All I Wanna Say Is They Don't Really Care About Us

So for the last couple of days I’ve managed to acquire a few items of leisure for which I am glad to share with you, my adoring public. First off I traded in a few movies at Movie Stop, and got enough credit to get the John Wayne Western’s Collection box set which includes The Sons of Katie Elder, El Dorado, The Shootist, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, True Grit Special Collector’s Edition, Rio Lobo, Big Jake, Hondo Special Collector’s Edition, and the McLintock Authentic Collector’s Edition… what ever that means. All remastered and in wide screen, and with the remaining credit I wrangled Donovan’s Reef starring John Wayne and Lee Marvin. That’s more John Wayne than any man could hope for, and certainly more than any man deserves.

I also used the birthday moneys my grandfather gave me to purchase a copy of Ghostbuster: The Video Game. This is only interesting because I got a free ten dollar movie voucher along with it which I used to see Up in not one, not two, but three dimension. Shit!

The movie was excellent, and had a nice bittersweet tone that lent some depth (zing!) to what was mostly a lot of running around in brightly colored environments. Still I’m not sure what, if anything, was gained by watching the film in 3D instead of the standard two dimensions. The actual 3D itself was done very well, and the films director did the smart thing and limited the whole “things flying at your face” effect. Occasionally objects or animals did seem to swoop in from the side of your head, which frankly is a bit jarring, but for the most part it simply looked more like some kind of beautiful pop-up book.

After the movie I had to ask myself whether or not the 3D element made the film more immersive, and in retrospect I don’t think it did. In fact you really just forget you’re watching a 3D film once you get sucked into the story except for the odd moment where a wisp of smoke or a dog flies in from under your chin. This is the second film (both animated) I have seen in the new 3D (and personally I thought Beowulf was a little more impressive), but I’d like to see something live action before I make up my mind.

So in the end if you’re tight on cash just see it au naturale. You won’t walk away feeling like you’ve missed anything, and chances are if you have a theater in town that plays 3D (we have four or five) they’re more expensive than most other theaters to begin with. Not to mention an additional 3.50 gets tacked on for the glasses.

The funny thing is that they make this big deal about “recycling” the glasses after the flick. They even have this stand that you can drop them in on the way out. Talk about preying on peoples cultural (or in this case ecological) paranoia. You think you’re saving the planet, but in reality you just dropped 3.50 for glasses that will get repackaged and stuck on some one else’s head. No thank you. I think I’ll keep mine, besides they’re tinted enough to double as sun glasses if I ever need them.

On a more preachy note there was a scene where the film’s elderly protagonist stares down some developers who wish to buy his house in order to build condos or skyscrapers. The developer is portrayed as sleek looking man in a black suit, wearing black sun glasses, and having no mouth. An obvious symbol of faceless corporate evil.

It makes me think of how all my life from the moment I was a child up to today in the movie I’ve had TV, films, and all forms of media constantly attempting to indoctrinate me. Think about films and shows you watched as a kid, and how many of them had the corporate stooge or the greedy banker as the villain. How about loggers, manufacturers, and the entire army of faceless white men who inevitably always do the bidding of a much fatter white man at the top, and that man always has a mustache. No wonder most people I meet seem to think that the weather is controlled by 6 Jews in a room somewhere.

“Reeboks, Reeboks, bicycles, advertising!”

Finally on a sad note Michael Jackson died of a heart attack. My fondest prayers go out to the man for whom I sprained my leg attempting to dance like when I was five.