Erin StapletonMediocre Feedback - not everyone who strums the guitar, should.
July 31st 2008 13:58
'The Guitar’, by Amy Redford, is so awful. Before I say anything else, I warn you, like I’ve warned everyone I could get to. It is an hour and a half you will never get back. The only tolerable thing about it is Saffron Burrows. And she is only barely tolerable. Barely.
Now, I know this is going to shock you, but it turns out, that Robert Redford’s daughter lacks insight into poverty and general mundane life. Oh I know, I thought it was an autobiography too…
*spoiler alert* (not that you should consider seeing it, and not that it would make the film any more offensive than it already is)
So here we go; the main character, who is played by necky/lift-faring chick from Boston Legal (and don’t we love her a hundred times more in that role) endures her indulgences, brought on by being told she has cancer, and a month to live. So, well, why indulge? Surely the point is to enjoy it. Then she takes up with various delivery persons, who are of conveniently diverse ethnic, and gender backgrounds. Who are also appropriately attractive (although the Italian chick’s lips were strange and off-putting). How novel.
After 3 months of sashaying and frowning around a loft apartment in designer clothing, the poster child for anorexia realises that she’s not dead. Turns out, because she changed her life so completely, the cancer no longer recognises her as a host. HOW WACKY CONVENIENT.
Then, cos she’s maxed out all her credit cards, she has to sell all the shit she’s bought. (And let’s be fair, this is the part where I thought she was going to top herself.) But then, in one of the most awful moments of the whole movie, one of the things she bought was a guitar, a ‘64 fender strat, to be precise. Not that she knew that that was what it was, at all. Turns out, as an under-privileged child, she used to stare at something similar in a shop window every day. And, as we all know, eight year olds in America can’t read, so of course she didn’t know what a fender was. Oh, also, Redford would like to remind you that if your parents were poor, your childhood was automatically miserable.
So, instead of selling the guitar, a band conveniently hears her playing in the park, and seeing as she has become a master of the axe in three months, they incorporate her into the band. Redford would like you to know that all life’s problems, including terminal cancer, can be solved if princess is given a pony.
The end.
So the real question becomes, who, beside her father, was she screwing to get funding for this mired filth?
2/10
Now, I know this is going to shock you, but it turns out, that Robert Redford’s daughter lacks insight into poverty and general mundane life. Oh I know, I thought it was an autobiography too…
Saffron Burrows pensively walking home from the disaster-doctor.
*spoiler alert* (not that you should consider seeing it, and not that it would make the film any more offensive than it already is)
So here we go; the main character, who is played by necky/lift-faring chick from Boston Legal (and don’t we love her a hundred times more in that role) endures her indulgences, brought on by being told she has cancer, and a month to live. So, well, why indulge? Surely the point is to enjoy it. Then she takes up with various delivery persons, who are of conveniently diverse ethnic, and gender backgrounds. Who are also appropriately attractive (although the Italian chick’s lips were strange and off-putting). How novel.
After 3 months of sashaying and frowning around a loft apartment in designer clothing, the poster child for anorexia realises that she’s not dead. Turns out, because she changed her life so completely, the cancer no longer recognises her as a host. HOW WACKY CONVENIENT.
Then, cos she’s maxed out all her credit cards, she has to sell all the shit she’s bought. (And let’s be fair, this is the part where I thought she was going to top herself.) But then, in one of the most awful moments of the whole movie, one of the things she bought was a guitar, a ‘64 fender strat, to be precise. Not that she knew that that was what it was, at all. Turns out, as an under-privileged child, she used to stare at something similar in a shop window every day. And, as we all know, eight year olds in America can’t read, so of course she didn’t know what a fender was. Oh, also, Redford would like to remind you that if your parents were poor, your childhood was automatically miserable.
So, instead of selling the guitar, a band conveniently hears her playing in the park, and seeing as she has become a master of the axe in three months, they incorporate her into the band. Redford would like you to know that all life’s problems, including terminal cancer, can be solved if princess is given a pony.
The end.
So the real question becomes, who, beside her father, was she screwing to get funding for this mired filth?
2/10
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