Basic Instinct
Seen: 2000-06-25
Overall: ***
Writing: ***
Acting: ***
Cinematography: ***
Music: ***
Art: ** 1/2
Direction: *** 1/2
Enjoyment: ** 1/2
Venue: Louisville Compound: Bitscape's Lair
Medium: DVD
More Info
Mindrot. Complete and utter mindrot.
A little background: When I first saw this movie years ago on VHS (must've been in the '93 to '94 range, cause I know we were still living in the Mapleton house back then), it was in the dead of night, during a break from school, and parental units were nowhere near close proximity (thank god).
After I went to bed, circa 2-3am, the night was a torture that would not end. Everytime I went back to sleep, I couldn't help but keep have the same sick, paranoid dreams over and over and over again. I was coming down with the flu. I had a nasty fever. Nightmares. Distorted versions of scenes, happening again, getting worse with each iteration. I specifically remember visions of the jealous Roxy in the black corvette trying to run me over in a deserted parking lot in the dead of night. The other detectives after me, suspecting me of the murders. But my own life was itself in danger. Not only my life. My soul. My existence. My faith in the world. Everyone is a suspect. No one can be trusted.
Trying to wake up, hoping it would be morning. Still darkness. My body covered in that nasty sweat you only get when your body is fighting the illness. I knew I needed rest, so I would go back to sleep, hoping for a dreamless peace. It was not to be. More nightmares. Betrayal by those you trust the most. The only partial relief would come when I could awake long enough to remember some of those other scenes, during which I remember having some of the most intense auto-erotic moments of my adolescence. But that was only a trap; a trap to draw me back into that sick, psychopathic world, because afterwards, the dreams only got worse.
When morning finally did arrive, sure enough, I had come down with a bug. A nasty sore throat, and I couldn't eat. But after that night, being awake and sick was a relief. The Nintendo did a good job of keeping me conscious during the day, away from that awful world which would appear unbidden whenever I closed my eyes long enough to drift off.
The dreams returned on successive nights, but with less of an overpowering shadow with each rotation of the earth. The.. ahem.. other experiences returned as well, also fading in intensity as time went on.
Fast forwarding to present...
[And yes, this is probably the most bizarre movielog entry I've ever written. Given the subject matter, I think that's justified.]
Today, after returning Practical Magic to the video store, I decided to check out the rest of the selection. I know, I can have in insatiable movie appetite at times. I went back into Showtime USA, looked through their DVDs for rent, and decided there were several I would be interested in seeing on a future occassion, but nothing I was presently in the mood for. I left empty handed.
On an impulse, I stopped in at Blockbuster on the way home. I hate to say this, because I prefer to root for the underdog, but in this case, the difference is glaring: When it comes to DVD selection, Blockbuster makes Showtime look absolutely pathetic. I mean, Blockbuster has wall after wall, rack upon rack of DVD movies to choose from. Sure, their DVD selection is still nothing compared to the VHS titles available, but it makes Showtime's little DVD area in the corner seem quite pitiful. (I suppose if I REALLY wanted to see something that would make both of them look sad, I could drive to Boulder and check out The Video Station's collection. In fact, I might have to do that one of these days.)
Ok, I don't know what it was. Perhaps the gloomy, stormy weather outside. Perhaps it was the thought that surfaced in yesterday's rambling about listening to ancient cds to bring back memories. Maybe I wanted to compare what would presumably be my more mature perspective on it now with my recollections. Or... Maybe I'm just a dirty ole pervert. };>
In any case, I rented Basic Instinct.
So, now that I've had a preamble which has managed to be longer than most typical movielog entries in their entirity, here's what I thought:
Sleaze. Stylish, slick, well acted, cleverly written, lavishly produced sleaze. That doesn't mean it's a bad movie, mind you. ;) It draws you in, gets you to relax with a heavy dose of dry, blunt, gutter humor, and then proceeds to systematically warp the brain using every device at its disposal. By the time the end credits roll, any faith you may have once had in the goodness of humanity, any hope for the dignity of the species has been utterly reamed to the point of nausia.
Again, that doesn't mean it's a bad movie. It's just not something I would recommend watching every day. It does classify as entertainment, because unlike certain other disturbing movies (specifically, I'm thinking of 8mm), there is no moral to be impressed onto the audience. This is not a warning against any societal evil. No impression is left that anything can, or even should be done to correct the vices it portrays.
There are no heros. Michael Douglas's main character is certainly not one. He's more like a fly, caught in a never-ending stream of spider webs. The other cops are either a bunch of pathitic idiots, or corrupt goons. Maybe both. And Sharon Stone's character... utterly psycho. Whether she was the killer or not (I won't do a spoiler), she was a complete and total psycho.
Watching this movie is like stepping into some twisted mirror, an alter-world, where everything and everyone behave like some nightmarish fantasy. Such an achievement, which successfully manages to weave its tenticales of dark disillusionment, drive the mind into a state of disturbed paranoia, while at the same time igniting tantalizing erotic centers of the brain long buried under mounds of guilt heaped by that infernal superego, can hardly be written off as a simple piece of garden variety smut, even though that's pretty much what this movie is.
Eh, that's enough babbling from me. To sum up: If you like dark, disturbed shit, this movie is worth seeing. Or maybe you're just into movies which feature a lot of breasts. Yeah, that would work too. Arrrggghh. These mind games.. Driving me mad.... Must... get... back... to the real world. Must.... escape.... Do.... not.... fsck.... with... jealous.... psycho.... killer.... lesbians.... Ice pick.... blood splattering.... eeeeeeeeek!
Sweet dreams. :)
Mindrot. Complete and utter mindrot.
A little background: When I first saw this movie years ago on VHS (must've been in the '93 to '94 range, cause I know we were still living in the Mapleton house back then), it was in the dead of night, during a break from school, and parental units were nowhere near close proximity (thank god).
After I went to bed, circa 2-3am, the night was a torture that would not end. Everytime I went back to sleep, I couldn't help but keep have the same sick, paranoid dreams over and over and over again. I was coming down with the flu. I had a nasty fever. Nightmares. Distorted versions of scenes, happening again, getting worse with each iteration. I specifically remember visions of the jealous Roxy in the black corvette trying to run me over in a deserted parking lot in the dead of night. The other detectives after me, suspecting me of the murders. But my own life was itself in danger. Not only my life. My soul. My existence. My faith in the world. Everyone is a suspect. No one can be trusted.
Trying to wake up, hoping it would be morning. Still darkness. My body covered in that nasty sweat you only get when your body is fighting the illness. I knew I needed rest, so I would go back to sleep, hoping for a dreamless peace. It was not to be. More nightmares. Betrayal by those you trust the most. The only partial relief would come when I could awake long enough to remember some of those other scenes, during which I remember having some of the most intense auto-erotic moments of my adolescence. But that was only a trap; a trap to draw me back into that sick, psychopathic world, because afterwards, the dreams only got worse.
When morning finally did arrive, sure enough, I had come down with a bug. A nasty sore throat, and I couldn't eat. But after that night, being awake and sick was a relief. The Nintendo did a good job of keeping me conscious during the day, away from that awful world which would appear unbidden whenever I closed my eyes long enough to drift off.
The dreams returned on successive nights, but with less of an overpowering shadow with each rotation of the earth. The.. ahem.. other experiences returned as well, also fading in intensity as time went on.
Fast forwarding to present...
[And yes, this is probably the most bizarre movielog entry I've ever written. Given the subject matter, I think that's justified.]
Today, after returning Practical Magic to the video store, I decided to check out the rest of the selection. I know, I can have in insatiable movie appetite at times. I went back into Showtime USA, looked through their DVDs for rent, and decided there were several I would be interested in seeing on a future occassion, but nothing I was presently in the mood for. I left empty handed.
On an impulse, I stopped in at Blockbuster on the way home. I hate to say this, because I prefer to root for the underdog, but in this case, the difference is glaring: When it comes to DVD selection, Blockbuster makes Showtime look absolutely pathetic. I mean, Blockbuster has wall after wall, rack upon rack of DVD movies to choose from. Sure, their DVD selection is still nothing compared to the VHS titles available, but it makes Showtime's little DVD area in the corner seem quite pitiful. (I suppose if I REALLY wanted to see something that would make both of them look sad, I could drive to Boulder and check out The Video Station's collection. In fact, I might have to do that one of these days.)
Ok, I don't know what it was. Perhaps the gloomy, stormy weather outside. Perhaps it was the thought that surfaced in yesterday's rambling about listening to ancient cds to bring back memories. Maybe I wanted to compare what would presumably be my more mature perspective on it now with my recollections. Or... Maybe I'm just a dirty ole pervert. };>
In any case, I rented Basic Instinct.
So, now that I've had a preamble which has managed to be longer than most typical movielog entries in their entirity, here's what I thought:
Sleaze. Stylish, slick, well acted, cleverly written, lavishly produced sleaze. That doesn't mean it's a bad movie, mind you. ;) It draws you in, gets you to relax with a heavy dose of dry, blunt, gutter humor, and then proceeds to systematically warp the brain using every device at its disposal. By the time the end credits roll, any faith you may have once had in the goodness of humanity, any hope for the dignity of the species has been utterly reamed to the point of nausia.
Again, that doesn't mean it's a bad movie. It's just not something I would recommend watching every day. It does classify as entertainment, because unlike certain other disturbing movies (specifically, I'm thinking of 8mm), there is no moral to be impressed onto the audience. This is not a warning against any societal evil. No impression is left that anything can, or even should be done to correct the vices it portrays.
There are no heros. Michael Douglas's main character is certainly not one. He's more like a fly, caught in a never-ending stream of spider webs. The other cops are either a bunch of pathitic idiots, or corrupt goons. Maybe both. And Sharon Stone's character... utterly psycho. Whether she was the killer or not (I won't do a spoiler), she was a complete and total psycho.
Watching this movie is like stepping into some twisted mirror, an alter-world, where everything and everyone behave like some nightmarish fantasy. Such an achievement, which successfully manages to weave its tenticales of dark disillusionment, drive the mind into a state of disturbed paranoia, while at the same time igniting tantalizing erotic centers of the brain long buried under mounds of guilt heaped by that infernal superego, can hardly be written off as a simple piece of garden variety smut, even though that's pretty much what this movie is.
Eh, that's enough babbling from me. To sum up: If you like dark, disturbed shit, this movie is worth seeing. Or maybe you're just into movies which feature a lot of breasts. Yeah, that would work too. Arrrggghh. These mind games.. Driving me mad.... Must... get... back... to the real world. Must.... escape.... Do.... not.... fsck.... with... jealous.... psycho.... killer.... lesbians.... Ice pick.... blood splattering.... eeeeeeeeek!
Sweet dreams. :)