Oversized Phones
Back by popular demand (well, Jonster and Hockster), I am reinstating this blog. Yes, Ian's Useless Movie Reviews has a following now, people! Well, sort of...
This is an absolute phenomenon, and this fact quite frankly baffles me. The book has shifted some 70 million copies worldwide and been translated into 44 languages, which is staggering when you consider that it's not very good. I've read it... well three-quarters of it until I got bored and gave up, coming to the conclusion that unless the "secret" at the end was discovering Keith Harris and Orville playing Buckeroo with Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee, it really wasn't worth it.
It's nothing more than a trashy airport novel with an 8 year olds prose. Now, that's all fine and good, and goes a long way to explaining its popularity. Not every book has to be a literary piece of genius, and if they were I probably wouldn't read any. Nothing wrong with some trash now and again, as the majority of people tend to gravitate towards the most mediocre of entertainment (how else do you explain Heartbeat or Dido?), and I don't have a problem with that.
But I'm still quite amazed at how a novel (one that takes itself very seriously, by the way) with half-baked ideas about religion could become such a massive cornerstone of the zeitgeist so quickly. So I thought at least the film version might be slightly more cohesive, having to fit such a large story (most of it fat to be discarded anyway) into a meager 2 hours, or at the very least, a little more fun. After all, it's directed by Ron Howard, who's a dab hand at tense, intriguing and well-paced thrillers ('Apollo 13', 'Ransom')...
Oh Ron, look at the mess you've made! Go and stand in the corner and think about what you've done!... Ron? Are you thinking about it?.... No! You're thinking about your monstrous paycheck, aren't you?
And that, in a nutshell, is the problem with this debacle. Being given the opportunity and responsibility of bringing one of the biggest cultural hits of the last decade to the big screen, and a massive payday, means that somewhere along the way Ron Howard forgot he was actually supposed to be directing a film here. Bland and messy, wasting a top-notch cast (and I'm NOT including Tom Hanks, he gets discounted due to a case of stupid hair), and never quite sure what it wants to be telling the audience (which is the single biggest crime a film with so much exposition in it can commit), it's a complete shambles.
And let's not forget that the screenplay was adapted by Akiva Goldsman. Quite what the studio was thinking with that move is beyond me. Those of you who know who I mean are no doubt now rolling your eyes and going "Oh for frak's sake!". For those of you who are uninitiated, hopefully this little interpretation of a board room meeting will fill in the blanks:
EXEC 1: Say, who shall we get to write this Jesus thing? How about Frank Darabont, after all those Shawshank and Green Mile movies were pretty good?
EXEC 2: Nahhh. What about Jim Uhls, he did a good job adapting Fight Club?
EXEC 1: I got it! (into intercom) Debbie, get me the guy who wrote Batman & Robin and Lost In Space!
EXEC 2: Bingo!
Words fail me at this choice. As they clearly did Mr Goldsman. I suppose the only thing to be thankful for is that at least they didn't let Dan Brown adapt his own novel. As excruciating as the script's dialogue and storytelling is, I'll concede that it's better to have a 40 year old adapting an 8 year olds prose than an 8 year old adapting an 8 year olds prose.
To invoke Movie Review Cliche #7, the one saving grace in this whole mess is Ian McKellen, who in his brief appearances gives the film a badly-needed breath of life, injecting humour and colour into an otherwise lost affair. He's like the single sequin on a beige suit. And when that sequin falls off... well, you really miss it! And the film looks gorgeous, there's no denying that. The cinematography is stunning at times, but all that really does is remind you of what an absolute wheeze Howard, Hanks and co must have had travelling around Europe for six months. And that this is what they have to show for it. Bastards! I will give the score a mention though, as Hans Zimmer has outdone himself with a beautiful, evocative and moody piece of music. So just go and buy the CD instead.
The fact is, even though the book is a badly written piece of trash, at least it serves its purpose. It's what I've decided to call Airport Noir, a piece of fluff that fills the time. And as I said, even though I still can't comprehend it's following, there's nothing wrong with that. It does the job. And that's what the film should've done, been a flat-out trashy, sometimes silly, dare I say fun Hollywood thriller. God knows Hollywood pumps enough stupid thrillers out at us every year, and some of those are big hits, mainly because it takes you out of your life for a couple of hours and entertains you. That's the keyword, surely - entertain.
But this still-birth treats itself like the second coming, as if the suits in charge wanted to slap a label on it saying 'This, ladies and gentlemen, is THE MOST IMPORTANT film you will ever watch!'. And they probably would have, had the marketing people not actually seen the film and said "hang on a minute". For a story with such an admittedly ludicrous, but potentially very hot-potato of an idea (a living descendent of Jesus Christ may walk unknowingly among us and is being protected/hunted by unseen forces), this could have been the ultimate high-concept movie. We should have been given The Daddy! Instead we got the boring uncle.
Boo, Jesus! Must do better.
1.8 Crabs out of 5
'THE DA VINCI CODE' (the book)
This is an absolute phenomenon, and this fact quite frankly baffles me. The book has shifted some 70 million copies worldwide and been translated into 44 languages, which is staggering when you consider that it's not very good. I've read it... well three-quarters of it until I got bored and gave up, coming to the conclusion that unless the "secret" at the end was discovering Keith Harris and Orville playing Buckeroo with Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee, it really wasn't worth it.
It's nothing more than a trashy airport novel with an 8 year olds prose. Now, that's all fine and good, and goes a long way to explaining its popularity. Not every book has to be a literary piece of genius, and if they were I probably wouldn't read any. Nothing wrong with some trash now and again, as the majority of people tend to gravitate towards the most mediocre of entertainment (how else do you explain Heartbeat or Dido?), and I don't have a problem with that.
But I'm still quite amazed at how a novel (one that takes itself very seriously, by the way) with half-baked ideas about religion could become such a massive cornerstone of the zeitgeist so quickly. So I thought at least the film version might be slightly more cohesive, having to fit such a large story (most of it fat to be discarded anyway) into a meager 2 hours, or at the very least, a little more fun. After all, it's directed by Ron Howard, who's a dab hand at tense, intriguing and well-paced thrillers ('Apollo 13', 'Ransom')...
'THE DA VINCI CODE' (the film)
Oh Ron, look at the mess you've made! Go and stand in the corner and think about what you've done!... Ron? Are you thinking about it?.... No! You're thinking about your monstrous paycheck, aren't you?
And that, in a nutshell, is the problem with this debacle. Being given the opportunity and responsibility of bringing one of the biggest cultural hits of the last decade to the big screen, and a massive payday, means that somewhere along the way Ron Howard forgot he was actually supposed to be directing a film here. Bland and messy, wasting a top-notch cast (and I'm NOT including Tom Hanks, he gets discounted due to a case of stupid hair), and never quite sure what it wants to be telling the audience (which is the single biggest crime a film with so much exposition in it can commit), it's a complete shambles.
And let's not forget that the screenplay was adapted by Akiva Goldsman. Quite what the studio was thinking with that move is beyond me. Those of you who know who I mean are no doubt now rolling your eyes and going "Oh for frak's sake!". For those of you who are uninitiated, hopefully this little interpretation of a board room meeting will fill in the blanks:
EXEC 1: Say, who shall we get to write this Jesus thing? How about Frank Darabont, after all those Shawshank and Green Mile movies were pretty good?
EXEC 2: Nahhh. What about Jim Uhls, he did a good job adapting Fight Club?
EXEC 1: I got it! (into intercom) Debbie, get me the guy who wrote Batman & Robin and Lost In Space!
EXEC 2: Bingo!
Words fail me at this choice. As they clearly did Mr Goldsman. I suppose the only thing to be thankful for is that at least they didn't let Dan Brown adapt his own novel. As excruciating as the script's dialogue and storytelling is, I'll concede that it's better to have a 40 year old adapting an 8 year olds prose than an 8 year old adapting an 8 year olds prose.
To invoke Movie Review Cliche #7, the one saving grace in this whole mess is Ian McKellen, who in his brief appearances gives the film a badly-needed breath of life, injecting humour and colour into an otherwise lost affair. He's like the single sequin on a beige suit. And when that sequin falls off... well, you really miss it! And the film looks gorgeous, there's no denying that. The cinematography is stunning at times, but all that really does is remind you of what an absolute wheeze Howard, Hanks and co must have had travelling around Europe for six months. And that this is what they have to show for it. Bastards! I will give the score a mention though, as Hans Zimmer has outdone himself with a beautiful, evocative and moody piece of music. So just go and buy the CD instead.
The fact is, even though the book is a badly written piece of trash, at least it serves its purpose. It's what I've decided to call Airport Noir, a piece of fluff that fills the time. And as I said, even though I still can't comprehend it's following, there's nothing wrong with that. It does the job. And that's what the film should've done, been a flat-out trashy, sometimes silly, dare I say fun Hollywood thriller. God knows Hollywood pumps enough stupid thrillers out at us every year, and some of those are big hits, mainly because it takes you out of your life for a couple of hours and entertains you. That's the keyword, surely - entertain.
But this still-birth treats itself like the second coming, as if the suits in charge wanted to slap a label on it saying 'This, ladies and gentlemen, is THE MOST IMPORTANT film you will ever watch!'. And they probably would have, had the marketing people not actually seen the film and said "hang on a minute". For a story with such an admittedly ludicrous, but potentially very hot-potato of an idea (a living descendent of Jesus Christ may walk unknowingly among us and is being protected/hunted by unseen forces), this could have been the ultimate high-concept movie. We should have been given The Daddy! Instead we got the boring uncle.
Boo, Jesus! Must do better.
1.8 Crabs out of 5
posted by AlphIANo at 3:43 PM
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