Preemptive Critic
Saw II
“Saw 2” is the continuation of the warpath of the “Jigsaw Killer,” a man who searches for people who don’t appreciate their lives, and puts them in the same situations as Kevin Spacey’s victims in “Seven.”
The victims are adulterers and liars and cheats and hapless lay-abouts. The Jigsaw Killer’s novel idea is that he doesn’t pull the trigger. He forces the victims to end their own lives.
Speaking of lazy cheaters and people who don’t appreciate their situations, “Saw 3” should probably feature a seen where the killer forces to screenwriters for “Saw” and “Saw 2” to either write a decent movie or die trying.
“Saw” is exactly like one of the better psychological horror movies in recent memory – “Seven” – except that “Saw” totally sucks.
The movie uses a completely offensive and absurd ending, and tries to pass it off as smart and cutting-edge. I’d imagine the sequel is just the continuation of the original cinematic turd.
Additionally, I would personally love to beat the hell out of whoever titled these films.
Don’t see “Saw.” I preemptively hate this film.
acf@cc.usu.edu
Legend of Zorro
Why do they keep ruining the movies I love? What did I do to the rest the world? Why must I, who has loved Zorro ever since he first swashbuckled his way into my heart back in his black and white TV show, be forced to be hesitant about “The Legend of Zorro?”
In short, why did they add a kid?
They did it with “Indiana Jones,” they did it in “The Mummy Returns” and let’s not even get started on “Star Wars.”
And yet here we go again. Another mighty hero must juggle his responsibilities to save the world while tucking the little one into bed each night.
I don’t want to see Zorro get shot because he couldn’t get his sword out from his child-locked cabinet.
And I really don’t want to see some kid beat up a bad guy by wielding a slingshot or even – gasp – kicking them in the shins.
We all know the bad guy will find the kid and kidnap him, which will be followed by the kid saying the equivalent of “My dad will beat you up.”
But all is not lost. There will still be sword fights. Catherine Zeta-Jones will still be wearing an unnecessarily low-cut dress. Things that shouldn’t blow up, like steam-powered trains or horses, will still explode.
And that’s enough for me to preemptively love this movie.
-by Steve Shinney/steveshinney@cc.usu.edu
Prime
The romantic-comedy recipe is as familiar as burnt toast:
1) Take one cutie-pie nymphet with a foppish and silly personality. (Possible substitutes include a sassy, swank debutante with a large bankroll or a street-wise brunette with gumption and a schleppy sense of fashion.)
2) Add one handsome/heroic/rich/uber-masculine boy-toy with an assortment of quirky sidekicks bubbling with pre-packaged punch lines.
3) Throw in a dash of complication, typically in the form of a brother coming out of a coma or the discovery that the guy’s dating the girl to win a bet.
In “Prime,” all the romantic essentials are here: We’ve got Uma Thurman, a 37-year old divorcee who meets and falls for Bryan Greenberg, a 23-year old painter who apparently has a penchant for former homicidal brides. We’ve got an eccentric complication in the form of Meryl Streep, who is both Thurman’s therapist and Greenberg’s overprotective Jewish mother. And we’ve got lots and lots of sex.
Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention that zesty plot mover? As Thurman says to Streep (not knowing Streep is really Thurman’s Jewish lover’s psychoanalytical mother), “We have had sex on every surface of my apartment.”
I just hope they turned the stove off first.
For having more make-out scenes in the one-minute trailer than I’ve had in the last two years, I preemptively hate this movie.
-by Matt Wright/mattgo@cc.usu.edu