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until... finally... you perish.
May. 15th, 2008 10:50 amPerfume: The Story of a Murderer (2006), Tom Tykwer. May 14, 9:30pm. View count: One.
You guys. Don't see this movie. It's bad. It's supposed to be a magical-realism-inflected story about an idiot savant with mutant smelling abilities who accidentally smothers a Tammi Littlenut, but it's pretty hideously flawed, amusing as this premise may seem.
Firstly, the protagonist does not know how to have a facial expression. This may or may not be intentional. Secondly, the movie behaves as if we're supposed to understand his plight, this crazy dog boy whom NO ONE LOVES, TRULY, and he just wants to smell fashion models! Is that so much to ask? But his plight is stupid. At least it's stupid visually; I wouldn't want to contradict antisocial-book-carrying Mr. Cobain, but this kind of thing really barely comes across on film. Maybe the book this movie was based on was great (although the first clue this wasn't going to translate came from the Very Obtrusive Narration), but you can have all the oversaturated shots of women's red hair and freaking wet rocks you like (and the director likes a lot), and it's still hard to conceptualise the fakey-ass smell world that Protagonist supposedly lives in. This is not helped by the fact that I swear Wolverine pulls this off better.
This was our only chance to even pretend to understand the protagonist, whom we have to look at an awful lot. He is so, so opaque, though, except for the simplest likes (Vogue models: scent of) and dislikes (being beaten?) that the temptation is very strong to write him off immediately and make jokes throughout. Even the inclusion of Alan Rickman (slumming but decent) and Dustin Hoffman (totally slumming and didn't try that hard) was to no avail.
Thirdly: The editing is slack, alack. Foreshadowing is clumsy. Dialog is lumpy.
I think this movie was meant to be horror-flavored magical realism, sort of akin to a darker Big Fish or what have you (dark fairy tales in general seem to have enjoyed a resurgence in the past few years), but the fun choices that present themselves once the decision has been made for the Boy Protagonist to be a blank-faced murderer were all ignored, and instead we have to slog through this 147-minute slowcoach not caring about much of anything. EVEN ALAN RICKMAN.
Those of you who are into dead naked ad models, though, might enjoy small portions.
You guys. Don't see this movie. It's bad. It's supposed to be a magical-realism-inflected story about an idiot savant with mutant smelling abilities who accidentally smothers a Tammi Littlenut, but it's pretty hideously flawed, amusing as this premise may seem.
Firstly, the protagonist does not know how to have a facial expression. This may or may not be intentional. Secondly, the movie behaves as if we're supposed to understand his plight, this crazy dog boy whom NO ONE LOVES, TRULY, and he just wants to smell fashion models! Is that so much to ask? But his plight is stupid. At least it's stupid visually; I wouldn't want to contradict antisocial-book-carrying Mr. Cobain, but this kind of thing really barely comes across on film. Maybe the book this movie was based on was great (although the first clue this wasn't going to translate came from the Very Obtrusive Narration), but you can have all the oversaturated shots of women's red hair and freaking wet rocks you like (and the director likes a lot), and it's still hard to conceptualise the fakey-ass smell world that Protagonist supposedly lives in. This is not helped by the fact that I swear Wolverine pulls this off better.
This was our only chance to even pretend to understand the protagonist, whom we have to look at an awful lot. He is so, so opaque, though, except for the simplest likes (Vogue models: scent of) and dislikes (being beaten?) that the temptation is very strong to write him off immediately and make jokes throughout. Even the inclusion of Alan Rickman (slumming but decent) and Dustin Hoffman (totally slumming and didn't try that hard) was to no avail.
Thirdly: The editing is slack, alack. Foreshadowing is clumsy. Dialog is lumpy.
I think this movie was meant to be horror-flavored magical realism, sort of akin to a darker Big Fish or what have you (dark fairy tales in general seem to have enjoyed a resurgence in the past few years), but the fun choices that present themselves once the decision has been made for the Boy Protagonist to be a blank-faced murderer were all ignored, and instead we have to slog through this 147-minute slowcoach not caring about much of anything. EVEN ALAN RICKMAN.
Those of you who are into dead naked ad models, though, might enjoy small portions.
