Dawn ,'The Killer In Me'
A place to talk about movies--Old and new, good and bad, high art and high cheese. It's the place to place your kittens on the award winners, gossip about upcoming fims and discuss DVD releases and extras. Spoiler policy: White font all plot-related discussion until a movie's been in wide release two weeks, and keep the major HSQ in white font until two weeks after the video/DVD release.
His own fault, for failing to appreciate plastics.
I really don't get why that line is so famous. I finally saw the movie a couple months ago, and I thought it would be a big deal, but it's just this random throwaway line that's never followed up on. I don't get it.
It's, like, all symbolic of the artificiality of corporate culture and of our society as a whole 'n' stuff....
I think that "plastic" had more of a negative connotation then.
Pardon the sudden delurk, but is there really going to be a Highlander movie with Methos in 2005, or were y'all inadvertantly yanking my chain?
Becuase I'll pay to see it, even though I'll cringe as I buy my popcorn, knowing it will suck. Alas.
I'll be there too. Especially if there's the promise of more than five minutes of Methos this time.
While I'm here:
Ashtareth, a quick google makes it look like Highlander: The Source is a go, with Lambert and without Adrian Paul, and with Methos. Which makes little sense, but still.
With Lambert?
But...with Lambert?
I thought he wanted out of the movies or something. Huh.
This is google. Could be all one rumour spun out of control. You know how those weird Internet people are.
Gnyargh. Got back a little while ago from (finally) seeing Spider-Man 2 with Hec and Emmett, both Hec and I all sniffly and overwrought in a happy, cathartically wrung-out kind of way, and now I finally go back and read all the whitefont in Movies 2 and feel like an idiot for getting whomped so hard by it, catching exactly none of the continuity errors (except (whitefonting just in case we're not actually the last Buffistas on the continent to see it) the cake ), and being such a low-rent emotional whore as to willingly and cheerfully handwave all the stuff like the fictional downtown el and the Big Fake Science and the Passion of the Spidey and the trainful of people who saw his face and didn't grab their picture phones (my fanwank: Fuck knows, if a superhero had just saved ME from plunging several hundred feet to death by simultaneous pulverizing and drowning, my first thought wouldn't be "Hey, easy money here! Where's my camera phone?" -- it might occur to me many hours later, safe in my apartment with the cat in my lap, after the shudders had worn off) and all that.
Phoo. I don't care. It sucked me in and swept me away right from the gorgeous Alex Ross-illustrated credit sequence, and I am perfectly happy to be a slack-jawed low-rent no-brains moviegoer. Tobey Maguire's Peter broke me into little pieces -- especially the Class Protector Award scene and the middle-aged man saying in soft dad-voiced wonder, "He's just a kid" -- and it is brutally unfair that James Franco should be both that stunningly gorgeous and that gifted an actor. The drunken puffy-eyed multiple bitch-slaps kicked goddamn ass. Alfred Molina had such awful doomy magnificence and one of the all-time greatest tragic villain faces in film history. Kirsten Dunst's MJ didn't suck, and she rightfully demanded, and got, at least a little scrap of agency in the end (and she called him Tiger!).
I'm a cheap wretched whore, but oh I loved it. And I'm selfishly glad that Hec had to get up four or five times to take Emmett to the bathroom, because that means he missed so much that we're guaranteed a second viewing before the end of next week.
Is Five-Minute Methos like Three Minutes In The Closet?
