The feature was in 3D, closer and closer to real-life. Scratch that, it was better than real-life. It was high resolution too.

The story, I’ve avoided since I learned of Lewis Carroll’s reportedly inappropriate infatuation with a girl for whom he wrote the tale. Once again, real life lacks the luster of fantasy, no? Anyhow, I can’t give an accurate comparison of the screenplay to the book. I can however, comment on the film’s native attributes. Those being plot, pacing, production design and acting.

For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m keeping my comments to a minimum, however. The film was good. I’ve forgotten all about the word-play that pestered the novel, plagued the dialogue and made mimsy gribblesnitch of our so delicate english language. I, for one, like people who make up words. It shows a certain integrity of character – their determination to be understood, despite the limitations of their native tongue, which ever one that may be.

I’d forgotten all about the Mighty Jabberwocky and the Vorpal sword, both of which caused a rush of memories. I remembered Dungeons and Dragons treasure hordes, each time the player sorted through the pile of gold and gems and prizes, they secretly hoped to find the awe inspiring and rueful Vorpal Sword. I thought instantly about the old 1977 film entitled Jabberwocky. I thought about my lascivious 9th Grade english instructor, a Mr. Narry*, who seemed to delight in making the cheerleaders in class stumble through paragraph after paragraph of nonsensical words (he also delighted in having them interpret the lustful passages in Romeo and Juliet – thus earning his moniker, Naughty Narry and in retrospect, considering Lewis Carroll’s predilections, perhaps it’s best that Naughty Narry took us on our virgin exploration of the Jabberwocky).

All the while, the 3D screen was bludgeoning me with scenes of wonder and absurdity, voice talent that was so accurate and tightly cast, and a ruinous host of characters ghostly-familiar and yet disturbingly alien.  Alice in Wonderland was another of Tim Burton’s triumphs of the imagination. Alas, this voyage is one to undertaken on the big screen. No matter how large your television (and come on, lads, I know you buy some big ones), nothing can compare to the high-resolution, 3D experience that is Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. Not even real-life.

*names are always changed to protect the guilty, innocent and misguided

The film’s refit was only slightly improved when it came to clarity of myth, though that all fell quickly to the wayside when the cameras panned for the first time across beautiful Argos (though, admittedly, my least favorite of Greek cities).

One thing filmmakers need to understand is for this genre of film, expectations have become so high, that had Argos been anything less than epic and astounding and beautiful, it would have been sub-par.

The story itself was easy, solid, typical. Humans, with their hubris have offended the Gods. While I found it odd that Mighty Zeus the Thunderer would wear full plate armor, circa 1200 AD Europe (or from the set of Excalibur – which, by the by, would make a fine remake as well), Liam Neeson was an acceptable choice for the role.

The “pretty face” that played Perseus did a fine job, mostly because it was an action movie requiring little acting. The film’s true mistake, however, was the twenty minute battle with the scorpions, in place of the two-minute confrontation with the Kraken. Technically speaking, the film had no falling action from the plot climax. There was about sixty-seconds of “Good Job, here’s your prize,” and then credits.

Of course, I loved the film, being a fan of the Greek myth cycle and anything that dares attempt to render it for the modern audience. One thing I can’t shake, however – The Kraken is straight out of Norse/Finnish mythology and never was a Titan. I can accept that a creature of a magnitude would be considered a Titan (sort of) but Medusa, was a Gorgon. I suppose Clash of Norse Kraken and Gorgon just didn’t roll off the tongue like “Titans.”

How many of you have seen the recent film “Role Models?” (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0430922/) You’ll notice it had five writers working on the script. In film lingo, “and” means the two worked together on the project. The “ & “ means the second person re-wrote the script. When you see something like this:

…it means the script was written by a committee and is likely to suck since we all know that a group of people can’t really do anything. Don’t believe me? Have three people order a pizza and try to get everyone what they want. It doesn’t work. Someone will have to give.

I digress.

What follows is an excerpt from a story I wrote in early (February) 2006, for my final “Fiction Seminar” course, my senior year of my undergraduate program.

“Morning, I slow-drift into the Starbucks on the corner. Despite everything I know about Starbucks, it still means only one thing to me: coffee.

The sights and sounds are all alien to me, but I can smell coffee. I do not like coffee, but I need it. Entering the place, I find tall men, in black wool coats, scarves and newspapers. They drink things, the mill about. Women, hawk faces with too much make-up, too much perfume, like some sort of poisonous flower. So oddly attractive, you are drawn to it, and when you touch it or breath it in, the trap is sprung. The thick pollen sets in your innards and festers. You’ll never be free of it.

There is a line and a woman-girl in a Starbucks uniform takes my order well before I get to the register. Efficiency. Blinking the tentacles of Chanel from my eyes, I turn and reply.

“Medium coffee please.”

Moments later I’m at the register. A boy-man stares at me. “You had the venti?”

“What? I don’t speak latin.”

“What?” He stares.

“Venti. Sounds latin. I guess it could be Spanish. I could probably speak Spanish.”

He looks at me.

“What, Sir?”

“You know, Spanish? I could probably speak it. Like, hola, gracias, su casa es me banyo, that sorta shit.”

“Sir, did you order a venti coffee?”

“I ordered a medium coffee.”

“That’s what venti means.”

“No it doesn’t. I lied to you before. I speak a little Latin. Venti means to come. I doubt it means medium in Spanish either.” He stared. I went on.

“Come to think of it, medium means medium in Latin. At least, medi, medius, mediam.”

Behind me, a voice. “What hell is your problem buddy?”

I turn to face a tall man in a black wool long coat. He looks, funny to me, so I half smile.

“My problem is that this kid is making up words. And I’m dying.”

I put three dollars on the counter, grab my medium coffee and leave.”

The story was submitted to the instructor, Antonia Rose Logue, and shared with ten other students for their review and critique. I also published the original version of the story on LiveJournal (Feb. 6th, 2006 at 2:38 PM). Considering the copies that were made and distributed for the class, there is no end to possibilities of who saw the original story.

Watch the film “Role-Models.”

Tell me, then, honestly, if they stole my scene. Then, tell me what I can do about it…

The plot centers around a vampire who doesn’t like being a vampire (what, eternal youth, power and indestructibility not as much fun as you thought they’d be?), who by chance encounters the dwindling human resistance.  Proving himself a  friend to sheeple everywhere, the bipedal cattle bring this hematologist in on their plan to cure the vampiric infection.

The film is filled with those clever little gimmicks, like “daylight” driving windows, tinted 100% opaque, and a warren of underground tunnels that allows the leeches to travel during daylight hours. Willem Dafoe plays a blue-collar vampire who accidentally cured himself, and with the help of Ethan Hawke, intends to help cure all of humanity. Meanwhile, the blood supply is out, and the vampires are tearing off their neckties and degenerating into the nosferatu-esque and savage true vampiric form. Gross.

Half-developed characters stumble through subplots, while the audience is treated to constant barrage of surreal gore, squishing noises and vampires that are so starved, they turn on one another.

The films true weakness comes in the form of the cure – a shake and bake solution requiring neither hematologist nor faith nor garlic/silver oxide solution to achieve. Not impressed.

True vampire fans will enjoy this classic tale of moderate redemption wrapped in Big Business Dystopia, but those demanding substance will find the film without much of a bite.

Fortunately, the film wastes little time and throws the audience into the heart of the problem. Something is coming, and we can’t stop it.

The casting, I felt was somewhat awkward. No, I’m not just talking about Surfboard Reeves. Jenifer Connelly, whose haunting eyes chase me all the way back to the days of the Labyrinth, performed well. However, her role was… passive. The choice of Jaden Smith as her son felt forced. Jaden Smith’s performance was good, but then, what ten year-old can’t act like a ten year-old?

Early on, a host of scientists were gathered. Of the bunch, the only one with speaking lines was a dark-skinned and bearded man. He was sensible, calm and very much an attribute to the scientific team. He also felt like a token. This combined with Jaden Smith and a few other choices made the entire cast feel as if it were a socio-political message and a rather heavy handed one at that.

The pacing was good, I was never bored for very long. Though I never felt satisfaction for the scenario. We learn that Klaatu is a representative of a sort of galactic U.N., here to pass final judgment. We, of course, shoot him. Hilarity ensues.

Well, not hilarity per se. My major issue with the film (aside from the rampant product placement – not Apple this time, but Micro$oft and McDonald’s), was the lack of plausibility. The dialogue felt overly expositional, the characters were single-dimensional archetypes, more fulfilling a role than acting out a living scenario.

The final bite was that Klaatu was so easily swayed. He was sent tour world with the option to wipe out humanity. To smear six-billion plus lives out of existence. Yet, the contrived family psycho-drama between Connely and Smith melts his freezy heart? Seems… pretty forced to me.

Over all, the action was minimal, the theme and sub-plots were heavy-handed and Surfboard Reeves does what he does best: Plays a somewhat confused outsider with a very little emotional range.

For a horror film, I’d say everything is done right. The characters have a measure of depth. They have a backstory, a motivation. The friend who shows up just to add to the body count has a legitimate reason for being there. Structurally, it was a well crafted film.

There were moments of true tension, supported by some chilling cinematography. However, if you’re looking for a plot or depth of substance, you won’t find it here. This is ultimately just a slow moving slasher film, now matter how well constructed it was. 

4. Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
Sorry. I’m a huge Star Wars fan, but there are some unforgivable issues in this film. First off, “Hey, Padme, sometimes, people don’t say everything they are thinking, especially women.” The dialogue between Padme and Anakin was not only brutally hard to listen to, but it felt like two virgins miming something they saw on late night television, complete with a misunderstanding of what parts go where. If the Jedi are so powerful, how come they can’t see their boy is chillin’ with a villain? Why do the Jedi espouse control and even-handed yet chop off limbs the first time you cross them? How come there’s no travel time anywhere? Why can’t Anakin act? And finally, just after the speech about how much he cares for Anakin, why does Obi-wan walk off leaving him to die slowly of third degree burns and slip back into the river of boiling lava? Oh that’s right, because they’re just making it up as they go. Seriously.

3. Species
Not even gratuitous nudity could save this stinker. Was this another Verhoeven film? Horny alien genes are spliced with a human in a lab and she gets away cuz’ she’s gotta get her game on? Seriously? Okay, so a crack team of specialists are assembled to track down this little lightspeed lover before she seals the deal. But there’s a catch – the alien wants a baby. Quick to wal-greens for some 9mm rounds and some rubbers! That said, I’ve watched the film like six times.

2. The Matrix: Revolutions/Reloaded
Keanu’s acting is enough to make any true artist crap diamonds. The guy couldn’t offer the emotion of a surf board if his life depended on it. I cite the scene where Trinity croaks and he’s got to press on without her. He barely bats an eye. Or the scene where her heart stops and he’s got to restart it. Again, zero emotion. He’s pretty cool with loosing the only thing he cares about. The ten-million dollar high-way chase scene was brilliant, but did it advance the plot? Nope, not really. If Neo can fly and Agent Smith can replicate himself endlessly, why are they fighting? Why, again, would the robots stop when they have the humans once and for all? That’s certainly not logical. Also, Dear Wachowski brothers: please don’t bludgeon me with your misunderstanding of existentialism.

1. Anything Uwe Boll made
I’m not sure how he does it, but this guy can blend a poor understanding of story telling, bad writing and shoddy cinema into a fruit-smoothie of diarrhea for the mind in .5 seconds flat. And they keep giving him projects. House of the Dead (which barely had a house in it, let alone a plot), Dungeon Siege (oh man, I though they were kidding when they said how bad it was – Ray Liotta?), and of course, Alone In the Dark. Wow. Stinkers on a stick seems too kind.

So rather than just bad mouthing these films, rent them and watch them. Break them down into the core component you use in your writing. Character, Plot, Setting, Sensations. Where do they succeed and where do they fail? It’s easier to see the successes in a poor film that a good one. You’re not a distracted by all the cool and glitter, you’re not immersed in the story, hooked ont eh plot, edge-of-your-seat waiting to find out what happens next, yes, then you can easily criticize.