Frankenstein (2025)

I despised the book, but remarkably, the movie doesn't fail in those ways -- it finds new ways to fail!

The book fails because it's senseless groveling for 10x the length it needed to state its message. The movie replaces that trivia with some very cinematic stuff, making it a more obvious emotional experience, but failing by those shallow theatrics. Some of the visual style is cool, and I like a movie with bold artistry. But that's just del Toro table stakes. The substance of the movie is excessive, silly, and misguided. It's not good writing; it's trying to sound old-fashioned and profound, and it's a simple failure to make a good story. It's a hodgepodge -- a Frankenstein -- of the book, the earlier movies, and del Toro's own vision, and it feels like a hodgepodge. It feels arbitrary, like no professional wrote this movie, a high schooler just handed their script to some technical masters. There's no mastery in the writing, from the dialogue to the plot.

Besides the atmosphere, everything just fell short, wasn't all that great. Isaac did his job, but the script didn't do him justice. I generally liked Elordi. Waltz was wasted. Goth's character made no sense.

Guillermo del Toro thus drops way down for me. I haven't seen much from him, and I remember liking Pan's Labyrinth a long time ago, but the fact that he loved Frankenstein and dreamt for so long of making the perfect adaptation -- only to make this -- is a whole host of red flags. This guy and I must not connect. Now in hindsight, I can see that even his live action movies are kind of cartoonish. He digs fairy tales, thus his visuals, while impressive, almost look animated, and his scripts lack nuance. I can't say that for sure without seeing more of his movies, but that's the sense I'm getting.

It was more faithful to the book than most Frankenstein content I've seen, but betrayed the book in a few critical ways. It was more fantastical, donning much of the Frankenstein image that's been generated by everyone except Mary Shelley: the gothic grandeur, the wacky technology, the epic staging. The book didn't focus on these fantasy elements; Victor simply found a scientific solution to the problem of death, no giant red and green solenoids needed; and the staging wasn't darkly gorgeous, it was just grisly and cynical. The only fantasy was that the science actually succeeded. The rest was simply-garbed. It was gothic not in the sense of Notre Dame but in the sense of wretchedness.

Another departure from the book was the ending. I hated the ending, maybe because it was so different from the book that it felt corrupt. It felt random, inauthentic, unjustified.

Biopics

Instead of every late-20th-century musician (Springsteen, Aretha, Queen, Elvis, Dylan, Elton, Beatles, Michael), we need biopics of more fascinating figures. More intrigue than nostalgia. For instance, Alexander, David, Leonardo... and there I've even given you the titles of the movies, since these figures are so singular as to earn the mononym. Napoleon (with Joaquin) was a worthy effort, though it just wasn't done quite right. But that's the kind of thing that would elevate biopics for me.

The other thing is artistic vision, like I'm Not There. It abstracts and distorts its subject, nearly removing itself from the genre. Aesthetically adventurous biopics are more appealing than the majority who place aesthetics beneath nostalgia, stimulation, historical accuracy, and appealing to as wide a fanbase as possible.

Without aesthetic adventure or truly historically singular subjects (you can't tell me Springsteen had a deep cultural impact when I'm aware of people like Augustus) the ceiling for biopics is so low, and most don't even brush it.

Bob Dylan is one of my favorite famous figures of all time, and A Complete Unknown was admirably done, yet I still didn't love it. You might argue that one actually wasn't all that auspicious for me, since I knew the subject too well, but how many excuses do biopics get? I feel like I'm shooting down most of them.

Maybe I'd like Lincoln (with DDL). Maybe Amadeus. Obviously, I'm leaning toward historical subjects, since they offer more room for deification. For better or worse, that deification is exciting. Perhaps there are some modern options though. Einstein, Fenyman...

Notice I haven't mentioned any women. I lean toward pre-20th-century, and the further back you go, the less women appear in the history. Men rule the history books, mostly, so men are the historical figures of which I'm most aware. But here are a few options: Joan of Arc, Mary, Eve (lol wouldn't really be a biopic), Cleopatra, Elizabeth I, Emily Dickinson (this one would have to be distinctly done, like mostly occurring in her imagination, or deliberately claustrophobic), Helen (wouldn't be a biopic), Athena (wouldn't be a biopic). Maybe I should watch Mary Magdalene.

Bach and Shakespeare are two more options. Plato. Genghis. Buddha. For some of these figures though, not all that much exists in the documents, so if you already know a lot about them, the movie is less valuable. Like, notice I haven't mentioned Julius Caesar. I already know much of what there is to know about him. So unfortunately, I see biopics as largely educational, rather than as of lasting cinematic value.

Biopic about Daniel Day-Lewis starring Daniel Day-Lewis, including scenes of current DDL filming past DDL movies. Answers the question "how would DDL play 2007 DDL paying Daniel Plainview" -- the ultimate question for a method actor (how do you play a method actor).

Anemone

Can a movie stand on acting and atmosphere alone? Anemone argues aye, when the acting is good and the atmosphere energizes you, in a manner of your taste.

I won't say I wouldn't like a little more out of Anemone's narrative... mumble-dramas aren't really my style anymore... but hey, I always liked The Place Beyond the Pines, and Anemone cuts a similar curve. Something about grim filial piety lifts a mumble-drama above its lot.

Daniel Day-Lewis steals the notoriety for this movie, which makes sense, but Sean Bean hit me harder. He is the exquisitest actor to me. What an earthy grumble, yet what nobility therein; he's low and high simultaneously; blood of the first men and right hand of royalty. His character is also more likable than DDL's -- a servant, of course, yet a strong one, of course. DDL takes the neurotic part to Bean's solidity; DDL is exciting and jagged like the Tetons, but Bean is the bedrock. Of course.

You know, looking up Sean Bean now, it feels weird to gush him like I do, because I have to admit I don't even know him. There are so many movies and shows on here I haven't seen, and he's been married five times. I didn't even like Boromir when I first saw him. But Ned changed everything. Honestly, my life started turning toward epic heroic ideals after GOT, and he was the ideal of the ideals.

It's hard not to see Daniel Plainview in Ray Stoker, and you don't take it to be your fault either -- Anemone doesn't try very hard to avoid the comparison. He even frolics in the sea with his long-lost brother! He even stares insanely over a fire. He's a mad loner. You expect a bowling pin moment, any moment now... But There Will Be Blood was much grander, and ultimately more exciting. Anemone is only exciting if you like watching masculinity splinter under a microscope.

This is a genre where I'd usually come in under the general acclaim, but I think this time I'm over, because I like these actors that much, and I like to watch them study their manhood. I like them to grapple with their bruised identity as heroes.

Anemone was a pleasant surprise. I thought it'd be too brooding, like an iceberg -- too much going on below the surface, not all that interesting to float by. But the themes were pointy enough for someone like me, and the characters desperate enough.

True Detective S1E1/2

I watched S1E1 and most of E2, many years after doing the same; I remembered very little.

What a great show. Between GoT and True Detective, HBO in 2014 was like Athens in 400 BC, where popularity and quality somehow coexist in the same objects, and those objects are multiple, making that locale an exciting place to be.

Woody Harrelson is decent as a deliberately archetypal cop bro. Matthew McConaughey is far more compelling as an almost byronic antihero: aloof, brilliant, dark, misunderstood. I wonder if he'll take a Jaime Lannister heartfelt heroic turn, or a Heathcliff free fall. Based on the foreshadowings, I guess he ends up wasting away somewhat. Either way, his performance is classic.

This show has strong characters and a strong atmosphere: all it needs for true greatness, other than continued execution, is an intriguing plot. So far, the leads they're chasing are a little dull. It doesn't feel like Sherlock where you as the viewer are on the edge of your seat for the solution. I would love to see this case get more intriguing, as opposed to the series just being a character study. If that happens, the initially dull leads will make sense.

I also just love McConaughey's aesthetic. Thin without being skinny, tall enough, clean yet shaggy haircut, looking old enough to look weathered and young enough to look athletic, smartly dressed yet the tie is loose and nothing is stiff, always a dark brow

The Lighthouse

I liked it, but it tames my Eggers FOMO, since I wasn't hot on The Northman either, and Erik said he didn't love Nosferatu. Both that I saw had amazing atmosphere for someone like me, so it's a real failure of screenwriting that I merely liked them.

Dafoe succeeds in the most obvious way at his charge of legendary old sailor man -- the beard, the voice, the eyes, it's all textbook -- although it felt too actor-y to me. Especially his monologue after Pattison doesn't like his cooking: it's a spurt of attempted Shakespeare in a movie that shouldn't feel like stage. The writing arbitrarily slides into stage or poetry at times, and when it does, despite Dafoe and the whole visual flair, it feels really inauthentic. It isn't woven in, it's inserted. As such, I can't say Eggers really handles his material. He makes a valiant effort, but he strives beyond his reach.

So I actually wasn't thrilled with Dafoe. He's obviously distinguished, but he's almost too archetypal, and the screenplay breaks his archetype at inconsistent times. I also definitely wasn't thrilled with Pattinson. First of all, I don't think his accent was consistent, which destroys the viewer's immersion in the performance. Second, I think he's just trying too hard to show up as a serious actor with abandon, past his teen idol phase. It's a vulnerable role, but he leans too much on those elements that could be deemed anti-Edward-Cullen. Maybe he's beyond being beyond Twilight, but either way, he's reaching in this movie. I don't think he's really succeeded for me in any of his post-Twilight roles: Water for Elephants, Batman, The Lighthouse, The King... all a little stale and forced.

This movie was like The Shining, but instead of snow it was the sea. A storm keeps them in isolation; they grow madder; there's an ominous scene zooming in on the protagonist staring into space; there's a matter of chasing with an axe; flashes of prior murder that had happened there...

It's a killer atmosphere, and the madness is fun... the symbolism is fun... the surrealism is fun. But the performances don't quite sell it. And even worse, the screenplay just isn't that good. It too randomly waxes poetic, and at other times is generally basic.

The movie also reminded me of There Will Be Blood, but this one relied too much on the grotesque as a means of engaging viewers. Smarter movies don't need that crutch. There Will Be Blood has its grotesque moments, but if I remember right, they're offered in moderation, with cunning buildup in between. The Lighthouse is kind of a slaughterfest, if slaughter is offending the viewer's civil sensibilities.

Ex Machina

This movie would have been more interesting when it came out, before ChatGPT forced us to consider the same themes. Its themes are basically all of the common problems of AI, with which we are all now quite acquainted. Still, the movie is an engrossing meditation on those themes, a fair bit of movie-making when all is said and done. But it stinks a little overmuch of sci-fi; that is, nerdiness and technical skill without that deep artistic sense. The characters are formulaic, the dialogue is a caricature. I don't think it's a great movie; it's too riddled with cliche, even for 2014, and the human artistic touch is too shallow. Domhnall is unrealistically timid in a lot of situations, which I think is a common flaw in screenwriting -- characters put up with unacceptable situations for too long. They're too weak-natured, because anything else would result in the plot being shut down. For instance, I might feel intimidated on first meeting Nathan, but his attitude would quickly clear that awkwardness... I wouldn't take down my guard, but there'd be a changing of the guards... suspicion would take insecurity's place... it would clear the weak-willed awkwardness that lingers too long in so many movies like this. The cliche would be the unrealistically timid protagonist, who has to be timid to give the plot time to unfold. Good-natured Greg Focker puts up with too many shenanigans before putting his foot down, which gives us more time to enjoy said shenanigans. Indeed, Ben Stiller must be the prototype of weak-willed awkwardness that lets the plot unfold as his own expense. Ex Machina is more sinister, and in fact this archetype is very common in horror/thrillers, but the idea is the same. It's a plot device, and an irritating one. Doesn't Domhnall feel like a fool, acting that part?

Speaking of feeling like a fool... it'd be hard to play Vikander's part sincerely. Don't you worry that the whole movie is a prank to get you to pretend you're a robot and to think you're actually acting well? I'm not saying she acted poorly, but it's got to feel strange. I guess that's all of acting, but especially in an unnatural part such as this. You have to feel kind of dumb doing it. I thought she played it okay though.

Isaac was good, though a little too on-the-nose as sinister corporate bro.

Museums

So you hear this art museum is one of the greatest in the world, a must-see; and you tend to feel invigorated by these things. It's $15 but it's a no-brainer, you can't miss one of the tallest posts of humanity in this city you're visiting. It has 30 segments, housing 1000 works. To get your money's worth, and with inevitable FOMO, you feel compelled to visit all 30. The hours of operation, your traveling companion, and to a degree your own physical health, demand no more than 4 hours there. That's about 14 seconds per work. Your eyes are certainly drawn to all 1000, out of that same FOMO, to neck-straining effect. How does this allow any kind of deep experience? You're in this cathedral, zenith of your species, and you're speed-walking for a slight eye-laying on these objects so full of toil and beauty. If you linger more than a minute on the few most famous works, because you feel you should, you've hamstrung your appreciation for all others; if you're not careful, you can only average single-digit seconds on the rest. Eventually, you emerge invigorated by the atmosphere of art -- your brain craves that immersion -- for about two minutes, and with no serious observance of any particular work to show for it. You haven't gained a favorite, haven't surveyed your soul, haven't rattled your countenance, haven't known an artist's labor, haven't had a beautiful or even very educational experience.

My solution has historically been to spend the entire day at the museum, and preferably come back another day. I spent several full days at The Met, for example. But that isn't always realistic. Another option is to accept defeat immediately, to only target a fraction of the museum. That's challenging, but intriguing. Say "Egyptian stuff is interesting, but that's not what's going to level me today; I crave Romanticism!" or "I've had enough of the Parisians, show me China!" and skip entire wings.

But there's a third solution that isn't in the agency of the patron. It's the agency of the museum. I think we're designing museums wrong. We're designing them as libraries, vast stores of human artifact, because someplace needs to house this stuff, and you need somewhere to get when you want to check out a book (look at an artwork). But that's not how most of the massive industry of casual museum-goers use them. They're a tourist attraction and a way to spend one's afternoon. You don't pay $15 to go in a library, so no one's going to come to the museum for 30 minutes like they might a library. They're coming as an event, an experience. They want to feel and to learn something, and they want their money's worth. Displaying an entire library of 1000 works doesn't align with their purpose, just as no one is going to read every book in the library. But at a museum, when it's technically possible to glance at each, and you can technically consider an artwork "read" by a mere glance, that's what people are going to try to do. It'd be like if 95% of your library patrons never read a single book, they just ran through the library looking at spines for at most 14 seconds apiece. It'd be a silly enterprise, and sillier for the library than for the patron. The patron is doing their best to feel something. The museum isn't designed for them.

Short of free museums, I propose small museums. That The Met spends their funding not on quantity but quality. Imagine a museum with 10 rooms, 1 work per room. It's a sequence, a story, told from room to room. But it's funded like The Met, so each work is spectacular. This is a choice on The Met's part. Imagine too that each room is perfectly designed to support the art, like wine and cheese. Patrons contemplate each work so much deeper. There's nothing else in the room to distract from it; no 15 other paintings hanging around the periphery. It's all attention on the toil and beauty of the work. No FOMO. Just observation.

I propose quality over quantity in museums. Same funding, patron spends the same amount of time there, but 5% of the volume. Perfect lean curation, deeper reflection. Contentment like you've never felt in a museum.