|Boolean union, huh? How do you figure?
||[May. 14th, 2004|10:50 pm]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
I got the word today that I have about six weeks to finish my "Prior Learning Portfolio". I thought I had two. And I'm in a compn'y-paid-for class all next week, so I was in a mild panic. Well, telling someone like me that I've got three times as much time as I thought I had is maybe the worse thing you could say. I immediately blew the whole thing off and went to movie.
I saw the last half of Kill Bill. It's those damn character flaws of mine again, I guess. The whole Kill Bill saga, especially Vol. 2, has been critically acclaimed as far as I can tell. Four stars, five stars, however many stars you got is how many they give it. The local paper gave it an "A", their highest rating. And me? Well, I thought it was slow, I thought it was sparse, I thought it was incongruous. It didn't suck, it just didn't shine. After I saw Vol. 1, I went out and rented Pulp Fiction because I thought it was one of the best movies I'd ever seen when I first saw it and I thought I must have changed, gotten old, gotten wiser, gotten dumber, something, because my impression was that Kill Bill couldn't hold a candle to it. After watching Pulp Fiction a second time, my opinion remained the same. Pulp Fiction was a great movie and Kill Bill is a mediocre one.
I have a tendency to watch between the martial arts scenes. Special effects scenes, martial arts, demolition, space battles, whatever, have become like scenery. The meat of a real movie happens between them. Or I should say, the meat of a real story happens between them. In my uneducated opinion: you ain't got no story, you ain't got no movie. I know it's not a popular view these days, but...
Anyway, the way The Bride goes from highly trained nearly infallible fighting machine in the last scenes of Vol. 1 to damn fool idiot in the first few scenes of Vol. 2 so she can spend the next two hours fighting her way back to infallibility, I thought was incredulous. There's also the gun play and sword fighting in the living room that somehow does not wake the child asleep upstairs. It's taking care of these kind of details that makes a good story.
I felt like it was a story I might have written and I have never written a story that I didn't delete the next day because it was spotty and disjointed and didn't "hang" as a piece.
I'd never make it as a movie critic. I like all the wrong stuff. Maybe I could be an "inverse indicator" critic, "Hey, if he didn't like it, it's probably pretty good."