I went into War of the Worlds fully expecting to be disappointed and fully expecting to be distanced from full escapist involvement by the freak that is the Scientologist. The Cruise pre-hate was in the hizzay. Instead, I loved it. Lurved it. I knew the special effects would be incredible, it's why I deigned, and they were phenomenal. Color me surprised with how spot on the humans brought it. I don't give a damn who he's fucking or if he's kidding himself about loving pussy, the Scientologist/Mind Scientist/Dr. Cruise did a fine job with a tough role. It wouldn't be a Spielberg movie without an emotional scene or two that leaves you feeling blatantly manipulated, and Cruise has those scenes in spades in this flick. The boy acted his faggoty ass off. Instead of making me throw up Junior Mints in my mouth a little, your Lord help me, I wanted to hug him. Several times. So fucking sue me. And shutup. Also, Dakota Fanning is otherworldly talented. Preternatural. Almost creepy. OK, actually creepy.
Finally , I've read so much about inconsistencies and glaring plot holes, but every time I had a sinking sense of things gone awry, questions were answered. My only problem with this shit was a too happy ending. Family reunions occuring against all odds and reason, accompanied by soaring notes from the string section, are not my thing. Part of that may be that I, as a man who loves men, am precluded from experiencing such a family reunion, seeing that I am not afforded the basic rights of marriage and adoption available to all other citizens of this country. Or maybe I'm just cynical and jaded.
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