This is as close as BLASTGUN will likely ever come to a movie review because BLASTGUN leaves stuff like that to people who know what the H they’re talking about. For instance, BLASTGUN’S debut author T. A. Wardrope, who is a veritable human encyclopedia as to what movies are worth watching. Read his reviews, his thoughts on criticism, then look forward to ARCADIAN GATES.
A year ago, I think I watched FRANKENWEENIE. It’s a kids movie from Tim Burton. I must not have finished it. This doesn’t mean it wasn’t good, but it does mean I likely multi-tasked my way through it and was unable to fully engage with any of the four screens I had with me at the time. Brilliant.
Anyway, apparently there was a turtle monster in this movie. Had I known that, I probably would’ve put down two of the four screens I was surrounding myself with.
Hear that Hollywood? You gotta make three-screened movies. Eesh, so behind the times.
I’m a child of the future.
See you neanderthals never.
Actually, had Burton made this DAY OF THE TURTLE movie, which was a promo poster for FRANKENWEENIE, it would’ve been great–or I would’ve thought it was great because it’s clearly just a better monster.
Just look at it.
Plus, it would’ve been a great throwback. Though the latest CGI monster movies are pretty spectacular and getting better, my guess is there are other nostalgia dorks like me who pine for a return to stop-action, clay-mation flicks to reinvigorate that old-timey glee that really made movies feel intimate.
Of course, this is just all hipster fallout, all of us pining for a history we never lived. This is why vinyl is popular. This is why people are putting flowers in their lumberjack beards, and dudes roll around looking like Paul Bunyan, and the friggin’ mandolin is a legit instrument for a rock band, and all this points to why books won’t die, you timid and fearful writers, you. Of course, you might just not make any money creating your books. That’s something to legitimately fear.
Point is: We’ve erased our history by surrounding ourselves with the imaginary versions of our past, which tend to be created by our artistic heroes. All the while, we pretend to be wizened sages coming down from the mountains without having earned any of it with a swing of an actual goddamn axe.