The usher looked at my ticket, blinked, looked back at me, back down at the ticket, back at me, and said, “The Spirit? Really?” Then he rolled his eyes, shrugged in a “it takes all kinds” manner and tore my ticket.
As bad omens go, the only thing that could have been worse would have been discovering Mike Nelson, Crow, and Tom Servo sitting in the front row.
The thing with Frank Miller is this: He’s a power hitter. He takes huge swings for the fences every time out. If he connects, he drives it out of the park. The problem with power hitters is that they strike out. A lot. And when they do, it can be monumental to watch. They don’t just stand there and watch a ball whiz by on the outside corner with their bat on their shoulder. No, they take huge hacks at it, swinging from the heels, and when they miss, they spin around, their legs twisted in knots and crossed at the ankles, and sometimes even fall flat on their ášš.
That’s pretty much what we’ve got here. A huge swing and a miss.
The truth is that, if you come at it from the point of view of viewing it as a surrealist comedy, it can be pretty entertaining. I’m going to focus on the positive aspects because (a) I am friends with most of the producers on the film, and (b) everyone else is dumping on Frank, so why pile on?
Continue Reading “I knew I had a problem with “The Spirit” when the usher took my ticket”
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