Every Friday morning on my way to work, I listen to a certain movie critic on a certain radio station, sheerly for the retarded tingles. I won't mention any names, but he won't either since he can never remember the names of the films or actors that he's reviewing. He can't even keep the stats straight.
Case in point: "It's the movie with that one girl, I think she won an Oscar....oh, what's her name....that boxing girl.....Hilary Swank! Did she win an Oscar?" Or, "I really liked Angelina Jolie in that one movie with that other guy...what was it called....the one with that guy, you know...."
I'm driving along, I hear this and I want to punch him. He's a movie critic - that's his JOB! How can he not know that Hilary Swank has not one, but TWO Oscars. I think the only thing I've ever agreed with him about is that Batman Begins was the best film of 2005. And he also said that Cameron Diaz got on his nerves, and I agree with that. But I never really pay attention to his reviews, and by reviews, I mean run-on sentences that consist mainly of the words "great" and "quintessential."
This is the guy who said that he liked The Persuit of Happyness, but his only argument was that he didn't "believe" Will Smith as a struggling father, because Will Smith is a millionaire. Because Will Smith "never had to struggle to make it like the father in the film." Using that logic, I just don't "believe" Christian Bale as Batman, because I doubt that he ever had to avenge the death of his parents. IT'S A MOVIE! HE'S AN ACTOR! THAT'S WHAT HE DOES!
And yet there I am, every Friday morning, faithfully tuning in to see who he's going to name drop this week. Oh, and apparently every celebrity he meets is "just the nicest person in Hollywood." One day, I'm going to take your job, little man.
But I digress.
Last Friday, he reviewed Children of Men, and it peaked my interest. I vaguely remembered seeing trailers for this one but mainly because of Clive Owen. Who, for your information Mr. Movie Critic, did not "lose" the role of James Bond to Daniel Craig - he didn't want it! Which is too bad because he would've been a hot James Bond. But Daniel Craig is the nicest guy in Hollywood, in case you didn't know.
Children of Men has turned out to be a surprising hit out here. Yanaj and I tried to go see it on Friday night, but got our tickets refunded when the only seats available were in the front row. And you know Bone Juneyah don't play that. So we went back to the Saturday afternoon matinee and got our perfect seats - lucky we were there early because the theater sold out.
It takes place in 2027, when the fertility rate has dropped to zero, and the youngest person on the planet is 18 years old. They talk about how the world has become a desolate place without the voices of children. The big mystery is, why can't women get pregnant anymore? They say that God has become so fed up with man's wicked ways that he took away the most precious gift we have.
Amid all the chaos, a young refugee woman turns up pregnant, and long story kind of short, its up to Clive Owen to safely transport her to the headquarters of The Human Project. It's a dark and depressing film, but its absolutely beautiful at the same time. But I'll spend less time talking about the semantics of the film and more time talking about how I nearly threw up when they showed the girl giving birth.
Seriously. The last time I had a reaction like that was when I saw King Kong on the big screen, and had to sit through ten minutes of huge bugs and spiders and slimy things crawling all over people and eating their faces. I started shaking and sweating, and if it had lasted another minute, I would've puked. Ask Yanaj, who had to ask me if I was OK.
And that's exactly what happened here. The girl is in labor, she starts gushing fluids and then out pops the baby, and out almost popped my lunch. Exhibit 8,000 proving why I'm not ready to have kids. I know that child birth is a "beautiful thing", but it scares me more than dying. And actually seeing it recreated gives me the heebie jeebies. I physically got cold and clammy and shook a little. It left a bad taste in my mouth.
Come to think of it, I seem to have the same reaction when I see Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big Around As My Head. Interesting.
Despite the birthing sequence (which apparently didn't bother anyone except me) the movie was incredibly thought-provoking and moving, and the way it was filmed just floored me. There's a scene in the refugee camp that lasts probably six minutes at least, and its one long shot - it blew me away.
But its still a very dark film. I told Yanaj that it would've been really hard to watch if there wasn't something as beautiful as Clive Owen in it. And he really is beautiful. I can see why the film is getting so much attention.
It made me cry and it made me think, which is more than I can say for a lot of the films I saw last year. I'll definitely be seeing this one again.
As a side note and in reference to Tarable & Erin regarding my previous post, please click here for all things Mummer.