In the final accounting, this arresting debut is a bit of a bummer, but not, you know, for the wrong reasons.History remembers the Vikings as fierce warriors and pioneers who lead raids throughout northern Europe in the 9th and 10th Century AD. Much like the latter film, it likely won't appeal to all, but for those on the same wavering wavelength, it has a way of lodging firmly in the brainpan. Watt's quasi-oddball, honest-at-the-core approach feels slightly reminiscent of Miranda July, whose Me and You and Everyone We Know had the same vibe of a talented niche artist revving up and beginning to groove on the possibilities afforded by another medium. As their relationship becomes more intense, it launches a ripple effect on the surrounding community. In the immediate aftermath, she draws a photographer-recently diagnosed with testicular cancer-into her sunnily morbid orbit. (The director's Bill Plympton–esque animated interludes, depicting everything from shark attacks to full-tilt railway catastrophes, are a riot.) Returning from the burial of her father, she witnesses a freak train-track incident, which does nothing to improve her outlook on life. Set over the course of a single weekend, Watt's script follows a frustrated artist (Justine Clarke) inclined to see the worst in every situation, no matter how outlandish. Although a little clunky at times, overall it suggests a sensibility that nicely fills the given space. until you realize that it's pretty much interchangeable with any other chunk.) Look Both Ways, the first feature from Australian animator Sarah Watt, proves to be a bit of a happy exception. (To paraphrase the great critic John Powers, any random 10-minute chunk of a Gilliam film feels like a masterpiece. The transition from animation to live-action has always been problematic, with a history of fiercely creative visionaries such as Terry Gilliam or Tim Burton who are either unwilling or unable to commit to long-form coherence. Ultimately, the monumental Icelandic landscape steals the show, rendering these silly human dramas (and beards) inconsequential. But all the beards in the world (and it's got 'em all) can't save Beowulf & Grendel. There are beards everywhere in this movie! Old beards, crusty beards, braided beards, heroic beards-even the troll babies have beards (wispy blond ones!). Stellan Skarsgård is excellent, of course, as drunky King Hrothgar, and Beowulf, ably portrayed by Gerard Butler, is all hunky, grimy earnestness.Īnd if there's one thing the filmmakers did agree on, it's beards. There's some mildly interesting Christ- versus-Odin tension ("My gods don't ask me to bow," says Hrothgar), several heaving Viking bosoms, and flocks of fuzzy-spotted ponies. So he's one part monster, one part man, no parts terror, all parts pointless. Except, oh wait, he still has super-strength and an amphibious sea-hag for a mom, sending that made-monster thesis out the window.
To humanize the demon Grendel (in pursuit of "the human dimension of the hero epic," according to Gunnarsson), he's been sympathetically recast as a child wronged-a made monster-and thus robbed of his mystery, dignity, and chill.
0 kommentar(er)
