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Jan. 13th, 2007 06:54 pmDear Disney,
You have deeply disappointed me.
You see, I have recently done a turnaround in my view of a particular movie genre, the Inspiring Sports Movie. Before, I despised it. Now, as long as there is more emphasis on the Sport than the Inspiration, I'll give it a whirl.
But you know what, Disney? Sometimes a girl gets in a mood. A mood where she wants the elaborately choreographed gameplay scenes and the determined grimaces from the Underdog Team Looking To Prove Themselves, but she also wants to get all misty-eyed every two and a half minutes. And it's not that hard to make me misty-eyed, Disney. Remember that awful Julia Roberts/Susan Sarandon movie, Stepmom? Where Susan is the ex-wife and Julia is the current wife and Susan makes Julia's life hell just because she can, and then Susan turns out to have fatal cancer and somehow we are supposed to feel sorry for this miserable bitch of a character? I hated the movie, I hated the character, I was thrilled to see her croak, and Disney, I still cried.
So when I rent a movie like Invincible, about an average Joe who tries out for and makes his beloved but wretched football team, and it's a true story, and it has Mark Wahlberg's big eyes and your name, Disney, your name, splashed all over it? I expect to be crying every thirty seconds. I expect to be a sniffling mess halfway through, and by the time the end credits roll my glasses had better be so spotted with tears that I can scarcely see the screen.
But Disney. Two or three times. I only welled up two or three times through the course of this movie. What happened, Disney? You are supposed to be the king of manipulative sentimental soaring-orchestra scenery-chewing bullshit! How could you possibly drop the ball with Vince Papale's story? It's tailor-made to have anyone from the burliest manly-man to this easy mark completely dehydrated by the halfway point.
I am very disappointed in you, Disney. I expect a better effort next time.
Sincerely,
Cathryn
PS: Also, quit it with the slo-mo during major sports scenes. Seriously. How can we sustain the emotional momentum of a crucial dash down the field when the physical momentum has been slowed down to a snail's pace? Way to kill the moment.
You have deeply disappointed me.
You see, I have recently done a turnaround in my view of a particular movie genre, the Inspiring Sports Movie. Before, I despised it. Now, as long as there is more emphasis on the Sport than the Inspiration, I'll give it a whirl.
But you know what, Disney? Sometimes a girl gets in a mood. A mood where she wants the elaborately choreographed gameplay scenes and the determined grimaces from the Underdog Team Looking To Prove Themselves, but she also wants to get all misty-eyed every two and a half minutes. And it's not that hard to make me misty-eyed, Disney. Remember that awful Julia Roberts/Susan Sarandon movie, Stepmom? Where Susan is the ex-wife and Julia is the current wife and Susan makes Julia's life hell just because she can, and then Susan turns out to have fatal cancer and somehow we are supposed to feel sorry for this miserable bitch of a character? I hated the movie, I hated the character, I was thrilled to see her croak, and Disney, I still cried.
So when I rent a movie like Invincible, about an average Joe who tries out for and makes his beloved but wretched football team, and it's a true story, and it has Mark Wahlberg's big eyes and your name, Disney, your name, splashed all over it? I expect to be crying every thirty seconds. I expect to be a sniffling mess halfway through, and by the time the end credits roll my glasses had better be so spotted with tears that I can scarcely see the screen.
But Disney. Two or three times. I only welled up two or three times through the course of this movie. What happened, Disney? You are supposed to be the king of manipulative sentimental soaring-orchestra scenery-chewing bullshit! How could you possibly drop the ball with Vince Papale's story? It's tailor-made to have anyone from the burliest manly-man to this easy mark completely dehydrated by the halfway point.
I am very disappointed in you, Disney. I expect a better effort next time.
Sincerely,
Cathryn
PS: Also, quit it with the slo-mo during major sports scenes. Seriously. How can we sustain the emotional momentum of a crucial dash down the field when the physical momentum has been slowed down to a snail's pace? Way to kill the moment.
