... Wooo.
I didn't quite expect such a response to Cherub, so blanket thanks to everyone who commented! Though it was a grind, I really loved doing a comic, and as soon as I can look at my bottle of India ink without my hand instinctively cramping, I'll do another.
Tomorrow, I'm going to see Under The Mountain, because it's a ridiculous-looking adaptation of a Maurice Gee children's book directed by the guy who interviewed Del Toro at that awesome Q&A. Then hopefully, I'll get to see Moon, since the lovely Russ left his free ticket for us. Still, I've seen three movies since A Serious Man and Jennifer's Body, so here's three quick and dirty reviews.
Mary and Max is a claymation film about an eight-year-old Melbourne girl who becomes penpals with a neurotic 40-something New York shut-in, and the lifelong friendship that ensues. However, while it is visually cute and deceptively lighthearted, it's not remotely fuzzy or child-friendly, covering death, attempted suicide, a vast spectrum of mental illness and disablity, and the horrible ways people unintentionally hurt the ones they love. This is from the guy who made Harvey Krumpet, a short film that won the Oscar in 2003, which had a very similar tone and mood: a darkly comedic and lighthearted take on some of the saddest subjects in the world. Also, the voice-acting is fantastic. Go see it, and look up the rest of Adam Elliot's stuff too.
Where The Wild Things Are is oddly similar, in that it's not nearly as light or child-friendly as you might imagine. For a feature-length adaptation of a short and simple children's book, it's surprisingly faithful: Max is a naughty boy, Max goes to the island of the Wild Things, the Wild Things make him their king, and they play. That's pretty much the movie's entire plot: Spike Jonze seems much more interested in doing a character study, exploring the behaviour of a child who is extremely creative and sensitive, but also wild, lonely and uncontrollable. Max Records' performance is incredibly natural and unaffected, and the art direction is incredible: beautiful and natural, mostly twilit, but also very close to Sendak's illustrations and built almost on dream-logic.
The creatures themselves may be horned, clawed, fuzzy giants, but they're a clear reflection of Max and his friends; Carol in particular is easily a direct reflection of Max, his wild side made flesh - the good parts, and the very bad ones too. Because it's more of an in-depth psychological portrait than a plotty adventure, I wonder how actual kids will respond to it. To an adult, it's uncomfortably reminiscent of all the stupid, selfish and destructive things I can remember doing when I was a little kid, and how difficult it was to understand the motivations of adults and their world. For that reason, I think it may appeal to the adults who have read the book aloud to their children more than to the children themselves.
Zombieland is not an in-depth character study, nor can it be reviewed by appraising its art direction or thematic sensibilities. It can, however, be reviewed by repeated use of the words FREAKING SWEET. It's basically Shaun of the Dead's gun-toting, pratfalling American cousin, and I don't mean that as an insult: it's a howling rom-zom-com that wears its stupidity like a gore-spattered badge of honour, and it made me hope sincerely that, when zombies take over the planet, I will be Woody Harrelson and not Bill Murray. Although the bit with Bill Murray was awesome.
That's largely it, today. Ooh: and I did something kind of bad - I've been looking for a copy of David Malouf's Ransom ever since I came across a passing reference to it on Wikipedia, and today I found it at Unity Books for $32 and and I totally bought it with the last of my Student Loan. I might be able to claim it as a course-related cost, though, since it's basically a novelisation of the last chapter or so of The Iliad - the ransom of the title refers to Priam attempting to recover Hector's body. I've heard really good things, and I've been looking for it everywhere, and I couldn't really excuse buying it with my rent/food money but I also didn't know whether it would be there if I came back next month and don't judge me, okay, I'm a sad Homer fan.
Tomorrow, I'm going to see Under The Mountain, because it's a ridiculous-looking adaptation of a Maurice Gee children's book directed by the guy who interviewed Del Toro at that awesome Q&A. Then hopefully, I'll get to see Moon, since the lovely Russ left his free ticket for us. Still, I've seen three movies since A Serious Man and Jennifer's Body, so here's three quick and dirty reviews.
Mary and Max is a claymation film about an eight-year-old Melbourne girl who becomes penpals with a neurotic 40-something New York shut-in, and the lifelong friendship that ensues. However, while it is visually cute and deceptively lighthearted, it's not remotely fuzzy or child-friendly, covering death, attempted suicide, a vast spectrum of mental illness and disablity, and the horrible ways people unintentionally hurt the ones they love. This is from the guy who made Harvey Krumpet, a short film that won the Oscar in 2003, which had a very similar tone and mood: a darkly comedic and lighthearted take on some of the saddest subjects in the world. Also, the voice-acting is fantastic. Go see it, and look up the rest of Adam Elliot's stuff too.
Where The Wild Things Are is oddly similar, in that it's not nearly as light or child-friendly as you might imagine. For a feature-length adaptation of a short and simple children's book, it's surprisingly faithful: Max is a naughty boy, Max goes to the island of the Wild Things, the Wild Things make him their king, and they play. That's pretty much the movie's entire plot: Spike Jonze seems much more interested in doing a character study, exploring the behaviour of a child who is extremely creative and sensitive, but also wild, lonely and uncontrollable. Max Records' performance is incredibly natural and unaffected, and the art direction is incredible: beautiful and natural, mostly twilit, but also very close to Sendak's illustrations and built almost on dream-logic.
The creatures themselves may be horned, clawed, fuzzy giants, but they're a clear reflection of Max and his friends; Carol in particular is easily a direct reflection of Max, his wild side made flesh - the good parts, and the very bad ones too. Because it's more of an in-depth psychological portrait than a plotty adventure, I wonder how actual kids will respond to it. To an adult, it's uncomfortably reminiscent of all the stupid, selfish and destructive things I can remember doing when I was a little kid, and how difficult it was to understand the motivations of adults and their world. For that reason, I think it may appeal to the adults who have read the book aloud to their children more than to the children themselves.
Zombieland is not an in-depth character study, nor can it be reviewed by appraising its art direction or thematic sensibilities. It can, however, be reviewed by repeated use of the words FREAKING SWEET. It's basically Shaun of the Dead's gun-toting, pratfalling American cousin, and I don't mean that as an insult: it's a howling rom-zom-com that wears its stupidity like a gore-spattered badge of honour, and it made me hope sincerely that, when zombies take over the planet, I will be Woody Harrelson and not Bill Murray. Although the bit with Bill Murray was awesome.
That's largely it, today. Ooh: and I did something kind of bad - I've been looking for a copy of David Malouf's Ransom ever since I came across a passing reference to it on Wikipedia, and today I found it at Unity Books for $32 and and I totally bought it with the last of my Student Loan. I might be able to claim it as a course-related cost, though, since it's basically a novelisation of the last chapter or so of The Iliad - the ransom of the title refers to Priam attempting to recover Hector's body. I've heard really good things, and I've been looking for it everywhere, and I couldn't really excuse buying it with my rent/food money but I also didn't know whether it would be there if I came back next month and don't judge me, okay, I'm a sad Homer fan.