There are moments in our lives when we rather shy away from the world and lock ourselves up in a dark room, watching tens of movies which will transport us away from it all. It's something that happens to all of us, at different times. To all except Le Duc. For him, this is a permanent state of being.
Well, for me it isn't but when it arrives it's wonderful and I cherish every minute of it. Thus is the case of the last few days, including in NYC, where I saw some extraordinary films.
First: Coraline, the most inspired and somewhat darkest of them all. It has all the elements of a Grimm tale, including Freudian elements of girl-wanting-to-kill-her-parents-and-then-feeling-overwhelming-guilt-over-her-thoughts. But mostly, it's a beautifully-animated story about overcoming fear. I got out very happy and with a newly-developed terror towards buttons.
Second: Watchmen. While it was supposed to be "possibly one of the best comic adaptations" of all times (notice the premonitory doubt in the words chosen by the writer), it was overall pleasant but not quite what I had hoped for. I was hoping to remain glued to the seat for the full 2:20 hours of film. Instead, I found my mind drifting away, towards the sunny landscape of Manhattan, which I had just cycled across in fully view of Tot T's wonderful backside. That dominated my thoughts throughout the movie. Not The Comedian's shenanigans or whatever-his-name-is' attempts at being the gayest scoundrel in the history of cinema. Nope. Didn't beat the T-butt test.
And then, on the plane back to London, in the middle of the night, I saw Control.
I don't know why this film left me so deeply impressed and moved. On the surface, it would seem like just another British Grim Flick about the Grim North. They even gave up colour filming, to add to the monochrome dullness of the English Northern estates, where Joy Division's Ian Curtis was born, and whose life was here turned into cinematic wonder.
And yet, for every minute the film rolled, I was increasingly engrossed in the lives of the characters, utterly mesmerised by their fate. Of course, Anton Corbijn's amazing direction... Of course, Samantha Morton brilliant performance as Ian's wife, Debbie... and so on...
But above all, undoubdetly, Sam Riley's engrossing intepretation. Yes. It beat the T-butt Test. There. I've said it. I've marked it on paper. Don't hate me for this T. Loosing to Sam/Ian is no defeat, just valiant surrender in the face of the supernatural. Now we can both move on.
To Radiohead covering Joy Division's Ceremony. Oh. My. God.
5 comments:
Well at least I beat the stark naked blue man-god with abs of Zeus and the ability bend the space-time continuum with his mind.
But I must say, I am shocked, SHOCKED, that you omitted what I think was the best film of last week, the TOKYO! triptych. Surreal, yet human. Hilarious, but etched with provoking social commentary. Casually, strikingly, beautiful. I know you'll want to correct this oversight.
And what about Troll 2?????
The "Tot-T Butt Test". Blimey. That sounds like a major new cult website opportunity.
But I despair of both of you -- your taste in films is so, so strange. I can only think this is because you don't watch enough. You need to shut away that distracting world outside...
suprised oats has not piped up yet. she IS OBSESSED WITH IAN CURTIS. and was obsessed with control.
god bless our oats. always dark and twisty.
Of course you beat blue naked god. You were naked white god first.
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