Movies Melanie Made Me Watch: Blue Valentine

This movie was depressing. It was the most depressing movie I’ve seen since Bambi. We all know what I’m talking about. Seeing Bambi’s mom get gunned down is probably one of the most depressing things a child’s psyche could bear. Add to that the weirdly uncomfortable feeling you get around Flower. You know the one. The feeling that makes you cock your head and wonder why’s he trying so hard to be cute and unassuming. He’s like that overly nice weird guy who prowls the Wal-Mart parking lot. All those shifty and uncomfortable feelings rolled together is what you get from the emotionally draining opus that is “Blue Valentine”.

Not to say the acting is bad. It’s actually decent and real. Too real. Melanie informed me that Gossling and Williams lived together for 6 months prior to filming so they could prepare for the role. I would have to say they over-prepared. It was like watching a documentary on a downward spiral. Intervention without the sanity-refreshing commercial breaks.

The story itself strives to be a newer, better “Story of Us”, but without Chow Fun’s. As a matter of fact, the decided lack of a Chow Fun’s is really what caused this movie not only to hit rock bottom, but to bury itself in its focus on the depressive self-absorption of the main characters. I hated them both. I was completely unable to feel for either one of them. Don’t expect to be rooting for them at the end, or for your eyes to be tearing up in sympathy (like they did, say, for Willis and Pfeiffer or for Bambi for that matter).

Watch this piece of work at your own peril. Just be sure to have a good comedy or bottle of booze to back it up with.

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About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on December 2, 2011, in Author, Movies, writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

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