If you like films that are relentlessly depressing and end with no resolution, then HP Part Sept is for you. It borrowed heavily from The Lord of the Rings series, but without Viggo Mortensen. It had creepy Gollum-like creatures and it even had a piece of jewelry that turned all who wore it into assholes. Picture Rupert Grint tromping around the forest becoming a tiresome jerk. Who wants to see that? For God's Sake, kids, get out of the wilderness and get back to Hogwarts. Where were the floating candles? Where was the humor? Where was Maggie Smith, for God's sake? This HP had a humorectomy and it took itself way too seriously.
Daniel Radcliffe is apparently impressed with his physique and took his shirt off at every opportunity. He's way to skinny for my taste, but he does have some nice chest hair that he left in place. If you're into petite guys with no chests, this is the movie for you. Of course, if that's what you're into, you're probably not reading this blog. Rupert Grint, who is turning into quite a tasty ginger, displayed his chest once, but there a grievous wound that I won't describe so it kind of killed the mood (spoiler alert! He lives). Emma Watson looked totally cute in various jeans-n-tops as she pitched tents in the woods (and I suppose Rupert was pitching a tent for her, but that's for the porn version). This is the kind of thing I was thinking about when I suppose I was supposed to be feeling foreboding or whatever.
There was the usual parade of Distinguished British Actors. Julie Walters was totally humorless, which is a crime. Ralph Feinnes was sinister even with Michael Jackson's nose. Helena Bonham Carter seemed like she really wanted to let loose and create some havoc, but even she was held back.
There was a lot of death, too much for little kids. The whole thing was really bleak and then it was over. I should have seen Burlesque.
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