fine whine

It's amazing what you can find when you're not looking for it. Hearkening back to a couple days ago's hours of Googlewhacking (which was indeed successful with three recordable entries) and lacking any particular destination, I searched for a catchy sounding random pair that I knew would pull up a number of disparate links, "jigsaw gigolo". And lo, there at the top of the list I beheld The Jigsaw Lounge's review of A.I..

Now I've been looking for a new movie reviewer ever since Jeff Huston pulled the plug on his Believe-Me film ratings and review web site. So I quickly scanned the Lounge (run mostly by a guy named Neil Young) to see how closely my opinions matched theirs. With the exception of their treatment of the Michael Mann canon (I'm not one of his fans but I can understand their appeal, somewhat) and a couple others it seemed like I had finally found a reviewer I can take seriously. The reviews delve deeper into the pieces that interest me and the writing is all around intelligent. The archives are pretty comprehensive and cross-referenced. I'm happy.

Also this evening I had the "pleasure" of experiencing Sweet Home Alabama, starring Reese Whitherspoon and a whole raft of cliched stereotypes about New Yorkers and the South. Unfortunately Neil Young and company haven't found fit to tackle this one, so I'm afraid I'll have to give it a review. This movie elevates inoffensiveness to an art form. The whole production just oozes pleasant and safe, with hardly a discomfortable moment for anyone involved, except maybe the audience. I didn't care for it and felt bad for Fred Ward for being in such a production, though his scenes are generally pretty good, especially garbed in Civil War regalia.

I wouldn't say that I disliked the movie for being bad, but for being not good. To use a cliche myself, it didn't do anything for me. I like a movie that makes me think, not one that requires I don't. The whole plot was basically telegraphed from the opening couple minutes and DVD cover, and it turned out even less plotted than I had expected — I was expecting some sort of dark past revelation or other plot twist looming just as storm clouds hang overhead, but no such luck: the rain was merely a diversion played for a laugh and no further depth. Oops, I suppose that might've been a spoiler, so forget that last sentence if you care.

As if movies like that could be spoiled. They're bland, interchangeable, and yet they make millions. Why? Could it be that very inoffensiveness? It can't just be star power (and have you noticed how strange Reese's chin is starting to look? Or is it just my imagination) driving these fluff vehicles. There must be some deeper meaning, right? Or is sheer banality the aim, inoffensiveness the target? Their extreme defanging removes the bite entirely, as it were. It is that very unwillingness to offend that insults me, a stultifying and pedantic nose-thumbing to someone with more than the brains of a turnip. What next for the movieplex, two hours of cute puppies, kittens and smiling, gurgling babies to coo over and giggle? Then I'll really have to stick to reading, I guess.