"lady in the water"

I really
really
really
want to see this piece of shit. The person writing in place of Roger Ebert for Ebert's website gave it the WOSRT review in recent memory, and it's actually about two to three times longer than the normal Ebert review, because (not being a genius like Ebert), Jim Emerson is not able to contain his loathing in the standard # of words.

Ebert said that to call the plot-twist in The Village " 'anti-climactic' would be an insult both to climaxes and to prefixes." I saw that with my buddy Corey, who incidentally does not know how to whisper in a movie, and it was the most wonderfully atrocious conversation-piece of the summer. What a piece of crap. Implausible. Badly scripted. Boring. Facile. Pretentious.

And so, under the fucked up premise that Bryce Dallas Howard (get a real name, you rich fuck), daughter of Da Vinci code auteur Ron Howard, is somehow analogous to Mr. Shyamalan (whose initials are even pretentious!!!) as Robert De Niro was to Martin Scorsese, or as Diane Keaton was for Woody Allen, which is unbelievably insulting, and under the equally fucked up premise that we are in the hands of someone with any cinematic credibility or capital to blow, and with a vast critical apparatus massed against it like a bow-tied, pop-corn-inhaling phalanx, movie-theater-trailer-voice-guy tries to get us to take this film seriously as a continuation of not only Shyamalan's...ahem...legacy, but also of Hitchcock's, and Spielberg, and god knows whose else besides. (how's THAT for a sentence!)

Little do they know, what makes these movies so delightful (although honestly Signs was hardly watchable) is the ponderous, pretentious, arcane, pretentious, non-signifying, and pretentious Shyamalanalia that proliferates in his movies like the riff from "You're Pushing Too Hard" when it crops up in other songs by The Seeds.

It's like watching a precocious but dorky and unlikeable 10-year-old make up his own game and then try to get other people to play it with him.

Because I've always hated that kid. In my elementary school, his name was Michael Hemmings, and he had a rat tail, and the greatest day of my life was when someone cut it off on the bus. So fuck you, M. Night Shyamalan, I may pay $11 to see your movie but so help me god I hope your next film is about backwards-walking Xiardglopeths who fix your shoes in the night but really they are trying to find the Chosen One (and you'll never guess who it is!), and that it stars Bryce Dallas Howard, and that you play Jesus yourself in a shocking cameo.

fUcK you