film review: mission impossible: rogue nation

firstly, sign me up for the Mission Impossible cardio workout. a fuckload of running, core strength built up by sudden changes in direction on the cobblestoned streets of overseas locations, bit of squats and knife play... sure, there's someone shooting at you the whole damn time, but that's just to motivate.

abs of steel in 6 to 8 weeks, I hear.

the latest offering from this bajillion-dollar franchise wasn't shy in coming forward with the inevitable opening action sequence (Tom Cruise on the outside of a plane while it's in the air, yo). I like a bit of ridiculous theatrical tension (is the door going to open in time? well is it?) safe in the knowledge that they cannot possibly kill off Ethan Hunt (Cruise's character, for the players at home who have been living under a rock) in the first 10 minutes. just once I'd like to see one of the big names killed off right at the start, in the style of Scream's treatment of Drew Barrymore. I'm not saying we have to kill Ethan Hunt, but we could at least think about it. Way less Tom Cruise that way.

this is the 5th Mission Impossible movie. I missed Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol but I can only assume that the IMF got some ghosts on board to help them solve crimes or whatever because ghosts have mad spy skills. I have actually seen the other 3 because of my weakness for watching things exploding (may have mentioned this in my review of Mad Men - soothes my hungover soul). say what you like about Tom Cruise, he seems to be good at action movies. still, do say what you like about him, for it is fun to be mean about a very rich white male scientologist who is short. this is his main weak point as a person, as far as I can tell. not all the weird scientology shit where he keeps his wives captive and believes things that are actually insane. gloss on by that, let's chat measurements.

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation is not just about breaking into stuff to steal things or double triple double agents with a side of silk dresses which need to be cut high into the crotch for practical reasons, and it's not just about physical fitness or how long you can hold your breath. It's about the politics of the international spy world (which, as far as I can tell, needs some serious mediation prefaced with some solid icebreaker work). It's about the advancement of technology where you can wear a wetsuit with a thing on it saying how much oxygen you have left in your lungs. I don't think this is a spoiler because I'm not going to tell you how much oxygen or how much time people held their breath for.

As usual I did my woman count. I say woman because there was one woman in the whole fucking movie.

Whatever, Helen. Women aren't very good spies. What about when they have a baby or get their period or something? Nobody wants to deal with that shit. Women are out of control; why, even that one woman they let be in the movie was a rogue one. I still don't know if she was a goodie or a baddie, and we need to know that stuff. Note: female spies get sweet gadgets like a lipstick that is also a USB. So it's pretty fair all round really.

Begrudging points for the kick-arse motorbike stuff that female lead Rebecca Ferguson as fairly quiet but deadly efficient Ilsa Faust pulled off, literally leaving Ethan Hunt in Moroccan dust; for the knife fight where she was paired evenly with a male agent (I keep forgetting they're called agents now - spy is such an outdated term) and more than held her own; and a small happy cheer for the lack of romantic crap driving the plot. But seriously: one actual woman? yikes.

Special mention goes to use of a variety of locations (Morocco! Underwater! London! London again!) as well as a few well-placed jokes and some very convincingly placed BMWs. SO many BMWs. A black one. A white one. A van. Some motorbikes. They were almost like the 6th or 7th character of the story. Probably male ones but.

I'd like to put forward a brief note on Tom Cruise's face, which is that it makes me really very mad when I look at it. A blessing, really, that action movies don't require a lot of close-ups. I'm not violent, generally, but it's a face I'd feel ok about hitting.

With that in mind this movie gets 2.5 stars. Right in the middle. See it if you like, but you could also wait and watch it in about a year and spend the whole time not sure if you've seen it already. I know that's what I'm going to do.

film review: Magic Mike XXL

I'll tell you what's awkward: when you get to a point in your life where you get cocky (yes, pun intended, you're welcome) that you know what sort of movie the sequel to Magic Mike, that documentary about the profession of male stripping from 2012, will be... and you're wrong in almost every way.

I'll tell you what else is awkward: when you walk out of Magic Mike XXL and the first thing you say is "there really could have been more stripping". This was the mission of this creative masterpiece of a sequel: as many abs as possible. Some more of Ginuwine's Pony. Channing Motherfucking Tatum, for days.

Everyone, I'm just going to say it. Don't see this movie, there is not enough male nudity.

It also sucks in a wide collection of other ways. There are far too many minutes in this movie (115, to be exact) with no music, for a start. I want the up and coming club hits playing pretty much the whole time. I want there to be some puns. I want the characters to either have no back story or an over-used character trope. I don't want some half-assed shit about a guy's dream to run a truck that dispenses probiotic frozen yoghurt. I kid you not. An actual thing from this movie.

There are also far too many minutes in this movie where everyone is like, sitting around. I thought it was going to have aspects of the comedy and self-deprecation when the core cast all went nuts on MDMA early in the piece and did silly things, but then there's dead air for an hour. With the metaphorical crickets chirping and tumbleweed blowing down the main street.

What I want to know is, how the ACTUAL FUCK did Donald Glover (Childish Gambino, Community) get himself involved in this absolute train wreck (side note: previewed the trailer for upcoming Judd Apatow movie "Trainwreck" starring Amy Schumer; looks fantastic) of a movie? He is a successful artist. He wears hats so well. He has such a nice face. Why Donald? Why?

All the men are very muscular and tanned in that charming way that has more than a hint of the orange skin tone about it. They've all got a little older, but they're still keeping it tight. There are all these carefully sculpted muscle groups that aren't doing what they do best: being bared to the world.

Let me be very clear: I understand this level of fitness and muscle definition is not realistic for us people of the real world. I understand that objectification of anyone is ultimately destructive when it puts the kind of pressure on us all to strive for something we'll never be. But if I'm paying for entertainment and I've expected something, it's just so hard to recalibrate my expectations. That's really what's upsetting here. I'm not sure if it's the patriarchy's fault, but that's who I'm going to blame.

That and the incredibly poor writing that didn't even bother to leave holes in the plot, it just skipped out on plot all together. Now we're at the beach. Now we're in the forest. Now we're in the South. Now we're

Oh wait I don't care anymore.

Loyally I will note and applaud the high quality of Channing Tatum's dancing. I like Channing, I really do. He tends to say a good collection of feminist things in a fairly inoffensive way (rather than the "look at me, I thought a feminist thing, where's my gold star and my free pass to be a sexist asshole?") in the public space. I like how his character, the eponymous Mike, incorporated his work with his male entertainer past in this excellent trailer from the movie:



Actually, listen: if you just watched the above you have now seen all the best parts. Don't fall into the trap of wanting more: there is no more that is any good.

Just so bad, you guys. Take away feels from this movie: why won't you stop talking and dance?! Also, all the dollar bills on the stage bothered me - it didn't feel safe. Someone could have slipped on there.

It gets no stars. I even feel bad for making you read my review, but if I managed to stop just one person who is expecting lols and eye candy underscored by some sick tunes paying to see this shit, my work here is done.

You're welcome.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is the king of the world and the boss of everything: a think piece on Terminator: Genisys.

Dear everybody, everywhere: Arnie, amiright?

I went to see the latest instalment in the Terminator franchise last Thursday with a small gang of people. It was opening night: we got there early. We won: we got the best seats in the house (if you promise not to take them from me, I will tell you which ones they are: the ones just up from the aisle. You can put your feet up and nobody’s head is in front of your face). We probably could’ve cruised in there a little later in the night, like 5 to 20 mins, but I have no regrets. 

So the thing about the Terminator movies is this: lower your expectations. Good and low? Just lower them a little more. Allow a moment of thought about the sheer amount of pressure riding on the poor poor cast, writers, director, producers. The huge amount of money the film needs to make. The fucking creative pressure of the daily grind, man. 

Lower the expectations just a little bit more. 

And here we go: into the past but also firstly into the future, but then also the past is different because of a Terminator from the future but not as far into the future as the current future we’re in. Or maybe - not sure. But the important thing is that we’re in the past for long enough to revisit the first movie, take your name down flip it and reverse it, and then off we go into another future that’s again, not as far into the future as we were before, at the start of the movie. And a belated spoiler alert to you, my friends.

The year was something. 2017 I think. Gotta fix the thing before it happens, but also don’t forget the system is there to wreck your plans before you wreck its plans because TECHNOLOGY AND CAPITALISM. 

I’m really confused with how clever I’ve tried to be about this, so I might quit while I’m behind but also slightly ahead.

I actually loved the last Terminator movie, "Terminator: Salvation" which was possibly more about Sam Worthington than is strictly allowed. Actually I can justify it by stating I’m supporting local produce - I mean artists - and we’re good here. Solved. I’m not sure if it will stand up to a rewatching, but now I’ve thought about it, I probably will re-watch. For science.

I’m always going to enjoy popular cultural explorations of dystopia, however stilted the acting is (although now I wonder if I maybe missed the point of them being stilted as something about being influenced by the machine-driven world in which they have to survive… do we buy that? Let’s, for now) and however many mans they manage to list in the opening credits before Emilia “Khaleesi” Clarke gets her mention. So, #justfeministthings: I think because of Mad Max (you can read my very very fond review of that masterpiece here), all the action blockbuster type movies are being held up to a feminist/quasi-feminist looking glass at the moment. Which I think, overall, is fucking fantastic. We need the general public to start being a little more “hey what’s up with there being almost only men in this movie?”. I support this sentiment, clearly. 

Unfortunately for Clarke (and I’m just going to say it because I SAY WHAT I WANT), the woman of the movie, the giver of all life and whatever, she just did not deliver great acting. It was like Khaleesi stumbled through some hair dye (or took off her wig, because that bleach-blonde hair is not a real thing) and into an 80s city with the keys to a mail truck and a big old pile of guns. And zero dragons. Maybe I wanted too much from her; maybe I didn’t lower my expectations of her enough. Her resemblance to Linda Hamilton who played Sarah Connor in the first Terminator movie is pretty excellent, but I just didn’t quite believe it. Also, it still ended up being a bit about her boobs.

Don’t get me wrong even for an instant: great boobs. Don’t anyone dare tell me she doesn’t do her own boob work, my feelings will be irrevocably hurt. At least tell me she provides her own silhouette boob (you’ll know it when you see it).

I like the idea of Sarah Connor being a central figure, but it doesn’t come off as genuine. Partly the boob thing, partly the lack of dimensions (haha not boob dimensions you all, the other kind - character dimensions) - we didn’t get much insight into her motivations, we didn’t get to see her as much of a human - I didn’t see half as many flaws and internal conflicts as I would have liked to, given the premise of her role in the whole saga.

Anyhow. Let’s move on and talk about Arnie. It makes me happy. It’s really all I have to say. The guy has almost no range and still manages to steal the show (and govern a fucking state, right?) while oftentimes having bits of his face missing or being digitally altered or being naked.

I just want to observe that the guy did not skip leg day. Like, ever.

I like how he brings this little tweak of humour to his role - it’s like he knows how silly he is but he’s also like “come on guys, sometimes just being a politician is so hard… I need this”. Also, what would the franchise even be without the guy? You know I’m right. Also have to concede in light of overwhelming evidence that I am a sucker for an accent - even a German one, even after everything (not a reference to the war, btw).

Overall (see how keenly I have avoided spoilers, by failing to discuss most of the plot and other characters) I think you should all see it, but don’t care too much. I mean, care if you must, but care sparingly. Find joy in the self-referential. The explosions, of which there are many. Enjoy that thing with the plot twist. And I don’t think I’ll ruin it too much by mentioning this excellent joke, which I have to thank Phill for reminding me of:

“What do we want? Time Travel. When do we want it? It’s irrelevant!”

2 stars: one for Arnie and one for making me paranoid about Apple, which is a story for another time (I’m writing this on a MacBook).

film review: Jurassic World

DINOSAURS, everybody.

The real spoiler here is that there is no universe in which I was not going to like this movie. I'm well aware that I'm not alone in this love: last night as I floated between dinner and drinks, all the people I ran into (all good ones, yay) expressed envy at my plan to see Jurassic World ASAP, which was 10am today. They were jealous. I was Not Sorry.

There's a race to write this review as I've just started downloading Jurassic Park and I want to finish writing before the download is done, which gives me about 15 minutes.

First let's talk about the font. It was vintage Jurassic Park circa 1993 with a modern twist. Streamlined. Silver instead of red. Classic, "rebooting a franchise" silver. I smelled money. I was ok with it.

Secondly: The preamble to disaster. I love the part where they set the scene. They were all "we've learned from the mistakes of ninety three, this is state of the art glass, cement and helicopters. We have holograms, bitches. We will not be falling into the traps those idiots from before failed to consider. We got this. Look: we built a bigger fence". And I was all "shut up and let's skip to where the dinosaur escapes".

Third: Chris motherfuckin Pratt. The raptor-whisperer. I don't want to spoil everything in this dramatic cinematic thriller masterpiece, but in the trailer you will note that there's a badass scene where he's riding a motorbike and the raptors are running with him, not after him - that's all I'll say. I've only really seen him in comedic roles and his action acting is fine, my only note is that I'd have liked more jokes.  To be completely fair about it, there probably wasn't time. His forearms made up for the lack of jokes. I'm ok with this objectification because muscular forearms are a practical thing when it comes to kicking ass and taking names, and ultimately what is really attractive about Chris (first name basis, yep) is how he just helps people and cares about animals. And that's an attractive quality for all humans to have. Solved.

And also: Bryce Dallas Howard (playing Claire Dearing, who is Park Operations Manager, I'd like to quietly point out she had one job...) Does All The Things in Heels. Much conversation to be had here - me and my fellow female movie-goer companion friend Kate took a quick poll in the interests of science and research and fairness, and ultimately agreed that running away from reptiles that were originally extinct literally millions years ago and have been reanimated with rather shakily-explained DNA might be made unnecessarily complicated by high-heeled shoes. So silly. But also, you know, aspirational. Women need goals.

Another thing: I love how many things get broken. I love it. Break all the hospitality infrastructure! Ruin all the sculptures! All that metal that holds the buildings together somehow? Wreck it all! This movie must be seen on a big screen at least once. Just for the destruction and the dinosaur chases on a large scale. Don't deny it - do it.

Something else, a significant point I think: It's hard to re-do a beloved franchise. I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the formative experience that was Jurassic Park. It was the first movie I saw on a big screen. My grandma, who took us all, must have wanted us to have the worst nightmares...What a  meanie. While I probably wasn't as scared this time around (raptors in the kitchen, anybody? I was 8 years old when I saw that shit. Nobody comes back from that without metal cupboard-based trust issues) I still got that exhilaration I associate with that first movie-going experience. I'm certain that most of the people I know have a Jurassic Park story, in fact, I've heard a few great ones already. I am happy to recommend this movie to all you people with your fond memories.

An extra thing: Indominus Rex, amiright? You'll know it when you see it. Might name my firstborn Indominus.

The final point: They actually learned nothing. 'They' is the people running the park now (who frequently reference Jurassic Park circa 1993, so it's not like they've had it wiped from their minds). There was a 'what not to do' and they thought they knew better. The dinosaurs obviously had other ideas. I'd like to get worked up about this, but the honest fact of the matter is that I'm glad they fucked up (I don't think this is a spoiler because if you care at all about Jurassic World you will have watched all the trailers for it like I have, and you know a dinosaur ruins some things. Don't be mad) - the huge mistake they made was a great movie-making opportunity. I can't blame them for it. I ate that shit right up. I'll probably see it again and give them even more of my money.

5ive stars. It was 4.5, but then there was this picture of Chris Pratt. His waistcoat has so many pockets and is so practical, he earned the film the extra half-star.

film review: Entourage

10 minutes into the Entourage movie it's clear I've made a terrible mistake.

I'd like to be a bit philosophical about this, or to perhaps have gone to see this movie for some lofty purpose - feminist analysis, #notallmen etc, but it's not true. I went because it was on at 11:15am and that seemed suitable, and I like to keep in touch with the people and their blockbusters. But wow. Honestly, I am generous in my above indication that it took me 10 minutes to dislike.

(Sorry for fans of Entourage, I mean, why are you reading my blog, but sure, sorry. Promise I won't spoiler it for ya - there's so many unpredictable twists and turns and what kind of monster would I be? etc.) 

I concede that I have watched some Entourage in my time. Perhaps most of the first season even. It had a bit of celebrity drop-in novelty and actually didn't seem to take itself too seriously. A bit of self-referential whatever and things. Watchable. Plus I always had a thing for Adam Grenier after that fucking fantastic teen classic, Drive Me Crazy. Now that is a good time. I recommend it to you all. Some of you may hate it and me, and be inspired to write your own reviews. While it is not my job to inspire such creativity I suppose this is a burden I must bear, and you are welcome.

I digress. Firstly, I find it difficult to deal with tv shows becoming movies for the basic fact of my being used to them on a small screen and 22 minutes long and now they're on a big screen and they go forever and they've done things to the opening credits to make them sort of the same but different (I'm also looking at you, Sex and The City). This complaint may be a personal flaw in me and my failure to think big, so I caution you to take it with a grain of salt.

Because (I'm guessing... I'll do that a bit in this review as I have no desire to fact-check my assumptions when it comes to Entourage specifically) it's been a while since there's been Entourage on tv, all the characters get to walk on to the movie like they're guest stars entering set on a sitcom, expecting applause from the studio audience - like when Brad Pitt was on Friends, or other such examples. There's this pause when they walk into a scene that makes me want to yell out "we don't care" - but I couldn't fairly speak for the other 2 people in the cinema, plus I didn't even care enough to vocalise it. The cast all looked older though, which is what lead me to assume time had passed. Yep, I'm basically Sherlock.

One or two points to make with something of a feminist bent: the women in this movie were really really only there to be fucked. Even the ones the 5 main male characters of the show were in love with: there to be fucked. Many of the women who appeared didn't get to speak, which was probably to their advantage as the speaking women were just being all bitchy by demanding things and trying to make fairly valid points about how the 5 main male characters were being complete dicks. Bitches, amiright? It already bores me that this is Entourage's 'thing', because nah. Not good enough. 

Cast: white, wealthy, male. Millions of dollars, nice cars, pool parties, boats. Nobody learned any kind of lesson of any kind. Nobody portrayed any sort of reality or insight into life that made me feel any differently about anything.

There. Done with that.

Random unexpected highlight: the "where are they now" situation where Haley Joel Osment (the kid from The Sixth Sense) pops up as a Texan billionaire's son. He grew a beard! He has a funny Texas accent! I wonder if he still sees dead people! While googling Haley just now to check how you spell his last name (ok, so I am doing a little fact checking) I found a lot of internet commentary about child movie stars who grow up to be funny-looking. Not that it matters, but they're not wrong. He's destined to play funny-looking folk for a good long while yet, and more power to him for it. We need more funny-looking role models.

There's sex and drugs, but not regularly enough for it to be any more than mildly titillating - speaking of which, just so many boobs. If you like boobs, go just for the boobs. As mentioned earlier, most of the boobs don't even talk, which makes things easier. There's a bit where someone sneaks some drugs into someone's water bottle and nothing crazy even happens, there's just some sex (and more boobs). Seriously, bunches of boobs. Comes with a warning though - if you like a bit of plot with your boobs you are in the wrong place.

The soundtrack is mainly hiphop which I believe goes nicely with all the weed we need to remember they smoke from watching the tv show - you wouldn't know it in the movie. I just want to sit them down and be like "listen, kids - decide about if you're really going to get into drugs or not. Stop hovering in the middle ground. You're wasting your time and mine". Yes, it has come to this - I wish there was more drug use. The craziest thing that happened was probably the Haley Joel Osment appearance, and it's not enough. Where were the tigers? The wacky aunt? The dead people?

I'm fairly sure that whatever the obstacle to be overcome is, they overcome it. I can't remember and I watched it about 4 hours ago. Pretty sure Mark Wahlberg can't remember either, and he was the producer and (huge spoiler alert, sorry) made a 5 line cameo appearance. Plus it's based in his life I think. I don't know. I don't know anymore.

I give it a quarter of a star. 

film review: Mad Max: Fury Road

I haven't done a film review in a while, mainly because I stopped being able to go to the movies for free and write it up for the student paper. Now I have to pay for my cinema-going like I'm a member of the general public or something. It makes me want to shake my fist and post something in Thumbs Up Thumbs Down, but I'm saving that for something less important that I care more about.

I have this counter-intuitive tendency to want to go see action movies when I'm hungover. The dark cinema thing is good, but sometimes the loud dubstep explosion noises are a bit much. Still, I persevere. Maybe it's that I like to see shit get blown up when I'm feeling plain. Maybe it's the choc tops. Couldn't tell ya.

I took my red wine hangover to the cinema to see "Mad Max: Fury Road" yesterday, and holy shit I am pleased about my life choices. I'm even more pleased than I was when I won/got given the fruit and veg tray at the raffle at the bar earlier in the week, and in that spirit (and to hopefully slightly annoy my friend Paddy) I'm going to tell you all that I won Mad Max at the cinema yesterday. Because I actually did.

I walked into it with mixed expectations, because on one hand action movies are generally gratuitous in a myriad of ways; between the trophy females that need saving and the manly men with no real feelings and the poorly taped-together plotlines there is a desperate need to suspend all disbelief. On the other hand, I'd heard rumours from The Feminists On The Internet that there was a bit more of something going on in this movie. I avoided all the reviews so I could attempt to have my own thoughts about it, and gosh did I think some things. Here are some of them:

I love a good dystopian setting. When it's just so clear to me that we're basically fucking the planet up and wrecking all the things, I get curious about what sort of future we're allowing ourselves to imagine, or, you know, allowing the artists to imagine for us. I am particularly interested in how we re-imagine gender roles, when we could potentially remake everything. I still want to write a thesis on this. Put it in the pile. Mad Max sits in a futuristic world where the planet is all wrecked and there's just a whole lot of sand everywhere all the time, and it made for some amazing scenery and settings for what basically equated to some folks driving somewhere and then turning around and driving back (spoiler alert). The vehicles were all very steampunk-chic and incredible to look at.

The action sequences were great. They nearly all took place while vehicles were moving, the violence was reasonably graphic without feeling gratuitous. I like seeing people's faces split in half as much as the next person, but can appreciate that level of blood is not for everyone. While part of me wanted to see what the bad guys looked like when they got run over, I was satisfied that they had gotten run over, because it was really the only way to make them stop. Those guys were persistent. Because it was an action movie, there was a lot of fighting. Between you and me I'm not sure everyone really got enough sleep, and I didn't see them eat much, besides the occasional two-headed lizard or spider (spoiler alert). Anyhow, they seemed to be ok with just muddling on through as far as the practicalities.

The leads were Tom Hardy as Max Rockatansky and Charlize Theron as Imperator Furiosa. Given that this is a franchise, of course it was called "Mad Max: something something", but honestly, if you didn't have that background knowledge you'd be hard pressed choosing which of these attractive (albeit rather dusty and sweaty) people was the protagonist. It wasn't Max's story, and it wasn't Furiosa's. Herein lies the reason I'm calling it awesome.

When you're a feminist and you go to the movies you have a few choices about your thought process during and after the movie. A lot of the time, as mentioned above, I can assume a certain level of generic patriarchal crap from an action movie and not get worked up about that (still trying my very best not to notice the complete lack of meaningful roles for women in many action movies movies in general). I can also go to a movie expecting it to please my feminist self and be disappointed enough to rant. I can go not expecting anything and have it go either way. As noted, I had heard that the feminists liked this one, so I was curious.

The reason this movie was so good is because there were two main characters kicking ass and using their mad skills to help people who needed help, and they were both as tough as each other. They were also both allowed to be vulnerable at certain points. They were both driven, complex characters with three-dimensional motivations for their actions (as much as they were allowed to be in a 2 hour action film). They were both beautiful, of course (I mean, Tom Hardy certainly has a face on the front of his head, if you know what I mean; Charlize Theron wore that short hair like she was doing it a favour, right on top of her head and everything) but that wasn't quite the point.

I'm not saying there weren't problematic factors here: the many wives or 'breeders' as they were so charmingly called certainly could have been more practically dressed for the weather. I didn't probably need to see their nipples, unless there was a metaphor there that went over my head. To be fair, as effective sex slaves to the old blistery guy I guess they may not have had much else on offer as wardrobe options. And they got their chance to be more than just helpless baby factories too, they probably killed a more than good handful of bad guys between them (spoiler alert). I want to know if they were meeting the eye candy requirement of action movies, or if we weren't meant to notice their near-nakedness at all (I strongly doubt it). The bloody patriarchy means I'm always noticing the nipples and the nudity. It means I'm often doing my best to ignore the way the nipples and the nudity are used.

Women in this dystopian future got to be so many things. They got to be fierce warriors with traumatic childhoods, full of loyalty and the drive to change the fates of other more vulnerable people. They were prisoners trapped for their childbearing ability; farm animals producing milk and sons. Commodities. They got to be hard and soft, beautiful and grotesque, whole and missing pieces. They got to feel love and fear and pain, they were brave despite the odds being stacked another way. They got to be weak, they betrayed the cause, they were strong and idealistic and realistic and sassy. They rescued and were rescued. You get my point, I think. This is what women actually are, and we deserve to keep being this, even in a desert world of the future.

Men got to be more than one thing, too. They were all geared for battle at every point, but all sick and coming undone underneath the armour (literal and metaphorical, y'all). The better film/real world I dream about allows everyone more dimensions. It's the only way.

I never promised this wouldn't get rant-like. Follow me into a better future.

I wish for and imagine these sorts of directorial choices to be so common and obvious that they are no longer even worthy of comment, more just 'but of course'. As it stands, my feelings are that this movie gets 4.5 stars. Go see it.