Untimely Movie Review: World War Z

Introducing a new blog category: Untimely Movie Reviews! Let's be honest, I'm never on the edge of hip and happening. I usually come to the party a little late or not at all, because I don't care all that much any more. Mostly. But hey, I still have opinions, no matter how fashionably late they are.

Again, let me be honest. I'm sick to death of zombies. And I have been for a long while. That's mostly why I didn't want to see World War Z. That and my inexplicable distaste of Brad Pitt. It's weird. I almost never look forward to seeing him in a movie, but I'm also rarely disappointed in his performances. It's probably leftover "I'm not mainstream" feelings from when everyone lovey-love-loved Brad Pitt in the 90s because he was "so handsome," so my teen self felt as though I had to reject him completely. That and I never thought him particularly handsome. There's no accounting for teen brains.

Braaaaaains. (Perfect segue. Dismount!)

World War Z doesn't waste much time in starting with the action. You get about 4 minutes of a happy family morning scene, then immediately people start dying in hoards because of the fastest, freakiest, and weirdly-est contorting zombies ever represented in film. Not to mention the clicking. (You'll just have to see it.)

The intensity is brutal. Let me put it this way, every muscle in my body was so clenched the entire movie that I got the best workout I've ever had. (For context, I workout almost none times a year.)

But what was so great about the intensity aspect was that the director didn't constantly show graphic up-close shots of the violence over and over again. I don't mind violence in a movie, but if it's constantly repeated up-close violence, I get weary and burnt out during the film. Ultimately, if the story and action are good enough in the first place, you don't have to rely on gore to entertain. For instance, there is a scene in Z where Pitt takes out a zombie with a crowbar to the noggin. But I didn't have to see the entrance of said crowbar into the skull to know that it was gruesome. Even further, when Pitt has to tug and tug the crowbar out of the skull to defend himself against yet another zombie, I didn't need to see the crowbar exiting the skull for the incredible tension and suspense to be there. (And the director didn't show us the crowbar in the skull at any point.)

This "new" take on violence wasn't the only refreshing thing about the movie. I was surprised, and therefore delighted, with the lore and "the cure," for lack of a better thing to call it without giving too much away. I did guess where it was going somewhere in the middle of the movie, but it's still a nice departure from the zombie norms.

Also there was also not a character that I hated or that I thought was superfluous. Everyone had a purpose, and all were well written and acted. In fact, there is a female Israeli soldier that pushed the movie over the line from good to great for me.

(Side note: This is the first thing I've seen Peter Capaldi in since it was announced that he's the next Doctor Who. Based on even this very small role, I am now confident in his takeover.)

Lastly, I was struck by a strong undercurrent of themes of a) the safety and importance of family, and b) how family is defined by that feeling of safety and protection. Basically, if World War Z comes true, just remember that we're all in this together.

The non-up-close violence and lack of swears is what kept this movie at PG-13, but I certainly wouldn't recommend that any 13-year-old should see it.

Rating: 4 stars up, but proceed with caution.

P.S. This movie is based on a book, and I'm on the library's waiting list, so I'll let you know how it stacks up when I get my turn.

Click, click, click.

An Open Letter to the Group of 4 Moms on the Train with 12 Kids Under 6 Years Old

Dear Moms,

I get it. You've each had three kids, one right after the other, and sometimes you want to get the hell out of Dodge. But when you all trooped onto the train and sat right behind me, I knew that I didn't want to sit next to 12 toddlers and infants for an hour. So instead of huffing or rolling my eyes and giving you dirty looks, I moved my seat to give both you and myself space. For some reason, and based on what followed, that seemed to offend you and inspire forced immersion therapy.

First, one of you left your seat on the upper deck to come down to the lower deck and change your baby's diaper across the aisle from me, directly on the seat, without some sort of cover or pad, which can't be sanitary. And your baby absolutely screamed the whole time. I can only assume that either the seats by your group in some way had inferior surfaces on which to change your baby, or I offended you enough to seek me out and force the presence of your...blessings upon me.

With that noise- and smell-mare over, two stops later the whole lot of you inexplicably shambled your way down to the first deck and again sat right next to me. One baby continually moaned while the kids who could walk then began to run up and down the aisle touching everything, including me. Again, I get it, they're kids. But I also get that you as a parent are responsible for your children (no matter how overwhelmed you are), and I also get my limits. Which is why I chose to move in the first place. So I once again switched my seat, this time walking to the other side of the train car and sitting in an already populated area in order to avoid any other misunderstanding about my desire to wallow in your children.

Here's the thing, not everyone loves kids based on the fact that they are kids. Not everyone thinks your kids and precious and infallible.  Some of us think your kids are loud and gross, and we will not excuse your kids from being unruly on the basis that they are "just kids."  Some of us believe that as a parent--who has chosen to not only have, but to rear children--you are responsible for their behavior and discipline, and we will not treat you like you're some sort of superior being with endless get-out-of-jail-free cards because you have kids.

I know that it is socially unacceptable to not only voice these opinions, but merely to have them in the first place. However in my experience, parents assume that their children to be precious to everyone. But here's the deal. I will not harm your children ever, I will even help or protect a child that is in danger, but I don't see how that means I should tolerate your complete disregard for other human beings on the basis that "kids will be kids."

I know you're busy and tired. Maybe you even feel that since having kids you have been banned to the Island of Misfit Toys and you want to make appearances in society in order to grasp at whatever you think you lost when you had kids. But we all make our choices, and choices always come with consequences. In your case the consequences of corralling wee ones are temporary, but don't make your consequences become my problem, and I will do the same.

Sometimes it's a conscious effort to not yell at your kids or say mean things to them when they touch me with their sticky hands or scream like a pterodactyl in enclosed spaces for no apparent reason. I honestly try to not give you dirty looks as you lollop around public places all glassy eyed and unaware that there are other people around you as your kid sneezes on me or  I step on your kid because they aimlessly amble in front of me. I do my best to veer away or simply change my seat without rebuke.

Please understand that my actions are a white flag of peace that I'm desperately waving so I don't have to deal with your kids, and so you don't have to deal with...whatever happens when I break.

Best wishes,
Martha