I thought the movie rocked and I wasn't a big fan of the series.
Not being a big fan of the series myself, I liked the movie way more than I thought I would, though I felt it needed a tighter plot.
I was totally spoiled when I saw the movie, so since I knew Wash was going to die, I didn't react to it emotionally, but I *did* react to it intellectually. It was a very WTF moment, almost horror-movie-like. Because movies -- IN GENERAL, obviously, so people don't need to pull out citations to prove me wrong, okay? -- don't normally kill off a character who isn't in immediate danger.
Granted, the point was that, even though they *seemed* safe after landing, they *weren't* actually safe. I get that. But still. If they crashed and Wash got killed in the impact, or if he got killed in the big fight afterwards, it would have made sense. Those are situations in which people are in mortal danger. But not after landing and breathing a sigh of relief. Doing it that way is kind of an unfair emotional bitchslap. But then maybe that was the point.
The last thing that affected me that way was reading The World According to Garp and "I mith him" which almost made me blackout in the hallway between classes as I read it.
Oh, my god. I read Garp when I was 14 or 15, and that part -- yes. Jesus, just -- yes. Gutted me.
My definition of 'betrayal' applied when I read the end of Ann Rice's The Body Thief. I remember literally gasping in shock and a sense of waste.
Oh -- that's right! I was blown away at that. Not betrayed, but just -- good HSQ (and probably her last effective HSQ, IMO).
But then maybe that was the point.
That's what I felt.
But then -- why? Why was the point to deal an emotional bitchslap? I don't actually get that.
It's like -- Wesley's death made sense, but it upset me. *That* was effective enough -- why make it a bitchslap? I just don't get that. It doesn't make the death any more effective. (To me, obviously, so again -- no one needs to cite scenes that disprove me.)
Joss' proclivities, I should have said: upending the trope, sending the little girl down the dark alley to her doom, only to end the scene with her standing in the middle of the room stacked high with bodies, blood dripping off her weapons.
He's a proponent of the unsuspected strength of the woman, of the weak or youthful character, and I love that about his work.
Except this time--and it's my personal proclivities that override my appreciation of his.
I'm not abandoning the argument, but I have hungry women glaring at me, so I need to leave NOW. Back later.
I was about to post those same two appearances of the co-pilot's chair, but Tim beat me to it. I was scratching my head, wondering whence the fuss....
Since when was Book Mal's spiritual counselor?
Um, always? At least, that's the way I saw him in the series. Mal might not have seen it that way, but Book certainly did, particularly after his conversation with Inara at the end of the [real] pilot.
We got the Mal that Joss originally wanted for the series before Fox told him to cut it back.
This was how I saw him in the film. Mal, as he would have been if Fox had never been silly. As if.
The River being able to fly Serenity did bug me, But I'm torn between them having to find a new pilot (and add a new face to the crew, which I'd rather not have happen) or having someone onboard step-up. Of the two, the latter is the better option, though I'm going to miss Wash terribly.
Yes, this did kind of throw me, but I kind of see it this way.
I liked River as co pilot. She's psychic and super intelligent so it's not surprising that she'd know how to fly, or at least the first parts. She isn't shown as an expert at flying. I felt it was River finding her place in the Serenity family and being accepted as a full person and not being the crazy fugitive to be worried over and hidden. It definitly felt more in line with the end of Objects in Space and the final scene with Mal and River.
Why was the point to deal an emotional bitchslap?
It knocked me out of my sense of complacency and surface comfort in my ability to protect myself by second-guessing the plot. The bitchslap put more life into my fiction, and for me, not in a bad way.
It knocked me out of my sense of complacency and surface comfort in my ability to protect myself by second-guessing the plot. The bitchslap put more life into my fiction, and for me, not in a bad way.
Huh. Okay, I can see that. It didn't do that for *me*, but I can see how it would for other people.