Showing posts with label southland tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label southland tales. Show all posts

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Viewed: Southland Tales

Fuck yes.

You may have heard mixed reviews about Richard Kelly's first film after Donnie Darko. They can die and go to hell. I can't promise the movie makes sense. I won't tell you that some scenes aren't awesomely awkward. As for over-exposition and unnecessary voice-over? The movie nearly drowns in it. Hell, I don't even think you'll like it.

Best movie of the year.

Yes, even if The Mist lives up to all my 13-year-old expectations. Even though the previews of The Golden Compass promise both blimps and mercenary polar bears. I loved Once, but that's how many times I feel the urge to see it. Ratatouille moved me, and I think we can all agree that Hot Fuzz is pretty much a perfect movie. But Southland Tales tops everything, even edging out The Host. Unless the people responsible for The Wire magically send us a movie version of Song of Ice and Fire from the future for Christmas, the above pronouncement stands.

Southland Tales is angry. Insane. Flawed. Brilliant.

I just saw Sarah Michelle Gellar drink herself. Justin Timberlake made me sad. The "inconceivable!" guy from The Princess Bride is no longer the "inconceivable!" guy from The Princess Bride to me. He's Baron Von Westphalen. I got a lap dance from Bai Ling.

I wish I was watching it again right now.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Richard Kelly's Bad Day In L.A.

...what the fuck?

I want to see Southland Tales: The Movie. I really do. But I'm worried after reading its first companion book, Southland Tales: Two Roads Diverge.

Things happen in it. None of these things make much sense, because the story cuts off before we arrive anywhere. And you won't care because there is no emotional involvement available to the reader, and certainly none between the characters. There is dialogue, of the strange twisty sort that would seem over the top even in a film by The M. Night Shyamalan What Bombs At Midnight. The art is...acceptable, but I kept expecting a Templesmith-styled vampire to burst into the room. No such luck there.

Damn. Even trying to give this book a serious review, all I can do is give a laundry list of unconnected facts. In summation: the book means nothing. It's not even a proper beginning to the story, because we already damn well know that the movie will be the heart and soul of the Southland Tales Experience. That makes the book I just read the first third of an optional prequel to something that doesn't exist yet, at the low price of thirteen dollars.

I still plan to see the film. For one thing, Sony has forced the director to cut the movie down a bit, in return for money to buy better special effects. You only need to compare the original Donnie Darko to the Director's Cut to see that a little ham-fisted editorial interference actually made for an improved product.