1480 Movie Review

Saturday, September 22, 2007

[Note - If you're looking for the Cusack/Jackson ghost movie, that's "1408", not "1480".]

The best part of the movie we saw tonight will be reviewing it.

My friend apologized in the parking lot for dragging me out for it, but I can't remember the last time I saw a movie in a theater, so I said "Oh, no, it's ok. Better a bad movie than no movie at all." She agreed. At least we have the experience to complain about over dinner for a few weeks.

The movie was "Silk". The novel may or may not have been good, there's no way to tell short of finding and reading it. The screenplay was terrible. The acting was wooden. You know how you have a runthrough of a play at some point during production, to map out placements, props, lighting, timing, when everyone just walks around and reads the lines? That's what this was like. Just reading the lines. Flatly. There was not only no passion, there was no emotion. Nothing. There was a brief moment (the hung boy) when the lead actor almost used his facial muscles, but the director didn't take advantage of it.

The trek across Asia to Japan could have been interesting, but the director blew it. Distance shots of one terrain after another of plod, plod, plodding. And since the guy went back two more times, we got exactly the same plod, plod, plodding scenes two more times!

My friend complained about the music, but I didn't notice the music.

What finally killed it for me, what destroyed the last bit of charity I may have had for the screenwriter or director, was the "twist" at the end. It was simply impossible. The woman who wrote the letter could not POSSIBLY have known that the woman in Japan and the man had never touched. That she would write what she wrote (hell, that she would write a letter at all!) is simply inconceivable. Unless, of course, as I suspect, the director left out all of the human relations part of the story so he could fit in the plod, plod, plodding.

Unless, of course, I slept through that part without realizing it. I don't think I did, but given the pace of this movie, I could have, I suppose.

My friend started giggling at the "twist" at the end, and her suppressed giggles sounded like sobbing. It was weird, but I was slightly embarrassed that someone might think she was overcome by emotion. "Like, duh? What kind of idiot are you, lady?"

The theater, on the other hand, was very comfortable. Tiny, a few rows of individual comfy bentwood easy chairs, with soft thickly upholstered seats and backs. Low enough that my feet touched the floor, with backs high enough to lean your head against. And every chair had a brightly colored or patterned throw pillow. With a warm afghan or shawl, I could happily have slept through the movie.
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