themeletor | Of spam and of movies and big blue eyes and misspelt icons.

I truly believe that this evening I witnessed the Death of Cinematography. It was painful.

Now. I could write from any of three spots in Straw Men, or try for the Vengeful Doom Sequel to Deal with the Devil (be careful what you wish for, h0rz). Or the Terry/Bruce (Pygmalion), or the ridiculous supercrack Wayne/Crane. Or even organize the Six Flags photos from Angelo's and from Superman: Ultimate Flight. Any of those would be productive, to differing degrees.

Or, I could sit here and eat a Yoplait raspberry chocolate mousse yoghurt and whine about Red Eye.

I think... I shall do that.
(Hell, I'll have time to write later; I'm off work tomorrow. Fic all-nighter, yayz!)

.::steeples fingers::. So. Red Eye. We'll start with the generics first. The most glaring objective FAILURE being, as I have already stated, the cinematography. It didn't just lack finesse, because that I can forgive. The cutting between shots actually distracted me, and that has otherwise only happened with the ridiculous screen-wipes in Star Wars (and even those had a reason. so). If I want tennis neck, I'll watch a match. Not a 'psychological thriller'. Similarly, if I want to tilt my head, I will look at either breasts (tell me you caught that Coupling ref and I'll love you forever) or postmodern art. Not badly-integrated and off-kilter angles that somehow make Cillian Murphy's facial structure unattractive. Seriously? It's like getting an F in English, or a zero on the SATs. It takes a concerted effort. Of course, don't get me wrong, a lot of the shots were straightforward and perfectly fine. But when he tried to get fancy... or expressive... or have more than one person in the scene... it slid all to shit. I mean, need I repeat, HE BROKE CILLIAN'S PRETTY. The guy looks droolworthy with a goat-butt beard and his head half-shaved. I did not think such a destruction POSSIBLE until tonight. Goddamn.
....::breathes::. Ok. I'm all right. I promise. Oh, and the lighting was uninspiring, to say the least. Though I didn't really expect much in that department, and was actually glad to see nothing too dramatic or artsy. It all showed off Cillian's blue blue eyes quite consistently, therein providing distraction and haven for me when all I wanted to do was develop repetitive stress injuries in my neck with a side of great big headache. And remained true to the environment, something I personally prefer to the more acommodating and cinematic lighting effects.

On to the next target. Script. It wasn't as stilted as I'd feared, but there was nothing actually spectacular. Cillian delivered all his lines eerily well, even a few real cheeseballs. Towards the end he lost it a few times, but given what he had to work with, I don't blame him. ~~Still teh sex.~~ McAdams pulled her shit off pretty well, too, and she really had some gaggers. Luckily, Jackson cut her off for most of them, but there were a few that she had to field all on her own, and she damn near made them work. I also love the actress who played Cynthia, because she made a cardboard straw-girl role acceptably real while still keeping it just off enough to be funny. And McAdams' movie-dad? Omg heart. He and Cynthia just up and stole the freaking film.

But here is where I gripe about more film-specific things -- namely, the 'action' sequence -- so beware the spoilers.

No, seriously. This is your warning.

Firstly, the action sequences were retarded. Most importantly: the scene in the bathroom? Could have been so darksexy. And Cillian was really trying to play that up, but couldn't quite get away with it. Damned PG-13 rating, damned Wes Craven, damned whatever powers-that-be in the Dreamworks crap factory. That could have been hot. Instead it was kind of 'wtf', like you weren't sure if the sexual tension was really supposed to be there. Even with 'Thanks for the quickie' and the obvious assumptions surrounding their little liaison, the scene itself was still awkward and held-back. Sorry, Cillian; we know you tried. At least Bats played along a little.

.::~~daydreams~~ thinks about that last sentence for a bit::.
I am suddenly in a much better mood, and feel that I should relate to you all the things I learned from the rest of the fight/chase scene(s).

1: when in doubt, trip your character.
2: they weren't lying at my public high school -- pens really are weapons.
3: Jackson Rippner has wormhole frequent-flyer miles.
4: the only thing that will win against an SUV is a house (actually, I kind of suspected that already)
5: it is entirely possible to survive an open throat hole, several headbashes, a stab to the leg, a tumble down the stairs, and a severe beating with a monstrously oversized field hockey stick through SHEER CRAVAT POWER.

I think my resilient love for this movie is based mostly on that last one. And, of course, the big blue eyes and bedroom voice and floppy hair and eyelashhes/cheekbones for which I would KILL (contextual irony is just a bonus).

In conclusion, it was worth the $8.75 (actually, $17.50... and popcorn... $22.75?? That kid OWES me). Don't think it would be worth it again, but I'll get a hold of the DVD when it comes out. Provided I'm not hardcore broke, college-style.

Also, I ~~want~~ need the soundtrack. Nngh.

Right. I've done what I sat here for. Now, to use this night-with-no-impending-wakeup. Write?
.::checks Trill lists::. There's no-one online for me to ficbitch at. *slump* Well, I'll try anyway .::pops up MS Word::. (I won't go to bed, I won't I won't!)