h_proudfoot
Entrou em jul. de 2000
Bem-vindo(a) ao novo perfil
Nossas atualizações ainda estão em desenvolvimento. Embora a versão anterior do perfil não esteja mais acessível, estamos trabalhando ativamente em melhorias, e alguns dos recursos ausentes retornarão em breve! Fique atento ao retorno deles. Enquanto isso, Análise de Classificação ainda está disponível em nossos aplicativos iOS e Android, encontrados na página de perfil. Para visualizar suas Distribuições de Classificação por ano e gênero, consulte nossa nova Guia de ajuda.
Selos2
Para saber como ganhar selos, acesse página de ajuda de selos.
Avaliações5
Classificação de h_proudfoot
I haven't been compelled to write an IMDB review in over 18 years, but let me say that GLTS is just. that. good. (Also, all my previous reviews are terrible and I disavow them as teenage ineptitude in action; don't let them color your views on my taste level or human worth.)
Anyway, you should watch this show, especially now that it is available to all of us outside of New York City. It's very good -- especially if you like snacks, naps, and little twists. Who doesn't like those things?? If you don't, fine, but there's plenty of other stuff too! Give it a chance, will ya?
Anyway, you should watch this show, especially now that it is available to all of us outside of New York City. It's very good -- especially if you like snacks, naps, and little twists. Who doesn't like those things?? If you don't, fine, but there's plenty of other stuff too! Give it a chance, will ya?
The tone of the movie, its awkwardness, and its unique comedic flavor reflect some of the greatest aspects of Ben Stiller's on-screen persona. It's shifty and ungraceful, but in a lovable, embarrassing way. It is an acquired taste. It takes a few viewings to truly appreciate the humor (and possible message) of this film. Ben Stiller was definitely in his element when he helmed The Cable Guy.
Jim Carrey's performance is so good, I get chills sometimes just looking at him. He really creeps the bejesus out of me, which is a good thing. There are some movies that are great simply because they are creepy, because they make you squirm, because they make you a little uncomfortable. This movie (Quills is another one) has endeared itself to me by embracing its creepiness. It has the power to be both serious and ridiculous at the same time, which is a feat quite astonishing.
If there is one thing people should take from this movie, it is that television is damaging to the brain. But we all know that. Which is why the crux of the movie is not the idea of television as a poor babysitter, but on the idea that dark humor and ridiculous behavior can be enjoyable, though not for all.
It takes a certain kind of person to love this movie. You have to be greatly amused by the absurd. One of the greatest scenes takes place in Medieval Times, when Chip reenacts a classic encounter from Star Trek (complete with musical score) as a flabbergasted Steven looks on in horror. Great cameos from Stiller's pals Janeane Garafolo and Andy Dick help to make the Medieval Times segment uproariously funny.
Broderick plays the duped and dumped Steven to perfection, but the real treat is in viewing a "pre-stardom" Jack Black in his supporting role as Steven's best friend. I knew from the first time I saw him that he was going to go places (although his best performance is in High Fidelity, his Rick still holds a special place in my heart).
Some of the funniest parts in the movie are also the hardest to find. I actually laughed the most I ever had when I watched the movie with Closed Captioning while experiencing two very painful ear infections. There's something very special about a movie when it has the power to overcome the agony of an ear infection.
I know a movie has something special when it directly affects the way I live my life. For weeks after my second viewing, I couldn't help but talk in a thuthpithous lithsp. While exercising, I would do a few warm-up sprints to prevent the pulling of a "hammy." Any opponent was then referred to as "The Red Knight" and would subsequently be going "down! Down! Down! Red Knight's going down!" This movie is special to me. It may not be an American classic, or even a Cult Classic, but for my friends, family, and me it will forever be remembered as such.
My viewing enjoyment increases each time I sit down to watch this film. I've even converted a few people who were disappointed in their first viewing when Jim Carrey's Chip barely resembled Ace Ventura when I sat them down to a second viewing and carefully pointed out to them the beauty that is The Cable Guy.
It takes getting used to, but its definitely worth the effort.
Jim Carrey's performance is so good, I get chills sometimes just looking at him. He really creeps the bejesus out of me, which is a good thing. There are some movies that are great simply because they are creepy, because they make you squirm, because they make you a little uncomfortable. This movie (Quills is another one) has endeared itself to me by embracing its creepiness. It has the power to be both serious and ridiculous at the same time, which is a feat quite astonishing.
If there is one thing people should take from this movie, it is that television is damaging to the brain. But we all know that. Which is why the crux of the movie is not the idea of television as a poor babysitter, but on the idea that dark humor and ridiculous behavior can be enjoyable, though not for all.
It takes a certain kind of person to love this movie. You have to be greatly amused by the absurd. One of the greatest scenes takes place in Medieval Times, when Chip reenacts a classic encounter from Star Trek (complete with musical score) as a flabbergasted Steven looks on in horror. Great cameos from Stiller's pals Janeane Garafolo and Andy Dick help to make the Medieval Times segment uproariously funny.
Broderick plays the duped and dumped Steven to perfection, but the real treat is in viewing a "pre-stardom" Jack Black in his supporting role as Steven's best friend. I knew from the first time I saw him that he was going to go places (although his best performance is in High Fidelity, his Rick still holds a special place in my heart).
Some of the funniest parts in the movie are also the hardest to find. I actually laughed the most I ever had when I watched the movie with Closed Captioning while experiencing two very painful ear infections. There's something very special about a movie when it has the power to overcome the agony of an ear infection.
I know a movie has something special when it directly affects the way I live my life. For weeks after my second viewing, I couldn't help but talk in a thuthpithous lithsp. While exercising, I would do a few warm-up sprints to prevent the pulling of a "hammy." Any opponent was then referred to as "The Red Knight" and would subsequently be going "down! Down! Down! Red Knight's going down!" This movie is special to me. It may not be an American classic, or even a Cult Classic, but for my friends, family, and me it will forever be remembered as such.
My viewing enjoyment increases each time I sit down to watch this film. I've even converted a few people who were disappointed in their first viewing when Jim Carrey's Chip barely resembled Ace Ventura when I sat them down to a second viewing and carefully pointed out to them the beauty that is The Cable Guy.
It takes getting used to, but its definitely worth the effort.
A.I. tries to be many things all at once. It succeeds at this, although
it is a hindrance throughout the film, weighing it down into murky
depths of obscurity.
Did I like the movie? Well, yes, indeed I did. Is it a good movie?
Yes, too, it is this. However, is it a movie that everyone must see
and will love? Definitely not. Only a certain kind of person can enjoy
this movie. A person who likes both Spielberg and Kubrick, which
is no easy feat. Both moviemakers are talented visionaries, but
their visions are wildly different.
Spielberg is very introspective, focusing on emotions as the keys
to his stories. Kubrick's approach is more plot-oriented. He sees
his characters as parts of the background, the scenery, the bigger
picture. Spielberg, on the other hand, goes to painstaking lengths
to focus his camera not on the large external picture, but deep
inside the characters inhabiting his story, their very souls for all to
see. He films from the inside-out, while Kubrick does the opposite.
And that's what A.I. is: a movie opposite of itself, a conundrum, a
complete and utter mystery.
But it works. It is brave and austere, but tender and innocent at the
same time. It reaches for many levels, but as it does, it also
reaches many plateaus. It tries for so much, but it has set its
expectations too high. Nonetheless, the film achieves many
things, even if greatness isn't one of them.
The movie is divided into three segments (which I call): `Mommy',
`Gigolo Joe', and `Submerged'. `Mommy' is sentimental Spielberg, pushing emotion and tugging heartstrings to the very
limit. It was touching, to a certain extent, but not everyone will find it
pleasing. Sentimentalists will adore it; mothers will cherish it; men
who are insecure about their sexuality will abhor it (as they abhor
many complex things). The plot focuses mainly on the `mecha,'
David, programmed to love and struggling to fit into a normal
human family, yearning for the love his gives out to be returned to
him by `Mommy'. It is Haley Joel Osment's shining moment. It is
his best work to date (a pretty large statement for an adolescent).
`Gigolo Joe' is Kubrick, although I am not sure to the extent of his
involvement in the production. I have read that he penned the
original script, however credit is not given, and I don't know how
much of his original concept is salvaged by Spielberg in this
production. `Gigolo Joe' screams Kubrick to me, simply through
it's madness, it's chaos, and most importantly it's magnetism.
The main character, besides Osment's David, is a love-making
model mecha, Gigolo Joe, played charmingly and deliciously by
Jude Law. For a robot who was programmed without emotions, he
evokes emotion from those he makes contact with: the women he
pleasures, David, and the audience. Joe, strangely enough, has
characters of human emotion even when he logically shouldn't,
which could be considered a flaw in the film, but how could it be
any other way? The movie places itself in a tight corner by making
artificial human beings with artificial emotions as its lead
characters, because how is a human audience supposed to relate
to such artificiality? To get around this problem, Spielberg and Co.
simply avoid the fact that the emotions, like the intelligence, are
artificial. Mechas are given distinct personalities, and with these
personalities inevitably come emotions, and I accept it, as will
most. This portion of the movie is definitely my favorite. The Flesh
Fair alone is worth the trip to the video rental store, and a cameo
by Chris Rock is one of the highlights of the film (fifteen seconds
out of 2 hours and 26 minutes).
The third and final segment, `Submerged', places David in
Manhattan, his birthplace. This part of the movie could have been a
lot shorter, and the ending could have been a little less sappy, for
my particular tastes. It is too clean, and doesn't seem to fit in with
the rest of the film. Whereas the rest is choppy and chaotic (very
befitting of the subject at hand), the final scenes of the film seem
to come from a fairy tale where happy endings are guaranteed. I
disapprove of the tidiness of the ending, but not of the sentiment
behind it. Spielberg wants to dearly give his hero the one thing in
the world he yearns for, and he has found a way to do that without
being corny or manipulative. That is truly appreciated by the
viewing audience, but the easiness to which the ending comes, to
how David earns his prize does not mesh with the rest of the film.
It is at it's core a heroic quest, and the epiphany that the hero must
encounter by the end of the tale is not evident, which sadly takes
away from the rest of the film.
When the ending is less than perfect, it tarnishes everything that
came before it. Where it should be poignant and thought- provoking, the final scenes of A.I. seem to be instead targeted to a
child who needs everything explained to him. A movie that tackles
a subject as deep and ambiguous as artificial intelligence should
have an ending just as esoteric and cryptic.
Although I might sound disappointed, I am giving this movie a
good review. It is worth seeing, and Spielberg once again creates
a visual, sometimes disturbing, accomplishment. Despite a few
flaws, both minor and major, Artificial Intelligence is still a movie
that imprints unforgettable images into the mind and asks
undeniably important questions. It tries desperately to answer
those questions, but it is in search of those alluding answers that
the film ultimately finds fault. Sometimes the answers are better
left unsaid.
it is a hindrance throughout the film, weighing it down into murky
depths of obscurity.
Did I like the movie? Well, yes, indeed I did. Is it a good movie?
Yes, too, it is this. However, is it a movie that everyone must see
and will love? Definitely not. Only a certain kind of person can enjoy
this movie. A person who likes both Spielberg and Kubrick, which
is no easy feat. Both moviemakers are talented visionaries, but
their visions are wildly different.
Spielberg is very introspective, focusing on emotions as the keys
to his stories. Kubrick's approach is more plot-oriented. He sees
his characters as parts of the background, the scenery, the bigger
picture. Spielberg, on the other hand, goes to painstaking lengths
to focus his camera not on the large external picture, but deep
inside the characters inhabiting his story, their very souls for all to
see. He films from the inside-out, while Kubrick does the opposite.
And that's what A.I. is: a movie opposite of itself, a conundrum, a
complete and utter mystery.
But it works. It is brave and austere, but tender and innocent at the
same time. It reaches for many levels, but as it does, it also
reaches many plateaus. It tries for so much, but it has set its
expectations too high. Nonetheless, the film achieves many
things, even if greatness isn't one of them.
The movie is divided into three segments (which I call): `Mommy',
`Gigolo Joe', and `Submerged'. `Mommy' is sentimental Spielberg, pushing emotion and tugging heartstrings to the very
limit. It was touching, to a certain extent, but not everyone will find it
pleasing. Sentimentalists will adore it; mothers will cherish it; men
who are insecure about their sexuality will abhor it (as they abhor
many complex things). The plot focuses mainly on the `mecha,'
David, programmed to love and struggling to fit into a normal
human family, yearning for the love his gives out to be returned to
him by `Mommy'. It is Haley Joel Osment's shining moment. It is
his best work to date (a pretty large statement for an adolescent).
`Gigolo Joe' is Kubrick, although I am not sure to the extent of his
involvement in the production. I have read that he penned the
original script, however credit is not given, and I don't know how
much of his original concept is salvaged by Spielberg in this
production. `Gigolo Joe' screams Kubrick to me, simply through
it's madness, it's chaos, and most importantly it's magnetism.
The main character, besides Osment's David, is a love-making
model mecha, Gigolo Joe, played charmingly and deliciously by
Jude Law. For a robot who was programmed without emotions, he
evokes emotion from those he makes contact with: the women he
pleasures, David, and the audience. Joe, strangely enough, has
characters of human emotion even when he logically shouldn't,
which could be considered a flaw in the film, but how could it be
any other way? The movie places itself in a tight corner by making
artificial human beings with artificial emotions as its lead
characters, because how is a human audience supposed to relate
to such artificiality? To get around this problem, Spielberg and Co.
simply avoid the fact that the emotions, like the intelligence, are
artificial. Mechas are given distinct personalities, and with these
personalities inevitably come emotions, and I accept it, as will
most. This portion of the movie is definitely my favorite. The Flesh
Fair alone is worth the trip to the video rental store, and a cameo
by Chris Rock is one of the highlights of the film (fifteen seconds
out of 2 hours and 26 minutes).
The third and final segment, `Submerged', places David in
Manhattan, his birthplace. This part of the movie could have been a
lot shorter, and the ending could have been a little less sappy, for
my particular tastes. It is too clean, and doesn't seem to fit in with
the rest of the film. Whereas the rest is choppy and chaotic (very
befitting of the subject at hand), the final scenes of the film seem
to come from a fairy tale where happy endings are guaranteed. I
disapprove of the tidiness of the ending, but not of the sentiment
behind it. Spielberg wants to dearly give his hero the one thing in
the world he yearns for, and he has found a way to do that without
being corny or manipulative. That is truly appreciated by the
viewing audience, but the easiness to which the ending comes, to
how David earns his prize does not mesh with the rest of the film.
It is at it's core a heroic quest, and the epiphany that the hero must
encounter by the end of the tale is not evident, which sadly takes
away from the rest of the film.
When the ending is less than perfect, it tarnishes everything that
came before it. Where it should be poignant and thought- provoking, the final scenes of A.I. seem to be instead targeted to a
child who needs everything explained to him. A movie that tackles
a subject as deep and ambiguous as artificial intelligence should
have an ending just as esoteric and cryptic.
Although I might sound disappointed, I am giving this movie a
good review. It is worth seeing, and Spielberg once again creates
a visual, sometimes disturbing, accomplishment. Despite a few
flaws, both minor and major, Artificial Intelligence is still a movie
that imprints unforgettable images into the mind and asks
undeniably important questions. It tries desperately to answer
those questions, but it is in search of those alluding answers that
the film ultimately finds fault. Sometimes the answers are better
left unsaid.