I've wondered in the past why it is that I so often post about movies I don't like and so seldom about the one's I really DO like. There's a few reasons for that, I've found…
The first is generally timing, and that's true for both liked and disliked films. If I don't get to talking about it within a few days of seeing the film, no matter what I felt about it, chances are, I'm not ever going to do it. It just loses relevance for me, I guess. Serenity is a prime example of this. This was one of my favorite movies from last year, got some great reviews, I even managed to get to it opening weekend and had a lot to say about it (mainly talking about the things I liked and why I liked them). But I got busy, didn't get around to it that first week after I saw the movie and, by the next weekend when it virtually disappeared from theatres, I just moved on to other topics.
Then there's the fact that, sometimes, there's not as much to say about a movie I like as there is about one I don't like. I saw 16 Blocks the other day and enjoyed it. A decent story, well acted and directed… but I really don't have anything to say about that. If you like that type of movie, or those actors or that director, go see it, you won't be disappointed. But beyond that, I'm out. So why bother talking about it at all, right?
And then, sometimes, it's just more interesting to talk about the movies that fail than about the one's that work. (Which is, of course, really just the flip-side of the previous reason.)
Which brings me, of course, to Ultraviolet. I didn't actually dislike this film, but I'm under no pretense that whatever enjoyment I got out of it stems from the concept that it's a good film. Frankly, it's not very, but it may just cross over into "so bad it's good" territory.
For starters, this is a comic book movie that wants you to know from the very start that it's a comic book movie. The irony here is that it's NOT a comic book property. (At least not yet, although the first set of links on the movie's flash site are to the "graphic novel game", whatever the hell that means.)
But the opening credits are all done as a series of comic book covers (and I should have been warned what to expect when the camera would zoom in on the covers for the credits, morphing the titles on the covers into said credits, as to just what to expect from the movie itself). It wears its comic-book geek cred hard on it's sleeve and dares you to forget it.
It's also art directed to within an inch of it's celluloid (or maybe digital) existence. This is a film that's painfully aware of how cool every shot must look (to distract you, perhaps, from the horrible dialogue—more on that later). Bright primary colors dominate and every scene is shot to capture the color palette at its most dramatic. Everything shines, gleams, glistens or otherwise reflects a cool, hi-tech aesthetic. Weapons materialize out of "folded space" or something, Violet's clothes and hair change color at her whim and everything just exudes Matrix-inspired cool. This is a movie trying VERY hard to be cutting edge cool.
Which is not to say I didn't like the look of the film. Frankly, I'm a sucker for that kind of overly-dramatic art direction, so once I realized how over the top they were going, I decided to go along for the ride. (Unlike, say, Entertainment Weekly, whose reviewer quipped "the computer imagery is sub-Tron." Forgive me for pointing out… I saw a few minutes of Tron this morning and was reminded just how crudely rendered that particular dystopia was. The reviewer apparently had an axe to grind there.) I do have to acknowledge that this movie, more than any other I've seen recently, made me feel like I was watching, and perhaps part of, a videogame. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but it does kind of echo that Tron theme.
And then there's the story… which, I was led to believe from the trailers, was about some race of super-soldiers who seemed to be too good at their job and had to be wiped out by the less-superior regular humans. And there's something along those lines in the backstory to the film, although it's less "super-soldiers gone bad" and more "oops, we blew it and created a virus that turns our super-soldiers into vampires!" Yeah, I didn't see that coming and, once again bowing to the super-cool aesthetic of the film, they're almost never referred to as vampires… they're "hemophages" and their virus is intensely contagious, so much so that "real" humans must do everything they can to wipe these creatures from the face of the earth. It's all just mind-boggling gobbledygook (and this coming from someone who enjoys a bit of mind-boggling gobbledygook now and then).
Which brings me to the dialogue… quite possibly the worst part of this mess of a movie. I was repeatedly struck by how banal the exchanges between characters were… it's as if the writer/director had blown his wad on the visual aspects of his story, with nothing left for the actual dialogue. When Violet faces off against her nemesis at the end of the film, he taunts her with, "It's on?" and she retorts with the pithy, "Oh yeah, it's on." I swear, I almost fell out of my seat laughing. Dani was shushing me, obviously afraid I'd have to mock out loud, but I restrained myself. Not that it was easy, but I managed.
As I mentioned at the beginning, I can't say I disliked Ultraviolet. I had a good time and have seen many other movies in the past that I can't say that about. But I certainly would be cautious about recommending it to anyone. As long as you know what you're getting, it could be an interesting trip. Just don't expect much, you know?
The first is generally timing, and that's true for both liked and disliked films. If I don't get to talking about it within a few days of seeing the film, no matter what I felt about it, chances are, I'm not ever going to do it. It just loses relevance for me, I guess. Serenity is a prime example of this. This was one of my favorite movies from last year, got some great reviews, I even managed to get to it opening weekend and had a lot to say about it (mainly talking about the things I liked and why I liked them). But I got busy, didn't get around to it that first week after I saw the movie and, by the next weekend when it virtually disappeared from theatres, I just moved on to other topics.
Then there's the fact that, sometimes, there's not as much to say about a movie I like as there is about one I don't like. I saw 16 Blocks the other day and enjoyed it. A decent story, well acted and directed… but I really don't have anything to say about that. If you like that type of movie, or those actors or that director, go see it, you won't be disappointed. But beyond that, I'm out. So why bother talking about it at all, right?
And then, sometimes, it's just more interesting to talk about the movies that fail than about the one's that work. (Which is, of course, really just the flip-side of the previous reason.)
Which brings me, of course, to Ultraviolet. I didn't actually dislike this film, but I'm under no pretense that whatever enjoyment I got out of it stems from the concept that it's a good film. Frankly, it's not very, but it may just cross over into "so bad it's good" territory.
For starters, this is a comic book movie that wants you to know from the very start that it's a comic book movie. The irony here is that it's NOT a comic book property. (At least not yet, although the first set of links on the movie's flash site are to the "graphic novel game", whatever the hell that means.)
But the opening credits are all done as a series of comic book covers (and I should have been warned what to expect when the camera would zoom in on the covers for the credits, morphing the titles on the covers into said credits, as to just what to expect from the movie itself). It wears its comic-book geek cred hard on it's sleeve and dares you to forget it.
It's also art directed to within an inch of it's celluloid (or maybe digital) existence. This is a film that's painfully aware of how cool every shot must look (to distract you, perhaps, from the horrible dialogue—more on that later). Bright primary colors dominate and every scene is shot to capture the color palette at its most dramatic. Everything shines, gleams, glistens or otherwise reflects a cool, hi-tech aesthetic. Weapons materialize out of "folded space" or something, Violet's clothes and hair change color at her whim and everything just exudes Matrix-inspired cool. This is a movie trying VERY hard to be cutting edge cool.
Which is not to say I didn't like the look of the film. Frankly, I'm a sucker for that kind of overly-dramatic art direction, so once I realized how over the top they were going, I decided to go along for the ride. (Unlike, say, Entertainment Weekly, whose reviewer quipped "the computer imagery is sub-Tron." Forgive me for pointing out… I saw a few minutes of Tron this morning and was reminded just how crudely rendered that particular dystopia was. The reviewer apparently had an axe to grind there.) I do have to acknowledge that this movie, more than any other I've seen recently, made me feel like I was watching, and perhaps part of, a videogame. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but it does kind of echo that Tron theme.
And then there's the story… which, I was led to believe from the trailers, was about some race of super-soldiers who seemed to be too good at their job and had to be wiped out by the less-superior regular humans. And there's something along those lines in the backstory to the film, although it's less "super-soldiers gone bad" and more "oops, we blew it and created a virus that turns our super-soldiers into vampires!" Yeah, I didn't see that coming and, once again bowing to the super-cool aesthetic of the film, they're almost never referred to as vampires… they're "hemophages" and their virus is intensely contagious, so much so that "real" humans must do everything they can to wipe these creatures from the face of the earth. It's all just mind-boggling gobbledygook (and this coming from someone who enjoys a bit of mind-boggling gobbledygook now and then).
Which brings me to the dialogue… quite possibly the worst part of this mess of a movie. I was repeatedly struck by how banal the exchanges between characters were… it's as if the writer/director had blown his wad on the visual aspects of his story, with nothing left for the actual dialogue. When Violet faces off against her nemesis at the end of the film, he taunts her with, "It's on?" and she retorts with the pithy, "Oh yeah, it's on." I swear, I almost fell out of my seat laughing. Dani was shushing me, obviously afraid I'd have to mock out loud, but I restrained myself. Not that it was easy, but I managed.
As I mentioned at the beginning, I can't say I disliked Ultraviolet. I had a good time and have seen many other movies in the past that I can't say that about. But I certainly would be cautious about recommending it to anyone. As long as you know what you're getting, it could be an interesting trip. Just don't expect much, you know?
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