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trinityvixenThe Outing: Not bad, all in all. Due to overwhelming demand (Pooch informed me that every show was sold out through to 1 am at our theater), a few friends could not join us, and the loss was felt. We did an impromptu-ish apartment dinner with all three apartment mates making their specialties--Carrie-potatoes, me-casserole, Lisa-stir fry. We had maybe fifteen minutes to cram our faces before we had to leave, but we managed to get to the theater half an hour before the show. Of course, there were barely any seats and not all together, though they were mostly in the same area.
The Reaction: For the most part, really good. Jen Baker, Lisa's friend, came out and I asked her how she liked it (she was second to maybe Pooch in enthusiasm for seeing Sin City when I talked to her. She said she hated it, then, ha ha, just kidding. But she didn't say it fast enough; some couple walking by gave her the dirtiest looks for saying it was terrible. Not joking, however, were Lisa and Adele. Poor Adele--I barely got to say hi and didn't really get to say goodbye; she was so turned off by the violence that she wanted to go home straight away. Poor Lisa--she tried to talk to me one or two times and joke, and I hushed her. At the end, she turned to me and said, a bit frightened and tense, "You were really into that, huh?" I told her I just didn't like talking during movies, and she got tenser still and even offended. Now, let's be honest, when I offend, it's usually because I've been insensitive not because someone else is too sensitive, and I immediately apologized for teasing her. Lisa apparently was horrified by the violence. I knew she didn't like scary movies, but I'd assumed that it was 'I-don't-like-to-be-scared-by-things-jumping-out-at-me' dislike. Violence, especially in the magnitude and extremity shown in Sin City really unnerved and disgusted her. On the one hand, she knew she was getting some of that by going, but on the other, there was a lot that I found stomach-turning, too.
But, in general, people were really pleased. Pooch was our expert, commenting on the story from the books versus the movie, and we bandied about the question of Tarantino's influence (and thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ivy03 for finding out which segment he directed; I should have guessed, I suppose). As always, there were a mix of emotional responses, but people had such good insights--better than mine, I must confess--and I'm left very much interested in reading the whole series of books. The art from the art book I've seen is fantastic, if ridiculously aggrandized/perfected forms. Too tired to hang out much, I went back with Lisa and Andy to our apartment. My apologies to BSD, we did mean to hang out, but Pooch had to take Adele home, Carrie went to Eugene's, and I was beat. Another time.
It's perhaps easier to write a review about a movie that satisfied ones expectations than one that exceeded them. I've been looking forward to seeing this movie since I saw the trailer a month and a half ago. I was not disappointed in the quality of the movie, certainly not with its style or stylistic interpretations, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Sin City is completely engrossing, and if I was short with Lisa about talking during it, it was only because I didn't want to miss a second. I was actually mad that I looked away when I saw something moving on the floor (it was a mouse, how lovely). I knew just enough going in to be tantalized, thanks to an extremely excellent first trailer. I avoided all other trailers because, as I said before, there has never been a trailer as perfect as the first teaser for Sin City; it intrigued and titilated, and the movie delivered the goods.
By now, anyone reading this has seen the movie (or should have--I did warn you, spoilers) so you know that the movie has the 'Pulp Fiction-esque' split narrative style,' etc etc etc. I'm not well versed in Tarantino or film art enough to comment on that aspect, so I'll stick with what I liked. I liked Clive Owen's intensity as Dwight (it's almost cliche, talking about his intensity as that's the first thing any reviewer says of him) and the way he was casually aware of his insanity. His first line to Benecio Del Toro is classic; it could have been ridiculous or funny, but it was just the most brutal thing he got up to despite hanging around with Hell's Hookers.
"I'm Shelly's new boyfriend, and I'm out of my mind."
Dwight was the most emasculated of the three anti-heroes. This is not to say he was less manly, just less manly than either Marv or Hartigan. Dwight is a killer, a psychotic, but his attachment to others is through friendship more than love, insanity more than devotion, and he's a cold, cold fish. Fantastic, but cold, Owen was an absolute treasure as Dwight. It reminded me a lot of his minor role in The Bourne Identity where he's the most casual and cool of killers; when Matt Damon takes him down, he barely even spares a thought to dying. Dwight has the recklessness of a suicide-wannabe; he does enough to get himself into positions where he should die, but when he's rescued, he's grateful, even expectant that, no matter the odds, he'll be saved. He's savvy, and that saves him, but he's almost unaware of how he sabotages his own attempts to die. It's sad, pathetic, bizarre, and entirely absorbing.
Bruce Willis as Hartigan was a joy. It's a character Willis wears like a second personality. He's been that guy in so many things, the slightly feckless detective in the Die Hard movies, or the military bad boy in nameless others, the quiet, devoted intense professional in M. Night Shymalan movies. Hartigan is a good fit for him, especially when he has to schlub it up and take the slings and pride debasing moments. Willis looks truly broken in his one-man cell, waiting for Nancy's letters, his tough-guy physique even seems to crumple and fold into the posture of an old man, an older man than he is. He's finally playing to age as well, which is what makes his reunion with Nancy all the more poignant; he's built her up as a daughter, the future generation to salvage his lost one, only to find her pining away for him. He's her hero, but not in the way he planned, and, disturbingly for him and the audience, he's very tempted to take the worship she would give him.
Hartigan, through his sacrifices, was the most noble of three anti-heroes. He has Nancy any way he wants her, and all he wants, even after eight years in solitary confinement, is for her to live. He died eight years ago upon rescuing her; he's already resigned to death, so any sacrifice is none too large at this point, but it's still an ache to see the lengths to which he goes to keep her safe, to keep her pure of his perceived taint. He's ruined her for love, perhaps, but he's kept her away from the baser parts of himself and men in general, odd, seeing as she's a stripper. But he has a father's protective streak and fatalism; his castration of the Yellow Bastard--twice, no less--is at once an act of redemption for his almost sucumbing to temptation and a means of acknowledging that even such drastic measures won't keep her safe if she's determined to keep him. It was a good bookend story to the ones inbetween.
And then there's Marv. Without a doubt, the most absorbing story was Marv's. Mickey Rourke I don't know from Adam, but all I'd read (admittedly, not much, to avoid spoilers) indicated his intensity is 9/10s his own and 1/10 acting. It's incredibly sad to think of a real person having that kind of desperation and anger stored within himself, but it's so believable that I must concede this is probably too often the case. Marv's love for Goldie is neither deep nor destined. It is two things: heartfelt and profound, for severely fucked up reasons. Marv is no beauty queen, and, Beast-like, he appreciates the one woman who used him despite his looks. It's what makes his love the most heartbreaking and fills his story with the most emotional charge. Marv isn't in denial. He isn't even crazy really, despite his insistance to the contrary and his consumption of anti-psychotics to cure himself. Marv realizes Goldie used him for protection, giving him the best night of his life as a side-effect, a consequence of that need. And it doesn't matter to him. He maintains a gratitude for her generosity that is the closest to non-platonic/fatherly love I could believe of any of the three male leads. Whether it's one-sided or whether Goldie would have kicked Marv out on his ass the next day if she could be sure of her safety are irrelevant. She took the time once, and he did the same back. It's almost buddy-cop loyalty: you watch my back, I'll watch yours.
I have more, but I'm off to Andy's birthday party. See you folks on the flipside. And go see Sin City. It's not the most moving cinematic experience of your life, and it's horrendously violent (something I'll get into in my full review), but it's got something about it, a positive energy crafted from all the negative energy that just demands to be seen. The technical wowee!-ness aside, the stories are engaging and primal. They may not be original or even very deep, but they'll hold your attention. It's a well made film in addition to being a well made comic book that turns its own pages. Ciao, darlings.
The Reaction: For the most part, really good. Jen Baker, Lisa's friend, came out and I asked her how she liked it (she was second to maybe Pooch in enthusiasm for seeing Sin City when I talked to her. She said she hated it, then, ha ha, just kidding. But she didn't say it fast enough; some couple walking by gave her the dirtiest looks for saying it was terrible. Not joking, however, were Lisa and Adele. Poor Adele--I barely got to say hi and didn't really get to say goodbye; she was so turned off by the violence that she wanted to go home straight away. Poor Lisa--she tried to talk to me one or two times and joke, and I hushed her. At the end, she turned to me and said, a bit frightened and tense, "You were really into that, huh?" I told her I just didn't like talking during movies, and she got tenser still and even offended. Now, let's be honest, when I offend, it's usually because I've been insensitive not because someone else is too sensitive, and I immediately apologized for teasing her. Lisa apparently was horrified by the violence. I knew she didn't like scary movies, but I'd assumed that it was 'I-don't-like-to-be-scared-by-things-jumping-out-at-me' dislike. Violence, especially in the magnitude and extremity shown in Sin City really unnerved and disgusted her. On the one hand, she knew she was getting some of that by going, but on the other, there was a lot that I found stomach-turning, too.
But, in general, people were really pleased. Pooch was our expert, commenting on the story from the books versus the movie, and we bandied about the question of Tarantino's influence (and thank you
ivy03 for finding out which segment he directed; I should have guessed, I suppose). As always, there were a mix of emotional responses, but people had such good insights--better than mine, I must confess--and I'm left very much interested in reading the whole series of books. The art from the art book I've seen is fantastic, if ridiculously aggrandized/perfected forms. Too tired to hang out much, I went back with Lisa and Andy to our apartment. My apologies to BSD, we did mean to hang out, but Pooch had to take Adele home, Carrie went to Eugene's, and I was beat. Another time.It's perhaps easier to write a review about a movie that satisfied ones expectations than one that exceeded them. I've been looking forward to seeing this movie since I saw the trailer a month and a half ago. I was not disappointed in the quality of the movie, certainly not with its style or stylistic interpretations, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Sin City is completely engrossing, and if I was short with Lisa about talking during it, it was only because I didn't want to miss a second. I was actually mad that I looked away when I saw something moving on the floor (it was a mouse, how lovely). I knew just enough going in to be tantalized, thanks to an extremely excellent first trailer. I avoided all other trailers because, as I said before, there has never been a trailer as perfect as the first teaser for Sin City; it intrigued and titilated, and the movie delivered the goods.
By now, anyone reading this has seen the movie (or should have--I did warn you, spoilers) so you know that the movie has the 'Pulp Fiction-esque' split narrative style,' etc etc etc. I'm not well versed in Tarantino or film art enough to comment on that aspect, so I'll stick with what I liked. I liked Clive Owen's intensity as Dwight (it's almost cliche, talking about his intensity as that's the first thing any reviewer says of him) and the way he was casually aware of his insanity. His first line to Benecio Del Toro is classic; it could have been ridiculous or funny, but it was just the most brutal thing he got up to despite hanging around with Hell's Hookers.
"I'm Shelly's new boyfriend, and I'm out of my mind."
Dwight was the most emasculated of the three anti-heroes. This is not to say he was less manly, just less manly than either Marv or Hartigan. Dwight is a killer, a psychotic, but his attachment to others is through friendship more than love, insanity more than devotion, and he's a cold, cold fish. Fantastic, but cold, Owen was an absolute treasure as Dwight. It reminded me a lot of his minor role in The Bourne Identity where he's the most casual and cool of killers; when Matt Damon takes him down, he barely even spares a thought to dying. Dwight has the recklessness of a suicide-wannabe; he does enough to get himself into positions where he should die, but when he's rescued, he's grateful, even expectant that, no matter the odds, he'll be saved. He's savvy, and that saves him, but he's almost unaware of how he sabotages his own attempts to die. It's sad, pathetic, bizarre, and entirely absorbing.
Bruce Willis as Hartigan was a joy. It's a character Willis wears like a second personality. He's been that guy in so many things, the slightly feckless detective in the Die Hard movies, or the military bad boy in nameless others, the quiet, devoted intense professional in M. Night Shymalan movies. Hartigan is a good fit for him, especially when he has to schlub it up and take the slings and pride debasing moments. Willis looks truly broken in his one-man cell, waiting for Nancy's letters, his tough-guy physique even seems to crumple and fold into the posture of an old man, an older man than he is. He's finally playing to age as well, which is what makes his reunion with Nancy all the more poignant; he's built her up as a daughter, the future generation to salvage his lost one, only to find her pining away for him. He's her hero, but not in the way he planned, and, disturbingly for him and the audience, he's very tempted to take the worship she would give him.
Hartigan, through his sacrifices, was the most noble of three anti-heroes. He has Nancy any way he wants her, and all he wants, even after eight years in solitary confinement, is for her to live. He died eight years ago upon rescuing her; he's already resigned to death, so any sacrifice is none too large at this point, but it's still an ache to see the lengths to which he goes to keep her safe, to keep her pure of his perceived taint. He's ruined her for love, perhaps, but he's kept her away from the baser parts of himself and men in general, odd, seeing as she's a stripper. But he has a father's protective streak and fatalism; his castration of the Yellow Bastard--twice, no less--is at once an act of redemption for his almost sucumbing to temptation and a means of acknowledging that even such drastic measures won't keep her safe if she's determined to keep him. It was a good bookend story to the ones inbetween.
And then there's Marv. Without a doubt, the most absorbing story was Marv's. Mickey Rourke I don't know from Adam, but all I'd read (admittedly, not much, to avoid spoilers) indicated his intensity is 9/10s his own and 1/10 acting. It's incredibly sad to think of a real person having that kind of desperation and anger stored within himself, but it's so believable that I must concede this is probably too often the case. Marv's love for Goldie is neither deep nor destined. It is two things: heartfelt and profound, for severely fucked up reasons. Marv is no beauty queen, and, Beast-like, he appreciates the one woman who used him despite his looks. It's what makes his love the most heartbreaking and fills his story with the most emotional charge. Marv isn't in denial. He isn't even crazy really, despite his insistance to the contrary and his consumption of anti-psychotics to cure himself. Marv realizes Goldie used him for protection, giving him the best night of his life as a side-effect, a consequence of that need. And it doesn't matter to him. He maintains a gratitude for her generosity that is the closest to non-platonic/fatherly love I could believe of any of the three male leads. Whether it's one-sided or whether Goldie would have kicked Marv out on his ass the next day if she could be sure of her safety are irrelevant. She took the time once, and he did the same back. It's almost buddy-cop loyalty: you watch my back, I'll watch yours.
I have more, but I'm off to Andy's birthday party. See you folks on the flipside. And go see Sin City. It's not the most moving cinematic experience of your life, and it's horrendously violent (something I'll get into in my full review), but it's got something about it, a positive energy crafted from all the negative energy that just demands to be seen. The technical wowee!-ness aside, the stories are engaging and primal. They may not be original or even very deep, but they'll hold your attention. It's a well made film in addition to being a well made comic book that turns its own pages. Ciao, darlings.
