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Before I talk about Iron Man, I need to vent about last night's CSI:Miami.
God, what an overripe, empty, cack-handed, badly acted, priapic shit smear of episodic television. I hadn't watched Miami on Mondays since the first episode, but when the promos pimped Alexx's departure as "CSI turning on CSI," I was intrigued. So I watched.
If this had been the first episode of the franchise that I'd seen, it would've been my last, and I would never have bothered with CSI or CSI:NY. I realize that no televised cop drama resembles real law enforcement, but Miami is so outlandish as to defy the bonds of human credulity. I can buy Horatio keeping mum about the owner of the murderous chunk of slate; the connection is tenuous and there might be other explanations. But once Delko departed from protocol and let Brian Woods remain at large until he processed the knife for DNA, well, the show, already creaking under the weight of nonsensical plot and lackluster acting, imploded.
The episode was thin, and I felt like the director had mistakenly sent out early prints instead of the final cut. The acting was either amateurish and stilted or histrionic and over the top. I cringed during the evidence processing scene with Wolfe and Boa Vista on the marina docks. Such unfunny, joyless banter between colleagues has seldom been heard, and don't get me started on the maternal meltdown cum heroin overdose hysteria Alexx displayed in the warehouse.
And dear Lord, the l33t camera tricks during the DNA profiling sequence. It burns, precious.
This is horribly petty in light of this episode's sins, but Horatio looked old and bloated. Either the lighting was off, or the stylist is secretly avenging a long-festering wrong His face was puffy, his freckles were visible, and his hair had obviously been coiffed by a paralytic with a grudge, an eggbeater, and a Flowbie. Wow. He looked less like Horatio Caine, American hero and more like an aging actor who's grown comfortable and fat in his plum role.
What a wet, festering diarrhea pool of a show, though I see the reason for its appeal in foreign markets. It feeds into every stereotype held by foreigners and portrays American as thin, rich, indulgent, drug- and sex-crazed miscreants with an excess of money and time and a dearth of dignity and or personal responsibility. Everyone, even criminals newly released from prison, has the means to go jet-skiing, and medical examiners live in swanky houses with sprawling lawns. The show is as bright and vapid and ridiculous as the rest of the world thinks we are, and looking at the candyfloss garbage we export and tout as our best entertainment, I can't fault them. If our TV was my sole means of judging American culture, I'd think we were obnoxious ass figs, too.
F-
Iron Man was a fun summer movie. I can't speak to its fidelity to the source material because I've never been a comic book reader, but I enjoyed the movie nonetheless. Downey was wonderful as the sardonic, womanizing genius, Tony Starke. Even before his redemptive epiphany in the caves of Afghanistan, I liked him despite or perhaps because of his brashness. He certainly wasn't the most considerate man, but neither was he a degenerate reprobate.
I liked Jeff Bridges as Otto Stain, his treacherous business partner. He was a perfectly sympathetic, paternal foil for Starke. Right until the moment in which he admits that it was he who filed the injunction that prevented Starke from shutting down the weapons division. It's all downhill for him after that, alas.
I do have quibble with that plot point, actually. Stain isn't a dolt; he couldn't've been to have forged a partnership with Starke's father. So why would he admit that he was actively working against Starke? Wouldn't it be smarter to feign loyalty in public as he did for two-thirds of the movie and work against him in private? Tony is brilliant when it comes to circuitry and microchips, but remarkably obtuse when it comes to interpersonal skills. Had Stain kept his cakehole shut, Starke might not have understood the treachery until it was too late. Stain could've thrown his weight behind the board of directors and legally shifted the balance of power away from Starke, or he could've remained with Starke and continued to ply his under the table wares. Why out himself and give Starke a reason to go fishing in secret company files?
I know, I know. Handy plot contrivance to get the canon rolling, but still. My mind can't help but pick at these things(just as it couldn't help but quail at the homophonic error splashed in three-foot letters over a faux Rolling Stone cover. It's "Starke Takes the Reins", dammit. "Reigns" are for kings and dictators. Your dictionary, it begs to be loved. Fondle its pages now and then, and it will be good to you. It will make you look smart even if you must grab your manly tackle and steer in order to change direction.)
An A+ popcorn flick.
Stay for the post-credits teaser. Samuel L. Jackson in an eyepatch=WIN.
God, what an overripe, empty, cack-handed, badly acted, priapic shit smear of episodic television. I hadn't watched Miami on Mondays since the first episode, but when the promos pimped Alexx's departure as "CSI turning on CSI," I was intrigued. So I watched.
If this had been the first episode of the franchise that I'd seen, it would've been my last, and I would never have bothered with CSI or CSI:NY. I realize that no televised cop drama resembles real law enforcement, but Miami is so outlandish as to defy the bonds of human credulity. I can buy Horatio keeping mum about the owner of the murderous chunk of slate; the connection is tenuous and there might be other explanations. But once Delko departed from protocol and let Brian Woods remain at large until he processed the knife for DNA, well, the show, already creaking under the weight of nonsensical plot and lackluster acting, imploded.
The episode was thin, and I felt like the director had mistakenly sent out early prints instead of the final cut. The acting was either amateurish and stilted or histrionic and over the top. I cringed during the evidence processing scene with Wolfe and Boa Vista on the marina docks. Such unfunny, joyless banter between colleagues has seldom been heard, and don't get me started on the maternal meltdown cum heroin overdose hysteria Alexx displayed in the warehouse.
And dear Lord, the l33t camera tricks during the DNA profiling sequence. It burns, precious.
This is horribly petty in light of this episode's sins, but Horatio looked old and bloated. Either the lighting was off, or the stylist is secretly avenging a long-festering wrong His face was puffy, his freckles were visible, and his hair had obviously been coiffed by a paralytic with a grudge, an eggbeater, and a Flowbie. Wow. He looked less like Horatio Caine, American hero and more like an aging actor who's grown comfortable and fat in his plum role.
What a wet, festering diarrhea pool of a show, though I see the reason for its appeal in foreign markets. It feeds into every stereotype held by foreigners and portrays American as thin, rich, indulgent, drug- and sex-crazed miscreants with an excess of money and time and a dearth of dignity and or personal responsibility. Everyone, even criminals newly released from prison, has the means to go jet-skiing, and medical examiners live in swanky houses with sprawling lawns. The show is as bright and vapid and ridiculous as the rest of the world thinks we are, and looking at the candyfloss garbage we export and tout as our best entertainment, I can't fault them. If our TV was my sole means of judging American culture, I'd think we were obnoxious ass figs, too.
F-
Iron Man was a fun summer movie. I can't speak to its fidelity to the source material because I've never been a comic book reader, but I enjoyed the movie nonetheless. Downey was wonderful as the sardonic, womanizing genius, Tony Starke. Even before his redemptive epiphany in the caves of Afghanistan, I liked him despite or perhaps because of his brashness. He certainly wasn't the most considerate man, but neither was he a degenerate reprobate.
I liked Jeff Bridges as Otto Stain, his treacherous business partner. He was a perfectly sympathetic, paternal foil for Starke. Right until the moment in which he admits that it was he who filed the injunction that prevented Starke from shutting down the weapons division. It's all downhill for him after that, alas.
I do have quibble with that plot point, actually. Stain isn't a dolt; he couldn't've been to have forged a partnership with Starke's father. So why would he admit that he was actively working against Starke? Wouldn't it be smarter to feign loyalty in public as he did for two-thirds of the movie and work against him in private? Tony is brilliant when it comes to circuitry and microchips, but remarkably obtuse when it comes to interpersonal skills. Had Stain kept his cakehole shut, Starke might not have understood the treachery until it was too late. Stain could've thrown his weight behind the board of directors and legally shifted the balance of power away from Starke, or he could've remained with Starke and continued to ply his under the table wares. Why out himself and give Starke a reason to go fishing in secret company files?
I know, I know. Handy plot contrivance to get the canon rolling, but still. My mind can't help but pick at these things(just as it couldn't help but quail at the homophonic error splashed in three-foot letters over a faux Rolling Stone cover. It's "Starke Takes the Reins", dammit. "Reigns" are for kings and dictators. Your dictionary, it begs to be loved. Fondle its pages now and then, and it will be good to you. It will make you look smart even if you must grab your manly tackle and steer in order to change direction.)
An A+ popcorn flick.
Stay for the post-credits teaser. Samuel L. Jackson in an eyepatch=WIN.