In a nutshell? I didn’t like the movie at all.

In Animals, Current reading, Film, Local projects, Opinion, proto drafts on May 12, 2014 at 8:01 am

A movie so bad, I kept looking around at the faces in the audience, hoping for one shared exchange of disbelief. No, everyone else’s eyes were glued on the screen. Maybe they were awestruck by the sheer accumulation of outrageousness. The “Fallen Angels”. Noah’s knife hovering, hovering over the newborn in the wispy mummy’s arms. The trendy grunge look of the wispy ladies digging the earth (but nary an unseemly mane of greasy hair, except on those destined to die). Not to mention the geysers, the gushings, the soakings, the millions and millions destroyed, and the millions and millions spent on producing Darren Aronofsky’s Noah. By the time the rainbow spreads across the screen, your brain feels like it’s been battered by relentless stupidity.

The walk home was sublime. Real plane trees growing and dying as they should. Real grass. Real flowers. Real, human-sized matters to deal with – biggies, details, humdrum (it’s income tax return time, why did the automatic teller refuse disbursement yesterday, how many meals should we order for Wednesday, when only one reservation’s been entered.) Plus all the oddments that collect while you wait for a story to start giving a sense of… a sense of something you wish to explore.

For the time being, after yesterday’s onslaught at the movies + Kafka’s endless wanderings through the lands of guilt + Jodorowsky’s weirdness, I’ll be happy enough to explore other ways to posit so-called eternal truths. Stand them on their head, maybe ? That would be one way to escape the relentless hammering of cartoon-level goonery parading as God-sent Revelations.



(a post-script thanks to my ten o’clock appointment being a no-show).

I must thank Darren Aronofsky and Ari Handel for solving a problem that once worried the mind of a small, small child. I speak, of course, of the Dung Problem inside the Ark. There was none, explain Aronofsky&Handel biglal sh – sorry, because through the power of plants, the animals fell into a dung-less stupor. Proving, yet again: where there’s a will, there’s a way.



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