Sep 25
tornadoZ commented on
(500) Days of Summer: Killing with Quirkiness.
I'm a little late to the discussion, but...
Ugh. Finally went to see this dreadful piece of crap this week. You hit the nail on the head, Lindy.
What some people who've left comments don't seem to get is that what's irritating about the film isn't that The Smiths' music is featured in it. Okay, they're a nice band. But the two "romantic" leads first connect (alone in the elevator at work, of course... just one of many cliches heaved onto the screen) when she overhears a song by The Smiths on his headphones. She comments that she loves the band and then he goes berserk because he can't believe he actually found a girl who's heard of The Smiths and SHE EVEN LIKES THEM!!!
That just doesn't make any sense. It doesn't take a hipster elitist to realize that almost everybody between ages 20 and 40 has heard of The Smiths and lots of people like them. The guy's overreaction of shocked disbelief that he found a girl who's into The Smiths might be acceptable if they were in an elevator in Minot, North Dakota... or maybe if the gal confessed that she shared the guy's fondness for Engelbert Humperdinck... but it's The Smiths and they're in Los Angeles. It just doesn't make any sense.
This problem plagues the entire movie; like you say, Lindy, it's as if the writers are working from an outdated manual on "indie quirkiness." The whole film feels phony and contrived—even down to the annoying and extraneous parentheses used in the title. And yes, that worldly-wise little girl was the worst of all. I just wanted to slap her.
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Sep 12
tornadoZ commented on
Arthouse.
Wrong, Charles. The Beaches of Agnes was one of the best films shown at SIFF this year. It would be a real shame if readers decide to skip this film because of you.
Anyone who appreciates the history of cinema (especially French cinema, since Varda reflects upon her life and work with directors Jacques Demy, Chris Marker and others) will find lots to enjoy when watching The Beaches of Agnes. It's funny, insightful, creative and playful; Varda never takes herself too seriously and she has a clever wit.
But I can imagine it must have been excruciating for you, Charles, to sit in forced silence while an established filmmaker reminisces about her long and illustrious career, but without allowing you any opportunity to interrupt her in order to talk about yourself and/or name-drop from the long list of famous and important people you know. Agnes Varda makes wonderful films—especialy this one—and certainly nothing she's made is as tedious as your pretentious, self-absorbed reviews.
Sep 1
tornadoZ commented on
My Glamorous Life as a Scumbag Drummer.
Fascinating, Trent! —like reading the delusional, self-absorbed diary entries of a 13-year old girl. Loved the attempts at poetry ("I was happier than the sun.") and the paragraph-long portions of "incriminating" personal emails and text messages were a nice touch too. That'll show 'em!!!!! ;-P
I agree with commenter #38: You and your pathetic diatribe have definitely come out the other end.
Aug 18
tornadoZ commented on
The (Famous) Male Gaze.
hey, why are all the gay actors clustered together?
I feel pretty sorry for anyone who has to turn into Tom Hanks.
Ugh. Finally went to see this dreadful piece of crap this week. You hit the nail on the head, Lindy.
What some people who've left comments don't seem to get is that what's irritating about the film isn't that The Smiths' music is featured in it. Okay, they're a nice band. But the two "romantic" leads first connect (alone in the elevator at work, of course... just one of many cliches heaved onto the screen) when she overhears a song by The Smiths on his headphones. She comments that she loves the band and then he goes berserk because he can't believe he actually found a girl who's heard of The Smiths and SHE EVEN LIKES THEM!!!
That just doesn't make any sense. It doesn't take a hipster elitist to realize that almost everybody between ages 20 and 40 has heard of The Smiths and lots of people like them. The guy's overreaction of shocked disbelief that he found a girl who's into The Smiths might be acceptable if they were in an elevator in Minot, North Dakota... or maybe if the gal confessed that she shared the guy's fondness for Engelbert Humperdinck... but it's The Smiths and they're in Los Angeles. It just doesn't make any sense.
This problem plagues the entire movie; like you say, Lindy, it's as if the writers are working from an outdated manual on "indie quirkiness." The whole film feels phony and contrived—even down to the annoying and extraneous parentheses used in the title. And yes, that worldly-wise little girl was the worst of all. I just wanted to slap her.