Last night I attended the preview of Superman Returns, something I will regret for the remainder of my days. This film is an insult to mouth-breathers everywhere. It is a damning example of art by committee, as would be expected when a quarter-billion dollars is spent on a thing.
Where , oh where, did the 250 million go? / Where, oh where can it be?
Burned on the altar of special effects/ that seem to be made-for-TV.
I cannot detail all of the problems with this movie. They were overwhelming. I would have to spend another 2 1/2 hours of my life , taking notes while re-watching this cinematic miscarriage, a sacrifice I am unwilling to make. Besides, my HMO doesn't pay for therapist visits.
Here are some issues that stand out:
Suspense, specifically the lack thereof. The film chugs along with the monotonous predictability of a garbage truck. "Gee, Superman saved someone from Certain Death! Sure didn't see that coming!" Even worse, the situations are irritatingly contrived and often are set up by the stupidity of the characters.
For example, Lois Lane, on the evening of the Pulitzer Prize ceremony, one of which she is being awarded, puts on a fetching designer gown and picks up her kid at school. Then, kid in car, on the very evening she is to be awarded the Pulitzer, decides to stop off at the lair of Lex Luthor to see if that bad man is responsible for the EMP that made here Blackberry go on the fritz.
She takes her kid along with her to visit Lex Luthor!
Lex Luthor, a psychopath who is planning on world domination and the deaths of billions of people!
Guess what?
He kidnaps her and the kid! Who would have thought?
Not Lois, obviously. Someone needs to call child protective services. She must be smoking crack or something.
Characterization, another deficiency. The characters sleepwalk through this film. The actors cannot overcome the listless dialog. Everyone on screen seems to be suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome
I can imagine the assorted actors forming a mob and marching to the director's trailer, torches and pitchforks in hand, chanting "What's my motivation? What's my motivation?" Hesitancy substitutes for inner conflict. And the waste, the tragic waste of talent. Parker Posey, a human M-80 scene- stealer in indie films, presents here in SR like someone who needs to have her Prozac dose adjusted. It is a sad thing to be out-acted by Valerie Perrine, whose role she reprises. Kevin Spacey seems tired, resigned to his fate, like an aged exotic dancer trying for one last bump-and- grind. His Lex Luthor is waspish rather than menacing. He seems more likely to make cutting remarks about your fashion sense than to be about to lay waste to humankind, unlike the scary-funny scenery-chewing of Gene Hackman in the first movie. Frank Langella displays about as much emotional range as Chuck Norris. There is little chemistry between the two actors playing Superman and Lois. I can't even remember their names. Jimmy Olsen still carries his torch for Clark Kent, though, leading one to wonder if Krypton allowed same-sex unions.
Paternity as Drama- as the title of this thread indicates, the big dramatic pay-off is Lois acknowledging that yes, Superman, you are my Baby-Daddy. This is creepy and contrived. Lois is shacked up with one of her editors, who thinks little Super Jr. is his. Supe Jr. calls Mr. Lois Lane "Daddy". Superman lurks around their house, spying on the happy family with X-ray vision, a super-stalker. Does being a superhero mean you can break-up a family, and it's OK?
Is Mr. Lois Lane a moron? Can't he count to nine? Or was Lois sleeping with both of them at once? Was her biological clock ticking? Or does Superman have Supersperm, heroic little caped tadpoles that fly around the womb for months or years, seeking a heroic conception? Did Lex Luthor ever hit it? What about Jimmy Olsen's feelings, guys? Jimmy, all alone in his little apartment, pining for his beloved Clark. Maybe we can get them all on Maury's show with their DNA and see what happens I foresee many thrown chairs.
Enough for now. I have much more to say, but it will have to wait. I leave you, gentle reader, with this thought: In the film, the title of Lois Lane's Pulitzer Prize winning article was "We Don't Need Superman."
Too bad the head of Warner Bros. missed the hint.
Yours truly,
beatbopbobaloo
Where , oh where, did the 250 million go? / Where, oh where can it be?
Burned on the altar of special effects/ that seem to be made-for-TV.
I cannot detail all of the problems with this movie. They were overwhelming. I would have to spend another 2 1/2 hours of my life , taking notes while re-watching this cinematic miscarriage, a sacrifice I am unwilling to make. Besides, my HMO doesn't pay for therapist visits.
Here are some issues that stand out:
Suspense, specifically the lack thereof. The film chugs along with the monotonous predictability of a garbage truck. "Gee, Superman saved someone from Certain Death! Sure didn't see that coming!" Even worse, the situations are irritatingly contrived and often are set up by the stupidity of the characters.
For example, Lois Lane, on the evening of the Pulitzer Prize ceremony, one of which she is being awarded, puts on a fetching designer gown and picks up her kid at school. Then, kid in car, on the very evening she is to be awarded the Pulitzer, decides to stop off at the lair of Lex Luthor to see if that bad man is responsible for the EMP that made here Blackberry go on the fritz.
She takes her kid along with her to visit Lex Luthor!
Lex Luthor, a psychopath who is planning on world domination and the deaths of billions of people!
Guess what?
He kidnaps her and the kid! Who would have thought?
Not Lois, obviously. Someone needs to call child protective services. She must be smoking crack or something.
Characterization, another deficiency. The characters sleepwalk through this film. The actors cannot overcome the listless dialog. Everyone on screen seems to be suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome
I can imagine the assorted actors forming a mob and marching to the director's trailer, torches and pitchforks in hand, chanting "What's my motivation? What's my motivation?" Hesitancy substitutes for inner conflict. And the waste, the tragic waste of talent. Parker Posey, a human M-80 scene- stealer in indie films, presents here in SR like someone who needs to have her Prozac dose adjusted. It is a sad thing to be out-acted by Valerie Perrine, whose role she reprises. Kevin Spacey seems tired, resigned to his fate, like an aged exotic dancer trying for one last bump-and- grind. His Lex Luthor is waspish rather than menacing. He seems more likely to make cutting remarks about your fashion sense than to be about to lay waste to humankind, unlike the scary-funny scenery-chewing of Gene Hackman in the first movie. Frank Langella displays about as much emotional range as Chuck Norris. There is little chemistry between the two actors playing Superman and Lois. I can't even remember their names. Jimmy Olsen still carries his torch for Clark Kent, though, leading one to wonder if Krypton allowed same-sex unions.
Paternity as Drama- as the title of this thread indicates, the big dramatic pay-off is Lois acknowledging that yes, Superman, you are my Baby-Daddy. This is creepy and contrived. Lois is shacked up with one of her editors, who thinks little Super Jr. is his. Supe Jr. calls Mr. Lois Lane "Daddy". Superman lurks around their house, spying on the happy family with X-ray vision, a super-stalker. Does being a superhero mean you can break-up a family, and it's OK?
Is Mr. Lois Lane a moron? Can't he count to nine? Or was Lois sleeping with both of them at once? Was her biological clock ticking? Or does Superman have Supersperm, heroic little caped tadpoles that fly around the womb for months or years, seeking a heroic conception? Did Lex Luthor ever hit it? What about Jimmy Olsen's feelings, guys? Jimmy, all alone in his little apartment, pining for his beloved Clark. Maybe we can get them all on Maury's show with their DNA and see what happens I foresee many thrown chairs.
Enough for now. I have much more to say, but it will have to wait. I leave you, gentle reader, with this thought: In the film, the title of Lois Lane's Pulitzer Prize winning article was "We Don't Need Superman."
Too bad the head of Warner Bros. missed the hint.
Yours truly,
beatbopbobaloo