While browsing my journal, I came across the following passage I wrote on Saturday 9th April 2011 in response to seeing Zach "300" Snyder's Sucker Punch. I thought I'd share it, if nothing than to dissuade others from the monumental error of giving it a second's attention.
"In truth, [Sucker Punch] was just awful. My concentration waned and my mind quickly wandered to surveying audience reaction, or rather lack of it: it was unable to rouse any sort of reaction - good or bad - from a single member of its audience. If the screen had been covered in black paint prior to its screening, in the very least the experience may have provoked building yawns of disengagement; hell, someone may have even walked out! I almost wanted someone to play the Nokia ringtone - a 21st century smelling salt. Because - let's be honest - this was a cinematic coma (cinecoma?) that required very drastic measures if there was any chance of recovery. Who would not feel a violent, burning anger when the world's last functioning 3210 goes off during a film's most telling moment? But in Sucker Punch's blandness, the Nokia ringtone would have been the equivalent of a blanket and a nurse after a trauma. It was a terrific lesson in time-wasting for all involved."
To expand on this comment, I guess the film can be compared to a rudimentary version of Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan - that is, if Aronofsky's five year-old son was asked to make a version of daddy's film ("No son, I'm not making you watch The Fountain again. No one wants to see Hugh Jackman do joga in space after all.) without having watched it and having spent 24 hours on computer games prior to his mock up. And instead of the self-mutilation we see in award-winning Black Swan, it would be the audience sat in front of Sucker Punch who are sticking all sorts of things under their fingernails. A final thought: it was a video game that I couldn't control and couldn't get out of. Simply catastrophic. A void to avoid.
"In truth, [Sucker Punch] was just awful. My concentration waned and my mind quickly wandered to surveying audience reaction, or rather lack of it: it was unable to rouse any sort of reaction - good or bad - from a single member of its audience. If the screen had been covered in black paint prior to its screening, in the very least the experience may have provoked building yawns of disengagement; hell, someone may have even walked out! I almost wanted someone to play the Nokia ringtone - a 21st century smelling salt. Because - let's be honest - this was a cinematic coma (cinecoma?) that required very drastic measures if there was any chance of recovery. Who would not feel a violent, burning anger when the world's last functioning 3210 goes off during a film's most telling moment? But in Sucker Punch's blandness, the Nokia ringtone would have been the equivalent of a blanket and a nurse after a trauma. It was a terrific lesson in time-wasting for all involved."
To expand on this comment, I guess the film can be compared to a rudimentary version of Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan - that is, if Aronofsky's five year-old son was asked to make a version of daddy's film ("No son, I'm not making you watch The Fountain again. No one wants to see Hugh Jackman do joga in space after all.) without having watched it and having spent 24 hours on computer games prior to his mock up. And instead of the self-mutilation we see in award-winning Black Swan, it would be the audience sat in front of Sucker Punch who are sticking all sorts of things under their fingernails. A final thought: it was a video game that I couldn't control and couldn't get out of. Simply catastrophic. A void to avoid.
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