Manos: the Hands of Fate. I barely soldiered through the Mystery Science Theatre version. Even with wisecracking comments coming from the foreground, it was truly godawful. Perhaps if I'd been drunk I'd have enjoyed the MST3K-ing of it, but alas, I was stone sober.
Shayamalan's The Village really struck me hard. I'd rather enjoyed his previous movies, in spite of their logical flaws. (Even Signs. Yes, the act of god behind his wife's last words do paint God as a bit of a dick once Fridge Logic [http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FridgeLogic] sets in. That main themes of faith and synchronicity worked well once you turn a blind eye to that.) The Village's setup was genuinely creepy in places - a Gothic fairytale set in pioneer times. Inbreeding, family politics and some very creepy supernatural moments - they all meshed together so well for the first half. As time went on, some of the archaic dialogue went pretty cumbersome at times ("That is the Shed Which We Must Never Enter"), and a few characters did a personality 180 which, while possible, fought against the tone and mood which had been so carefully set up. Then came the end twist - THAT F***ING END TWIST - which was like a slap to the side of the face with a dead fish. WHAT THE HELL! I didn't know having my intelligence insulted would be so damned infuriating until now. While the twist works within the frame of the facts we've been given, it was tacked on in the most haphazard way imaginable, as though Shayamalan had a clause in his contract which demanded we get his ending a twist. Too bad, all it makes me wantto do is give his pecker a twist and shout "BAD SHAYAMALAN! DO THAT AGAIN AND NO LAST AIRBENDER FOR YOU!"
The Golden Compass - I SMOULDER WITH FANBOY RAGE! I'll admit, I'm biased - just look at my screen name. I read the book in grade 7 and though it kicked more ass than the cast of 300 once the 'roid rage kicked in. The world was wonderfully innovative when compared to many of the stock fantasy cliches amongst the tripe I sated myself with and the philosophical questions it posed were wonderfully juxtaposed against the Chronicles of Narnia series we'd just finished polished off last year. When I heard that there was a film adaptation I was pleasantly surprised - by the same studio who did Lord of the Rings, you say? Two hobbit-thumbs up! Unfortunately, in my glee I'd failed to notice that the same studio was also responsible for Lawnmower Man 2. Egged on by my blind enthusiasm and a glowing recommendation from Roger Ebert, I bought my tickets and soon came to learn how God probably punishes atheists in Hell - with movies like this one. During the opening animation sequence, my satisfaction with the film evaporated in that space of two seconds between the first glimmer of pretty CG Aurora Borealis and the Judi Dench wannabe narration which spoonfed a tawdry condensed version of series' three doorstopping volumes worth of ontological mystery in about the amount of time it took me to mutter "oh f***ing hell - is the snack booth still open?". Not to completely yield to my pessimism, I held my ground, and even awarded myself a small smile of joy as Daniel Craig - DANIEL "That last hand nearly killed me" CRAIG - swaggered across the screen with all the suave badassery that I imagined the character of Lord Asriel would. The joy sustained for the next little while, as Lyra's world unfolded before me and I found the wonderful world I've envisioned as a younger and far-less-bitchy 12-year-old took me into its lap and cuddled me. Then Lyra escaped and the lap I'd been sitting on turned out to belong to an incontinent someone whose medication was reacting with their morning tea in a particularly smelly way. The plot became a stupid set of contrived coincidences which happened because Destiny Said So, and while crazy water gypsies muttered things to a pagan Eva Green about Lyra being the "Chosen One (tm)" I was left wondering how they could have gone so wrong. By the end of it I had to grab hold of the nearest English Lit major I could and purge my bilious rage before I stewed over it all night and gave myself appendicitis. Thank god I decided to go see Beowulf afterwards - I needed some raw testosterone based silliness to work off my ire. The Golden Compass would be fine as just a passable kid's movie designed to entertain the small fry for a while, but as a guy who appreciates good movies and as a Golden Compass Fanboy, pass it up. See, it's probably proof that the Christian God does exist - he made sure that first Narnia movie kicked ass.
