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Movie Metropolis (309 KP) rated Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018) in Movies
Jun 10, 2019
A bold new era
“We’re not on an island anymore” barks Chris Pratt’s Owen Grady towards the finale of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. And he’s not wrong, the fifth film in the Jurassic franchise says goodbye to Isla Nublar in rip-roaring fashion, transforming itself into a a family friendly gothic horror film in its last hour.
Ok, ok, let’s start from the beginning. The Jurassic franchise has often been criticised for relying too heavily on the same story points to make a film. 2015’s Jurassic World, whilst becoming one of the highest-grossing films of all time, was lambasted for being a modern-day reimagining of 1993’s classic, Jurassic Park. And while some of that criticism was justified, it was still pure sugary, popcorn entertainment.
Now, three years later, director J.A. Bayona (The Impossible, A Monster Calls) takes over from Colin Trevorrow to bring us a film that starts out like we expect, but ends on a note that will transform the series beyond recognition. The question is, does it actually work?
Three years after the destruction of the Jurassic World theme park, Owen Grady (Pratt) and Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard) return to the island of Isla Nublar to save the remaining dinosaurs from a volcano that’s about to erupt. They soon encounter terrifying new breeds of gigantic dinos while uncovering a conspiracy that threatens the entire planet and our own existence.
Fallen Kingdom begins with a pre-title card sequence situated in the lagoon of Isla Nublar that is up there with the best in the series. J.A. Bayona masterfully uses light and shadow to create a really compelling opening that is sure to be one of the summer’s best action scenes. And that is a trait that is brought to the rest of the film. Fallen Kingdom is absolutely beautiful.
The cinematography is exquisite and much better than the staid filming style of Bayona’s predecessor. There are scenes throughout this film that feel like they could be pulled straight from the screen and hung in your living room: it’s gorgeous.
Despite Bayona’s inexperience at creating a juggernaut film like this, his previous films are felt throughout. There’s a deep, earthy colour palatte that is the polar opposite of what we saw in Jurassic World. Where that was clinical and far too blue, Bayona’s colourings feel real, raw and grounded in reality.
The cast is also an incredibly strong part of the film. Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard both sizzle with on-screen chemistry and there’s a cheeky nod to the backlash Howard faced after wearing high-heels for much of Jurassic World’s runtime. Newcomers Justice Smith and Daniella Pineda are terrific as a jumpy IT wiz and veterinary surgeon respectively. James Cromwell is nicely ret-conned into the story as John Hammond’s business partner, Benjamin, and adds a touch of class to proceedings.
Rafe Spall is excellent as the slimy assistant of Benjami, Eli and Toby Jones hams up the screen as an auctioneer. So far, so good then?
The first half of the film, situated on Isla Nublar as it pops into life is astounding and features some of the best destruction ever put to film. The CGI is leaps and bounds ahead of its predecessor and the dinosaurs feel absolutely real throughout. What I didn’t expect however, is poignancy. There are moments in Fallen Kingdom that have real emotional whack, especially as the rescue operation leaves the island. A lone Brachiosaur standing at the dock is heart-breaking and beautifully done.
J.A. Bayona utilises his horror roots beautifully and there is no denying it is the best-looking film in the series
Unfortunately, Fallen Kingdom’s biggest selling point is also its biggest downfall. In trying to do something new, the film stalls as we head to a gothic-esque mansion for the final hour. The confines of the house slow the pacing right down and despite the constant onslaught of action, it really does lag. The special effects and animatronics remain flawless and the action is thrilling, but the script lets them down.
Speaking of the script, this was Jurassic World’s biggest weakness and the same can be said here. Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connelly should be applauded for bringing this franchise back from the edge of extinction, but my god, they cannot write dialogue to save their lives. The characters often converse in what feels like speech bubbles and this can really bring you out of the moment.
There’s also a laughably poor plot twist that feels like it was written by a five-year-old to add some wow factor to the film’s final third. It fails miserably. Then there’s the film’s ‘villain’, the Indoraptor. This genetically modified beast is a sorely underdeveloped entity throughout the film. Sure, she’s menacing enough, but it feels shoehorned in. Trevorrow has stated that Fallen Kingdom will be the last Jurassic movie to feature hybrid dinosaurs: this is absolutely the right decision.
Trevorrow has said that his Jurassic vision is a new trilogy, but the ending of Fallen Kingdom feels like it simply can’t be fixed in one more film. It’s Planet of the Apes-esque in scale.
When we take a look at the score, it’s a story of two halves. Michael Giacchino is one of the greatest composers working today and his music for Jurassic World was absolutely sublime. Here, however, the music is unrecognisable as Jurassic in its construction. John Williams’ iconic theme is rendered to a few bars here and there and that’s a real shame. It’s a good score most definitely, but it could have been so much better.
Finally, we have to circle back around to the cast and the elephant in the room: Jeff Goldblum. His return as Dr Ian Malcolm in this film adds a nice bookend, beginning and end, but you have seen all but two or three lines of his dialogue in the trailer. A horrifically underused presence, but a nice cameo nonetheless.
Overall, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is a solid addition to the ever-expanding series. J.A. Bayona utilises his horror roots beautifully and there is no denying it is the best-looking film in the series with superb set pieces, well-choreographed action and gorgeous cinematography. However, once again the film is let down by poor scriptwriting from Trevorrow and Connelly and a second half that struggles to keep pace with the stunning first.
Is it better than Jurassic World? Well that’s for you to decide, but comparing them is almost impossible.
https://moviemetropolis.net/2018/06/07/jurassic-world-fallen-kingdom-review-a-bold-new-era/
Ok, ok, let’s start from the beginning. The Jurassic franchise has often been criticised for relying too heavily on the same story points to make a film. 2015’s Jurassic World, whilst becoming one of the highest-grossing films of all time, was lambasted for being a modern-day reimagining of 1993’s classic, Jurassic Park. And while some of that criticism was justified, it was still pure sugary, popcorn entertainment.
Now, three years later, director J.A. Bayona (The Impossible, A Monster Calls) takes over from Colin Trevorrow to bring us a film that starts out like we expect, but ends on a note that will transform the series beyond recognition. The question is, does it actually work?
Three years after the destruction of the Jurassic World theme park, Owen Grady (Pratt) and Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard) return to the island of Isla Nublar to save the remaining dinosaurs from a volcano that’s about to erupt. They soon encounter terrifying new breeds of gigantic dinos while uncovering a conspiracy that threatens the entire planet and our own existence.
Fallen Kingdom begins with a pre-title card sequence situated in the lagoon of Isla Nublar that is up there with the best in the series. J.A. Bayona masterfully uses light and shadow to create a really compelling opening that is sure to be one of the summer’s best action scenes. And that is a trait that is brought to the rest of the film. Fallen Kingdom is absolutely beautiful.
The cinematography is exquisite and much better than the staid filming style of Bayona’s predecessor. There are scenes throughout this film that feel like they could be pulled straight from the screen and hung in your living room: it’s gorgeous.
Despite Bayona’s inexperience at creating a juggernaut film like this, his previous films are felt throughout. There’s a deep, earthy colour palatte that is the polar opposite of what we saw in Jurassic World. Where that was clinical and far too blue, Bayona’s colourings feel real, raw and grounded in reality.
The cast is also an incredibly strong part of the film. Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard both sizzle with on-screen chemistry and there’s a cheeky nod to the backlash Howard faced after wearing high-heels for much of Jurassic World’s runtime. Newcomers Justice Smith and Daniella Pineda are terrific as a jumpy IT wiz and veterinary surgeon respectively. James Cromwell is nicely ret-conned into the story as John Hammond’s business partner, Benjamin, and adds a touch of class to proceedings.
Rafe Spall is excellent as the slimy assistant of Benjami, Eli and Toby Jones hams up the screen as an auctioneer. So far, so good then?
The first half of the film, situated on Isla Nublar as it pops into life is astounding and features some of the best destruction ever put to film. The CGI is leaps and bounds ahead of its predecessor and the dinosaurs feel absolutely real throughout. What I didn’t expect however, is poignancy. There are moments in Fallen Kingdom that have real emotional whack, especially as the rescue operation leaves the island. A lone Brachiosaur standing at the dock is heart-breaking and beautifully done.
J.A. Bayona utilises his horror roots beautifully and there is no denying it is the best-looking film in the series
Unfortunately, Fallen Kingdom’s biggest selling point is also its biggest downfall. In trying to do something new, the film stalls as we head to a gothic-esque mansion for the final hour. The confines of the house slow the pacing right down and despite the constant onslaught of action, it really does lag. The special effects and animatronics remain flawless and the action is thrilling, but the script lets them down.
Speaking of the script, this was Jurassic World’s biggest weakness and the same can be said here. Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connelly should be applauded for bringing this franchise back from the edge of extinction, but my god, they cannot write dialogue to save their lives. The characters often converse in what feels like speech bubbles and this can really bring you out of the moment.
There’s also a laughably poor plot twist that feels like it was written by a five-year-old to add some wow factor to the film’s final third. It fails miserably. Then there’s the film’s ‘villain’, the Indoraptor. This genetically modified beast is a sorely underdeveloped entity throughout the film. Sure, she’s menacing enough, but it feels shoehorned in. Trevorrow has stated that Fallen Kingdom will be the last Jurassic movie to feature hybrid dinosaurs: this is absolutely the right decision.
Trevorrow has said that his Jurassic vision is a new trilogy, but the ending of Fallen Kingdom feels like it simply can’t be fixed in one more film. It’s Planet of the Apes-esque in scale.
When we take a look at the score, it’s a story of two halves. Michael Giacchino is one of the greatest composers working today and his music for Jurassic World was absolutely sublime. Here, however, the music is unrecognisable as Jurassic in its construction. John Williams’ iconic theme is rendered to a few bars here and there and that’s a real shame. It’s a good score most definitely, but it could have been so much better.
Finally, we have to circle back around to the cast and the elephant in the room: Jeff Goldblum. His return as Dr Ian Malcolm in this film adds a nice bookend, beginning and end, but you have seen all but two or three lines of his dialogue in the trailer. A horrifically underused presence, but a nice cameo nonetheless.
Overall, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is a solid addition to the ever-expanding series. J.A. Bayona utilises his horror roots beautifully and there is no denying it is the best-looking film in the series with superb set pieces, well-choreographed action and gorgeous cinematography. However, once again the film is let down by poor scriptwriting from Trevorrow and Connelly and a second half that struggles to keep pace with the stunning first.
Is it better than Jurassic World? Well that’s for you to decide, but comparing them is almost impossible.
https://moviemetropolis.net/2018/06/07/jurassic-world-fallen-kingdom-review-a-bold-new-era/
Kara Skinner (332 KP) rated The Band 4: The Air We Breathe in Books
Sep 10, 2019
Genre: Contemporary, Inspirational
Page Count: 324 pages (of nauseation)
Average Goodreads Rating: 3/5 stars (why, Goodreads? You’re usually so tough on books)
My Rating: 1.5/ 5 stars
Truthfully, this is actually a great story. Yeah. So great. It’s the perfect backstory for its horror sequel: The Martins Trump Manson on Body Count.
As a romance it fucking sucks.
I don’t even know where to begin. This book is so full of sugary sap that it makes pasta covered in maple and chocolate syrup and marshmallows look appetizing.
original
Still not as sweet as The Air We Breathe
Here’s the thing: I’m not actually a bitter and cynical person. I like sap and fluff. I smile and giggle during romance scenes, I’ve obsessively written cute and romantic fanfiction and my boyfriend and I were arguably the most nauseatingly cute couple to ever walk the halls of John Bapst Memorial High School.
But I gagged reading this book for the amount of love-doveyness.
Marguerite is on holiday in London, recovering from the sudden deaths of her parents which liberated her from 27 years of being suffocated and controlled by them. While there, she has a random chance encounter with Chase Martin, a depressed rock star exhausted from touring with his band. Chase and Marguerite are drawn together by a strange unknown force. They don’t know why they have such a strong connection to each other, but they do know that life without the other would not be living at all.
I actually really liked the beginning and thought that it would shape up to be an interesting and sweet romance. We see them before they meet in the coffee shop, miserable and depressed, and then while sipping her drink and reading her book, Marguerite feels Chase’s anxiety. So she buys him a decaf drink and gives it to him, saying she could feel his anxiety from across the shop. That’s great.
The two of them realize they’re drawn together and can find each other happiness and Marguerite ends up spending the night at Chase’s house just so they can find comfort in having another human being near them. That’s great, too.
The beginning is by far my favorite part because it has promise for a good story and has more vivid scenes than any other part of the book.
But then it moves too quickly from there.
From that moment on, the two of them are so deep in love they make Romeo and Juliet look reserved and cautious. They are constantly “blown away” by each other and moved to tears every minute by each other. They “get a kick out of” every little joke they make to each other, and they start living together immediately after they meet. After a week (that’s right, a flipping week), Chase proposes to her.
And if I had a pin for every time one of those quoted phrases appeared in this novel, I could pulverize a voodoo doll. The repeated phrases and excessive emotion of the characters is definitely the worst part.
I’m still not that aggravated with this book, yet. Yeah, the insta love irks me, but I figure there will be a great plot with lots of trouble between the two of them after they marry. After all, they barely know each other and they need to figure out what this psychic connection means. Maybe they’re the incarnated souls of Hawkgirl and Hawkman and they’re about to get killed by an immortal psychopath (did I mention I’m a huge nerd?).
Nope. The two of them agree on everything, right down to how to decorate the house and the new rule that shoes are off upon entering. And things continue to be hunky dory for practically forever. All of Chase’s friends, and their girlfriends, love Marguerite and nobody questions their whirlwind romance. Yeah, because a severely depressed person getting engaged after a week of dating isn’t a cry for help or anything.
And there is so much to dislike about Chase’s and Marguerite’s decisions. Marguerite is forced to quit her job so she can move to London to be with Chase.
Never mind that she liked her job in Pennsylvania and didn’t express any wish to be a housewife. Never mind that Chase was getting tired of touring and thinking about quitting the band anyway. It’s her life that gets turned upside down.
Also, so much for her newfound freedom following her parents’ deaths! Now she’s shadowed by a bodyguard wherever she goes, needs to sneak into the backs of restaurant when she wants to eat out, and can’t even walk to the store for fear of being accosted by her husbands’ fans.
Yes, Chase’s life gets changed too. He now has a wife that cooks meals for him, cleans for him, furnishes and decorates his house for him, and hands him a cold towel when he walks off stage. He made some real damn sacrifices when he married Marguerite.
bitch_please_by_teslapunk-d32znko
But life goes on. With a lot of summary and over thirty years, it goes on.
Aside from dialogues and scenes peppered here and there, the book is mostly sweet and sappy summary of their lives. Dark things happen now and then but they’re glossed over and smothered in fluff.
If this storyline was done by a competent writer, this actually could have been an entertaining series about the Martin family. There is actually plenty of material between the psychic connection, Marguerite’s tragic background, a miscarriage, a huge celebrity drugging conspiracy, two sets of twins, a near death experience, and a baby on the doorstep.
But somehow it becomes boring and plotless when it’s all crammed into one book that seems to drag on forever. During all of this my main concern, the psychic connection, was never explained. It’s just a gift from God. One that turns their “perfect” (as in creepily well behaved and mature) children into kids from The Shining. Because they also have a psychic connection. They can “feel” each other and their parents. Oh, and talk to their dead sister, apparently, when their dead sister wants to tell them about babies being left on their doorstep.
“This is Baby Sarah,” Matt said.
“Baby Sarah?” Marguerite asked.
(Both sets of twins) said “Yes. We knew she was coming.”
Chase asked, “How did you know?”
“Baby Margaret told us,” Mark said.
Also, when Chase and Marguerite choose Sarah’s full name, all four children, in a different room, wake up from a dead sleep, sit up in unison, and announce that the baby is named.
May I present the newest additions to the Martin family?
If you want to read a rockstar romance, I recommend Love’s Rhythm by Lexxie Couper, which isn’t perfectly crafted, but leagues beyond The Band 4: The Air We Breathe.
Page Count: 324 pages (of nauseation)
Average Goodreads Rating: 3/5 stars (why, Goodreads? You’re usually so tough on books)
My Rating: 1.5/ 5 stars
Truthfully, this is actually a great story. Yeah. So great. It’s the perfect backstory for its horror sequel: The Martins Trump Manson on Body Count.
As a romance it fucking sucks.
I don’t even know where to begin. This book is so full of sugary sap that it makes pasta covered in maple and chocolate syrup and marshmallows look appetizing.
original
Still not as sweet as The Air We Breathe
Here’s the thing: I’m not actually a bitter and cynical person. I like sap and fluff. I smile and giggle during romance scenes, I’ve obsessively written cute and romantic fanfiction and my boyfriend and I were arguably the most nauseatingly cute couple to ever walk the halls of John Bapst Memorial High School.
But I gagged reading this book for the amount of love-doveyness.
Marguerite is on holiday in London, recovering from the sudden deaths of her parents which liberated her from 27 years of being suffocated and controlled by them. While there, she has a random chance encounter with Chase Martin, a depressed rock star exhausted from touring with his band. Chase and Marguerite are drawn together by a strange unknown force. They don’t know why they have such a strong connection to each other, but they do know that life without the other would not be living at all.
I actually really liked the beginning and thought that it would shape up to be an interesting and sweet romance. We see them before they meet in the coffee shop, miserable and depressed, and then while sipping her drink and reading her book, Marguerite feels Chase’s anxiety. So she buys him a decaf drink and gives it to him, saying she could feel his anxiety from across the shop. That’s great.
The two of them realize they’re drawn together and can find each other happiness and Marguerite ends up spending the night at Chase’s house just so they can find comfort in having another human being near them. That’s great, too.
The beginning is by far my favorite part because it has promise for a good story and has more vivid scenes than any other part of the book.
But then it moves too quickly from there.
From that moment on, the two of them are so deep in love they make Romeo and Juliet look reserved and cautious. They are constantly “blown away” by each other and moved to tears every minute by each other. They “get a kick out of” every little joke they make to each other, and they start living together immediately after they meet. After a week (that’s right, a flipping week), Chase proposes to her.
And if I had a pin for every time one of those quoted phrases appeared in this novel, I could pulverize a voodoo doll. The repeated phrases and excessive emotion of the characters is definitely the worst part.
I’m still not that aggravated with this book, yet. Yeah, the insta love irks me, but I figure there will be a great plot with lots of trouble between the two of them after they marry. After all, they barely know each other and they need to figure out what this psychic connection means. Maybe they’re the incarnated souls of Hawkgirl and Hawkman and they’re about to get killed by an immortal psychopath (did I mention I’m a huge nerd?).
Nope. The two of them agree on everything, right down to how to decorate the house and the new rule that shoes are off upon entering. And things continue to be hunky dory for practically forever. All of Chase’s friends, and their girlfriends, love Marguerite and nobody questions their whirlwind romance. Yeah, because a severely depressed person getting engaged after a week of dating isn’t a cry for help or anything.
And there is so much to dislike about Chase’s and Marguerite’s decisions. Marguerite is forced to quit her job so she can move to London to be with Chase.
Never mind that she liked her job in Pennsylvania and didn’t express any wish to be a housewife. Never mind that Chase was getting tired of touring and thinking about quitting the band anyway. It’s her life that gets turned upside down.
Also, so much for her newfound freedom following her parents’ deaths! Now she’s shadowed by a bodyguard wherever she goes, needs to sneak into the backs of restaurant when she wants to eat out, and can’t even walk to the store for fear of being accosted by her husbands’ fans.
Yes, Chase’s life gets changed too. He now has a wife that cooks meals for him, cleans for him, furnishes and decorates his house for him, and hands him a cold towel when he walks off stage. He made some real damn sacrifices when he married Marguerite.
bitch_please_by_teslapunk-d32znko
But life goes on. With a lot of summary and over thirty years, it goes on.
Aside from dialogues and scenes peppered here and there, the book is mostly sweet and sappy summary of their lives. Dark things happen now and then but they’re glossed over and smothered in fluff.
If this storyline was done by a competent writer, this actually could have been an entertaining series about the Martin family. There is actually plenty of material between the psychic connection, Marguerite’s tragic background, a miscarriage, a huge celebrity drugging conspiracy, two sets of twins, a near death experience, and a baby on the doorstep.
But somehow it becomes boring and plotless when it’s all crammed into one book that seems to drag on forever. During all of this my main concern, the psychic connection, was never explained. It’s just a gift from God. One that turns their “perfect” (as in creepily well behaved and mature) children into kids from The Shining. Because they also have a psychic connection. They can “feel” each other and their parents. Oh, and talk to their dead sister, apparently, when their dead sister wants to tell them about babies being left on their doorstep.
“This is Baby Sarah,” Matt said.
“Baby Sarah?” Marguerite asked.
(Both sets of twins) said “Yes. We knew she was coming.”
Chase asked, “How did you know?”
“Baby Margaret told us,” Mark said.
Also, when Chase and Marguerite choose Sarah’s full name, all four children, in a different room, wake up from a dead sleep, sit up in unison, and announce that the baby is named.
May I present the newest additions to the Martin family?
If you want to read a rockstar romance, I recommend Love’s Rhythm by Lexxie Couper, which isn’t perfectly crafted, but leagues beyond The Band 4: The Air We Breathe.
Lottie disney bookworm (1056 KP) rated Cinderella is Dead in Books
Jun 6, 2020
Contains spoilers, click to show
Thank you to Netgalley and Kalynn Bayron for giving me the opportunity to read an advance copy of Cinderella is Dead in exchange for an honest review.
With such a strong title to a novel, it’s easy to predict that an author would struggle to maintain the sense of danger and mystery that is immediately evoked. However, as Kalynn Bayron opens on the revelation that Cinderella has been dead for 200 years and introduces us to two young women hiding from those who are sure to kill them, I think it is safe to say that she has the drama side of things covered!
The kingdom of Mersaille was once ruled by none other than Prince Charming and Cinderella. After her untimely death, Cinderella’s tale is held in almost biblical stature for generations, with young girls reciting it each night in preparation for their own chance to attend an annual ball once they turn 16 and wishing for their own fairy godmother to grant their happily ever after.
However, as the reader enters the town of Lille 200 years later, we witness that life within the kingdom is far from that of a fairytale. The balls that act as a tribute to Cinderella are mandatory meat markets with lecherous “suitors”, domestic violence and the suppression of women is commonplace and the ruler, Prince Manford, thrives on the power, fear and violence.
The reader witnesses this abysmal society through Bayron’s use of a first-person perspective: that of our protagonist Sophia. Sophia is everything a modern protagonist should be: she questions the unjust world around her and, having just turned 16 is preparing to attend her first ball, not with excitement, but with trepidation.
Sophia reveals to the reader that a girl only has three chances to be chosen by a suitor at the ball, after that she is considered forfeit, taken away from her family in disgrace and placed either into a workhouse or service. Men, however, are under no such conditions: they can attend balls when they wish and can choose a number of girls if they want to. Many girls’ singular hope is to be chosen by a good man at the ball, one who will not beat her, perhaps even one who will take them away from Lille. This is not enough for Sophia, she wants more for her life and, as she says herself:
“I don’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. I’d like to be the one in the armor, and I’d like to be the one doing the saving.”
At the beginning of the book, Sophia’s main gripe with the society she lives in is that it will not allow her to be with Erin, the girl she loves. As the book continues, the underlying theme of the rights and treatment of women strengthens, along with Sophia, but the first few pages at least are centered on the teenage relationship between Sophia and Erin.
What I absolutely adored about Bayron’s writing style here is the complete lack of shock or awe in this relationship: it is mentioned right from the start and at no point in this novel does Sophia “come out”, there is simply no need. All those around Sophia, who know her and care for her, are aware of her feelings for Erin and, although Sophia is occasionally referred to as “different”, the author chooses to abolish any unnecessary labels within her novel.
Unfortunately, Bayron does not have an easy ride in store for Sophia: reeling from a firm separation from Erin, Sophia is cast a lifeline, an “easy way out” in the form of a local boy who is also “different”. Sadly, this option is quickly and dramatically ripped away from her: forcing her to find her strength pretty damn quickly as she begins a life as an outlaw.
Along her path, Sophia meets two strong female characters: Constance and Amina. Although, wildly different, both these women play a significant role in Sophia’s self-discovery.
Amina is as far from the traditional fairy godmother image as you can get and, although she feels guilt for her previous actions, it takes meeting Sophia for her to recognise her previous denial and to help change the way of the world. Amina is a protector to Sophia right to the end, in her own unique way.
Constance, what can we say about Constance? I defy anyone to read this book and not fall in love with this girl! Constance possesses the strength that Sophia does not yet recognise within herself; she is fiery and, as a descendant of an “evil stepsister”, leads a resistance movement to uncover and publicise the truth about the real tale of Cinderella. Despite, technically saving Sophia towards the beginning of the story, Constance is not Sophia’s saviour: nor is Sophia the saviour; however, the power that they find together is monumental.
Constance is a complete juxtaposition to Erin: whereas Erin accepts the rules of society out of fear for herself and her family, Constance actively rebels against them. It is almost as if they represent the paths Sophia has to choose from. Nevertheless, along their adventure, Sophia and Constance’s relationship strengthens into love. This is no fairytale, love at first sight deal though! If anything, the slow-burning romance between the two made it more believable and I really appreciated that Sophia didn’t just rebound due to Erin’s choices: she had been burnt and she was still unsure of her own feelings never mind anyone else’s.
At the hands of Bayron, Sophia experiences heartbreak, friendship, murder, love and conspiracy: she is on the brink of danger too many times to count and is constantly second guessing who she can trust. Yet, it is clear that the author adores her main character: Sophia’s journey to realise that she is enough is incredible and the strength that she finds within herself is inspirational. Sophia is also surrounded by a cast of strong female characters: there are no Prince Charming’s in this novel that’s for sure!
I wasn’t that far into this book when I decided I need to read more of Kalynn Bayron’s work. I love how there are no chapters in this novel, we are taken on this relentless journey with Sophia: the reader is not given a chance to stop and take stock, reflect or rest until it is all over and this creates the tensest experience. Even we don’t know who to trust towards the end!
‘Cinderella is Dead’ is powerful, thought-provoking and is constantly leaving the reader guessing. On a basic level the novel deals with violence, love, politics and a little bit of necromancy thrown in there for good measure. However, the intelligent writing as well as the massive plot twist and the subjects of LGBTQ love, women’s rights and domestic violence lifts this novel from that basic level into, what I predict could be a bestseller.
With such a strong title to a novel, it’s easy to predict that an author would struggle to maintain the sense of danger and mystery that is immediately evoked. However, as Kalynn Bayron opens on the revelation that Cinderella has been dead for 200 years and introduces us to two young women hiding from those who are sure to kill them, I think it is safe to say that she has the drama side of things covered!
The kingdom of Mersaille was once ruled by none other than Prince Charming and Cinderella. After her untimely death, Cinderella’s tale is held in almost biblical stature for generations, with young girls reciting it each night in preparation for their own chance to attend an annual ball once they turn 16 and wishing for their own fairy godmother to grant their happily ever after.
However, as the reader enters the town of Lille 200 years later, we witness that life within the kingdom is far from that of a fairytale. The balls that act as a tribute to Cinderella are mandatory meat markets with lecherous “suitors”, domestic violence and the suppression of women is commonplace and the ruler, Prince Manford, thrives on the power, fear and violence.
The reader witnesses this abysmal society through Bayron’s use of a first-person perspective: that of our protagonist Sophia. Sophia is everything a modern protagonist should be: she questions the unjust world around her and, having just turned 16 is preparing to attend her first ball, not with excitement, but with trepidation.
Sophia reveals to the reader that a girl only has three chances to be chosen by a suitor at the ball, after that she is considered forfeit, taken away from her family in disgrace and placed either into a workhouse or service. Men, however, are under no such conditions: they can attend balls when they wish and can choose a number of girls if they want to. Many girls’ singular hope is to be chosen by a good man at the ball, one who will not beat her, perhaps even one who will take them away from Lille. This is not enough for Sophia, she wants more for her life and, as she says herself:
“I don’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. I’d like to be the one in the armor, and I’d like to be the one doing the saving.”
At the beginning of the book, Sophia’s main gripe with the society she lives in is that it will not allow her to be with Erin, the girl she loves. As the book continues, the underlying theme of the rights and treatment of women strengthens, along with Sophia, but the first few pages at least are centered on the teenage relationship between Sophia and Erin.
What I absolutely adored about Bayron’s writing style here is the complete lack of shock or awe in this relationship: it is mentioned right from the start and at no point in this novel does Sophia “come out”, there is simply no need. All those around Sophia, who know her and care for her, are aware of her feelings for Erin and, although Sophia is occasionally referred to as “different”, the author chooses to abolish any unnecessary labels within her novel.
Unfortunately, Bayron does not have an easy ride in store for Sophia: reeling from a firm separation from Erin, Sophia is cast a lifeline, an “easy way out” in the form of a local boy who is also “different”. Sadly, this option is quickly and dramatically ripped away from her: forcing her to find her strength pretty damn quickly as she begins a life as an outlaw.
Along her path, Sophia meets two strong female characters: Constance and Amina. Although, wildly different, both these women play a significant role in Sophia’s self-discovery.
Amina is as far from the traditional fairy godmother image as you can get and, although she feels guilt for her previous actions, it takes meeting Sophia for her to recognise her previous denial and to help change the way of the world. Amina is a protector to Sophia right to the end, in her own unique way.
Constance, what can we say about Constance? I defy anyone to read this book and not fall in love with this girl! Constance possesses the strength that Sophia does not yet recognise within herself; she is fiery and, as a descendant of an “evil stepsister”, leads a resistance movement to uncover and publicise the truth about the real tale of Cinderella. Despite, technically saving Sophia towards the beginning of the story, Constance is not Sophia’s saviour: nor is Sophia the saviour; however, the power that they find together is monumental.
Constance is a complete juxtaposition to Erin: whereas Erin accepts the rules of society out of fear for herself and her family, Constance actively rebels against them. It is almost as if they represent the paths Sophia has to choose from. Nevertheless, along their adventure, Sophia and Constance’s relationship strengthens into love. This is no fairytale, love at first sight deal though! If anything, the slow-burning romance between the two made it more believable and I really appreciated that Sophia didn’t just rebound due to Erin’s choices: she had been burnt and she was still unsure of her own feelings never mind anyone else’s.
At the hands of Bayron, Sophia experiences heartbreak, friendship, murder, love and conspiracy: she is on the brink of danger too many times to count and is constantly second guessing who she can trust. Yet, it is clear that the author adores her main character: Sophia’s journey to realise that she is enough is incredible and the strength that she finds within herself is inspirational. Sophia is also surrounded by a cast of strong female characters: there are no Prince Charming’s in this novel that’s for sure!
I wasn’t that far into this book when I decided I need to read more of Kalynn Bayron’s work. I love how there are no chapters in this novel, we are taken on this relentless journey with Sophia: the reader is not given a chance to stop and take stock, reflect or rest until it is all over and this creates the tensest experience. Even we don’t know who to trust towards the end!
‘Cinderella is Dead’ is powerful, thought-provoking and is constantly leaving the reader guessing. On a basic level the novel deals with violence, love, politics and a little bit of necromancy thrown in there for good measure. However, the intelligent writing as well as the massive plot twist and the subjects of LGBTQ love, women’s rights and domestic violence lifts this novel from that basic level into, what I predict could be a bestseller.
Kara Skinner (332 KP) rated The Robber Knight in Books
Sep 10, 2019
When you are fighting for the freedom of your people, falling in love with your enemy is not a great idea. Or is it? Ayla has to defend her castle and her people all on her own, with nobody to help her but a dark warrior she hates with all her heart.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Gareth von Kallenbach (968 KP) rated Moonfall (2022) in Movies
Feb 3, 2022
The late ’90s and early 2000s was filled with epic, over-the-top disaster movies focusing on all methods of world-ending cataclysmic events. Alien invasions as seen in Independence Day, set on destroying all humans and snatching our planet’s remaining resources, global warming resulting in floods and freezing temperatures, even threats of asteroids crashing into the earth. While many of these movies were ridiculous and epic at times, they all focused on a singular threat facing humankind and a group of ordinary (yet somehow extraordinary) people to save the planet and ourselves. Moonfall attempts to take another stab at the formula that made these movies famous (even infamous) resulting in some mixed and head-scratching results.
Moonfall, directed by Roland Emmerich, stars Halle Berry and Patrick Wilson as a pair of NASA astronauts that are attacked by a strange mechanical swarm while performing a routine satellite repair mission from the space shuttle Endeavor in the mid-1990s. The attack resulted in the death of one of the crew members and severely damaged the shuttle. Brian Harper (Wilson) and Jo Fowler (Berry) successfully return the shuttle to earth only to see Harper take the fall for the death of his crewman and the fall guy for a coverup to prevent the citizens of earth from truly understanding what they encountered.
Fast forward to current day and a “crazy” conspiracy theorist K.C Houseman, believing the moon to be a megastructure built by aliens, discovers that the moon’s orbit is rapidly eroding. He attempts to reach out to NASA and after several unsuccessful attempts releases his findings via social media. The top minds at NASA confirm what has been identified and estimate that they have only three weeks to execute a plan to prevent the moon from crashing into the earth destroying everything and everyone. The race for the survival of the planet is quickly on which will focus on not only the NASA “team”, but each of their family members.
Let me get this out of the way first, I personally loved many of Roland Emmerich’s wildly outlandish films. I thought Independence Day was fantastic, and even though many found The Day After Tomorrow a bit to preachy and ridiculous, I still found it entertaining for what it was. So, I was excited going into Moonfall. I was ready for a fun movie that I felt would be a mindless, fun adventure which was something I had really missed in many of the movies that had come out over the past year or two. Unfortunately, my aspirations (and even the low bar I had set my expectations for) would be quickly dashed.
Moonfall is a movie that struggles throughout to find an identity. I found myself instantly comparing several of Emmerich’s films during its roughly two-hour run time. At times its reminiscent of Independence Day, with its alien destruction of earth storyline, and then quickly jumps to a disaster film about the moon crashing into the earth. It’s as though Emmerich took pages of several of his previous films and cobbled them together into some sort of Frankenstein’s monster. There are so many plots and subplots going on that you never truly know what the main threat is. It touches on everything from the birth of humanity to the overly aggressive military, to the dumbing down of NASA all at the same time. With the exception of our heroes (and of course their entire families, because why not), everyone else is just resigned to the fact that nothing can be done. Riots of course breakout, the military is quick to decide to nuke the moon is somehow going to save the planet, and no level of crazy plan is off the table.
I’m happy to forgive an outrageous plot if the actors are able to pull it off with some semblance of believability. I know none of the actions have any real-world chance of success, and I can forgive plot holes for the sake of entertainment. Unfortunately, the acting is where Moonfall really lets the audience down. Each character is portrayed in a completely over-the-top fashion, it reminded me of watching a movie that is intentionally attempting to spoof another movie. The emotions are not believable, and the lines being delivered are literally derived from popular lines of other movies. Bonus points if you can identify which movie they are from as the film progresses. The saddest part is, this movie is trying to take itself seriously, it’s not intentionally being campy, for the sake of being campy. I think the character portrayals could have been forgiven if that was the case, but it’s clearly not. It’s actually a distraction when the story of a film is already struggling to deliver.
The movie effects go from truly spectacular, to overly CGI-infused. Ironically the space shots, which you think would be the hardest to pull off are some of its best, yet the vehicle driving scenes through the snow-covered townscape are some of the worst. It’s almost as though they spent so much of their budget on the space scenes that they had no money for the earth shots, which would be fine if they didn’t literally look so bad. It’s jarring going from one area to another and makes for a very inconsistent experience the entire time.
I believe one of the biggest tragedies of the film however is the absolutely blatant product placement. Yes, I understand that product placement has sadly been a staple in the film industry since the dawn of time. Yes, I understand that when someone is using a MacBook on-screen or riding a Peloton, it’s there for a reason. Moonfall however takes this to a Hallmark movie level. If you watch a Hallmark movie sponsored by Folgers for example, there will be clear shots of the Folgers coffee on the counter, with the cast explaining how much they love Folgers’s coffee, Moonfall utilizes this very trope. Kaspersky Anti-Virus is plastered on everything, even the Space Shuttle is protected with Kaspersky Anti-virus (which some might argue has other implications, but I won’t go there), and while avoiding looters driving through the snow-packed roads, do we really need the character to explain the need for the off-road settings on their Lexus? Talking about it is one thing, but do we really need to see the dial up-close and personal? It quickly takes you from the scene to a Lexus Christmas commercial and back again.
Sadly, Moonfall is a very disappointing film. If it were released in 1998 maybe it would be a super hit and I’d feel differently about it, but the industry has moved on since then. I had gone in knowing the film wouldn’t be realistic, but I was hoping it would at least be a nice escape from what is going on in the world today. As I have stated before, I’m a huge fan of Emmerich’s films, and while Moonfall may not be his absolute worst, it is one that will quickly be forgotten. I don’t even know if it’s one I’d revisit if it premiered on HBO or Showtime. As excited as I was, I just wouldn’t be able to recommend it.
Moonfall, directed by Roland Emmerich, stars Halle Berry and Patrick Wilson as a pair of NASA astronauts that are attacked by a strange mechanical swarm while performing a routine satellite repair mission from the space shuttle Endeavor in the mid-1990s. The attack resulted in the death of one of the crew members and severely damaged the shuttle. Brian Harper (Wilson) and Jo Fowler (Berry) successfully return the shuttle to earth only to see Harper take the fall for the death of his crewman and the fall guy for a coverup to prevent the citizens of earth from truly understanding what they encountered.
Fast forward to current day and a “crazy” conspiracy theorist K.C Houseman, believing the moon to be a megastructure built by aliens, discovers that the moon’s orbit is rapidly eroding. He attempts to reach out to NASA and after several unsuccessful attempts releases his findings via social media. The top minds at NASA confirm what has been identified and estimate that they have only three weeks to execute a plan to prevent the moon from crashing into the earth destroying everything and everyone. The race for the survival of the planet is quickly on which will focus on not only the NASA “team”, but each of their family members.
Let me get this out of the way first, I personally loved many of Roland Emmerich’s wildly outlandish films. I thought Independence Day was fantastic, and even though many found The Day After Tomorrow a bit to preachy and ridiculous, I still found it entertaining for what it was. So, I was excited going into Moonfall. I was ready for a fun movie that I felt would be a mindless, fun adventure which was something I had really missed in many of the movies that had come out over the past year or two. Unfortunately, my aspirations (and even the low bar I had set my expectations for) would be quickly dashed.
Moonfall is a movie that struggles throughout to find an identity. I found myself instantly comparing several of Emmerich’s films during its roughly two-hour run time. At times its reminiscent of Independence Day, with its alien destruction of earth storyline, and then quickly jumps to a disaster film about the moon crashing into the earth. It’s as though Emmerich took pages of several of his previous films and cobbled them together into some sort of Frankenstein’s monster. There are so many plots and subplots going on that you never truly know what the main threat is. It touches on everything from the birth of humanity to the overly aggressive military, to the dumbing down of NASA all at the same time. With the exception of our heroes (and of course their entire families, because why not), everyone else is just resigned to the fact that nothing can be done. Riots of course breakout, the military is quick to decide to nuke the moon is somehow going to save the planet, and no level of crazy plan is off the table.
I’m happy to forgive an outrageous plot if the actors are able to pull it off with some semblance of believability. I know none of the actions have any real-world chance of success, and I can forgive plot holes for the sake of entertainment. Unfortunately, the acting is where Moonfall really lets the audience down. Each character is portrayed in a completely over-the-top fashion, it reminded me of watching a movie that is intentionally attempting to spoof another movie. The emotions are not believable, and the lines being delivered are literally derived from popular lines of other movies. Bonus points if you can identify which movie they are from as the film progresses. The saddest part is, this movie is trying to take itself seriously, it’s not intentionally being campy, for the sake of being campy. I think the character portrayals could have been forgiven if that was the case, but it’s clearly not. It’s actually a distraction when the story of a film is already struggling to deliver.
The movie effects go from truly spectacular, to overly CGI-infused. Ironically the space shots, which you think would be the hardest to pull off are some of its best, yet the vehicle driving scenes through the snow-covered townscape are some of the worst. It’s almost as though they spent so much of their budget on the space scenes that they had no money for the earth shots, which would be fine if they didn’t literally look so bad. It’s jarring going from one area to another and makes for a very inconsistent experience the entire time.
I believe one of the biggest tragedies of the film however is the absolutely blatant product placement. Yes, I understand that product placement has sadly been a staple in the film industry since the dawn of time. Yes, I understand that when someone is using a MacBook on-screen or riding a Peloton, it’s there for a reason. Moonfall however takes this to a Hallmark movie level. If you watch a Hallmark movie sponsored by Folgers for example, there will be clear shots of the Folgers coffee on the counter, with the cast explaining how much they love Folgers’s coffee, Moonfall utilizes this very trope. Kaspersky Anti-Virus is plastered on everything, even the Space Shuttle is protected with Kaspersky Anti-virus (which some might argue has other implications, but I won’t go there), and while avoiding looters driving through the snow-packed roads, do we really need the character to explain the need for the off-road settings on their Lexus? Talking about it is one thing, but do we really need to see the dial up-close and personal? It quickly takes you from the scene to a Lexus Christmas commercial and back again.
Sadly, Moonfall is a very disappointing film. If it were released in 1998 maybe it would be a super hit and I’d feel differently about it, but the industry has moved on since then. I had gone in knowing the film wouldn’t be realistic, but I was hoping it would at least be a nice escape from what is going on in the world today. As I have stated before, I’m a huge fan of Emmerich’s films, and while Moonfall may not be his absolute worst, it is one that will quickly be forgotten. I don’t even know if it’s one I’d revisit if it premiered on HBO or Showtime. As excited as I was, I just wouldn’t be able to recommend it.