Playing Iron Man Hooky

I had the day off today and while I did spent the morning on my WIP, thank you, I completely blew off writing a blog post this morning to go see Iron Man 3 at the $5.00 early matinee with Watson.

I’d apologize for being so late, but honestly?  I regret nothing.

For once, the trailers and posters actually didn’t spoil the best parts of this movie and I’m not about to start here—if you want a discussion of plot, find a real review or e-mail me.

But I will say that one of the reasons Tony Stark is among my favorite superheroes is that while he surrounds himself with self-built Deus ex Machinas—which is an important point in the movie—he himself is as flawed as a genius billionaire, former-playboy, philanthropist with the requisite crappy childhood—resulting in the usual high ego/low self-esteem— can be.

For every moment that his technology saves the day in a brilliant display, there are two that send him flying backwards into the wall, propelled by premature calculation syndrome and a highly amused law of physics.

And then, he picks himself up and fixes the problem.  Even when the problem is himself.  Even when he doesn’t have the first clue how to start.

I like that in a hero, even if that hero isn’t channeled through the brilliant Robert Downey, Jr.

Watson says that I watch movies with my entire being, and I’ll admit that there were several points in this movie where I laughed out loud, gasped, and/or whispered things from Awwww! to Called it! to BOO-yah! to  Wait, What?!  No WAY!

And, in one shining moment that may be a tiny bit of a spoiler, Holy cow—forty-TWO!

I invite you, after you watch this movie, to guess when that was.*

I won’t say the movie is perfect, because it isn’t.  But it’s close, and it’s fun and it’s acted brilliantly by almost everyone.  It’s also a reminder that while the worst villains create the best heroes, it works the other way around, too, and Iron Man is still paying the price for being pre-revelation Tony Stark.

Plus, it has some of my favorite characters being themselves, or even better.  Any movie where Pepper is allowed to be more than a . . . well, spoilers, sweetie, so never mind, but JARVIS**  is as perfectly snarky as a literal Deus ex Machina is allowed to be.  Even Happy, who frankly deserves better from this franchise than to be the plucky, ineffective sidekick, has his moments.

It’s definitely worth seeing more than once, even if that means skipping a blog post or two.

So there.

Now go see it already so I can talk about it.  Okay?

________________________

*There’s also a puppy-in-serious-danger moment, early on, that hurt my stomach, because I am that big a Marvel fangirl.   you are invited to e-mail me about that one, too.

**On whom I’m braincrushing like whoa, though that’s partially Paul Bellamy’s fault.

Hansel and Gretel Grow Up

My Monday continues.

The power went out just as I started drying my hair, which signals to the cat that his breakfast is due, so he began hollering at me to hurry it up and then screaming abuse because I kept blindly kicking him down the hallway—he could see perfectly well and didn’t know what on earth was wrong with me.

But I’d rather talk about Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters.

I had no real expectations going into the theater.   I’d been told that it was an unrepentant B movie with Troma* leanings and no redeeming qualities, but I wanted to see it because I enjoy fairy tale adaptions, steampunk-ish anachronisms, and Jeremy Renner in generic historical leathers.

Still, I was pleasantly relieved when it turned out to be a decent B movie.

There’s an actual story.  It’s not a complicated story, by any means, but there is one and it makes sense.

There are moments where things could have ventured into Men in Tights slapstick—the milkman putting out bottles with missing children notices tied on them with string was one—but this movie takes itself a tad more seriously.  Not Van Helsing seriously, thank heavens, but there are some non-gratuitous dark moments,  self-discovery and actual character growth.

And there are rules. They aren’t breathtaking, intricate rules, because this is neither Avatar or Inception, but the movie never breaks them.  When Hansel and Gretel discover something  important about their past that could very well be a Deus ex Gamechanger, the movie doesn’t play it that way.  Instead, it’s an emotion-based World-View Changer, and allows both of them to accept assistance from a source they wouldn’t have touched before.  This movie doesn’t cheat.

I respect that.

I also noted that there were none of those awkward moments when the audience laughs or groans or roll their eyes in unintended places.  Tommy Wirkola did a pretty good job of  putting us where he wanted us.

The acting was a big help too—the actors were far better than a B-movie usually deserves and most of the characters who have more than two scenes and three lines were fairly well-rounded.  The one exception is the Sheriff, played by Peter Stormare , who was fully aware that he was supposed to be a Big Bad Misogynist Cardboard Obstacle and, since the movie didn’t give him much room to do otherwise, did his job and earned both his paycheck and his inevitable demise without once showing us the politics or self-esteem issues that made him a #4B-Class Woman-Hating Angry Man in Power.

But Hansel and Gretel are played very well—siblings who were abandoned as kids without explanation and then attacked, who saved themselves and decided that no other child was going to suffer like that on their watch.  They’re strong, but not super-powered—the only “natural” advantage they have is that dark magic doesn’t work on them for reasons that become clear later—and they work for their victories.  Their lifestyle and dependence on each other don’t help them interact well with others, but  you can see glimpses of who they might have been if they hadn’t nibbled at that candy house.  Gemma Arterton plays it stoic—A Woman Doing a Man’s Job—until it’s safe for the character to crack a little.  And Jeremy Renner is absolutely natural as Hansel, no matter what the movie makes him do—believe me, that’s skill.

The wannabe witch hunter fanboy character is great, too—I like him even better than the one in Galaxy Quest, probably because he isn’t so hyper about it and clearly has a Tumblr-level thing for Gretel that half-embarrasses him to death.  Hansel’s personal fan, Mina, does her best to hit Hansel—who has problems dealing with her because he’s been all about the witch killing since before puberty and she’s, you know, a pretty girl who shows up at the most awkward times—with a clue stick until he actually listens to what she’s saying, which is, thankfully, more than the obvious fact that she’s a sure thing.  And even the Troll emotes like Henson has something to do with it.

The witches are Evil—you could tell because The Stereotypical Ugliness Curse of the Wicked had set in, swapping moisturized skin and normal eye-colors for  the linked compulsions of eating children and using insidious amounts of hair goop —but at least the three Generic Germanic witches had individual personalities and Famke Janssen looked like she was having fun getting paid.

I will admit that, even with the Troma warning and the R-rating, I hadn’t expected quite so much gore, even though I’d seen the trailer and knew it had been shot for 3D audiences, something that guaranteed blood spatter and the occasional thrown limb.  I’m not a huge fan of gratuitous cinematic bodily fluids, but the soft gore horror, as Watson put it, really doesn’t get in the way of the story—plus it’s telegraphed pretty well, so I was able to blink slow in a few places and miss it.

So.

While no one is going to have to angst over which Oscar clips to showcase for this film,** I enjoyed it.  I’m probably going to see it again, because my friend Cha Cha couldn’t go with us and Watson and I are bickering about one of Hansel’s lines.***

It’s a simple, uncomplicated, well-acted, somewhat violent, and occasionally blood-splashed flick that isn’t pretending to be something it isn’t.

It’s entertaining.

Seriously—what more do you really need?

_______________________________

*As in Troma Studios, whom we can thank for such classics as Cannibal:  The Musical and The Toxic Avenger, a movie I saw three times, though in my defense, I was seventeen and the local movie theater didn’t card for R-rated movies.  Though I was unnerved to discover during a quick fact-check (hush, it happens) that there were five movies in the series . . .

** Kudos, though, goes to  whoever conceptualized and/or designed the Desert Gila Witch at the end—they need recognition.

***She thinks he’s saying, “Unleash hell!” and I think he’s calling the weapon “Michelle”  in the French manner. Either, we agree, is possible in context.

The Hobbit: A (Not-Entirely) Unexpected Journey

Watson and I Hobbited today.  This is not a euphemism.

It was my day off (working tomorrow—come on in a ask me where the Tolkien books are) and we’d made plans to see Peter Jackson’s latest third of a story at the 2D matinée showing  for all kinds of reasons having to do with children, money, crowds, lack of stereoptic vision, and so on.

There’s a lot that has already been said, but that’s certainly never stopped me before.   Spoilers might, but seriously, if I can spoil this movie for you, then you really do need to ask the nearest librarian for a copy of the book before the second installment.  So if you’re really worried, bookmark this for later, though I’ll try not to be too specific.

I can be specific in this:  I enjoyed it.  A lot.

Here are some random opinions I have about An Unexpected Journey:

The Hobbit movie as a whole is staged as a LOTR prequel—Bilbo is writing his memoirs (by hand with a quill) between the time Frodo takes off to meet Gandalf in the beginning of  Lord of the Rings and the time they arrive at Bag End*—which isn’t how the book is written.  The book was originally a story for Tolkien’s kids, and when it was done, he blinked a couple times and said, “Huh.  What if  . . .?”  and started in on Bilbo’s birthday party.   This isn’t a problem for me at all, but it is a difference.

The Dwarf Dinner Party is amazing. The by-play, the dwarves, Bilbo reactions, the songs, the washing-up, Bilbo’s conflicting emotions, the bloody-minded arguments, Gandalf being manipulative as unapologetic hell . . . it’s perfect.

Whoever designed the eyes of the Orcs and Goblins was a genius—they all have an unearthly beauty that remove them from the less magical characters (I include Gollum in this—his eyes, to me,  are the exaggerated CGI version of Elijah Woods, in blue, though he has been touched by magic).  They’re closer to the Elf end of the spectrum in shape and color, which is as it should be—I also noticed that the Pale Orc looks like Lady Galadriel’s twin brother,** if Sauron had stared at him a bit through a with that Eye of his like a malevolent child with a white crayon and a magnifying glass on a sunny afternoon.

There are a lot of pony problems in the Hobbit, book and movie—it appears to be the fantasy plot-helper equivalent of flat tires and/or wonky cell-phone service in modern settings.

Watson’s go-to dwarf is Thorin, because he’s the Character-Arc Dwarf, and I can’t say Richard Armitage doesn’t work it hard—and gorgeously so—but of those few who were allowed to have personalities rather than single defining qualities, I preferred Bofur and Dwalin—though I admit this could be cheating, as I might have already developed small crushes on James Nesbitt and Graham McTavish*** before they were even cast in these movies.

Not to say that Fili and Kili aren’t gorgeous Pin-Up Dwarves, because they are.^  Particularly Kili, who is played by Adrian Turner—he’s not my type in Real Life™, but I can’t deny that the craftsmanship is exquisite and the camera clearly wants to have his babies.  I kept thinking that Fili looked familiar, especially the way he strode around—I was relieved to find out that I did know him: Dean O’Gorman played the Young Aeolus in the Adventures of Hercules/Young Hercules franchises.  Anyone?  Are those crickets?  Fine.  Moving on.

Radagast the Brown is far better here than Tom Bombadil would ever have been in LOTR, but that’s not saying a lot.  His scenes were terrific, and I loved the rabbits so, so much, and the hedgehog and the hinky mushroom references, but this is a place where Mr. Jackson was explaining LOTR instead of making the Hobbit and while again, I do understand, I wanted to get back to Bilbo a bit sooner, please.

On the other hand, watching Saruman try to pooh-pooh the danger signs that both Radagast and Gandalf are reporting is fun.  But the byplay between Galadriel and Gandalf is odd—can someone tell me if this is Silmarillion compliant?  Because if it is, I might give it another go.

The Rock Monsters were entirely gratuitous.  Characters have slipped off narrow ledges and dodged rockfalls in full-out rainstorms without any of that Made-for-3D nonsense.  I don’t care if there are two sentences about it somewhere in the source material(s)—and don’t tell me that Thorin needed another reason to be irritated with Bilbo, because it was already established that he’s handsome, noble, uberstressed, and a bit of an arrogant jerk.

Similarly (not Silmarillionly, which would be. . . meh, never mind), the escape from the goblins went on about five minutes too long in my subjective opinion.  I don’t know if it seemed shorter in the other theater, where all the rocks and timbers and goblin-pieces were bouncing into the audience, and I fully admit that car chases also bore me.

But I adored the Goblin King.  He was erudite, clever, ruled a sort of Bronzepunk kingdom, and had a lovely voice, pretty eyes, and a completely disgusting wattle that was difficult to ignore.

The Riddle Scene.  I won’t spoil it, but this is the Hobbit I know and love.

And I adored Bilbo.  Martin Freeman has great talent both as an actor and in choosing roles that allow him to use his essential Martin Freemanness to best advantage.  Bilbo’s arc isn’t quite the same as in the book—his experiences are slightly different from the get-go and so are his motivations—but it works.

And, finally, Smaug is going to rock.

Anyone else want to chime in?

________________________________

*As if some of us don’t feel inadequate enough about our daily word count.  Sheesh.

**I’m not saying she did, though I only made it through the Silmarillion once, a few decades ago, so anything’s possible.

***Who should always play roles that require him to wear Braveheart-type clothing and loft double-bladed weaponry and/or claymores, because hmmm.

^Louis Peitzman of BuzzFeed went so far as to arrange the dwarves from least to most attractive.  It’s all very subjective—there’s someone for everyone in this weird world and I personally think Balin deserves better–but fun.

Something Totally Baby-Sitter Worthy

Last night, my Hollywood Hype book group was supposed to discuss Darkly Dreaming Dexter  and then watch a couple of episodes of the HBO show based on it.

But none of us were in an anti-hero, serial killer mood,* so we ditched the plan and went for dinner and a movie.  And we actually managed to score tickets to this movie, which is the antithesis of an anti-hero flick:

It.  Was.  Amazing.

I can’t tell you all the things I loved about it without unforgivable spoilers, but it was definitely a Joss Whedon production, which means the self-perceptions of all the characters are blown apart and no one is safe from suffering, either physically or emotionally.  And bureaucrats suck, of course, but that’s a Marvel thing, too.

As predicted, Iron Man/Tony Stark gets a most of the snark, but Dr. Banner is up there, too, and the Hulk gets most of the physical humor—Mark Ruffalo is perfect  for this role.  Black Widow becomes a real person in this, more than worthy of a movie of her own and if that movie doesn’t feature Hawkeye, too, I’m lodging a protest—his arms alone are box office gold, and since those arms are attached to the incredibly talented Jeremy Renner, it ought to be a done deal by now.

And visually . . . well.  I’ve already mentioned Hawkeye’s arms, but the rest is sheer excellence from settings to effects to costumes.

All the recent Marvel movies tie together in this one, but if you missed one or two—I skipped Thor and the second Hulk, and missed the final twenty minutes of Captain America when the power went out Thursday night—there are enough unobtrusive background lines to make it work.  But if you’ve seen ‘em, the layers are remarkable.

Stan Lee has his expected cameo near the end.  And if you don’t stay past the credits—which are stunning in themselves—you’ll be missing the promise of another amazing movie to come.

I’ll be seeing Avengers again with my husband and SIL and probably at least once after that— it’s definitely babysitter worthy.**

So I’m asking all of you to have a heart and see it as soon as possible, so I don’t have to wait until Friday to rehash all my favorite parts, especially the one when the Hulk . . . No, I can’t spoil it for you.

Just see it, please?  i’m dying here—grrr arggh.

______________
* I was the only one who enjoyed the book—if you’re surprised, you’re new around here.  Welcome!

**I’m talking to the couple who actually brought the baby last night, although that wasn’t half as annoying as the girls behind me who wouldn’t shut up about the baby, who was far better behaved.  Though I still don’t approve—it’s a loud movie.

. . . except for the knitting

The Rejectionist asked us yesterday how our pre-resolutions are going. I left a brief comment over there, but needed a post today, so here’s the expanded version:

My tires are new, balanced, and actually grip the road—what a peculiar sensation it is not to skid to a stop.  As mentioned in a previous post, I spent a little extra to get them done quickly and conveniently, but prefer to view it as spending five years worth of tire money all at once.

I took the kids (and my husband) to see Tangled on Saturday. Everyone liked it, even Janie, who spent about three-fourths of it hiding behind me in case something scary happened. She loved Maximus, though, and the faire dance—which in my opinion was set to the best music of the movie.

It’s a good story with amazing animation—though, as my husband said, if the eyes were any bigger, it would be a Bug’s Life. Regardless, we both thought that the style would be perfect for Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. Especially for Nanny Ogg. I would also swear that the design of the biggest thug was based on Clancy Brown’s Kurgan from Highlander—a movie dear to my heart and an actor dearer. I may have to go back and see both movies again to be sure . . .

The only part of this resolution I missed was the popcorn part—the kids turned me down, because they were full of shoestring French fries from the restaurant. I didn’t think that was possible. Afterwards, though, my husband took them for blizzards at the DQ while I collected my newly-shod car and hoped my credit card wouldn’t melt.

I’m pretty much meeting my daily two hour writing goal, though I’ve learned to plug in the tunes and shut off the WiFi. I write before the kids get up, at work before I clock in, on breaks or lunch, and after the kids go to bed. I’m budgeting time, too, if there’s something I want to do with the family.

That almost seems . . . responsible. Weird.

I’m also more aware of free floating minutes that might be used for writing and the consequences of using those minutes for Youtubing or channel flipping. Though sometimes, the consequences are a more relaxed writer with a better handle on what might come next . . . it’s a balance, surprise, surprise.

So my pre-Resolutions are going pretty well.  Except for one thing:

My mother’s handknitted-with-love-and-cat hair Christmas socks remain untouched. 
Because I still can’t find them.