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Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Banewreaker in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Banewreaker Will Make You Feel Bad for Sauron
Contains spoilers, click to show
Very few fantasy fans can get away with admitting that they aren’t all that big into sweeping, high epic fantasy à la Lord of the Rings or the Pern stories or everything that Terry Brooks writes. Many non-fantasy fans, however, can point to these tales as examples of why they aren’t into fantasy. Like it or not, it’s hard not to see the latter group’s point, as a lot of high fantasy is riddled with confusing terminology, rehashed stories, and genre clichés. This is not to say that these stories are bad, per sé, just that they can easily turn off readers who aren’t in the right kind of crowd.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
5 Minute Movie Guy (379 KP) rated A Million Ways to Die in the West (2014) in Movies
Jun 26, 2019
Neil Patrick Harris is delightfully devious. (1 more)
MacFarlane shows he has potential in his on-screen acting debut.
The humor is at times very vulgar and immature. (2 more)
The film is slow-paced and overly long.
"A Dozen Ways to Die in the West" would have been a more appropriate title.
A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs but it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. Still, if you're a fan of MacFarlane's other works, you'll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West.
Following the success of his directorial debut, Ted, Seth MacFarlane steps in front of the movie camera for the first time in his new film, A Million Ways to Die in the West. MacFarlane is best known as the creator of the popular animated television series, Family Guy, and he was also the host of the Oscars just two years ago. Now he’s taking the starring role in a film he wrote and directed himself. Here MacFarlane plays a cowardly sheep farmer named Albert who is miserably living in the dangerous Old West. Or rather, the not-so-dangerous Old West. Despite what the title suggests, there’s not a whole lot of dying going on in A Million Ways to Die in the West. You won’t find a whole lot of substance either, but there are a fair amount of laughs if you’re able to tolerate the crude toilet humor and dirty jokes. All in all, MacFarlane does a decent job in this comedy, but his jokes stick too close to his own conventions, and much like life on the frontier, the film can be kind of a drag.
If you’ve ever seen Family Guy, you should feel right at home with the humor in this film. It’s crass, edgy, violent, and full of pop culture references. Although, given that this is an R-rated movie, MacFarlane’s able to push the limits further than usual, and he makes sure to do that by including a lot of raunchy humor and toilet-gags. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, male genitals are still the hottest thing in comedy right now. As you’ve no doubt deduced, this is certainly not a film you’d want to take your kids to see. Nor is it for the easily-offended. Though in the film’s defense, it’s not entirely tasteless, and its use of vulgarity isn’t overly frequent. There’s plenty of great slapstick physical comedy and some pretty hilarious dialogue. I laughed more than I thought I would, and was never so disgusted that I wanted to walk out. It’s an entertaining film, it just happens to run a little long and lose momentum down the stretch. Plus the main premise of the film is never all that compelling to begin with.
In A Million Ways to Die in the West, MacFarlane’s character Albert is a man entirely self-aware of the time and place he’s living in, as well as the many dangers that come with it. He sheepishly lives his life, terrified by the threat of death that lurks around every corner. When his beloved girlfriend leaves him for a man with a mighty mustache, Albert has to cowboy up to prove his machismo and try to win her back. Luckily for him, he meets a gun-toting woman named Anna who’s happy to help him face his fears and show him the ropes of being a cowboy. Unfortunately however, this new friendship ends up putting Albert right into the crosshairs of Clinch Leatherwood, the deadliest outlaw around.
While MacFarlane does a respectable job in his first foray into acting, his character feels rather uninspired. I couldn’t help but see him as a hodgepodge of various Family Guy characters, having the clumsiness of Peter Griffin, the self-consciousness of Chris Griffin, and the intelligence and charm of Brian. Given that he created that show, perhaps that should be expected, but it just felt like Albert was lacking a unique and consistent identity. He’s a character who can be charming and funny, but he also comes off seeming like a jerk. All in all, the film has a good cast of actors, with Neil Patrick Harris being the stand-out of the bunch. He plays the pompous, mustached snob, Foy, who steals the heart of Albert’s girlfriend, Louise. Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman are likable as the flawed, clueless couple who serve as Albert’s close friends, Edward and Ruth. Although their characters stay pretty comfortably within the realm of what you would expect from their respective actors, with Edward being the naïve nice guy, while Silverman’s Ruth is the seemingly-sweet-and-innocent, foul-mouthed hussy. Charlize Theron does a fine job as Albert’s mentor, Anna. She has a strong presence in the film and is fun to watch, but despite her best efforts, the emotional element she brings to the story ends up feeling forced and unconvincing. Though that’s no fault of her own. It’s just hard to imagine her, or anyone, falling head over heels so easily and suddenly for a guy like Albert. Then, of course, there’s Liam Neeson, who is effective in his performance as the intimidating villain, Clinch, but would have benefitted from more screen-time.
A Million Ways to Die in the West proficiently parodies the western film genre, capturing the right atmosphere for the setting and time period. Visually it’s a pleasant film to look at, with good camera-work, well-created sets, and lots of beautiful scenery. This makes it all the more disappointing then that the filmmakers decided to place a visual filter over the entirety of the film to give it a more old-fashioned look. As a result, there is a constant flickering throughout the whole movie, and while not quite seizure-inducing, it certainly is distracting. At times you kind of get used to it and forget about it, but it really stands out in scenes with heavy lighting and most of the movie takes place in broad daylight. On the audio side of things, the music is appropriately fitting, but little of it is particularly noteworthy. There is a great song about mustaches, accompanied with a well-orchestrated dance number led by Neil Patrick Harris in what is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. Additionally the film’s theme song is appropriately fun. The visual effects in the movie, although limited, are done quite well and nicely add to the film’s comedic effect. Although I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say the movie could have done just fine without all of the animated urinating sheep.
I think the film’s greatest flaw is the fact that it’s doing too much as it tries to incorporate all of the main stereotypes of the western genre. It has duels, bar brawls, jailbreaks, horse chases, and even capture by Indians thrown in for good measure. In trying to cover all of the bases, the movie ends up running too long and becomes a little boring and tired. Rather than building up to a climax, the film diverges with some unnecessary scenes, and then concludes with a lackluster ending. It would have been cool to see Clinch and his group of bandits lay siege to the main town, which could have given the filmmakers an opportunity to create a wide variety of deaths, and allow Albert to exercise his newly developed skills before setting up to an ultimate final showdown. Maybe that would be adding to the long list of clichés, but at least it would have given this slow-paced film some much needed adrenaline and would have made it more true to its misleading title. There are also several cameo appearances in the film, and while a couple of them are great conceptually, I don’t think any of them are quite as satisfying as they should be. They end up feeling out of place, like last-second additions that have no purpose other than to acknowledge other films. I can appreciate the attempt but the cameos aren’t particularly funny and they just seems to emphasize how much better those other films are.
Seth MacFarlane’s A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs, but just like his character Albert’s long-winded ramblings, it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. It’s still an entertaining film regardless, and if you’re a fan of MacFarlane’s other work, you’ll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West. The movie has a talented cast, some truly great scenes such as a bar brawl and a memorable dance, as well as plenty of good old-fashioned slapstick, and witty dialogue. If you can handle the occasional gross-out gag, you’ll probably have a good time. Just don’t expect to actually see the many ways people can die In the Old West. The movie doesn’t show many deaths at all, and all the best ones you likely already saw in the trailer.
(This review was originally posted at 5mmg.com on 6.3.14.)
If you’ve ever seen Family Guy, you should feel right at home with the humor in this film. It’s crass, edgy, violent, and full of pop culture references. Although, given that this is an R-rated movie, MacFarlane’s able to push the limits further than usual, and he makes sure to do that by including a lot of raunchy humor and toilet-gags. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, male genitals are still the hottest thing in comedy right now. As you’ve no doubt deduced, this is certainly not a film you’d want to take your kids to see. Nor is it for the easily-offended. Though in the film’s defense, it’s not entirely tasteless, and its use of vulgarity isn’t overly frequent. There’s plenty of great slapstick physical comedy and some pretty hilarious dialogue. I laughed more than I thought I would, and was never so disgusted that I wanted to walk out. It’s an entertaining film, it just happens to run a little long and lose momentum down the stretch. Plus the main premise of the film is never all that compelling to begin with.
In A Million Ways to Die in the West, MacFarlane’s character Albert is a man entirely self-aware of the time and place he’s living in, as well as the many dangers that come with it. He sheepishly lives his life, terrified by the threat of death that lurks around every corner. When his beloved girlfriend leaves him for a man with a mighty mustache, Albert has to cowboy up to prove his machismo and try to win her back. Luckily for him, he meets a gun-toting woman named Anna who’s happy to help him face his fears and show him the ropes of being a cowboy. Unfortunately however, this new friendship ends up putting Albert right into the crosshairs of Clinch Leatherwood, the deadliest outlaw around.
While MacFarlane does a respectable job in his first foray into acting, his character feels rather uninspired. I couldn’t help but see him as a hodgepodge of various Family Guy characters, having the clumsiness of Peter Griffin, the self-consciousness of Chris Griffin, and the intelligence and charm of Brian. Given that he created that show, perhaps that should be expected, but it just felt like Albert was lacking a unique and consistent identity. He’s a character who can be charming and funny, but he also comes off seeming like a jerk. All in all, the film has a good cast of actors, with Neil Patrick Harris being the stand-out of the bunch. He plays the pompous, mustached snob, Foy, who steals the heart of Albert’s girlfriend, Louise. Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman are likable as the flawed, clueless couple who serve as Albert’s close friends, Edward and Ruth. Although their characters stay pretty comfortably within the realm of what you would expect from their respective actors, with Edward being the naïve nice guy, while Silverman’s Ruth is the seemingly-sweet-and-innocent, foul-mouthed hussy. Charlize Theron does a fine job as Albert’s mentor, Anna. She has a strong presence in the film and is fun to watch, but despite her best efforts, the emotional element she brings to the story ends up feeling forced and unconvincing. Though that’s no fault of her own. It’s just hard to imagine her, or anyone, falling head over heels so easily and suddenly for a guy like Albert. Then, of course, there’s Liam Neeson, who is effective in his performance as the intimidating villain, Clinch, but would have benefitted from more screen-time.
A Million Ways to Die in the West proficiently parodies the western film genre, capturing the right atmosphere for the setting and time period. Visually it’s a pleasant film to look at, with good camera-work, well-created sets, and lots of beautiful scenery. This makes it all the more disappointing then that the filmmakers decided to place a visual filter over the entirety of the film to give it a more old-fashioned look. As a result, there is a constant flickering throughout the whole movie, and while not quite seizure-inducing, it certainly is distracting. At times you kind of get used to it and forget about it, but it really stands out in scenes with heavy lighting and most of the movie takes place in broad daylight. On the audio side of things, the music is appropriately fitting, but little of it is particularly noteworthy. There is a great song about mustaches, accompanied with a well-orchestrated dance number led by Neil Patrick Harris in what is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. Additionally the film’s theme song is appropriately fun. The visual effects in the movie, although limited, are done quite well and nicely add to the film’s comedic effect. Although I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say the movie could have done just fine without all of the animated urinating sheep.
I think the film’s greatest flaw is the fact that it’s doing too much as it tries to incorporate all of the main stereotypes of the western genre. It has duels, bar brawls, jailbreaks, horse chases, and even capture by Indians thrown in for good measure. In trying to cover all of the bases, the movie ends up running too long and becomes a little boring and tired. Rather than building up to a climax, the film diverges with some unnecessary scenes, and then concludes with a lackluster ending. It would have been cool to see Clinch and his group of bandits lay siege to the main town, which could have given the filmmakers an opportunity to create a wide variety of deaths, and allow Albert to exercise his newly developed skills before setting up to an ultimate final showdown. Maybe that would be adding to the long list of clichés, but at least it would have given this slow-paced film some much needed adrenaline and would have made it more true to its misleading title. There are also several cameo appearances in the film, and while a couple of them are great conceptually, I don’t think any of them are quite as satisfying as they should be. They end up feeling out of place, like last-second additions that have no purpose other than to acknowledge other films. I can appreciate the attempt but the cameos aren’t particularly funny and they just seems to emphasize how much better those other films are.
Seth MacFarlane’s A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs, but just like his character Albert’s long-winded ramblings, it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. It’s still an entertaining film regardless, and if you’re a fan of MacFarlane’s other work, you’ll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West. The movie has a talented cast, some truly great scenes such as a bar brawl and a memorable dance, as well as plenty of good old-fashioned slapstick, and witty dialogue. If you can handle the occasional gross-out gag, you’ll probably have a good time. Just don’t expect to actually see the many ways people can die In the Old West. The movie doesn’t show many deaths at all, and all the best ones you likely already saw in the trailer.
(This review was originally posted at 5mmg.com on 6.3.14.)