Van Helsing
1. Very neat character in Stoker's BOOK Dracula. (the movie is better than this one, simply because it knows itself to be dreadful; still, it's a dreadful movie)
2. Incredibly stupid movie.
Let me elaborate on that second one, now that I've seen it. This is a B movie if I've ever seen a B movie. It might be a little worse, in fact, due its pretense at being a much better movie. Some B movies just don't know what they are. Not only is this a cheesy (bad-tasting cheese, at that) attempt to alter the classic tale into something more modern (ironically set in old time Paris, etc.), but it wants its viewers to believe that in the underground of Paris, Buddhist monks are working with the Vatican to style a James Bond-esque laboratory of arcane gadgets and chemical soups designed to dismantle the minions of the devil. Which minions, I might add, run the gamut of the medieval bestiary.
Frankenstein's monster turns out to be an absinth-drinking, Psalm 23-quoting pacifist who holds the key to life itself; strangely enough, Dracula is attempting to electrocute this life so that his alien space babies, all thousands upon slimy-upside-down-brain thousands of them, can be similarly electrocuted into life. His brides (that would be Dracula's) spend an inordinate amount of time giggling and simpering, and simply shriek from a distance when all their babies explode like bags of old snot. If I were a mother, I think I'd be a little more inclined to get down there where my babies are blowing up, and perhaps even try to cuddle a few before they die--even though these things are nasty little gargoyle wannabees.
The dialogue was not so good. I kind of expected that, though. Dialogue hasn't been very good in any of the movies I've watched recently. There are whole scenes that revolve around a two-line joke, which scenes were inserted for the sole purpose of including that joke in the movie. The writers, I suppose, just couldn't part with their baby two-liners.
Good parts of the movie include: the heroine's heels were only two inches high, and not stiletto in nature. Her pants, however, button up a la Victorian boot, and are far too tight to move swiftly in. Laces would have been a better move here, as she could have managed some flexibility in her wardrobe (do I want to fight today, or seduce Van Helsing? Choices, choices...). But this is the "good parts" section, so I'll move on before talking too much about her impractical bustier.
The werewolf idea was handled admirably. There was some actual logic involved except for the crimson syringe in the glass bowl of acid that was the singular cure for the curse. I'd have a lot more of that handy, and a lot handier, if the only thing that could kill me was an uncured werewolf. I also wouldn't hire them regularly to do my work for me. In fact, I think I'd go on an expedition to kill them all, and wipe the curse out entirely, like small pox. But this Dracula fellow is actually quite stupid, so one cure will suffice, and apparently, werewolves conduct electricity well and make good manual labor.
Goggled swamp things were not identified in any specific kind of way. This is good, because any explanation the movie attempted would have sucked. Automatically. Never mind that they are furry, and can't talk. They seem to be able to take orders, and nothing ever goes so wrong they need to contact a superior.
Igor wasn't that bad. I think. I'm not sure on that yet; he was nicely different from the norm, but this movie tried that with everyone else and failed, so this Igor thing might have been another failure.
Okay.... Those were dubious good points, I know. But when the movie ends with all the damned family members (you mean you died while that Dracula fellow was still alive? It's purgatory for you!) joining in the clouds after the last one gets torched (funeral style) is a bit ... well, it makes up for anything that might have been nearly not so terrible.
I'd continue talking about this movie, but I'm hungry, and there's this huge black fly buzzing around the living room that needs to be acquainted with a swatter. Charlotte, the lazy ass, is too sleepy to be interested this time. I don't see why, myself. She's been sleeping all day. Mostly on my lap, against my wishes. And shedding. I almost want to vacuum her, but that's an idea which will never take place. And not for her sake.
Well, potato something awaits, so I post this already. Do yourself a favor, and relegate Van Helsing to the list of movies you'll only watch when giving a bad movie festival.
End.
2. Incredibly stupid movie.
Let me elaborate on that second one, now that I've seen it. This is a B movie if I've ever seen a B movie. It might be a little worse, in fact, due its pretense at being a much better movie. Some B movies just don't know what they are. Not only is this a cheesy (bad-tasting cheese, at that) attempt to alter the classic tale into something more modern (ironically set in old time Paris, etc.), but it wants its viewers to believe that in the underground of Paris, Buddhist monks are working with the Vatican to style a James Bond-esque laboratory of arcane gadgets and chemical soups designed to dismantle the minions of the devil. Which minions, I might add, run the gamut of the medieval bestiary.
Frankenstein's monster turns out to be an absinth-drinking, Psalm 23-quoting pacifist who holds the key to life itself; strangely enough, Dracula is attempting to electrocute this life so that his alien space babies, all thousands upon slimy-upside-down-brain thousands of them, can be similarly electrocuted into life. His brides (that would be Dracula's) spend an inordinate amount of time giggling and simpering, and simply shriek from a distance when all their babies explode like bags of old snot. If I were a mother, I think I'd be a little more inclined to get down there where my babies are blowing up, and perhaps even try to cuddle a few before they die--even though these things are nasty little gargoyle wannabees.
The dialogue was not so good. I kind of expected that, though. Dialogue hasn't been very good in any of the movies I've watched recently. There are whole scenes that revolve around a two-line joke, which scenes were inserted for the sole purpose of including that joke in the movie. The writers, I suppose, just couldn't part with their baby two-liners.
Good parts of the movie include: the heroine's heels were only two inches high, and not stiletto in nature. Her pants, however, button up a la Victorian boot, and are far too tight to move swiftly in. Laces would have been a better move here, as she could have managed some flexibility in her wardrobe (do I want to fight today, or seduce Van Helsing? Choices, choices...). But this is the "good parts" section, so I'll move on before talking too much about her impractical bustier.
The werewolf idea was handled admirably. There was some actual logic involved except for the crimson syringe in the glass bowl of acid that was the singular cure for the curse. I'd have a lot more of that handy, and a lot handier, if the only thing that could kill me was an uncured werewolf. I also wouldn't hire them regularly to do my work for me. In fact, I think I'd go on an expedition to kill them all, and wipe the curse out entirely, like small pox. But this Dracula fellow is actually quite stupid, so one cure will suffice, and apparently, werewolves conduct electricity well and make good manual labor.
Goggled swamp things were not identified in any specific kind of way. This is good, because any explanation the movie attempted would have sucked. Automatically. Never mind that they are furry, and can't talk. They seem to be able to take orders, and nothing ever goes so wrong they need to contact a superior.
Igor wasn't that bad. I think. I'm not sure on that yet; he was nicely different from the norm, but this movie tried that with everyone else and failed, so this Igor thing might have been another failure.
Okay.... Those were dubious good points, I know. But when the movie ends with all the damned family members (you mean you died while that Dracula fellow was still alive? It's purgatory for you!) joining in the clouds after the last one gets torched (funeral style) is a bit ... well, it makes up for anything that might have been nearly not so terrible.
I'd continue talking about this movie, but I'm hungry, and there's this huge black fly buzzing around the living room that needs to be acquainted with a swatter. Charlotte, the lazy ass, is too sleepy to be interested this time. I don't see why, myself. She's been sleeping all day. Mostly on my lap, against my wishes. And shedding. I almost want to vacuum her, but that's an idea which will never take place. And not for her sake.
Well, potato something awaits, so I post this already. Do yourself a favor, and relegate Van Helsing to the list of movies you'll only watch when giving a bad movie festival.
End.
posted by Rehkmira @ 21:35
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