It's the movies, darling, things are different here.
Saw Stardust um, two days ago? Yes, on Saturday. Overall I enjoyed it.
But.
Where to begin? I'm a huge Neil Gaiman fan, and I own a very well-read copy of the Stardust graphic novel, which has lovely delicate artwork that compliments his lovely delicate storyline in a way that I was fearful the movies could never duplicate. The makers of the movie agreed with me, apparently, and to solve the problem they stomped all the delicacy out of the story. Rather than bravely setting off on a quest on foot, Tristan is catapulted out of his attic by a magic candle. Rather than he and the star witnessing a mythic fight between the unicorn and the lion, and Tristan saving the unicorn's life by putting his own life in danger, the unicorn wanders randomly by while he's off fetching dinner. The star isn't saved by love, but rather by becoming (apparently) an atom bomb.
For all this, it's a fun ride. I'm not one of those people who cannot leave the book behind when seeing the movie. I'm aware of the differences in the medium, and I understand why things that work on the page do not work on the screen. The effects were seamless and served the story rather than themselves. I rather liked the idea that the star was in danger from everyone, instead of just the witch. The way she glowed when she started to fall in love was sweet. Nearly all the performances were fantastic, with Michelle Pfeiffer and Claire Danes standing out.
I really can't understand why everyone seems so fond of Robert DeNiro's turn as the sky captain. A more insulting, paper thin, stereotyped caricature of homosexuality I haven't seen since Meshach Taylor played Hollywood Montrose in Mannequin. He's, quite frankly, awful. It might not have been so offensive if DeNiro had bothered to actually act, rather than just mugging for the camera. The audience is supposed to laugh because it is Robert DeNiro pretending to be gay. We are supposed to laugh at the idea of a gay man being a pirate, leading other men, being good at combat. While his crew fights off an attack, he's in his boudoir, doing the cancan in women's underwear. The only scene that plays well is his last, wherein his crew tell him that they've always know he was a nancy boy but they don't care. A worthy sentiment, but it's made flat and meaningless by the emptiness of DeNiro's performance.
But.
Where to begin? I'm a huge Neil Gaiman fan, and I own a very well-read copy of the Stardust graphic novel, which has lovely delicate artwork that compliments his lovely delicate storyline in a way that I was fearful the movies could never duplicate. The makers of the movie agreed with me, apparently, and to solve the problem they stomped all the delicacy out of the story. Rather than bravely setting off on a quest on foot, Tristan is catapulted out of his attic by a magic candle. Rather than he and the star witnessing a mythic fight between the unicorn and the lion, and Tristan saving the unicorn's life by putting his own life in danger, the unicorn wanders randomly by while he's off fetching dinner. The star isn't saved by love, but rather by becoming (apparently) an atom bomb.
For all this, it's a fun ride. I'm not one of those people who cannot leave the book behind when seeing the movie. I'm aware of the differences in the medium, and I understand why things that work on the page do not work on the screen. The effects were seamless and served the story rather than themselves. I rather liked the idea that the star was in danger from everyone, instead of just the witch. The way she glowed when she started to fall in love was sweet. Nearly all the performances were fantastic, with Michelle Pfeiffer and Claire Danes standing out.
I really can't understand why everyone seems so fond of Robert DeNiro's turn as the sky captain. A more insulting, paper thin, stereotyped caricature of homosexuality I haven't seen since Meshach Taylor played Hollywood Montrose in Mannequin. He's, quite frankly, awful. It might not have been so offensive if DeNiro had bothered to actually act, rather than just mugging for the camera. The audience is supposed to laugh because it is Robert DeNiro pretending to be gay. We are supposed to laugh at the idea of a gay man being a pirate, leading other men, being good at combat. While his crew fights off an attack, he's in his boudoir, doing the cancan in women's underwear. The only scene that plays well is his last, wherein his crew tell him that they've always know he was a nancy boy but they don't care. A worthy sentiment, but it's made flat and meaningless by the emptiness of DeNiro's performance.
Labels: movies
posted by Karla Andrich at
7:17 AM
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