Remove Unwanted Smells

Again, vested with authority that no one has given me but I do use the incendiary whenever I can, I am forced to use this blog as a platform to denounce the vices that eat certain pieces of art that pretended to be "works of worship, or Mandango like that, but they are nothing more than a bunch of humbug. Maybe I'll win enemies with this post, as I think happened with the El Canto del Loco, "but is that even with the unfortunate reminder of what witness for hours, it would be unfair to myself if this newspaper do not scatter in my opinion. So do not be surprised if you find this post more than the usual acrimony.

Today I went with my sister and my brother to the movies. Sundays are days-too-many people decide to carry out the same activity, so the rooms are usually crowded, especially if it is out there premieres and noisy arcades, restaurants, greasy, stairs mechanical and popcorn shops ("is a film that does not incorporate all that?). In our case, the time and place met all the conditions, which prepared us for something very different from viewing an arthouse movie, if we add that we arrived late and we had to seek seat in the midst of the unfathomable darkness of the tier-trodden only occasionally by flashes of trailers, "I can just imagine where curling: in fact, just two meters from the large screen and, although this was a blessing, after all-cornered against a wall, closer to the street to the projector. Crushed popcorn noise, fantasy that open laughter here and there, loud comments and the occasional bag of candy gave color to the scene while we waited for the show would start. The film chosen, Lady in the Water , the Indian Michael Night Shyamalan (who at home at lunchtime, Manoj Nelliyattu call him, do not leave to think that the rock comes with cool names such ). Expectations enough.

Well, I'm not going to extend into a detailed analysis. I do not think the occasion deserves. Instead, I opted to open Pandora's box of insults without any modesty (for something this is my blog, what the hell). If any of you believe that what comes now is disproportionate to write a comment or, better yet, go see the movie and then I certainly understand this better.

Lady in the Water is one of those films that will roll, "hey, man, magic exists, do not ya know Well you know that if you do not like this film or not understand it, means that you are a human waste without sensation, corrupted by society and blah, blah, blah. " Fewer wolves, hell, the fact that it is based on the fairy tale of yore, who handles eternal values such as solidarity, unconditional love or friendship, or intends to return the-magic-of-when-we were -children, does not offer any a priori value. At best, gives it a certain appeal, an aura of mysticism and purity that, first, was what prompted me to propose to my relatives. But, as we all know, "said than done ...", and Lady in the Water amply demonstrates that in this stretch everything can go to hell. And when I say "all", I mean "tutto " script, actors, editing, soundtrack, photography (yes, it !)... Ugh, is that if I start not stop, really. Seldom in my life had I felt so disconnected from the story that tells a movie, I had rarely seemed so annoying dialogues and situations as themselves ridiculous, pretentious until say enough is enough (and more) and, last but not least, utterly implausible. Chamal is as if this had forgotten in the kitchen a draft of the history and his five years, attracted by what his father had thought, had been made to call the roll and film actors his own. If that were the case, it certainly would be praiseworthy, but no, the film is signed by a bird of thirty-six years, with some experience of life, which also is reputed to "author" there are around even call it "visionary" (misunderstood, of course), something I do not that surprising, like the boundless diversity of views on the inextricable leading minds of human beings, "if this guy is a visionary, Tamara and Leonardo Dantes must be the only successor worthy of the Beatles. Come on, one more than fills the mouth talking about what is proposed this film, a project certainly attractive, as I said, and excessively praising the "vision" (probably strabismic) from Shyamalan, and not as repair in front, on the outcome of this effort: a real truño where there is no catch.



The footage is laargo, looong, laaaaaaargo, and the thing does not seem to be better anywhere. In fact, it does not, but, quite the contrary, it is completely under, and keeping at least some consistency with the progressive derailment that is wishing him from the first minute. The end, however, comes on suddenly tired, as if suddenly appeared a wall and gave you the Slap against him, or as if Chamal his offspring had caught red-handed and, great view, he had been forced to end his mischief. Still, after the accumulation of nonsense that has preceded this moment, the credits go to or fallen from heaven, and wake up in despair, looking for a hole to sneak out of the cinema as soon as possible contact with the fresh air and return to the gray reality in which there are no fairies or trolls, or the Tooth Pérez or anything.

I thought I had learned my lesson when I saw Big Fish and nearly finished a two-handed sword with friends because of my criticism, but now I know how difficult it is to make a film of this type and only if you are a true master of restraint and lyricism (the Tim Burton's Edward Scissorhands ), the result can reach be suitable for all audiences, and when I say "all", I mean "ALL."

now waiting to be clobbered.