Ridiculous. And cowardly. If he'd made this movie about his own country's military, and not an country with fighting on its own soil, he'd have had his career destroyed. If Kubrick hadn't made it, no one would take this seriously.
Ridiculous. And cowardly. If he'd made this movie about his own country's military, and not an country with fighting on its own soil, he'd have had his career destroyed. If Kubrick hadn't made it, no one would take this seriously.
This has my vote for worst James Bond movie. Even a silly movie like Moonraker has its charms and some good action sequences.
James Bond is completely out-of-place in a blaxploitation film. Roger Moore is bland and obnoxious; he was never the best Bond, but he's a lot more watchable in any other Bond film. Every scene is flat and tiresome and misses the mark. In the dramatic climax, the main villain gets blown up like a balloon (pictured).
In the very last scene, we find out the moral of the story is that Voodoo is real, even though Voodoo was only tangential to the plot. It's like if Godfather ended with Michael turning to the camera and saying, "I guess what we've all learned in these last few months is that oranges are delicious".
I must be some kind of idiot, because when I read about bored rich people being bored of boring situations, I don't quiver with excitement.
I got to the racist chapter, and that was a it for me.
Why bother trying to decode the author's intentions? Maybe he didn't mean it and was trying to say something about his characters? I tried to convince myself of that for the first few pages, but by the end of the chapter telling myself that would be nothing but wilful blindness. Maybe it was more acceptable back then - I almost always get a 'standards of the day' lecture when I write something like this - but does that mean we should shrug it off? Five years later Hitler was a quite popular writer and normal by the standards of the day.
Trash is trash, no matter how much you analyse it or pretend that seeing it through ten layers of witty detachment makes it any better.
When I was about 15, a friend of mine strongly encouraged me to play this. It's too bad, because I probably would have liked it if I'd played it back then. Now a complicated RPG feels like doing chores, and what teenage me would have thought was dark and edgy seems bland and drab.
A boring checklist of edgy things you've seen a million times.
This, along with the indie rock popular around the same time, created the obnoxious precedent that affluent white guys whining about breaking up with their girlfriends is culturally significant artwork.
This book is meant to make fun of Leibniz. It's fairly funny and I enjoyed it as a teenager, before I was familiar with Voltaire's other works.
Leibniz has a spotty record as a philosopher, but his contributions to mathematics go far beyond the calculus you normally hear about. His fingerprints are all over pure math and formal logic and computer science and computer hardware and engineering in general. Next time you're in an airplane and it doesn't crash, thank Leibniz twenty times over.
Voltaire, on the other hand, was a rich, sarcastic dickhead whose rants against Jewish and Black people were extremely racist even by the standards of the 18th century. Screw this book.
This painting accurately represents the pain of the boredom I felt when reading this book. I can't believe someone read Prometheus Bound and thought this was the direction the story was supposed to take.