I am dedicated to my craft, and that craft is twofold:
1. watching as many movies as humanly possible for as few dollars as humanly possible, and
2. avoiding all contact with alcohol while training for marathons (Midnight, Nevada desert, August 5)
That’s the reason why there are so many movie reviews here. I have nothing else to do with my time when everyone else is getting shitfaced. I’m not one of those people who particularly enjoys the company of drunken idiots when I’m stone cold sober. (Do those people even exist?)
So I saw Snow White & the Huntsman at midnight after sneaking into a second turn of Men in Black III. (it was borderline less terrible, but I fell asleep. Also, the chick in the opening scene, maybe the famous Pussycat Doll, is freaking outrageously hot.)
My jumble of thoughts on Snow White – from here on out known as SWATH… oh shit, that actually spells out a real word… even better! – can be summed up in a single word: BODACIOUS. It’s a word I never hear anymore, but “amazing,” “terrific” and “superlative” are either too worn out or silly-pompous. So “bodacious” it is.
For one, Charlize Theron, you have come a LONG way from the timid, mousy hot wife of Keanu Reeves in The Devil’s Advocate. From a performing perspective, she might be my favorite actress right now. She played a spot-on piece of crap in Young Adult, and now she’s a scary evil queen/witch. This performance is why I won’t get married… this is how women get sometimes, turning into a murder of crows and poisoning other chicks and what have you. Kristen Stewart and Chris Hemsworth play the title roles well, but seriously, this is Theron’s show.
The plot adds a few supernatural twists to the original fairytale, including, uh, fairies, a badass troll and some other mythological madness, all of which feel so native to the setting that you almost forget these weren’t parts of the classic tellings of Snow White. The only thing I found weird was Snow saying an Our Father. (Score another one for the Catholics! We’re coming back!) Fantasy lands and real world religions are an odd mixture. Like a chalupa and milk. But whatever, I like both of those things separately, so they’re okay together.
SWATH is very much not for anyone under 10 years old, mixing some gore and a lot of Lord of the Rings elements into the pot. And there’s a creepy fascination with liquids. The mirror is a molten gold; the queen bathes in… milk?; there’s pools of blood and black murk; more than a few disturbing images, with the aforementioned crows taking the cake.
Overall, SWATH has more than lived up to its hype. Well worth my rare $13 primetime appearance at the theatre. But after all the action and in-your-face visual effects, I need a stiff drink.