Days In Monsterville

“Sucker Punch = godawful. It was like my eyes got taken out back and forced to watch my brain get shot in its face.”

I wrote this on my Twitter. It’s the Twitter equivalent of criticism which, in its own way, can never be anything other than a sucker punch.

People worked long and hard on Sucker Punch: The Motion Picture. They didn’t do a very good job except for the guy whose job it was to ensure the film was the noisiest, most cacophanous and, possibly, least coherent and most jangly thing since Celine Dion attempted AC/DC. But they did work on it, and I can tear it apart in 140 words or less.

I’m not sure the film deserves more. At times, it’s overly violent and mean-spirited. The female characters all dress and act like dolls, and I can’t help but feel this is someone’s kiddy-porn wish fulfillment vehicle. Every scene depicting woman’s empowerment is negated by panty shots; close-ups of thighs; trembling and/or pouty lips; leather, lace, and lollipops. Creepy Japanese schoolgirl porn seems less prurient, more wholesome.

See, to be free you have to, uh, dress like ...