You may be wondering what this post title means, and that's a very good question.
Saturday night, Sweetie and I and another couple, a ginger engineer and Scooter, went a-movieing. It was not my turn to choose, which is completely fucking bogus - who doesn't like lasers, starships that ignore little things like conservation of momentum, and boobs that wildly ignore the square-cube law?
Ummm. Where was I?
OK, yes, errr, so we decided on Crimson Peak, a Guillermo del Toro 'joint', as I believe the kids say. Imma try to avoid spoilers, should you choose to see it, but I have some thoughts.
First of all, del Toro cannot help but make almost impossibly beautifully shot films. CP, as the kids would say, does not belie this trend - it's stinking gorgeous. And he is great at getting the visceral reaction shot, where the audience, ie. me, finds hisownbadself clinging to the acoustical proofing on the ceiling, not sure why my seat is an uncomfortably long way down. The story is mostly there.
On the whole it's a good movie. But.
Scenes can drag. One entire subplot is a Chekhov's Misdirection, a 4 to 5 scene set-up to no payoff whatsoever. In general, I could see chopping that entire sub and tightening up some other scenes, at nearly two hours it can get wearying.
The male lead, Loki, does a fine job, despite the Trent Reznor cosplay - really, if you want to ruin your morning, wear long blousy clothing around spinny thingies.
I'm unfamiliar with Mia Wasikowski ('Edith Cushing'), but have no complaints. She was not a shrinking, nor shrieking violet.
Now, the Lady Sharpe, Loki's sister. I vaguely recognize the actress. This woman chews the scenery as if it was built by Wrigley's. That, with the Amy Lee cosplay, (a choice I applaud - if'n you gotta go full goth, goth the best)
make her a strong presence...
That they underutilized the shit out off.
Which brings us to the third act, where the movie derails. Another rather squicky subplot pops into being, leaDING TO?!
Nothing. Squat. Toecheese. And now I'm squicked. Why you do this to me jackass? Now I's cranky.
The ending is serviceable, you can tell what movie del Toro had on his hotel Spectravision when he conceived it, but again, just 5 minutes ago I was going 'bleah', you could have brought in lasers, starships that ignore little things like conservation of momentum, and boobs that wildly ignore the square-cube law, and I'd have still 'bleah'ed'.
See it at a matinee, or if your TV is sufficiently sufficient, Redbox. Qualified half-thumb up.