FlamingText

Read the label

  If somebody told you that they just watched Children of the Corn part VII: Revelation and were disappointed with its quality, what would you say to that person? If you are like me, you’d probably say something like:
“Children of the Corn seven? There’s seven of them?”

And then supposing they went and said something like
“I realize that the franchise has been slipping since Children of the Corn IV: the Gathering, which was the first one to be released direct-to-video, but I kept holding out hope that the series would one day return to a level of quality closer to the first two installments. So Part VII: Revelation was obviously a big disappointment. How dare director Guy Magar try to pawn off this shamefully lackluster effort on a Children-of-the-Corn-starved public?"

Then you’d probably say
“Seriously, SEVEN?”

Because what else could you say? Anybody who expects Children of the Corn VII: Revelation to be substantially better than, say, Children of the Corn 666: Isaac’s Return or Children of the Corn V: Fields of Terror, is clearly living in a fool’s paradise. Complaining about the quality of Part VII is a bit like complaining that you found part of a hot dog in your can of franks 'n beans. Did you read the label before you purchased it? You got exactly what you paid for.

  I am saying this because I went and saw what we have been promised is the last Star Wars movie ever last night. I went late to avoid the crowds (which I had good reason to believe would largely consist of Star Wars fans) and as a result I find that I'm way behind the nerd-curve on this one. That's why I’m resisting the urge to post a sarcastic review about how bad it was, partly because that’s old news and it’s already been done better than I could ever hope to, but also because the fact is I knew what I was getting into when I bought the ticket.

  When die-hard fans (and by that I mean nerds) complain about George Lucas and his complete lack of story-telling ability or his contempt for his audience or whatever and then go to see the movies anyway I want to scold them in the manner of a first-grade teacher: If you pay attention to his disruptive behavior it only encourages him. This sounds good in theory but in practice we all know it is hard to ignore somebody who habitually eats things they pick up on the playground or crows like a rooster for no discernible reason in the middle of silent reading period. You feel obligated to turn around and look. Today kids like this are diagnosed as having ADD and medicated with Ritalin but back in my day they were called “hyper” and medicated with Ritalin and before that they were called “bratty” and beaten with paddles until they learned to stop making trouble or took the hint and quit coming to school.

The moral of this story: Stay in School! Don’t Do Drugs!
But I digress.

  The only real reason I bring up ADD is because I suspect that Mr. Lucas might suffer from it. I am basing this statement on the sheer volume of visual clutter in his movies -- it's hard to stay focused on the actors in the foreground who are trying their best to emote while reciting some admittedly not-quite-David-Mamet dialogue when the background of the shot is filled with blinking, whooshing, perfectly-in-focus flying cars whizzing around like a swarm of caffeinated fireflies. The films are filled with oddly distracting visual choices like this. And honestly, since the only reason I see these movies at all is for the eye-candy I can’t really complain when otherwise boring “dramatic” scenes are underscored with exploding spaceships and waterfalls of molten lava. I suppose I should be thankful to Mr. Lucas for second-guessing himself like this and making sure that, godamnit, even if I find nothing whatsoever of interest going on in the foreground, at least the background is crammed with cool-looking stuff that I can focus on when I start to get bored. Note that Mr. Lucas is not the only auteur of note to employ this theory of film-making with spectacular results: Replace those gratuitous spaceships and lava-robots with gratuitous naked hootchie-mamas dancing around a paper maché volcano and you've pretty much got Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls.

Movies made by people with ADD for people with ADD. And by that I mean Oh boy! ice cream!

Alright, I started out by saying I wasn't going to do a review and now that I look back at what I just wrote I guess sort of did anyhow, so I apologize for that.

I also apologize for the timing of this. I realize that writing about Revenge of the Sith is so five minutes ago. As for the earth-shakingly important event of this minute that doesn't affect my life in any meaningful way but for some reason I’m expected to care about, all I can say is this: Nothing damages the credibility of a witness in the eyes of a jury quite so much as the fact that they pimped their child out to a well-known (alleged) child-molester.

What?

Posted by flamingbanjo at June 14, 2005 07:58 PM