There is a new Resident Evil movie in the works (RE: Afterlife) and, like everything that’s coming out these days, it’s in 3D. Flying mustachibats couldn’t keep me from seeing it.
She’s not winking at you, buddy, she’s just got something in her eye. Probably some dust she stirred up from kicking ass.
But, really? Just 3 D’s? Yawn. Wake me when you’re hitting the more exciting upper dimensions. Pride and Prejudice in 5D? I’m there. My brain will explode like a Flatlander in Times Square, but I’ll be there.
Upper-dimensional turn-of-the-century films narrated in free indirect speech aside, it would be an understatement to say that, when it comes to new movies coming out, especially in the sci-fi genre (and zombie movies totally qualifies), I live for this shit. Milla Jovovovovich has been a favorite since 5th Element, and while some parts of the Resident Evil series have been so bad that I’ve attempted to erase my memory of them with copious amounts of beer, there have been some great scenes that I’ve enjoyed a lot. Namely the scene where Milla fends off zombie-crows with a psychic fireball attack, as shown here:
The wife and I saw Final Destination 3D a week ago. Not my proudest moment, but it was the wife’s turn to pick the movie and I usually make her sit through something boring and educational, so I had it coming. Does 3D add anything to the experience? Good question, self.
It’s like parmesan cheese on your popcorn: you didn’t know that you wanted it, and now that you’ve got it, you’re still not really sure about it. Room temperature popcorn they probably made the night before isn’t very good and that oily butter-byproduct-byproduct that they put on it certainly doesn’t make it any better. Then someone (ostensibly a “friend”) suggests sprinkling a bit of that horrid “parmesan” cheese from the pizza parlor on it, and there you are, sitting there with white powder all over your bag of ‘corn.
You find yourself wondering if perhaps it is just the novelty of it that’s exciting. Perhaps it’s just masking an inferior product, and you feel a bit sick that you were suckered into thinking it was so great (it might also be that butter stuff). Perhaps you even feign enthusiasm because it’s better than being the lone voice of discontent among a bunch of people who seem to be really enjoying it.
And when it’s all over, what you’ve got left is a bag of unpopped kernels that smells rather like a foot and a vague memory of a forgettable movie that you only saw because you got to take home some crappy sunglasses that don’t even block out the sun.
In our case, about ten minutes into the flick the 3D projector committed suicide out of shame. We were the only people in the theater that afternoon, so I got up. After being alerted, the manager of the theater came in and gave us some free movie passes (“NOT VALID FOR 3D FEATURES” it said. That’s helpful.) and then told us that if we stuck around for a few minutes they might even get it fixed. We stuck around for another minutes, snogging loudly, and, lo and behold, they got the thing working again, damn it all.
We endured and, an hour later, both left with a slight headache. (We each had one, respectively. We didn’t share one headache. I’m not that cheap.) I needed a drink and the wife needed a scalp massage. We compromised by going out for ice-cream and resolving never to be suckered into the 3D thing again. Not unless, of course, they made another Resident Evil movie and it was in 3D. Lo and behold.
The movie passes were used up a few days later, seeing Inglourious Basterds. Much has already been said in the blogtopia about the film, so I’ll be brief and hyperbolic: Most. Satisfying. Movie. Ever. The only way it could have been more satisfying is if they’d let every single movie patron fire a machine gun at a Hitler-dummy as we left the theater.
Now that would be a higher-dimension movie experience I could get behind.
