Friday, July 4, 2008

Snapshot movie review: "Wanted"

Watching "Wanted" is a bit like dating a trendy twenty-something. The movie is clever, kinda cute but ultimately is a vapid, unoriginal experience.

Don't get me wrong, "Wanted" oozes with style and flare worthy of a director who carefully studied the techniques of Hong Kong film legend John Woo. However there is little else to keep you watching beyond the camera tricks and a few catchy pieces of dialogue.



James McAvoy does a fine job early on portraying Wesley Gibson, a timid schmuck who lets the world tap dance on his manhood. You want him to grow a spine, take charge of his life and tell the world to go F*@% Off! Why? Because that's what we all want to do.

The movie satisfies some audience wish fulfillment as McAvoy's Gibson grows a spine and openly speaks his mind. In those instances, he is The Man.

Beyond that, the movie delivers your typical series of chases and thrills. No new ground is broken in terms of plot, theme or action. I could dissect the movie by the components it borrows from other movies which explored the same territory yet with far greater skill.

In the end, "Wanted" is that mildly amusing honey at the end of the bar in a pair of high heels from Nine West, hip-hugging True Religion jeans, sporting an "I'm Kind of a Big Deal" t-shirt and a hair style borrowed from Carrie Underwood. Just like a several other girls who hit the same night spot a lot sooner . . .

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Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away