| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| randall |
Posted - 09/15/2008 : 22:33:27
Tarsem's new one -- and to whoever it was who pre-disliked M. dot Strange simply because of his nom, right back atcha; I haven't cared for single-named artists since Topol, and that includes Madonna, Sade, Enya and especially McG -- looks far better than it sounds, and indicates that a magnificent picture is tantalizingly within reach, once the director can find the right material to pull the wide-angle lens out of his ass and concentrate on the story.
However, Mr. Singh [let's get real here] is a master of oversaturated colors, unutterably fabulous settings [the desert is a minor trademark], and dreamlike slo-mo; you know, the stuff they love on MTV. He got into flicks on the basis of REM's "Losing My Religion." THE CELL was another [and better] bravura eyefest. But this one tries to tip reality [1915 L.A.] against fantasy [the tall tales a drugged-out former stuntman tells an adorable little girl]. Del Toro nailed this visual dichotomy in PAN'S LABYRINTH to much greater effect because he was telling a far more resounding story on a far grander scale. Here, Mr. Singh travels to 18 different countries to say, "Look how clever I am!" It's gorgeous but dimwitted, a beauty pageant contestant which folds in the verbal events. The postmodern "suddenly-yanking-us-back-to-the-hospital" trope is overdone the third time it's presented, and is only a PRINCESS BRIDE wannabe in the first place.
This guy is an amazing visual stylist. Can we please find a piece that will use his talent to dramatic effect, and a hard-nosed producer who will tell him, "no"? Guillermo? |
| 1 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| GHcool |
Posted - 09/16/2008 : 06:24:05
quote:
Originally posted by Randall
Tarsem's new one -- and to whoever it was who pre-disliked M. dot Strange simply because of his nom, right back atcha; I haven't cared for single-named artists since Topol, and that includes Madonna, Sade, Enya and especially McG -- looks far better than it sounds, and indicates that a magnificent picture is tantalizingly within reach, once the director can find the right material to pull the wide-angle lens out of his ass and concentrate on the story.
However, Mr. Singh [let's get real here] is a master of oversaturated colors, unutterably fabulous settings [the desert is a minor trademark], and dreamlike slo-mo; you know, the stuff they love on MTV. He got into flicks on the basis of REM's "Losing My Religion." THE CELL was another [and better] bravura eyefest. But this one tries to tip reality [1915 L.A.] against fantasy [the tall tales a drugged-out former stuntman tells an adorable little girl]. Del Toro nailed this visual dichotomy in PAN'S LABYRINTH to much greater effect because he was telling a far more resounding story on a far grander scale. Here, Mr. Singh travels to 18 different countries to say, "Look how clever I am!" It's gorgeous but dimwitted, a beauty pageant contestant which folds in the verbal events. The postmodern "suddenly-yanking-us-back-to-the-hospital" trope is overdone the third time it's presented, and is only a PRINCESS BRIDE wannabe in the first place.
This guy is an amazing visual stylist. Can we please find a piece that will use his talent to dramatic effect, and a hard-nosed producer who will tell him, "no"? Guillermo?
Yep, I saw this one in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the story is rather dull and forgettable, but the film is definitely worth seeing on the biggest screen you can just for the cinematography and settings alone. |
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