
Rain castles and goggles.
Further on I reach
A snow-covered beach
Frozen in my toes.
Ocean body beside me
Bleeds internally
Arteries bursting on rocks.
Nine commercial stallions dive
On man-made runways arrive
The world's terminal.
I am the silence
between the beats
the silence between the feet
that tap tap-tap
the rhythm
I am the silence
of muted screens
the silence spins blank CDs
and no one there
to listen
I am the silence
of vacant streets
the silence of deeds discreet
that slide right by
unnoticed
I am the silence
I am the si lence
I am the
"The world's the same," Jack Sparrow says to Barbossa, "there's just less in it."
I have to disagree. Not only has the world changed, but there is much, much more in it: more characters, more plotlines, more action, more complications, betrayals, deals struck, bargains made. And throughout this third installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, I was At Wit's End trying to keep it all straight.
I was wrong in my review of Dead Man's Chest when I said that the sequel lacked the originality of the first. To be sure, DMC and AWE rely heavily on the pillaging and plundering of gags from the first movie for their humor, but they have, in fact, strayed so far from Curse of the Black Pearl that they cannot be called anything other than original. No, Jack, the world of these two sequels is very different.
In Curse of the Black Pearl, the world looked much as we would have imagined it in the days of the Americas' colonization, and we were asked to temporarily suspend our disbelief to accept the plausibility of an ancient Aztec curse. Dead Man's Chest and At World's End, on the other hand, have created their own mythical creatures and locations, asking us to suspend our disbelief instead to accept the plausibility that the British Navy and East India Trading Company could have existed in this other world--this alternate universe. I suspect that the more you accept and embrace this fantastical world they have created, the more you will enjoy At World's End.
And there is actually much to enjoy about this movie. Geoffrey Rush shines in his return as the seedy, rotten to the core Barbossa; Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom prove themselves once again to be two of the most capable young actors in the movie business today; and Johnny Depp's Captain Jack Sparrow has truly reached the status of immortality. Apart from the exceptional performances, At World's End also showcases the talent and creative genius of the entire production company with clever little sequences from an army of crabs carrying a ship across land to characters shooting themselves across ships with cannons to a mid-fight-scene marriage ceremony to beautifully crafted sets and scenery. At World's End is a marvel to look at and literally sails across the screen, taking the audience on an incredible voyage from one action packed scene to another.
Unfortunately, these top-notch sequences lack a solidified plot to link them together and though the film already pushes the three-hour mark, it might have benefited from another fifteen to twenty minutes just to flesh out the story a little more. In the tradition of self-serving pirates, each of the countless characters that swagger across the screen has his or her own motivations and goals, which in the tradition of film leaves the audience with little more than a disorientation not too dissimilar from that after drinking too much rum.
What's worse is that as each character aims in a different direction, they lose sight of each other, while in the mean time the relationships that were so fun to watch develop in the first two films get shoved aside for more sword fights with fish people. In fact, the grand finale and plot twist from Dead Man's Chest is hardly addressed. While a full blown love triangle would have been disasterous and absurd, I did expect to see repercussions and coming to terms with the climax that DMC spent so much energy building up. Give us some dialogue among these characters, some confrontations, some closure. Instead, Captain Jack makes a clever quip about Elizabeth killing him, while Will gives her the cold shoulder through much of the first part of the film, but when all the one-liners are said and the CGI action is done, Will and Elizabeth are together again, madly in love, and well, it never would have worked between Elizabeth and Jack, darlings. I'm sorry.
Yet, the irony of it all is that this criticism comes from the fact that over the past four years I have come to love these characters from the lovely Elizabeth to the true hearted Will to the wooden-eyed Ragetti to the punctilious Governor Swann to Mr. Cotton's parrot. And at that final moment when Captain Jack makes his final bow, I admit with pride that I had a tear in my eye. I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically. So when you feel that you have been marooned in some god forsaken sequel, remember one very imporant thing mates: he's Captain Jack Sparrow.
It's an odd thing to watch a movie, especially a Bond movie, with a predetermined investment solely in the villain, but that is the mind frame in which I went to see Casino Royale. I suppose my partiality for the villain will make this a rather odd review to read as well, seeing as I know little about the James Bond culture, but a lot about Mads Mikkelsen. Mads Mikkelsen, who plays Le Chiffre in this latest addition to the Bond franchise, is essentially the Johnny Depp of Denmark. He is a multi-talented, versatile actor whose smashing good looks earn him a loyal fanbase that may or may not be a little too young for the 41-year-old actor (this coming from me, a 20-year-old Mads fan). American audiences may, but sadly probably won't, recognize Mikkelsen from his role as Tristan in the 2004 blockbuster King Arthur, but where Mikkelsen really shines are in his Danish films that include The Green Butchers, Open Hearts, and the more recent After The Wedding that premiered at this year's Toronto Film Festival.
Now comes the part of the review where I gush over Mikkelsen's performance in Casino Royale. It will star such complimentary adjectives as "brilliant," "breathless," and "perfect," with a "diabolical" thrown in at the end: Mads Mikkelsen's brilliant performance as Le Chiffre is sure to leave you breathless with his perfect portrayal of diabolical villainy. Now that we have that out of the way, I will move on to say that I was equally impressed by Daniel Craig's portrayal of James Bond. What's more, the energetic rivalry exuded between himself and Mikkelsen made me wish the producers would have cut out the hundred of other bad guys that literally bound across the screen in order to give Craig and Mikkelsen a few more of their sensationally acted one on one scenes.
Such scenes include intense staring matches from across the poker table and, most noteworthy and talked about, the torture scene. Le Chiffre, who finds simple tortures the most effective, straps a naked Bond to a chair and whacks his two martini olives (if you take my meaning) with a thick, heavy knotted rope. Le Chiffre confidently strips off his jacket and circles his prey, but then a funny thing happens. In perhaps the most cringe-worthy position of vulerability possible, Bond does not only endure the infliction of pain, but psychologically steals the control from his assailant. Le Chiffre is still holding the rope, but it's Bond who is doing the torturing. Craig and Mikkelsen hit all the right notes in this scene, if not hitting all the right genitalia as well.
Speaking of genitalia, I seem to have neglected to discuss Bond's bed buddies who in this film include Solange played by Caterina Murino and Vesper Lynd played by Eva Green. Solange is a bit of a throw-away character, but Eva Green's Vesper has a depth and intelligence surprising for the stereotypical Bond girl role. I enjoyed the witty reparteé between Bond and Vesper, reflecting an undeniable chemistry between Craig and Green. There is also a particularly poignant scene in which Bond comforts Vesper as she sits under her running shower in an almost catatonic state. She feels like she has blood on her hands that she can't wash away. Beneath Bond's arrogant indifference, he might just understand.
In fact, we find out there is something beneath Bond's suave exterior, which leads us to an over-the-top romantic interlude that made me wonder if the film had been hijacked by Cameron Crowe (see Jerry Maguire, Elizabethtown). Gone are the quick one-liners and flirtacious bantering to be replaced by sweeping violins, breeze-swept hair, and rollicking in the sand. What makes these scenes so incongruent is the fact that they directly follow the torture scene and action climax of the film. The film switches gears so fast from gritty to gushy that we begin to suspect that Bond really did lose his balls. Is it a coincidence that these scenes were filmed at the very same villa at Lake Como where the infamously nauseating Anakin/Padme scenes were filmed for Star Wars' Attack of the Clones? I think not.
I will say, however, that things are not always as they seem, and there is a nice twist at the end involving Vesper that just might open your eyes to previously unaddressed reasons for Bond's chauvenistic and misogynistic tendencies. But now I must retreat to my initial point, which is to say that I hope this film opens your eyes to Denmark's prince of film, Mads Mikkelsen. James Bond isn't the only man who knows how to look good in a tux, ladies. Casino Royale is filled with action, intrigue, and a delicious villain on the side. I may just have to catch this one again.
- Mood:
ecstatic
Coppola gives us a whiff of a story like a French perfume that fades in its poignancy after the first squirt. The main conflict of the film resides in the necessity of Marie Antoinette to produce an heir by the next in line to the throne, Louis XVI, who is less than sexually invigorated. While this storyline might have worked in the form of a raunchy comedy, for a two hour bio-pic drama, it does not produce the desired climax. Part of the problem, I think, comes from the fact that every character lacks arc and depth. Marie Antoinette's stunted state of superficiality is forgivable for accuracy's sake, but not a single supporting character proves him or herself noteworthy or compelling.
Like any portrait by Velasquez, Rembrandt, or Da Vinci, Coppola succeeds in creating a picturesque, artistically drawn representation of Marie Antoinette's life. The setting, costumes, and cinematography are beautifully combined to bring a realism to the film that is unfortunately and inexcusably broken by the dissonant chord struck by the inclusion of modern music. Storming through the film's authenticity like the commoners through the Bastille is the distracting conglomeration of French, British, and American accents. I am usually forgiving of inaccurate dialects as long as they are consistent, but in a film centered around French royalty (with a few Austrians thrown in), the discrepency of accents adds an inappropriate diversity to the company of otherwise homogenous characters.
Compounding the problem of dialect are cringe-worthy line deliveries by Jason Schwartzman who seems inable to discern the difference between awkward sexual interaction and awkward acting. Though the intention of his characterization of Louis XVI is to be more or less socially incompetent, his diction betrays nothing more than a verbatim memorization of the script which only creates awkwardness in the audience whose solitary hope for his character is that he will put his prepositions in the right places. As I listened to him speak throughout the film, I found myself transported back against my will to my high school English class where fellow students struggled to read Hamlet aloud, pausing after every syllable of "to be or not to be" in uncertainty over where to put the stress. Schwartzman's monotonous recitation of lines immensely less eloquent than Shakespeare's does not excuse, but rather draws excessive attention to his poor performance in this film. Kirsten Dunst is overall convincing as Marie Antoinette, but I do not see her as deserving much recognition come awards season.
As I review this long list of grievances with the film, I cannot help but admit that I would have forgiven every last one of them had Coppola only given us the satisfaction of the guillotine scene. I even have a suggestion for the pop song to score it: Alice Cooper's "Chop, Chop, Chop."
- Mood:
okay
Psychotic King Arthur fan as I may be, that does not mean I can let Mr. Thompson off the hook so easily. Below is a random lists of gripes, comments, and ramblings in response to various excerpts from the novel. Enjoy!
To start off, Mr. Thompson breaks the three holy commandments of Tristianity.
I. Tristan shalt not cry.
With a quick thrust, Arthur ran the sword through Dagonet's throat. Guinevere was now openly crying, as were Tristan and Galahad.
II. Tristan shalt aim for the middle.
Gawain threw his knife with such force and precision that he hit the center of the target and knocked it off the table. "How on earth do you do that, Gawain?" Tristran asked, impressed. OUTRAGEOUS!
III. Tristan shalt not frickin wave at Guinevere!
They passed Guinevere so fast that they seemed to be two whirlwinds sweeping across the wintry ground, Tristran gave her a friendly wave as they disappeared into the distance. She's a woad!
Some other of my gripes as far as Tristan is concerned include the fact that in the movie Tristan picks a fight with Cerdic, not vice versa, and I was also a bit miffed by the fact that Thompson chose to have Tristan look up at the blue sky at his moment of death, not at his hawk flying above him. I suppose I've just outted myself as an obsessed Tristan fangirl. Oh well. =P
*takes a deep breath* Alright, continuing on, here are a few other excerpts that amused me.
With all the conficence of a master who has never refused anything, [Marius] approached Guinevere from behind and put his arms around her. His hands caressed the soft slopes of her breasts.
Umm...what breasts?Cynric turned to his swordsmen and pointed in Guinevere's direction. "Men!" he shouted. "Let us bring down this Woad bitch!"
Ok, that's just funny. I have nothing to add.
On the east edge of the forest, Guinevere looked over at Arthur. Somehow, he seemed to feel her gaze across the distance and looked back at her. For a long moment, their shared look said everything their voices could not.
*Arthur stares at Guinevere* ... *Guinevere stares at Arthur* ... *Arthur stares at Guinevere* ... *my head hits the desk*
What their stares are really saying: "WE GONNA DIE!"
Then Arthur nodded and waved at her.
What is with all this waving at Guinevere? //mock retarded Arthur voice// "Howdy, Gwinny-vere! We's abouts to go off to battle!" *Arthur waves wildly with a dumb, goofy smile on his face*
Lancelot struggled over to him. Dropping to his knees beside the dying Cynric, Lancelot lifted him up by the collar, bringing the Saxon's face so close to his own that it seemed they were about to kiss.
Slash, anyone?
Lancelot spat blood into Cynric's face and said, "You have made this land sacred with my blood!"
//to Frank Thompson// You have made this novel stupid with your dialogue!
In conclusion, I know it must look like I absolutely hated this novel, but to be perfectly honest I actually did enjoy it. I think that when reading it, you have to be a true King Arthur fan to really appreciate the humor in its absurdity. So yeah, that's enough out of me. =P
- Mood: amused
Yep, I gosh darn dunnit. I bought the King Arthur novelization off Amazon for 1 cent (although the shipping was like, $3.15) along with Within Temptation's Mother Earth. I'm all giddy and excited now. I'm such a dork. I guess this means I need to go finish up the last 40 pages of The Pathfinder. Weeeeeee!!
- Mood:
giggly
"I have the reservations right here! I downloaded it off the internet myself!"
Dang, old lady got PMS and mad intraweb skillz.
Factoid: This lady is actually an executive at Dreamworks. Wes Craven met her at one of the board meetings for Red Eye and said, "Hey! You'd be great for the b*tchy hotel customer role!"
Lisa's dad likes to play golf in his living room and wears loafers without socks.
Factoid: Brian Cox, Lisa's dad, played Agamemnon in Troy. "ACHIIIIIIILEEEESSSSS!!!"
Why would you name your daughter Henrietta? No doubt her father was some guy named Henry who was in love with himself. Too bad his name wasn't Charlie. Then he could have named her Charlietta.
If an assassin guy said that if you didn't aid in an assassination then you're dad would die, would you do it? I honestly don't think I would. I mean, if you help him you're essentially committing murder whereas if he kills your dad, that's all on him. Although, I might be persuaded by boxes of Frosted Flakes in bulk.
Also, if said assassin showed me my dad's wallet as some kind of proof, I honestly wouldn't recognize it. "What are you doing? What's this? Do you work in leather?"
Airline tickets from Dallas to Miami ... $200
Bay Breeze at the local Tex Mes ... $7
Having your Master Card on hand to call your hotel mid-flight to assist in a terrorist plot ... Priceless
I don't know about the rest of you, but if i drove an SUV through my front yard into my house, killing a guy in the process, the first words out of my dad's mouth would not be "Are you ok, sweetheart?"
I love this movie, I really do, but it would be so much cooler if Jackson actually got away with it. Oh, and I would put in my own personal suggestion of blowing up the Lux Atlantic to the tune of the 1812 Overture.
- Mood:predatory
I pondered this for a long time without really finding an answer, but my thoughts kept drifting to my favorite poem by Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Light," which I have posted below:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Mood:
pensive
Now, everyone listen and listen closely. In the words as sung by the immortal Ella Fitzgerald, King Arthur is like my funny valentine, my sweet funny valentine. Its looks are laughable and unphotographable, yet it's my favorite work of art. I've said time and time again, though apparently to a brick wall, that King Arthur is not a work of great cinema, but it is not a poor work of cinema either. I'll take it with all its imperfections thank you very much because there's something about it that simply charms me.
The actors in King Arthur are among the cream of the crop of European actors and probably some of the most talented in the world, but I guess maybe some people just can´t be interested in a character if it isn´t played by a Tom Cruise hollywood clone. King Arthur, in my opinion, is one of the most well cast movies in recent years. Every knight is given due attention and brings a unique dynamic to the chemistry of the group as a whole. King Arthur was not made to be the same tale of wizardry and betrayal that we all know so well. It´s a story of comradery with a message of choosing to fight for something you believe in. Clive Owen portrays King Arthur with the perfect mix of the wariness of a soldier who has fought for many years and the compassion and justice of the mythical Arthur who built Camelot.
Honestly, the first time I saw King Arthur, I wasn´t sure if I like it. To me, the movie is like fine wine that gets better with age. The more I watched it, the more I loved it. King Athur´s problems exist in a script that needed a couple more runs through the editing process and a production company and director who weren´t on the same page. The movie is significantly improved in the director´s cut, which helps to eliminate the latter issue.
Speaking of the director´s cut, it has some of the best cinematographically shot action sequences I´ve seen in an historical epic (although I would say Gladiator´s scenes certainly rival it). What Fuqua did right was that he didn´t rely on shooting long-shots of CGI armies crashing into each other, which has become a cliche in recent epics. He gets into the grit of it and knows how to keep your attention by keeping the focus on individual characters fighting and not the battle as a whole. He also gave each character their own style of fighting, which has always intrigued me. Oh, and then there are the woads. Finally we get a female character who can kick serious butt! Thank you Antoine Fuqua, and thank you Keira Knightley.
I know I harp on this every time someone talks about King Arthur, but I just really think it gets a bad wrap. It strayed from the Hollywood norm (though was quickly pushed back into it with the production company´s sudden decision to make it PG-13) and the public´s expectations. It tried to do something different and original with a story that´s been told over and over again. Apparently, that´s a bad thing.
- Mood:
frustrated
It's unfortunate that the most critical problem with PotC:DMC probably lies in the fact that Johnny Depp's performance can no longer be described as "unprecedented," seeing as it is just a re-hash of the character he coined in 2003. Depp's Captain Jack Sparrow radiated so brilliantly in the first film that it let the film's otherwise obvious flaws slide by unnoticed by the audience. PotC:DMC, however, is inundated with flaws to the point that not even Captain Jack can remain afloat.
In PotC:DMC, Captain Jack is back, but he forgot to bring his wit and charisma. In the first film, it was so thrilling to watch as he ingeniously manipulated every situation, no matter how dire, to work to his advantage. In this film he wears funny face paint and makes lame rum jokes in incessant references to Curse of the Black Pearl. Jack Sparrow, why is your originality gone? It's a shame that one of the most innovative characters in recent cinematic history has become static and flat, unless you count a frantic shish kabob running across the screen as character development.
Another crucial problem with this film is the main villain, Davey Jones. In the original, we had the marvelous Geoffrey Rush playing Barbossa free from the constraints of CGI disfigurement. While I don't presume to imply that Bill Nighy lacks Rush's acting skills (on the contrary, I've always enjoyed Bill Nighy's work), I do believe that the CGI inhibited him from giving a satisfying performance. While I understand that high-tech devices can be used to track the actor's facial movements, I can not for one second believe that a tentacle-faced cartoon could equal the expressiveness of a professional actor such as Nighy.
The original Pirates had witty dialogue and colorful characters, PotC:DMC has the Kraken. One of the overlooked flaws of the first film was that it had about 30 minutes too much CGI-based action. PotC:DMC takes this flaw and tacks on another 15 minutes. This time, however, instead of clever quips and charm to off-set the intense action sequences, we get re-used jokes and references to the first film. Yes, Captain Jack is still rooting for Norrington, and I'm still rooting for Dead Man's Chest come up with one line of original dialogue.
Part of the problem, I think, is that each of the three main characters spends too much time apart from others. Will Turner goes off on his own adventure aboard Davey Jones' ship where he meets his long lost father, Elizabeth escapes from jail and stows away on a merchant ship, and Captain Jack alternates between the company of each. It seems as though the relationships and interactions of the main characters are treated as after thoughts to the special effects and are given little time to develop on screen. The romance between Will and Elizabeth, which blossomed so beautifully in the first film, is destroyed by one or two provocative glances between Jack and Elizabeth and a compass that tells her what she wants. Is Elizabeth so fickle that a few weeks apart from her fianceé could drive her into the arms of his sometimes-adversary? Did I miss something from the first film that I was supposed to pick up on? Was this love triangle really necessary, no matter how honest Elizabeth's motives in locking lips with Jack?
On the up-side, if this movie succeeded in one thing, it was to get me excited for its third and final episode. Captain Jack Sparrow may not be able to shiver me timbers like he used to, but he's a good ol' friend and I can't just abandon him quite yet. PotC:DMC, in my opinion, was a sorry disappointment in comparison with its predecessor, but I think I feel a change in the winds says I. I have a feeling about the third film, just a feeling, but I think there's still a chance for redemption.
- Mood:
disappointed
Make out with: Jackson Rippner
Marry: Luke Skywalker
Fight: Tristan
Kill: Cerdic
Befriend: Patrick "Kitten" Braden
Get drunk with: Capt. Jack Sparrow
Take advice from: Alan Shore
Die with: Katsumoto
Want as a father: George from Life As A House
Want as a mother: Lorelai Gilmore
Live with: The Cunninghams (Happy Days haha)
Want to be: Guinevere
Tell your secrets to: Yoda
- Mood:dorky
Anyways here ya go:
-Both have the career motto of taking as diverse of roles as possible
-Both of them are gorgeous (haha)
-Both have very pronounced cheekbones (thanks peaches!)
-They are two of the most talented actors in Hollywood
-Johnny Depp is one of Cillian Murphy's favorite actors
-Both are very hard on journalists. Johnny Depp threatens/attacks them, especially if they mess with his family. Cillian Murphy gets irritated when they talk about him always playing the bad guy and calls it "lazy journalism"
-Both of them play the guitar, and have a great love for music
-Both of them are very private people
-Both are permanently attached to a lucky woman
-The majority of both of their careers are spent outside of the mainstream
-They are rather short, both being around 5'9" in height
-Both have played tranvestites, and make prettier women than most women do!
-Both are anti-Hollywood
-Both live in Europe and stay away from all the L.A. nonsense
-Both of them have me as an obsessed fan (haha!)
-Both have played characters with the last name Crane (Jonathan and Ichabod)
- Mood: thoughtful
- Mood:
bouncy
Perhaps my biggest issue with this movie is that it is needlessly 3 hours long with probably an accumulative 30 minutes of dialogue and little to no character development. I'll concede, however, that the relationship between Anne and Kong developed quite beautifully, and I really felt her pain at key human vs. Kong moments of the film. Unfortunately, the movie just drags on too long. From the beginning of the film to the point where they leave the jungle feels like a film in itself. Heck, it has an exposition, climax, and conclusion (assuming they leave Kong on the island and simply escape). The New York City part of the movie feels like a sequel that Jackson tacked on to the end when it's supposed to contain the famous Empire State Building scene.
Despite all my negativity, I can't say that I didn't enjoy the film. Unlike Lord of the Rings, I was actually able to stay awake through the entire movie and it did hold my interest the entire 3 hours. All in all, I would have liked this film better had there been less CGI Kong fighting other CGI creatures and more characterization and dialogue.
- Mood: cynical
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