
Two and a Half Torches (Out of Five)
After watching Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief (a cumbersome title if ever there was one), I left the theater with this thought at the forefront of my mind: if you try too hard to be the next Harry Potter, you never will be.
Ponder this:
A young male hero, who learns of his magical identity which has been hidden from him all his life. Brought to a school where he and other children like him learn to use their powers. A wise-cracking male friend to serve as the comic relief. A know-it-all female companion whose skills outshine the boys, but if only she were more likable …
Come on.
That having been said, the movie had its strengths. Thanks to cutting-edge CGI technology, we can now behold photo-realistic creatures that up until now had to exist solely in the minds of Greek myth geeks like myself. Uma Thurman as Medusa was particularly cool — I’ve never thought of Medusa as seductive, but after this it will be hard not to.
Pierce Brosnan, who I’ve never really had any strong feelings about in the past, was perfectly cast as Chiron, the wise centaur, and I’ll go on record saying the movie has hands-down the best centaur effect I’ve ever seen. (How’s that for an accolade?)
Many of the performances were strong. Kevin McKidd, so magnetic in HBO’s Rome, made for a sympathetic Poseidon, and Sean Bean’s Zeus was a younger, leaner version of the King of the Gods than the Zeuses we’ve seen in the past.
But for all the shine and polish of the adult actors and the digital effects, the story doesn’t hold up as interesting on its own, and the three young lead actors don’t hold a candle to those other three young lead actors. You know who I’m talking about.
What made the first Harry Potter film so effective on screen is that it captured — in full, child-like wonder — what it must feel like to be at Hogwarts, to suddenly learn you can use magic, to fly on a broomstick. It had the sense of awe and splendor one would imagine goes hand in hand with entering a brave new world.
Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman), on the other hand, adjusts to his new life awfully quickly and easily, and before long he is whisked away to Camp Half-Blood, a training facility for demigods. Rather than the fully realized world of Hogwarts, Camp Half-blood is filled with teenagers dressed in jeans and casual shirts, with Grecian leather armor over their regular clothes. The effect is not mystical and awe-inspiring, but instead looks like a crowd of adolescents engaged in a complex LARP game.
I always have high hopes for fantasy movies, and it warmed my heart to see the theater filled with children and young teens who had clearly read the book and were excited about seeing the movie. I’m sure they all care very passionately about the characters and the story.
If only they knew they were eating leftovers.

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And for the most part, the atmosphere works. Since the aforementioned thin-line-between-humans-and-animals theme is such a large part of the story, they do a great job of showing how, in 19th century England, human beings and animals exist side-by-side: there are dogs, horses, mounted animals on walls, hedges in the shapes of animals, the occasional gypsy bear, even lots of animal furs mixed in with the costumes.
But what do you with something like the new Fox show Past Life, which debuts on a special night this Tuesday (and then starts a regular run Thursday nights)? It’s not terrible, but there’s nothing particularly novel or memorable about it either.




Not only were the books an enormous amount of campy, melodramatic fun, Carey did something bold: she brought full-fledged erotic writing — even S&M! — into the sometimes-staid world of fantasy fiction.
In the immediate aftermath of the battle that’s been featured in the last two issues, we catch up with the currently powerless Slayers, who are nursing their own wounded, as well as Twilight’s soldiers. The three havoc-wreaking goddesses are still bent on destruction, and Willow can do nothing to stop them. Finally, after a confessional chat with Xander, Buffy outs herself as newly super-empowered and buries the goddesses deep in the ground.

was only a matter of time before someone shook an angry fist to the sky and cried, “No, dammit! Vampires are not sexy! They don’t sparkle, they don’t drip of genteel southern manners, they don’t want to make tender, angsty, emo love to you! They’re not a metaphor for the anguish of the human condition! They just want to freakin’ kill you and drink your blood!”
The truth is, the scenes where Holmes uses his understanding of anatomy to pummel an opponent in slow, perfectly-choreographed motion are a very small part of the film (distracting and unnecessary though they may be).
Once word gets out, it will almost certainly be a massive box office flop (despite the Heath Ledger buzz). And since the budget was somewhere between $25 and $45 million, I have a hard time believing that any investor will be willing to indulge him again, especially considering his history of making expensive, often self-indulgent failed films.
But Dr. Parnassus has unexpectedly given birth to a daughter, and it turns out that in exchange for immortality, the doctor promised the soul of the daughter he never thought he’d have. Now the devil has come to collect — but being the devil, he offers another deal: if the doctor can collect five other souls before the devil does, and the daughter is saved.
What you’re forgetting is that I have to watch television even when it’s bad.