patrickhauber

But those gaps are smaller than in same-ish movies I've seen before. Stream-of-consciousness just having finished the film: Ex Machina has beautiful cinematography and/or high-end cameras, but that doesn't make a film. I want a story that's true and well-told, and characters that are real reflections of humanity (and other beings). This movie has the latter, with people (especially the main character) that I definitely saw in people of real life, including myself. And if I were my so much more self-absorbed self of 10-15 years ago, I would've identified with Caleb (main character) even more. And the utterly nouveaux-modern-next-generation-techy feel of it all (think Shattered Glass + Goodwill Hunting characters and youthful pride, with whatever newest tech and beautiful and maybe stark-cold CGI as a visual basis) is alright, cool, but where's the integrity? My main issues are with Ava--the A.I.--and Caleb--the good boy thrown into the situation. What are the moviemaker(s) trying to say here? Sexuality can just be programmed into software? And also attraction can? And friendship? And that an incredibly smart A.I. would trust the first man she meets that isn't her creator? And all within a week? Even putting all that aside, I see a suturing of elements in the characters. I can't explain it, it would seem. I am just not being given the words. But scene to scene as I watched, I saw people embodying things that seemed contrary to who they were introduced to be. Well, maybe I'm wrong and that was the whole point of the movie. Because I admit that possibility, and because of the style, it gets a 7 instead of 5 or 6. Not that those numbers really matter. I'd recommend it for all but the most thinky evenings.

James Rolfe, aka the Angry Video game Nerd, aka Board James, aka comrade to all true-hearted Millennial homespun artists of all kinds, really nailed it here, in my humble opinion. As opposed to the hilariously bad, ragey, yet somehow endearing AVGN shorts, and James's other campy horror stuff, this is something I'd truly call an atmospheric, non-ironic film.

It's something I'm sure we'd all like to see more of from James Rolfe.

That said, the film is a not-too-dark horror short with a bunch of heart. I say heart not because of the content itself, but because it feels so very much like the stuff of Twilight Zonia that James so obviously loves. Interesting, realistic characters, otherworldly subjects, dark settings, the forest, the wild of the universe, the unknown--all these wrap up into a nice vignette of scare. But the surprise might be the zeitgeist that James just nailed here. Legend of the Blue Hole is a youthful slice of the times--baggy jeans, white t-shirts, urban myths, camp fires, wry dry boy-girl chitchat, long hair, Green Day (well maybe not Green Day, but it fits)...and much more importantly...hmm...so much that I can't quite describe. And it's all seamless, not because it was engineered, but because it grew that way.

Really good job James. 9/10.

Before I watched this, I watched the complementary music video to "The Suburbs" (the first track on the album of the same name). I recommend watching both.

As someone who is questioning society's ideas of what it means to grow up, this story is a touching one. At first glance, to the uninitiated, it could come off like just another teen drama love triangle. That would be a tragic misinterpretation of this fine, authentic piece of art, and it would fall short of Arcade Fire's sensibilities and desire to deal with what's really going on with "America" beneath all the "issues." (At least, that's my interpretation of most of their work so far.) For, as opposed to some Disney story that pits friends against each other for a girlfriend/boyfriend, this isn't about that kind of relationship. In fact, it has nothing to do with the female character--it's about a friendship between two guys. A friendship torn apart by change (not good change) and fear as one of them pulls away from the group as accepts the deeper disease behind what the authorities in his life are telling him, and portraying.

The unique symbolism of how our "communities" have become is a minimally-important background for a youthfully-, authentically-acted short drama between childhood best friends.

I don't want to give the plot away, so I'll just end this by saying I now understand the album lyrics "With my old friends I can remember when / You cut your hair, I never saw you again." The questions it leaves us with are deeply important in this nation of detached souls.

Should we look a certain way to grow up? Should we surrender to the world's system to grow up? *Should* we grow up?