And so, after the production team played on through injury-time*1 to accommodate its star's recovery after a filming accident, the third Maze Runner movie finally lands on our shores in an attempt to cheer me up before the end of the month. And for the very most-part, it's succeeded.
Following on from The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure sees Thomas (Dylan O'Brien), Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster) and the gang trying to break into WKD headquarters, to rescue their captured friend Minho (Ki Hong Lee). Naturally the corporation's enigmatic head, Ava (Patricia Clarkson) and her heel-snapping henchman Janson (Aidan Gillen) have other ideas. Things will get messy.
Much like its predecessors, this is bloody good fun. Far above what the Young-Adult-Adventure™ format usually throws our way, thanks to a fantastic cast and a screenplay which doesn't patronise either them, their characters or the audience. It's very much a dystopian Hollywood action/thriller, of course, but there's still the feeling that (in the appropriate places) The Death Cure is a better zombie movie than most zombie movies (although it doesn't have that raw edge of The Scorch Trials). The plot shifts a back toward the 'chosen one' model for the story's conclusion, but doesn't neglect the supporting characters in doing so, and this particular installment gets very smashy-crashy in its third act (which, true to Hollywood tradition is far too long), putting slightly more emphasis on All Of The Death™ than All Of The Cure™. Additionally, the final couple of scenes are very on the nose and the film could have ended quite well without them.
But minor quibbles don't detract from a satisfying close to a pleasantly surprising trilogy; one which will have slipped under the radar of many casual film watchers by means of its YA marketing-push. The Maze Runner series may not have changed the world, but it's punching well above its weight in a crowded ring*2….
Rather than run through a list of lesser-faring teen dramas, I'll just restrict it to the first two Maze Runner movies. Because if you haven't watched those then The Death Cure will make absolutely no sense.
If you've seen the previous chapters and enjoyed them, absolutely.
Unless you're completing the trilogy for your shelf, you should get away with a rental.
Well I'm knocking a point off for every scene featuring Aidan Gillen where he can't remember what accent his character's supposed to have. It's as if he doesn't have significant previous with this, and allowing it here (again) indicates sloppy direction.
I shouldn't imagine so.
There is, and it's textbook.
Level 1: Petty Officer Thanisson is in this, finally getting to run around polished corridors with an assault rifle.
*1 …is this how sport analogies work? I have no idea. As you've probably gathered. [ BACK ]
*2 See? I use a simple, well-worn boxing metaphor, then extend it to the second half of a sentence and it just sounds wrong.
[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Luckily, I didn’t need to study my calendar to know it was still January as The Rule-of-4*1 held strong throughout my viewing of Guillermo del Toro’s surreal, fantasy-romance, The Shape of Water. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Working as a cleaner for (ostensibly) an aeronautics company in 1950s America, the quirky Elisa (Sally Hawkins) becomes aware of a subject in their subterranean research-laboratories - a humanoid sea-creature, supposedly of Mexican origin. Our heroine develops a relationship with the mysterious mute stranger and finds herself falling in love, and as her employers’ methods and motives become clearer, she hatches a plot to liberate him with her friend and neighbour Giles (Richard Jenkins). But the path of true love never did run smooth, and more than one agency is interested in this aquatic asset…
Now, if you’ve read the word “quirky” in that first paragraph and thought ’oh right, I see...’, then you’ll have some understanding of my reaction watching the film. If the Q-word is going to be a problem for you, good luck with The Shape of Water. As the central character, there’s scant escape from Elisa's enforced oddness, and even less relief from del Toro’s apparent self-indulgence in bringing his and Vanessa Taylor’s screenplay to life..
Don't get me wrong, there is much (much) to admire in here. A solid story, great performances and fantastic visuals and creature-effects. But on a character-level, the film feels shamelessly overwritten, like there’s been no editorial process, or anyone leaning in with ’should we maybe tone that down a bit?’*2. For the most part, the personalities of the characters we meet stay fixed throughout, with little in the way of development*3. Ultimately I couldn’t overcome the neatness of the story*4, even if it is framed as a fairy-tale*5.
I imagine you'll love it.
The Shape Of Water is basically a greatest-hits medley of Amelie, E.T. and Nightbreed.
*1 Whereby every movie I've seen in this first month of the year (which hasn't had a Disney stamp on it), whether that be an allegorical tale of miniaturisation, the study of a nation uniting against fascism or just Liam Neeson punching people on a train, has been met with a resounding shrug of my shoulders and a final awarded score of 4/7. Only Coco (which is technically a movie from 2017) and Star Wars (which is definitely a movie from 2017) have punctured my bubble of misanthropic apathy in January.
[ BACK ]
*2 Because it's not enough for the young guy in the café to be revealed as a homophobe, he also has to be shown as a massive racist IN THE SAME SCENE. This guy is all the wrong, DO YOU SEE? That section in particular feels like sketching a nicely rounded character-subplot, then throwing it in the bin because you're worried it's taking too much away from the rest of the picture. [ BACK ]
*3 With the slight exception of Michael Stuhlbarg's research scientist. Although what we learn about him still doesn't really change the character's behaviour or the audience's perception of it. [ BACK ]
*4 The early stages of the relationship between Elisa and the creature seem almost skipped over, whereas other movies would have gone on a detour of cross-species exploration. Here it's just 'would you like a hard-boiled egg?', 'oh, yes please.'. We have to assume the beautifully utilised sign-language has been picked up rapidly as we go from a one-word basic to pretty much full communication with next to no on-screen progress. And this is also apparently taking place in a top-secret laboratory which is not under CCTV surveillance (otherwise Elisa would have been removed instantly, lunch-break or not), while the loading dock in the back yard gets its own constantly monitored camera-feed. And don't even get me started on how smoothly Dimitri's own plans for the creature are altered to seamlessly fit in with Elisa's, apparently with little or no actual discussion. I have no problem believing a sea-monster exists, but do not mess around on the admin, Guillermo. [ BACK ]
*5SPOILERS: Highlight-to-readAnd the guy next to me (an adult human old enough to have seen other films) did a little gasp of realisation at 'that reveal moment' with the scars on Elisa's neck. It was all I could do to not take him to one side during the closing credits and be like "Seriously, though? Mate, that's been relentlessly telegraphed since the beginning of the film. It's an early-tell which explains the rest of the film before it's happened. The film's about water. You don't need a masters-degree in H.P. Lovecraft to see where that was going…"[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Well, we did it*1, we made double figures. And as it turns out, my tenth viewing for The Last Jedi appears to have been the final screening at my local cinema. Ending the run this early feels unusually eager on the part of the programme selection team, since a five-week stint for a film of this size is hardly excessive*2, and even I was surprised that there was a fair old audience amassed to watch it. But hey, I don't set up the schedule, and I have to admit to finding something faintly poetic in being there for the first and last showings of a movie I love.
But examinations of the numbers aside, we did it*3. I've watched, absorbed and ruminated upon The Last Jedi enough now for it to no longer be 'the new Star Wars movie. By this point, Rian Johnson's feature is the same familiar, comfort-blanket of other-wordly adventure that I get from all (all) the other entries in the series. I'm still not sold on the Rey From Nowhere idea, and still not exactly a fan of that one particular scene, but I accept their presence and, for the time-being at least, their pertinence to the respective character-arcs. Which is my way of saying that a perfect movie can still contain things which you personally find imperfect. I haven't, and will not be, signing any online petitions to expel the offending toys from my pram.
So, short of me catching the film at some other cinema before it disappears completely (I believe it's still playing in the larger venues in London), this will probably be the last time you'll have me banging on about Episode VIII until the inevitable triple-bill screening before Episode IX. And now I can go back to grumbling about how unexciting all the normal flicks are.
My own internal digestion of The Last Jedi will continue as I read various tie-in publications, and with the bonus material included on the Blu-ray release in March/April*4. Although by then of course, I'll be getting super-hyped for the Han Solo movie which we still (at time of writing) haven't had a trailer for. But I digress...
In closing, all I can really say is that you haven't seen Star Wars: The Last Jedi until you've seen Star Wars: The Last Jedi ten times.
Discuss.
The Star Wars's.
It is.
For me, it's a buyer (already pre-ordered, obvs).
It's high.
It's very high.
Over some points, possibly.
There is.
Level 0: It is Star Wars.
*1 I say 'we', I mean 'I'. Obviously. I'd be very surprised if you'd been to see TLJ ten times. Impressed, but surprised. [ BACK ]
*2Taken 2 played for six weeks as I recall, although that seemed to be more because they couldn't find anything else to take up the screens. [ BACK ]
*4 Although as it's already been flash-stickered as "over two hours" worth, that sounds like it'll be about as in-depth as the Rogue One extras. Which is to say, 'fleeting, at best'. For the record, the Phantom Menace DVD in 2001 arrived with 6 hours of bonus material, and the 2011's saga Blu-ray set had over 40. Just saying. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
One of the neatest things about A New Star Wars Film is its ability to change your outlook on the previous entries. Whether it's set before or after other episodes in the saga, there are often props, snippets of dialogue and background aliens on a previously unvisited planet which can shed new light on old stories. It's the Galaxy Far, Far Away's ability to continue unfolding as the years go by which keeps bringing audiences back for more.
Now, I like language. I'm a fan of good writing in general and while I make no claims to be perfect, I have a general fascination with (and unduly harsh criticism of other people's) grammar and punctuation. Sure, I'll begin a sentence with the words 'and' or 'but', as well as using the semicolon and Oxford comma like they're going out of fashion, but the grocer's apostrophe and erroneous use of there/their/they're can get right out. There's no excuse for those. Even more troublesome (from a certain point of view) are the 'grey areas', the more informal ticks which people use, but which aren't routinely reinforced during school-years.
As regular readers of this blog will know, I'm a big fan of the ellipsis. That's the '…' or three full stops used to imply that while the sentence itself has finished, the ideas or suggestions within have not. That there's still more to be said on the subject, often eliciting the response from the reader. A punctuational shorthand for 'to be continued'. I love an ellipsis almost as much as I love a footnote*1.
The standard, generally accepted, form of the ellipsis is, as noted above, three dots. If you use two, it just looks like you've accidentally hit the full stop key twice. Four feels needlessly long, and five or more is generally reserved for informal memos on the noticeboard in the office, organising leaving drinks and the like, typed by people who also use multiple exclamation marks without a single ounce of shame.
For the record, the four-dot-ellipsis is a thing. It's just not applicable in the context of the Star Wars opening. If your word-processing application of choice automatically converts three typed dots into an ellipsis character, you can easily end up with what appears to be four dots by having the ellipsis plus a full stop afterward. It still looks awful and wrong.
So anyway, I'm sitting the other week happily watching The Last Jedi, concentrating on the opening-crawl now that I'm familiar with the events of the movie, when I notice that it ends with a four-dot-ellipsis. Star Wars, my thing, my Star Wars, has used non-standard punctuation in the famous yellow-on-starfield introductory text. Then the next time I watch the movie, I notice that it uses a four-dot-ellipsis in the 'A Long Time Ago' text as well. WHAT KIND OF FRESH HELL IS THIS? Now, for obvious reasons, I am unable to share screenshots of this unexpected anomaly*2. I thought I was just going to have to ramble about this with you on-trust until March/April when the DVD lands.
As it goes, I'm able to illustrate the issue more easily than I'd feared. Like any sensible audit enthusiast, I though it would be a good idea to look at the precedent set by other entries in the series. To gauge the level of the bar set by the other Star Wars movies, at least one of which I've been lucky enough to love since I was four years old and still grappling with the very basics of literacy. My first port of call was to look at the last-available versions of the films (so the 2011 blu-ray cuts in with Episodes I to VI, and the standard domestic releases for The Force Awakens and Rogue One).
This is what I found...
SERIOUSLY THOUGH, WHY HAVE I NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE? I mean fine, it's not like the logo comes on and says "STAR WAR'S", but still. And it's not even used consistently; Return of the Jedi goes for the standard (CORRECT) three-dot-ellipsis at the end of its crawl. What the actual shit is all this about? And the 'Long time ago' card has always been like that, too.
But then I figured maybe that's to do with the films (at least the Original Trilogy) being remastered and tidied-up over the years. So without wading into the territory of screen-capping my VHS collection, here are stills from the 1995 'THX' laserdisc versions of the Original Trilogy, the set with minimal touch-ups.
Nope, it's always been wrong.
Insane.
I'm not exaggerating when I say that Star Wars was a huge formative influence in my early life and reading progression. My fascination with typography can be traced back to sitting in my bedroom as a six year-old, looking at the classic logo on a poster adorning my wall and drawing it freehand on a pad in front of me; learning the shapes not so much of the letters, but of that particular logotype; the inside and outside lines of each, their interaction with crossbars, baselines etc. And when I took a reading-test in school for children two years older than me at around the age of eight, my teacher visibly raised an eyebrow in surprise when I skimmed through the word "fatigue". How did I know that? Because of Luke Skywalker® (Bespin™ Fatigues)", that's how.
Star Wars didn't exactly teach me to read, but it's been a constant sounding-board and reference point as I grew up. Culturally, morally and creatively, it continues to be so. Then I find out that the cack-handed intern has been doing the typesetting all these years. I'm not so much astounded at my favourite, life-defining, film series using sloppy punctuation, more that it's slipped by me on every single occasion before January 2018. I'm not angry, just really disappointed*3.
So it's not like I'm going to start using the four-dot-epilsis now with the justification that 'hey, it's good enough for Lucasfilm'. I'm going to take away the lesson that sometimes we just have to be better than the examples presented to us...
"We are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters." ~Yoda, Ahch-to, 2017.
The Star Wars's.
It is.
For me, it's a buyer (already pre-ordered, obvs).
It's high.
It's very high.
Over some points, possibly.
There is.
Level 0: It is Star Wars.
*1 See? In fact, there are few things I enjoy more than using both... [ BACK ]
*2 Not least because I hate bootleg movies even more than I hate erratic punctuation. [ BACK ]
*3 With myself, as much as with Lucasfilm. I can't state that emphatically enough. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
