But It's a Dry Heat

Archive for the ‘At the movies’ Category

The Quiet Place or Adventures in Horrible Parenting

On a Facebook post, I said that “If you’re a fan of this movie and a parent, I pity your children.” I wrote that unapologetically; the intent was to be provocative and offensive. Just five minutes into this movie, I was stunned by a plot that relied on parents doing the equivalent of letting their toddler play on the freeway. Even more so, dismayed by the love slathered on this hot-mess of a movie. After moving beyond the “all people are stupid” rants, I started to examine why a blatantly terrible movie can be perceived as good.

The premise of The Quiet Place is that Earth has been invaded by blind, vicious aliens that hunt using ultra-sensitive hearing. The few surviving humans stay alive by being as quiet as possible; even the tiniest noise can invite attack. According to the newspaper articles collected by the movie’s patriarch and pasted conveniently on the wall in his lair of useless technology, the aliens are indestructible and don’t eat what they kill. (Which begs the question: What do they eat?)

The movie opens in a small country store. A family of five–Mom, Dad, Teen Girl, Tween Boy, and four-year-old boy who shall be hereafter referred to a Monster Meal (M&M)–are wandering aimlessly about the shop. Mom is carefully, quietly (more…)

Independence Day: Resurgence

Watching Independence Day: Resurgence, one can’t help but think that if this is the best that humankind has to offer, then the aliens would be doing the universe a solid by exterminating us.

I admit, the original movie had its appeal, a goofy, over-the-top, cheese-covered heart, which is sorely lacking in the sequel. Sure, Independence Day was populate with archetypes, but none were so painfully cliche as in Independence Day: Resurgence.

Interjecting new blood into the franchise is Liam Hemsworth in the role of cocky, reckless pilot who will save the day, but is tormented by past fuck-ups, all self-induced, of course. Let’s call him Top Gun, because who the hell cares what the character’s real name is? The obligatory comic relief is provided by Top Gun’s Sidekick, who’s there to leer at Exotic Asian Girl. Top Gun’s love interest is Generically Pretty White Girl, a former ace pilot and coincidentally the daughter of ex-president WhatHisName, from the first movie. The plot is all about coincidences. It’s built on a teetering Jenga tower of coincidence. Top Gun’s rival is a former friend who is aggrieved by whatever it is that Top Gun FUBARed in the past. Once upon a time, Top Gun, Rival, and Generically Pretty White Girl were a best friendsies threesome. But, no more. The instant Top Gun and Rival reconnect, on the moon base, Rival punches Top Gun. Which is the extent of their testosterone-fueled angst.

If this sounds like the plot of an anime, well, it should be. If (more…)

Guardians of the Galaxy

On watching Guardians of the Galaxy, two things become quite evident. First, Thanos should hire better minions, or he needs to get his bad-ass, mad Titan self off the throne and fetch his magical McGuffins o’power all by himself. Because the hired help, thus far, in Marvel movie ‘verse, just aren’t working out.

Also, if it weren’t for daddy issues, nothing–good or bad–in the universe would get done.

Of course, if it weren’t for dead mothers, no hero would ever get motivated. Consequently, the first scene in Guardians shows a young Peter Quill, eventual Starlord, sitting outside a hospital room, listening to that awkward predecessor to playlists, the mixed tape. His grandfather appears and ushers him into a room where a deathly pale woman lies in bed. Before getting down to dying, Mom rambles about the boy’s father, using the word “angel,” so that you know young Quill is something special.

Mom lifts a trembling hand toward the lad and (more…)

The Lone Ranger (2013)

“Well. That was a hot mess,” says my husband as The Lone Ranger‘s credits crawl up a scene of Monument Valley, a dispirited Tonto limping off into the sunset.

The statement is significant, in that my spouse, unlike me, is generally kind to movies. Me, I love excoriating a bad movie, detailing its sins against plot, characterization, cinematography, etc. But the hubs usually just shrugs and says, “It wasn’t good, but there were some funny parts.”

To say The Lone Ranger is a hot mess is to disparage steaming piles of poop everywhere.  After all, certain types of excrement make good fertilizer. Not so, The Lone Ranger.

Possibly taking a page from (more…)