I don't like being angry. But I am. A good deal of the time. Maybe I just realize my anger more than my quiet. One of my dear friends once told me that age will bring out my cynicism, and that we are fragile, not resilient. I didn't want to believe her, but I do now, and I blame motherhood more so than age. I've always been loyal and steadfast, held strong to my convictions - at least after I learned I had them - but remained open to alternate perspectives, and supported those dear to me without waiver, giving of myself even after I had nothing left. I'm still loyal, but to an ever smaller circle; my convictions...I'm less likely swayed; I support, but clearly have limits; and stupidity...no time or patience for its existence...get off the planet.
Thought warp.
I'm not one to pretend to be a film critic. I like my bubbly films for different reasons and not necessarily because of their story line, fantastical effects, political agenda, or actor-studdedness, but just because. I'm perfectly happy being this type of film watcher, takes away any stress really. I like Bridge Jones because I am an anglophile and she filled a void for my modern day Marc Darcy craving. I salivated over Moulin Rouge for its true love story and cinematography, and let's not forget what it did with some favorite songs. I emmersed myself in the Tomb Raider films because Angelina Joilie is hot and I love a woman who is smart and kick ass; I like Indy and period and comedy and kids movies mostly, but I have my moments of wow for those mass market masterpieces. My husband even turned me on to comic gone big screen super heroes. But in general I like it or I don't. I watch to escape and be absorbed by the story and characters, not for some greater purpose.
As an english major I have more than read my share of classics and shoulds and musts and definitly the don't-tell-anyone-I-read-that ones. I do bandwagon with my reading compatriots that the book is far better than the film, mostly because it's true. Take Chocolat for example. The film destroyed any faith I had in book turned movie - Harry Potter remedied that though. Joann Harris' Chocolat richly painted the small French town and its inhabitants: there was no mayor, only the tempted priest; no love afair with Johnny Depp, just a symbol of the gypsy life as yet another decadent tempation to the folks of the Christian town. The book stepped out on a limb, dancing with witchcraft and undermining abstinence - Eve became the savior. When the book went big screen it was considered too risque and was forced to undergo a makeover, thus a beautiful film to watch, but a story lacking free thought. Enjoyable, but for different reasons.
I haven't bought or rented any film in longer than I can remember. I refuse to pay a week's salary to dinner and a movie on a Friday night, and who has time to rent and watch anything with a 1 year old flitting about. I haven't joined NetFlix and my DirectTV doesn't have OnDemand, and no DVR either folks. But I was determined that I was going to experience Avatar. So much hype and commentary abounded regarding this film, and frankly, I thought it might just be cool enough effects alone. My household sits in front of an old 32" tube TV with a curved screen. There is no HD, no widescreen, no surround sound to be had. Don't freak...there really are houses that haven't caught up with the Jones'. But really we don't know much different, and don't care to since we'd rather experience real life than reality TV. My husband hadn't heard much about this movie, he kept asking me what it was about. Honestly, I didn't know myself, but decided there was something about this movie that we had to see. Target, debit card, thank you.
Dinner time Anya decided that it was time to melt down...epicly. She didn't want her strawberries, she didn't want her fish, she didn't want her ravioli, she didn't want her dolly, but maybe her milk...nope. We gave her a bath and some motrin and tried the milk again. Clean and tummy full of milk she still fussed and cried and didn't know what she wanted. Then...after a few more rejections and tears...she stopped, got off the couch, went to her toys and started playing like nothing was wrong in the universe. humpf. Really?!
Select to Play.
Anya nestled in my lap and fell asleep just in time for the Navi Avatars to stand up and run. Nice. What beauty and spectacle! I was in love. I'm not here to give a play by play summary or even an official personal review. One cannot mistake the commentary or underlying meaning. You can always debate true love of a woman or love of having his limbs returned? Was technology or spiritual energy the true god here? Maybe one day I will review all the detours I want to take. But for now I want to be one with the Navi and their world and their beliefs.
I closed my eyes during the fighting sequences. I couldn't stomach the pain. I cursed at the Colonel and Parker for their reckless destruction. And even though I knew that Jake Sully would come around, I hated him for being such a jack ass to start. I'm a little over all the anti hero crap really. But the movie was more. I admire the age old warning of respect to nature, I was pleased to see the interconnectedness of life taken to a newer platform, and I was fascinated with the Neuromancer feel, but as natural, not machine...softer edge to the matrix. The movie was a pleasure and I could probalbly debate meanings and sequenses and philosophies and religion and politics for hours. But for now I'm going to languish on Pandora without questions.
I feel an urge to start excavating, but I know exhaustion is near. I'll have to pop it into the DVD a few more times then have vodka and a discussion party. Any takers? What a tease...even for me.
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