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Dec. 29th, 2007 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickWent to see Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber of Fleet Street at the movies today. I hate how it says the movie starts at 1:15 PM and the movie does not actually start until 1:45 or later. This is not amusing.
I hate having to watch fucking advertisements before the theater will give me the thing that I have paid them for. It is also an insult of some sort for me to be able to eat (with the help of cousin Heather) an entire biggie-sized popcorn before the fucking movie starts. I vote for new movie-theater rules.
Rule 1: Thou shalt allow talking and commentary through the previews because these are not the movie and nobody has paid to see them.
Rule 2: There shall not be more than three previews and those should be carefully selected to appeal to the feature presentation's target audience. If there aren't suitable movies in queue that fit the target audience, the theater can (a) pimp an older movie that might appeal or (b) not show previews. Them's the choices.
Rule 3: The movie shall start within ten minutes of the designated start time or there will be a flag on the play. In the event of a late start flag, the theater will have to refund full ticket price to every paying customer, and they still have to show the film.
Rule 4: Under no circumstances should any moviegoer have to sit still and watch government propaganda about the fucking National Guard who, I am sure, does thankless work under terribly difficult circumstances. The era of newsreels is over, folks.
If the theaters don't spend some time improving the viewing experience, more and more people will stay home and find their way to pirate bay (or Netflix), where movies don't come with an inescapable heaping spoonful of bullshit in front of them. At my house, the fucking popcorn doesn't cost six fucking dollars. At my house, the popcorn is hot and has real, honest-to-dog butter on it as well as exactly the right amount of salt. My seats are comfortable and I can put my feet up. I can pause the movie if I need to get up and go pee. I don't have to listen to anyone else talk and *I* can offer commentary whenever I want. I don't have to spend forty minutes (each way) in a car to get to the damn theater. (I live outside of Breezewood, PA. The movie theater that gets first-run movies is in Altoona, PA.) For the amount of time I spend driving to the movies, I could *download* the movie. Also, nobody tall sits in front of me for movies at my house.
Cousin Heather and I spent nineteen dollars at the movies today, not counting gasoline or the nearly-an-hour driving time (she lives outside of Everett, PA, closer to Altoona than I do) for the round trip. If the movie industry wants to keep getting my $$, they probably should think about what sorts of things they can do to improve my movie experience.
So. Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber, yadda yadda yadda. I liked it, honestly. It is not a happy film. It is not a happy story. Basically, Mr. Todd used to go by another name and he used to have a wife and a young daughter. Back in the day, he got transported on trumped-up charges by lustful Judge Turpin who coveted his neighbor's wife, like you're not supposed to, commandment-wise and all.
Fifteen years after that unhappy turn of events, the barber currently known as Sweeney Todd defeated his imprisonment in Van Diemen's Land (or similar popular transportee destination) by what means we wot not and returned to London. Upon his less-than-triumphant return, Mr. Todd finds his wife gone, his daughter the ward of the selfsame lustful judge.
Pursuing the dish best eaten cold, Mr. Todd opens a barbershop in the room-to-let (which he had, previously, with wife and child, let) above Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Shoppe, an establishment somewhat short of meat for the eponymous pies. No matter that. Mr. Todd and friends turn to and provide meat for Mrs. Lovett's pies. By way of a delightfully cunning trapdoor conveyance, bodies still arterially spurting (I know this because we can see it. This movie has almost as much blood as Ichi the Killer. It's one of the few bright colors on screen.) from the most unkindest cut of all are dropped from the barber chair in Mr. Todd's Tonsorial Establishment to the basement below Mrs. Lovett's where the meat for the pies is ground. Due to the mechanics of the conveyance, mostly the almost-corpses are dropped on their heads. (In the theater, nobody but me thought that this, the dropping-on-heads thing, was funny. Stupid flesh people.)
There's a small, flickery bit of hope, very candle in the wind, in the subplot between guileless sailor boy and captive ward of the evil judge, but mostly that exists to provide contrast to the action on screen. Anyway, after a relatively happy and surprisingly prosperous bit of slaughter and meat pies all 'round, plus a trip to the beach, Mr. Todd has his revenge upon the lustful judge but the collateral damage is pretty heinous. Mr. Todd goes fairly gently into that good night, all things considered, but it's not a happy ending. It's just *an* ending, and sometimes, that's all you can hope for.
In other news, I finished the ocean baby hat, which is here displayed on the (otherwise) naked baby.
OMG, NAKED BABY!!! (Because someone is going to ask -- she is laying across her Diego (of Dora-the-Explorer fame) sit-n-spin and supporting herself with her hands on the carpet and her pelvis on, er, Diego's face. Her feet are not touching anything. I didn't PUT her like this, she did it on her own.)
I hate having to watch fucking advertisements before the theater will give me the thing that I have paid them for. It is also an insult of some sort for me to be able to eat (with the help of cousin Heather) an entire biggie-sized popcorn before the fucking movie starts. I vote for new movie-theater rules.
Rule 1: Thou shalt allow talking and commentary through the previews because these are not the movie and nobody has paid to see them.
Rule 2: There shall not be more than three previews and those should be carefully selected to appeal to the feature presentation's target audience. If there aren't suitable movies in queue that fit the target audience, the theater can (a) pimp an older movie that might appeal or (b) not show previews. Them's the choices.
Rule 3: The movie shall start within ten minutes of the designated start time or there will be a flag on the play. In the event of a late start flag, the theater will have to refund full ticket price to every paying customer, and they still have to show the film.
Rule 4: Under no circumstances should any moviegoer have to sit still and watch government propaganda about the fucking National Guard who, I am sure, does thankless work under terribly difficult circumstances. The era of newsreels is over, folks.
If the theaters don't spend some time improving the viewing experience, more and more people will stay home and find their way to pirate bay (or Netflix), where movies don't come with an inescapable heaping spoonful of bullshit in front of them. At my house, the fucking popcorn doesn't cost six fucking dollars. At my house, the popcorn is hot and has real, honest-to-dog butter on it as well as exactly the right amount of salt. My seats are comfortable and I can put my feet up. I can pause the movie if I need to get up and go pee. I don't have to listen to anyone else talk and *I* can offer commentary whenever I want. I don't have to spend forty minutes (each way) in a car to get to the damn theater. (I live outside of Breezewood, PA. The movie theater that gets first-run movies is in Altoona, PA.) For the amount of time I spend driving to the movies, I could *download* the movie. Also, nobody tall sits in front of me for movies at my house.
Cousin Heather and I spent nineteen dollars at the movies today, not counting gasoline or the nearly-an-hour driving time (she lives outside of Everett, PA, closer to Altoona than I do) for the round trip. If the movie industry wants to keep getting my $$, they probably should think about what sorts of things they can do to improve my movie experience.
So. Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber, yadda yadda yadda. I liked it, honestly. It is not a happy film. It is not a happy story. Basically, Mr. Todd used to go by another name and he used to have a wife and a young daughter. Back in the day, he got transported on trumped-up charges by lustful Judge Turpin who coveted his neighbor's wife, like you're not supposed to, commandment-wise and all.
Fifteen years after that unhappy turn of events, the barber currently known as Sweeney Todd defeated his imprisonment in Van Diemen's Land (or similar popular transportee destination) by what means we wot not and returned to London. Upon his less-than-triumphant return, Mr. Todd finds his wife gone, his daughter the ward of the selfsame lustful judge.
Pursuing the dish best eaten cold, Mr. Todd opens a barbershop in the room-to-let (which he had, previously, with wife and child, let) above Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Shoppe, an establishment somewhat short of meat for the eponymous pies. No matter that. Mr. Todd and friends turn to and provide meat for Mrs. Lovett's pies. By way of a delightfully cunning trapdoor conveyance, bodies still arterially spurting (I know this because we can see it. This movie has almost as much blood as Ichi the Killer. It's one of the few bright colors on screen.) from the most unkindest cut of all are dropped from the barber chair in Mr. Todd's Tonsorial Establishment to the basement below Mrs. Lovett's where the meat for the pies is ground. Due to the mechanics of the conveyance, mostly the almost-corpses are dropped on their heads. (In the theater, nobody but me thought that this, the dropping-on-heads thing, was funny. Stupid flesh people.)
There's a small, flickery bit of hope, very candle in the wind, in the subplot between guileless sailor boy and captive ward of the evil judge, but mostly that exists to provide contrast to the action on screen. Anyway, after a relatively happy and surprisingly prosperous bit of slaughter and meat pies all 'round, plus a trip to the beach, Mr. Todd has his revenge upon the lustful judge but the collateral damage is pretty heinous. Mr. Todd goes fairly gently into that good night, all things considered, but it's not a happy ending. It's just *an* ending, and sometimes, that's all you can hope for.
In other news, I finished the ocean baby hat, which is here displayed on the (otherwise) naked baby.
OMG, NAKED BABY!!! (Because someone is going to ask -- she is laying across her Diego (of Dora-the-Explorer fame) sit-n-spin and supporting herself with her hands on the carpet and her pelvis on, er, Diego's face. Her feet are not touching anything. I didn't PUT her like this, she did it on her own.)
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 03:26 am (UTC)For two people to go to the movies here, it's that much for the price of entry alone...
I actually hate going to the movies, though, so I don't feel like I'm missing out. I remember back when going to the movies was like $5, and I'm not that old.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 01:32 pm (UTC)Weirdly, the best songs, the prettiest ones, are creepy if you listen to the words as they're sung by the Beadle and the Judge.
How was Allen Rickman?
no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-30 04:03 pm (UTC)We went to see this last night, and I was quite pleasantly impressed. The musical is dark (have seen the production, and the original filmed production), and Tim Burton added significantly to the depth and texture of that darkness.
I'm saddened that they eliminated the opening song, because I love that song (Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd / His hand was quick and his eye was odd / he shaved the faces of gentlemen who never thereafter were heard from again / He trod a path that few have trod / Did Sweeney Todd / The demon barber of Fleet Street) - but I understand why: given that most of the audience nowadays DON'T know the story, it gives away a bit more than needed.
There's also a scene in the musical that I think SHOULD have been included. The first person Todd meets when he gets off the boat is the crazy beggar woman, who tries to interest him in a quick tumble for a bit of loose change, and he shoves her away. An important bit of irony, that.
In this version, the love affair subplot was downplayed, made more grim. In the other productions I saw it was much sweeter, more wholesome, the characters less damaged. There's a bit of the obsessive stalker that comes out in the guileless sailor boy, and you know that Johanna will never fully escape her prison.