Toy Story 4
Forgot your password?
Don't have an account? Sign up here
and the Terms and Policies,
and to receive email from Rotten Tomatoes and Fandango.
Already have an account? Log in here
Please enter your email address and we will email you a new password.
No user info supplied.
This review reflects the disappointment I have with a film based upon a wholly illogical affront to that essential incontrovertible will to survive which each and every human has as the preeminent core function of their being.
So much does it contradict the basic logic of what anyone would actually do under the circumstances in which these characters find themselves, that it came across to me as utterly inane and caused me to become increasingly despondent that I was expected to extinguish my comprehension of this well known fact about all living things in order to engage with the story in any meaningful way.
In regard to any other 'message' it might be trying to convey, the fact that it relied upon the audience psychologically selling out this most basic of core instincts, known to be prevalent in all of the entire human race exterminated the validity of said ideas, as I found it impossible to watch more than half without registering ever more dismay at this illogical flaw.
I seriously question the intellectual caliber of the entire production team, including all of the main mature actors, for imagining for even one second that any character within a plot who discovered themselves having been raised for the sole purpose of having their organs harvested to benefit and lengthen the lives of strangers would ever choose to remain in the clutches of those who intended this future and for them to not just run away at the earliest possible convenience!
At least the film 'The Island' (which works on a similar premise) employed the device of the idea of a promised island that the characters were whisked away to in order to keep them ignorantly keen, but this film expects us to somehow excuse it, perhaps through some high handed stripping of our minds of reason via an overshot belief in its own power to exercised that embedded 'suspension of disbelief' trait, and, as it is upon this premise that the film relies, I found the entire venture far too completely stupid to endure it to the end (despite Carey Mulligan being so cute that I could easily watch her picking her nose for 90 plus minutes and remain content!)
I believe my eye sight has suffered as a result of watching this trite shambles.The lead actor taking an actual shit and then unsuccessfully scraping his arse with a stick five minutes in should have been the alarm bell ringing for me, but I was taken in... James Franco's in it! Let's just wait and see if the tone improves when he arrives? Oh how ripped off was I? Not since the fraudulent action movie 'Columbus Day' where Val Kilmer very excitingly pedal boated round the park's duck pond in the faux swans with the small kid he'd met there did I previously get a sensation of contempt for an 'artist' who'd promised to give me something that they had so clearly already cut the lining of my coat to get their greedy hands on when I was wasn't looking.
I was straining to find reason for the length of some of the scenes within this atrociously dreary film for they go on and on without logical reason for them to have done so at all and this, add infinitum until merely an overwhelming sense of wonder as to why I was watching at all overtook me.
(Oh, that's right, James Franco's in it! Maybe it will improve when he appears?)
It was like looking into an empty hole, or more accurately, the entire experience of viewing, so centering round the hole in the ground metaphor as it was, was summed up and reflected concisely and clearly in the introductory fecal dropping scene specifically when, after the character unsuccessfully wiped his butt with a stick it occurred to me that he would afterward more than likely stink quite rancidly... and so, on with the show!
A predictably illogical plot, lackluster performances, poorly expressed erroneous caricatures, missed opportunities for interesting dialogue and scenes that drag on and on, accompanied by mumbling or groaning, made me feel like I was in a fever dream clawing for impossible escape, only to find that I'd broken through to the next new level of torture.
I was surprised Netflix weren't trying to pass this mess off as a comedy but I guess even they didn't have the audacity, given all the on screen corpse sex.
This is what cinematic tutoring is all about, teaching that with less more may be suggested and an inferior creation such that this mammoth irritation proved to be, needs to whittle itself down to almost complete non existence in order to redeem all concerned from it's catastrophically self indulgent failed attempt at entertaining in any way, shape or form.
It has nothing to illuminate or illustrate except that it so very sadly was obviously a movie no one felt brave enough to explain to the creators that they should can it and try something else within their scope of ability, say packing a few party bongs?
You can always pick the bomb when a 'big name actor' is included in the credits, yet only appears on screen for five minutes or less! This is because the dogged, running into the ground it is receiving has so quickly affected its profitability that the producers have pulled out that one, last desperate marketing ploy to sucker any unsuspecting and unaware prospective new viewers into thinking that through the attachment of so and so it must be a film of some note or above average quality in order to have attracted to its cast an actor of the caliber that big name Hollywood suggests.
However, in this case it will only be nightmarishly discovered by a disappointed all concerned that Franco's presence is limited to a mere 5 minutes or so on screen and that he has, by some error of judgement equaling the Chernobyl meltdown, been positioned at the helm of this stinker, as director of this shlock bomb!
I would rather drink 1920's influenza virus and skin my eyeballs with a rusty can opener whilst stabbing my tongue with an electric cattle prod dipped in poison glue and neat sulphuric acid than watch anything he lays his thumby paws toward the task of directing, ever again. That is how much I disliked this abortion of an abscess.
Here's a real laugh for all concerned:
Someone on here suggested that you really need to read the book first!
This film works quite well for its first half within the established boundaries of popular cinema, and therein lies its greatest failing.
Having built up this series of intrigues, it then fails to resolve any them using that same stylistic cinematic method, instead reaching deep into the pseudo-surrealist and absurdist cinematic traditions and thereby merely betraying the popular premises promised resolution in that first half and thus disappointingly failing to pull off anything amazing at all. leading the average viewer into a complex confusion having abandoned any real world logic at all. Hence the critics delight and the general sense of betrayal and indignance in the general viewer. Why is this? It's because you can't have it both ways, that is, promising to fulfill a supposed real world scenario by clearly detailing the reasoning behind its every machination (which is exactly what any popularist director should understand their average viewer is pleasantly expecting, since it's their job to set these premises up in the first place) only then to change the rules and divert the focus of the material onto a mish- mash of conveniently selected allusions to allegiances to other genres as a justification for the film's divergence into a lack of resolution.
I won't say it a third time, because who's listening? Yes, I was half asleep when watching the second half and this 'review' represents my immediate knee jerk reaction to something I found distasteful when I had previously been under the impression that it would be somewhat lighter in content than it turned out to be, (there, I said it again (!), but the news is the fact that in this day and age, the average massive bulk data fed human mind will not instinctively concentrate its later return meditations onto the subject matter of a film such as this that has left them feeling exploited in the manner 'The Lobster' quite clearly has done, and so, any post viewing realisation revelations claimed or expected are therefore only null and void as a philosophical justification for the divergent nature of its content.
*** WARNING: 'SPOILER' ***
Plus, (and perhaps this is the most symbolic clue in regard to the nature of this film as a potential 'let down' of a viewing experience); there never actually was, in any portion of the film, any lobster (or lobsters) featured in it!
Irritatingly full of illogical scenarios to it's detriment. Opportunities for dialogue and injections of dark humor completely overlooked as often as we're expected to make allowances for unbelievable situations.
Suspension of disbelief is the mainstay convention of shoddy writing, and when it's allowed free reign we find a resulting film such as this, attempting to validate itself through style over substance. I found this film rudely wasteful of a concept with great potential, and it missed many opportunities to be really good. They made films like this so much better in the seventies, even when fighting the constrictions of the studio system.
I hope we'll see less of this grade of film where it seems their best stabs at continuity is second rate and the plot ignores the fact that audience live in an age where people are increasing in knowledge and understanding exponentially and expect the story to make sense in every way.
Surely logic never goes out of fashion, does it?