Races, Matches & Headaches

Why Watchmen?
Yes, i hate that Angels in America whatssisname person. he's forever a Mormon in my mind.
no i dont think i remember Billy Crudup.
Do i think Snyder just flopped ? perhaps. but I'm never the strong-minded, so I'll just confuse you with my mixed feelings.
I watch three hundred like i eat Sunday cherry trifle. each layer, foreground, midtones, regalities, dominant color, scenes, Gerard Butler, dialogues, are meant to be savored.
this was far cry from three hundred. That against 300 hot half-naked roman. mwwraaaRGH..... blasphemous.
but this was not 300, no?
shameless fact : an hour before i saw it, i got caught up watching Wayne's World 2
and i have no etching clue why somewhere along the death of Comedian and Jupiter and Daniel's pointless alley-fight i went completely adrift and suddenly one particular comedy-cliché scene became very very vivid,
a scene where Wayne got stuck in a gay bar with three other guys wearing YMCA attires.
A proven point that even my subconscious was trying with all it's might to advise me of surreal sacrilege.
it's trying to tell me not to undergo this three hours session of god-knows-what, that would later make me want to write stuffy tirades on the previously stated topic.
yet i clung to it because i did pay money and because somewhere inside is a glowing optimist who believes there's an actual END to everything agonizing;
to this point-blank social sentiments got underlined in just too-forward saturated characters.
--i have not read the comic book so please pardon my charming cockiness--
they tried too hard to huddled characters in the middle, to obscure the narrow culmination of right and/or wrong,
that so many are left in limbo of being too useless. too good. to drunk.
too busy keeping people away from taking sides, although we have not long taken sides since Pulp Fiction. and maybe beyond (rack your own brain, or dvds)
whereas all people could twitch about in the end was it's not Right/wrong vs. xxx, it's just another rendition of Right vs. not-Right.
we could see where everything was going.
we could see the blonde ken-barbie bastard would soon reveal himself as a predominant Lex Luthor who, eventually, prevails.
i mean, nobody with that hair could ever possibly be anything less than twisted.
(oh hold on-- was that a blue glowing genital i saw earlier?)
we could see the wayward political indetermination of then americans trying to subdue Nixon's perky yet huge, no-, Ego.
a cultural sentiments toward a dystopian carcinogenic society. It didn;'t happen but its Outcome is yesterday and today.
one of its core postulation that those at stake are every single important thing that happened in one particular epoch of time.
nevertheless you were lurched side to side trying to grasp the focal outlining you've got to find answers to from time to time of "is it 'what could've happened' or what -in its own realm-- did happen?"
(those kind of mental notes that might make your movie-watching buddy actually go mental)
We know we weren't there, but supposed we were. Where would we be? life outside the Watchmen circle of friends were frigid and mere ornamentation.


The protagonist/antagonist, Rorschach, I found impossible to overlook


In the end there were too many scenes where you can not do nothing else but make a unanimous grunting sound of 'oh, you have got to be kidding me' between clenched teeth and fists.
A malaise-triggering storyline cluttered with overly-used spittle spitting and america-this-america-that android-speak.
of occurrences happening sporadically and languidly, yet ironically being very linear.
it was built around someone as real as Pat Buchanan, but was also eroded by a bunch of irritated yet perplexed bunch of Mr. Incredibles.
With characters made to appeal like nostalgia, but with this air of inappropriateness that makes you want to kick and punch yourself in the tush, and then kick THEM in the tush if they still linger.
a blue alienated glowing man sulking to mars? WT bloody F?
i'd sleep better in tomorrow might someone explain me what they make of Mars here.
why mars? and i beg you not to answer 'why not?'.
a. planet?
b. red planet?
c. a nirvana on which genetically altered protagonist come to contrive its outré nature to distance himself from his bleak diaphanous past?
d. commies?
e. err... confectionery?
only reprimand of mine would be:
e. symbols are just an untidy mass of things when you do not do something as much as put a meaning to it. basic.
sometimes we don't like to be left with things to ponder about where there were no enough tools to ponder with.

Like those posh movie reviews those posh publications make, i might as well be both-sided and should very much be obliged to praise Snyder for his ample efforts on exerting contemplative monologues. no matter how repetitive and adrift.
the spot-on characterization of 'no, there meant to be no heroes here. despite the robes '
Jackie Earl Haley's deliverance of Rorschach's moral absolutism.
But i guess any character with name as throat-clearing as Rorschach would generate that same effect.
of accentuating otherwise-banal music in offbeat scenes. soundtracks we've heard before but we wouldn't mind hearing for the gazillionth time anyways.
unparalleled flair (though, arguable) in aptly bringing out the locos in all of us, making gory suddenly very haute , very statuesque.
never before have I vanished from my uncomfortable theater seat straight into this galvanized gawping, as when I was exposed to that much of thick, viscid, beguiling blood and snapped bones.
(yum)
not since 300 at least, no.
maybe i was just drifting and feeling like jerking someone off. pardon my french.
Also pardon this basic human degradation of being suddenly very articulate when seeing something missing, something so, nearly there, so near the very apex.
semi-dystopian denunciation are the best of socio-conscious modern cinema has got to offer. (says the small, crippled, and decaying idealist in me. )
the truth is I'd just very much like to cherish this endlessly as long as my numb-arse possibly could.
in another word, while its still hip in the ever- oligarchic realm of film industry. (says the Me, just Me. )

some few movies made me denounce so much in the dead of the night, unpaid, while i could be better off, i don't know, doing my now-lethargic mac osx maintenance work?
this one is just one of those very very poor exhibit.
not Bad. not Bad at all,
It's just, dare i say.. stimulating in a blue, glowing way.

(Tho in fact i you might be right afterall and I really have got no clue whatsoever of what I'm talking about. )

cheers.

Who?
Great cast, which samples lots of today's comedy spectrum.
There's Rhys Darby (that's Carl in the Flights of the Conchords)

Bill Nighy (he's, um, everywhere? practically.)


Phili Seymour Hoffman, charismatic here, but not so much. Mainly it is because he's a minority here.

Rhys Ifans (him too, everywhere. not complaining, tho)


Nick Frost

seriously, don't they have any other comedians? AGAIN, im not complaining but, really?

There we were thick as thieves
Frightened by shadows and the autumn leaves
And it's a nice show
The ones we perform
Performing them day and night