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I'm just about to go see War of the Worlds, so this will be quick. It remains to be seen if, after his histrionic and inflammatory outbursts proclaiming his heretofore unrecognized doctorates in psychology and psychiatry, I'll be able to buy into his character, or if I'll sit in the theater, thinking, "Ah, there goes Tom Cruise, nutter and pompous asshat. Kill, aliens, kill!" I'm hoping Spielberg was deft enough in his direction to save the movie.
I took a break from the tempest in a teapot of OMG!Internet!Drama and went shopping. I can't say it was a sublime experience-the whole interaction conundrum would be much easier if it weren't for the bother of the other damn people-it was nice to get out of the house. I'm undecided as to whether I'm going to post the reply I composed to a comment left yesterday in response to the Flitwick entry. No matter how dispassionate I make it, I know the pissing contests and accusations of stupidity and immaturity will ensue, and I don't need the aggravation of the Sisyphean task of justifying feelings, which are, by nature, irrational. And I'm not sure if I spelled Sisyphus correctly.
I spent yesterday evening razing local yokel fairs and ripping out the brainstems of puny Earthlings, playing Destroy All Humans. I'm sure there are more constructive and practical applications for my time, but sometimes mindless, wanton vaporization of lower life forms is fun, dammit. Now, if I could just find that meddlesome mayor...
ETA after the movie
No, no, I couldn't forget that was Tom Cruise on the screen. In fact, when he and Tim Robbins were in the basement, sharing a brimming bowful of The Crazy, I thought, "Two tinhats in a fallout shelter. How sweet!" Be that as it may, however, the movie was an enjoyable bit of eye candy.
I failed to see the Deep and Meaningful Subtext of Paternal Alienation and Reconciliation. The first half of the movie was Cruise driving through the death ray-blasted, car-choked streets in a minivan with shoddy, hideous wood paneling, fighting with his sniveling children and threatening his belligerent older child with violence and dire punishment, and never you mind the alen death ray turning people to dust inside their clothes, young man. You will fear my pimp slap. Also of note were the heartfelt rendition of "Little Deuce Coupe" in lieu of a lullaby, and alien diarrhea. For the curious, the latter resembled orange soda.
There was one truly creepy moment in the film, and it had nothing to do with death rays ot extraterrestrial smackdowns. As Cruise and his family are driving toward the Hudson River ferry, a mob of panicked people closes in, and in a frenzy to get the only moving car for miles, pulls him from the car and begins to beat him and his children, one of whom is a ten-year-old girl. Fortuitously, Cruise has a pistol, and firing it into the air buys them time. Unfortunately, somebody else has a gun, too, and he carjacks the vehicle. Cruise drops his gun and takes refuge in a diner. As the carjacker plows through the seething horde, he is shot eight times, and the fight for the car continues.
Why? The death rays can incinerate subway trains, and once the car runs out of gas, there is no way to refuel since the electricity is out. But to the minds of the panicked people, the car was safety, hope. It was technology and shelter, and they were willing to beat one another to death over it even though it was useless in the long run. Very interesting look at human nature under extreme duress.
Farewell,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
swansister and tviokh, from the flist.
I took a break from the tempest in a teapot of OMG!Internet!Drama and went shopping. I can't say it was a sublime experience-the whole interaction conundrum would be much easier if it weren't for the bother of the other damn people-it was nice to get out of the house. I'm undecided as to whether I'm going to post the reply I composed to a comment left yesterday in response to the Flitwick entry. No matter how dispassionate I make it, I know the pissing contests and accusations of stupidity and immaturity will ensue, and I don't need the aggravation of the Sisyphean task of justifying feelings, which are, by nature, irrational. And I'm not sure if I spelled Sisyphus correctly.
I spent yesterday evening razing local yokel fairs and ripping out the brainstems of puny Earthlings, playing Destroy All Humans. I'm sure there are more constructive and practical applications for my time, but sometimes mindless, wanton vaporization of lower life forms is fun, dammit. Now, if I could just find that meddlesome mayor...
ETA after the movie
No, no, I couldn't forget that was Tom Cruise on the screen. In fact, when he and Tim Robbins were in the basement, sharing a brimming bowful of The Crazy, I thought, "Two tinhats in a fallout shelter. How sweet!" Be that as it may, however, the movie was an enjoyable bit of eye candy.
I failed to see the Deep and Meaningful Subtext of Paternal Alienation and Reconciliation. The first half of the movie was Cruise driving through the death ray-blasted, car-choked streets in a minivan with shoddy, hideous wood paneling, fighting with his sniveling children and threatening his belligerent older child with violence and dire punishment, and never you mind the alen death ray turning people to dust inside their clothes, young man. You will fear my pimp slap. Also of note were the heartfelt rendition of "Little Deuce Coupe" in lieu of a lullaby, and alien diarrhea. For the curious, the latter resembled orange soda.
There was one truly creepy moment in the film, and it had nothing to do with death rays ot extraterrestrial smackdowns. As Cruise and his family are driving toward the Hudson River ferry, a mob of panicked people closes in, and in a frenzy to get the only moving car for miles, pulls him from the car and begins to beat him and his children, one of whom is a ten-year-old girl. Fortuitously, Cruise has a pistol, and firing it into the air buys them time. Unfortunately, somebody else has a gun, too, and he carjacks the vehicle. Cruise drops his gun and takes refuge in a diner. As the carjacker plows through the seething horde, he is shot eight times, and the fight for the car continues.
Why? The death rays can incinerate subway trains, and once the car runs out of gas, there is no way to refuel since the electricity is out. But to the minds of the panicked people, the car was safety, hope. It was technology and shelter, and they were willing to beat one another to death over it even though it was useless in the long run. Very interesting look at human nature under extreme duress.
Farewell,
swansister and tviokh, from the flist. Tags: