Hubby, the FRUGAL, finally agreed to do a Pay Per View movie. We've seen fewer pay-per-view movies than years we have been married. Remember that we have only been to one movie in the theater in the going-on-five years we have been married.
This was a big deal this afternoon. I was excited! Truly! I was looking forward to two hours of escapism.
Hubby picked out Cloverfield.
That was fine with me. I like Predator and Alien and Predator vs. Alien. I love blood and guts movies, PRO-military movies (not the movies that try to undermine our military). I love disaster movies. From the promos, I was anticipating a really cool movie.
Well, I liked the monster...the really big one and all the little dog-sized grasshopper ones that either the big monster regurgitated, or they rode along on his back. They were good and scarey. Hollywood seems to be stuck on that Alien type of outer fangs/jaws that open up to either a little head inside or another mouth inside.
Anyway, it did not bother me that the monster had something similar. Hollywood does seem to have problems with coming up with a lot of original ideas in any given year.
The hand-held camera telling the story was a good idea. Gordon questioned a camera that was still running two hours from party through disaster. Videocameras are not my area of expertise so I was cool with the super-long-lasting batteries and super-long tape in the videocamera. The new battery for the cell phone stolen from the shelves of an electronic store probably would have not been charged straight out of the package, but it was in this movie. I was still cool with the artistic license.
The collapsing buildings and crashing debris were all realistic.Loved them.
The military was on top of the disaster FAST, and they looked good and fearless and had triage centers set up and were facing death without any hesitation. The military was just as I would have written and directed them. Quite realistic, IMHO.
The principle actors...the early 20-something hip crowd that had gathered for a party and spent the rest of the film screaming and saying "OMG" and "I can't believe this!" are what had Gordon and me in stitches throughout the film.
Lets start with the party. The party was about the dullest party I've ever seen. Thankfully I have not been to any like that...and I've always been a square (so one would expect that any parties I have attended, even in my 20-something years would be exaggeratedly dull. None of the parties I have ever attended have been as boring as the party in this movie.
Maybe one had to be drunk or drugged to "get" that party. The women were all fashionably beige. An amalgam of Hispanic, Indian, African American...you know, that very hip and trendy "beige" look that does not fit into any one nationality. The women were very pretty. Borderline Anorexic. All legs. All short skirts.
The gossipy action was junior high school..tops. Except for the part about Rob sleeping with the chick in the gold sequined baby doll mini dress...ONE TIME. But hey, I am out of touch. Maybe sleeping together in Junior High School is done nowadays.
The copulation must have been earth-shattering, because Rob just sat on the sofa across the room and watched Miss Gold Sequins being chatted up by several of the guys. They really didn't know each other. The sex was "just one of those things," we were led to believe.
Their union was apparently so memorable that Rob was heading off to Japan (without Miss Gold Sequins) for some big job promotion and leave her behind in New York, after all, the sex had been "just one of those things."
BUT AFTER the monster arrived and AFTER the monster killed Rob's brother, both of Rob's brains were determined to rescue this chickie-poo with the gold sequins.
She must have had a gold plated one because Rob dragged four more friends back into the Monster Zone to rescue her, on the 39th floor of her leaning apartment building where she was skewered with rebar through her shoulder, skewered low enough to have punctured a lung.
That rebar, by the way, did not stop them from yanking her off of the metal reinforcing bar (something you don't do unless you want the patient to bleed to death)...and for the rest of the movie, she ran around screaming, giving good rounded rumpus shots for the cameraman, so that rebar puncture must have miraculously healed.
Oh, and the last frame of the movie, when apparently Rob and Gold Sequined Chick were killed, they were saying "I Love You" with such deep emotion. That left me with a proper moral to glean from this movie.
I saw enough of that dress, at thigh level, that I can draw off the appliqué flowers on the dress. Sleeveless. Good arms. Good legs...every inch of them. I know this for a fact because we saw every inch of her legs many times during the movie.
The moody chick with limpid Jennifer Beals eyes had on the mandatory mini skirt and long tall boots with four inch platform heels. She was the one who was bitten by one of those oversized grasshoppers. I was rather proud of her for not screaming in pain, even when she started bleeding from her eyes.
All those girls had talent, you have to admit, because they managed to hop across debris, climb around on broken buildings and run very well on four inch heels! I was quite impressed.
The guys were just...dim bulbs...slow...dumb...mentally deficient...dull eyes...NOT leader material. They would have never made it into the military. I would not have even hired the camera guy to carry out the garbage around here.
He did manage to train his camera on the running legs and rumpus of the girl in front of him, and ya know, that camera was always in focus when cheesecake was in the lens, so he might have a brilliant career ahead of him after all!.
So I was thinking throughout this movie that the characters represent the very people who will be voting for our next president in November! THAT was very, very scary. What are we up to now, Generation Y? I don't ever want to know any Z'ers. Just don't tell me when they arrive.
Then I pondered that there must be REAL 20-somethings like these characters...or the script writers would not have had any models on which to base their self absorbed, dim-witted screen versions. That deeply scared me too!
That led me to ponder just what we are producing in colleges these days. I dare say my classmates in college showed far more bravery in dissecting frogs and cats and the other things we had to cut up in biology classes than the principal characters in Cloverfield.
Well, I am showing my age and female-who-has-survived-a-bit-of-life perspective in this movie review.
There is a moral to this story. If you want an almost stranger to fall in love with you, just take him into a monster zone where buildings and bombs are crashing all around you, and I am sure he will vow his undying love to you...just moments before each of you die.
It is a shame. This could have been a really cool movie, except for the insipid actors and dialog. Now, who is ready to hire me to write movie reviews?
Addison DeWitt, move over. Actually, I would love to read what Addison would write about this flick.
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