Showing posts with label black cats crossing the street and ruining cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black cats crossing the street and ruining cinema. Show all posts

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Zero Dark Thirty, or They Killed My Monkeys.

Hey, that's not funny, bro.  My dad died in 9/11.

Dear Kathryn Bigelow,

One of the few popular criticisms of Zero Dark Thirty is that it just might go on a little too long.  I kind of agree.  I think it was about two hours too long.  I think I could have watched Zero Dark Thirty for thirty-seven minutes and been at least mildly entertained.

In reality, I think my enthusiasm lasted about fifteen minutes.  The opening torture sequence, while not particularly engaging, set the stage well.  A CIA agent tortures a captive, says, "dude", "bro", and "man" a whole lot, and we've got the opening to our story.  At least it was a scene.  The scene began, the scene developed, the scene ended.  It wasn't a particularly excellent scene.  There weren't really any lines of dialogue or deep thoughts to take from it, but it told a story.  It began a plot.  And then, the rest of the movie happened.