Pretty solid film. Streamlined and unwieldy simultaneously. Delightful and dark, like the devil in a tutu.
Standout player? Jack Haley as Rorschach. Phe-fucking-nomenal.
Jeffrey Morgan was a surprise in the film--a solid actor, but he showed some nice range. Matthew Goode and Billy Crudup acquitted themselves particularly well. I'm gonna have to see it a few more times before I can dissect it with any skill . . . no snickers from the peanut gallery, I can, too, dissect a film. As opposed to squeeing maniacally like a psychotic fangrrl.
A few people walked out--really old and fairly young. The oldsters were, I think offended by some of the, er, grit. Can't remember whenabouts they left, but I doubt they even made it to the mile-high sex scene. The youngsters probably were having trouble following the storyline.
("Who's this . . . Richard Nixon-dude, and what is this Soviet Union you speak of?")
Was it as well put together as V For Vendetta? I don't think so. V For Vendetta was, imho, damn near perfect. But it had similar themes. As to whether or not the ending is happy . . . well, it's debatable. Hope, abounds at the end, in more than one sense, for more than one side. It's water in the desert and a knife in the gut.
Strong deist overtones, with atheist leanings. And even the deist-y bits exuded a healthy and skeptical distrust of anything akin to a god. Especially the ones in human form. One premise I walked away with is: gods don't do anything because it's the right thing to do. Anything they do is right because they're gods. To borrow from a great sage and eminent madman, they're not final because they're right, they're right because they're final.
There's something perfectly terrible and admirable about one person with the power, ambition, willpower and sheer chutzpah to impose his will on the world without regard for consequences beyond his own specific agenda.
I highly recommend this movie. I've been hearing it gets mixed reviews--and I can see that it would if anyone was expecting a brainless summer-style blockbuster. Smart marketing, that, not throwing this in the summer melee. It would've flopped next to something sleeker, prettier and emptier. This movie would've been a painted lead balloon next to glitz, and fluff and stuff. This is not light fare, nor is it kiddie fare. I mean, the movie group agreed that we've all seen more than enough blue cock to last us six lifetimes. But. . . .
I've gotta see it again later today.
Saw it again, still love it. Still can't say anything other than I love you, Rorschach, you psychotic little fuck! I love you!
Ah, and The Comedian. Ably played, and the only character as interestingly drawn as Rorschach.
In other related news . . .
I'd comment on the site, but . . . it hardly seems worth it. I dunno, maybe tomorrow. Now, I'm too fried. Haven't gotten much sleep over the past few days and when I do, I have weird dreams.
Hah, on the way to see Watchmen again--dragged my poor mom to see it, since the movie group was Watchman-ed out--this cute, boyish guy, thirty-eight or forty, on the bus, who I thought was high . . . was actually just high on Jeebus. On some kinda Xtianity-new Age-bullshit mongrel mix of theism.
He was in stealth mode or something, at first. Talking about how awesome the ride to the mall was--that shoulda been my first clue he was a little off--and just chatting with everyone around him. He was clean, laidback, not creepy. Started talking with me, which I should've discouraged, but didn't because he was middling fuckable and said I gave off such "coolness". he could tell I was just a really cool person.
Then he asked me if I read the bible. I said no, not really, as alarm bells went off in my head. Tried to deflect the convo to other areas that wouldn't result in me telling him to shut the fuck up.
Then, after I've let him draw me into another half-assed (on my part) convo, he starts talking about faith and how god provides, and how even though it sometimes seems like those without faith get everything, we still have to have faith the big G-D will provide.
"Well, maybe one of the reasons the faithless get more stuff, is because they're willing to work and fight for it," I ventured dryly, thinking: point. Set. Match, bitch. Then I went in for the kill. "They don't, you know, wait for anyone to hand them something, they go after what they want."
(Ala Adrian Veidt, aka Ozymandias. Seriously, I've got Watchmen on the brain, and probably will for the next two months.)
"YES!" he says, the first flash of excitement he's dispalyed. Not Zeal, but just happy that we were on the same--he thought--wavelength. Me, well, I just though: I converted one! Score! I should find a way to bring up the ritualistic, celebratory welcome-to-the-dark-side!sex that comes free with every rejection of a belief system.
But then he had to go and ruin it by adding, "only a person with faith could grasp that so perfectly! You may not read the bible but I can tell you have such pure faith! The faithless are very grabby and always trying to take stuff because they just don't get--you know?--that God, you know, will provide."
My gobsmacked response? A very dignified ::headdesk::
They really only hear what they want to hear. In his case, possibly because he's just completely oblivious--he didn't notice I wasn't on the bus alone, that once we got to the mall, I was walking with my mother. Didn't notice iit was time for us to part ways. He got all nervous and cutely flustered. Either in a I'd-like-to-ask-you-to-the-spring-formal way or an I-find-your-ambiguity-regarding-faith-an-interesting-challenge-and-I-aim-to-make-you-a-trophy-for-Jeebus way. Who can tell with people--especially Jeebus-freaks?
He said he didn't wanna horn in on my mom-time any more than he had--and it only took five minutes of my impatient hinting--but that he'd like to hang out with me more.
So we exchanged emails. (I almost gave him my blogger address, but my desire to shock the Jeebus out of him isn't as great as my desire to fuck the Jeebus out of him. God sure wouldn't want him after I was done with him, hah.) I don't normally give out contact info, basically inviting conversation and circular debates with a New-Age Jeebus freak, but he was do-able--it's not what passes for his mind that I'm interested in--and I don't often say that about guys. Especially guys with imaginary friends who grant wishes and live on clouds. . . .
Still, though. He totally twisted what I said to make it fit his world view. I don't know what I wanna do more: fuck him or kidney punch him till he shits blood. How dare he? How dare he alter the meaning behind my words to suit his delusions? Was he even conscious of doing it? If not, how does someone get to the point where they can't see a person for what they are, even when the person flat out says it?
Why are some Jeebus freaks so damn hot? Why do I find insanity so hot?
Why does my "I'm really enjoying this stupid fucking conversation" smile look so much like my "there's a snuff film going on behind my eyes and you're the star" smile.
When can I see Watchmen again?
And why the hell is that thing in there with my beef jerky if it isn't edible? Who puts inedible plastic packets in bags of beef jerky?
Well . . . beef jerky manufacturers, obviously. But why?
I need sleep.
"No horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace." --HP Lovecraft