There comes a time in every responsible adult’s life when someone has to sit down, watch the movie everyone is talking about, and ask the questions nobody else seems willing to ask.
Why is everyone behaving like this?
Why didn’t anybody simply tell the truth?
Why is that man walking into the obviously dangerous room?
And why, after spending what appears to be the entire national budget on this production, does nobody in this movie own a sensible coat?
I watched the movie everyone has been discussing, recommending, defending, dissecting and occasionally fighting about online. I gave it my full attention. I put down my phone. I made myself comfortable. I prepared snacks.
And now I have several complaints.
Before anyone gets upset, let me clarify something. I am not saying the movie is terrible. I am saying that I watched it carefully enough to notice things. And once I notice things, unfortunately, I cannot un-notice them.
That is a burden I carry.
Apparently Everyone Is Talking About This Movie
First of all, the movie has become one of those cultural events where you apparently cannot open the internet without seeing someone discussing it.
Someone loves it.
Someone hates it.
Someone has written a 2,000-word explanation about the symbolism of a spoon appearing in the background during the second act.
Someone else has decided the ending means something completely different.
And naturally, somebody has uploaded a video explaining the entire plot in twelve minutes because apparently nobody has time to watch the actual movie anymore.
So, naturally, I had to watch it.
I wanted to understand what all the fuss was about.
And I did.
Mostly.
There were moments when I understood exactly what the filmmakers were trying to do. There were also moments when I stared at the screen and thought, “Surely there was another way.”
That is where we begin.
Can Nobody in Hollywood Just Talk to Each Other?
My first complaint is communication.
Nobody in movies communicates properly.
People have important information and simply refuse to share it.
One character knows something.
Another character desperately needs to know that thing.
The solution is obvious.
Just tell them.
But no.
Instead, we spend forty-five minutes watching two people stare at each other while saying things like, “It’s complicated.”
What is complicated?
Tell the woman!
Use your words!
This is particularly common in romantic movies.
One person is in love with the other.
The other person is also in love with them.
The audience knows they are in love.
Their friends know they are in love.
The bartender probably knows they are in love.
Yet these two grown adults cannot manage a five-minute conversation.
Back in my day, we had telephones.
We called people.
We said, “Listen, we need to talk.”
Problem solved.
Movie finished.
You’re welcome.
The Main Character Has No Survival Instinct
Another issue I would like addressed is the behavior of the main character.
I understand that a movie needs conflict.
I understand that characters need to make decisions that move the story forward.
But some of these decisions are simply unacceptable.
If I am alone in a large house and hear a strange noise coming from the basement, I am not investigating.
I don’t care if the noise sounds like a kitten.
I don’t care if someone says, “Hello?”
I am leaving.
If the basement door slowly opens by itself, I am not going downstairs with a flashlight.
I am calling someone.
Preferably someone who has a uniform and appropriate training.
The movie’s main character, however, hears a suspicious noise and immediately walks toward it.
Slowly.
In the dark.
With absolutely no weapon, phone, plan or common sense.
At this point, I am no longer worried about the villain.
I am worried about the protagonist’s decision-making skills.
Why Is Everyone So Attractive During a Crisis?
I also have questions about the wardrobe department.
Why does everyone look fantastic while their lives are falling apart?
The world is ending, the relationship has collapsed, there is a mysterious killer outside, somebody has just discovered a terrible family secret, and somehow our heroine has perfect hair.
Her eyeliner is intact.
Her clothes are coordinated.
Her skin is glowing.
I have spent twenty minutes trying to find my reading glasses, and this woman has just survived an explosion and somehow looks ready for a magazine cover.
This is unrealistic.
If I am being chased through the woods, my hair is not going to cooperate.
My shoes are going to hurt.
My shirt is going to have something spilled on it.
And I can guarantee you that nobody is going to look at me and say, “You look incredible considering the circumstances.”
Hollywood needs to address this.
The Apartment Situation Needs Investigation
Then there are the homes.
Oh, the homes.
Why does every fictional person have a beautiful apartment?
Nobody seems to have a normal kitchen.
Nobody has clutter.
Nobody has laundry waiting to be folded.
Nobody has a chair covered with clothes.
Apparently, people in movies simply put everything away.
Their refrigerators are clean.
Their bookshelves are organized.
Their bedrooms look like hotel rooms.
And somehow a person who appears to work three hours a week can afford a beautiful apartment in the middle of an expensive city.
I have questions.
Who is paying the rent?
What does this person actually do for work?
Why does the apartment have enormous windows?
And why is there never a neighbor complaining about the noise?
I would like realism.
Give me a character who has to move a pile of laundry off the couch before sitting down.
Now that’s cinema.
The Dialogue Sometimes Needs a Manager
Let’s discuss dialogue.
There are moments when movie characters speak like actual human beings.
Then there are moments when they suddenly become poets.
Someone will be standing in a kitchen making coffee, and another person will walk in and say something like:
“Sometimes I wonder if we’re all just shadows of the people we used to be.”
Excuse me?
You came into the kitchen because you wanted coffee.
What happened?
Where did the philosophy degree come from?
Normal people say, “Did you make coffee?”
They do not stare dramatically into the middle distance and deliver a speech about the fragility of existence before breakfast.
And then there are the characters who speak exclusively in perfectly constructed sentences.
Nobody stutters.
Nobody forgets what they were saying.
Nobody says, “Wait, what was I talking about?”
Every conversation sounds rehearsed.
Because, of course, it was.
But occasionally, I would like somebody to talk like a person.
The Movie Is Two Hours Long, and I Still Have Questions
Now we arrive at pacing.
I am a patient woman.
I can sit through a long movie.
But there is a difference between a movie being deliberately slow and a movie taking its sweet time because nobody wanted to cut anything.
There are scenes where people stare.
There are scenes where people walk.
There are scenes where someone drives somewhere while sad music plays.
There are scenes where someone looks at an old photograph for approximately forty-seven seconds.
I understand symbolism.
I do.
But I also understand dinner time.
If your movie is three hours long, you need to give me a compelling reason to remain in this chair.
Do not make me watch someone walk down a hallway like they have forgotten where the bathroom is.
And Then There Is the Ending
Oh, the ending.
The ending is where movies either reward your patience or make you want to write a strongly worded letter.
Sometimes the ending is brilliant.
Sometimes it ties everything together.
Sometimes you sit there afterward thinking, “Well, that was worth my time.”
And sometimes the screen goes black.
That’s it.
Credits.
Excuse me?
What happened?
Was my television broken?
Did somebody accidentally press a button?
Was the ending left in the editing room?
This has become particularly popular with movies that want to be mysterious.
They give you twelve unanswered questions, introduce three suspicious characters, hide several important details, and then finish without explaining much of anything.
Then somebody online tells you that the ending is “open to interpretation.”
No.
Sometimes the ending is just incomplete.
There is a difference.
Yes, I Understand the Symbolism
Another thing modern movies love is symbolism.
I have nothing against symbolism.
A red dress can represent passion.
A broken window can represent emotional instability.
A bird can represent freedom.
A cup of coffee can represent loneliness.
Fine.
I understand.
But not every object needs to represent something.
Sometimes a cup is just a cup.
Sometimes a character opens a window because the room is hot.
Sometimes a person wears blue because blue was clean that morning.
We need to stop assuming that every spoon on a table is secretly telling us about childhood trauma.
Although, if the director wants to explain it, I am willing to listen.
I have snacks.
The Supporting Characters Deserve Better
I also have concerns about supporting characters.
They often exist solely to give the main character advice.
You know the type.
The best friend appears at exactly the right moment.
They say something wise.
The main character ignores them.
Then disaster happens.
The best friend disappears for an hour.
Then they return at the end and say, “I knew this would happen.”
Of course you did.
You literally told them.
Unfortunately, nobody listened.
I would like more movies where the sensible friend simply leaves.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve warned you six times. I’m going home.”
Now that is character development.
So, Is the Movie Actually Good?
After all my complaining, here is the annoying part.
Yes.
The movie is probably good.
Maybe not perfect.
Few movies are.
But if a film makes people talk, argue, laugh, cry, analyze scenes and debate the ending days later, it has accomplished something.
A movie does not need to be flawless to be entertaining.
Sometimes the flaws are part of the fun.
Sometimes you love a movie despite its ridiculous plot.
Sometimes you enjoy an actor’s performance even though their character makes one terrible decision after another.
Sometimes you complain about a movie for two hours and then immediately recommend it to someone else.
That is the strange magic of cinema.
Final Verdict: Should You Watch It?
Yes.
Probably.
But I have concerns.
I have concerns about the characters.
I have concerns about the dialogue.
I have concerns about the suspiciously affordable apartments.
I have concerns about the wardrobe.
I have concerns about the decision to walk into that basement.
And I have especially serious concerns about the ending.
But here’s the truth: if a movie gives me enough material to complain about afterward, then it has given me something to talk about.
And that is what makes a good movie worth discussing.
So watch it.
Make your own judgment.
Decide whether the ending makes sense.
Decide whether the main character should have simply called the police.
Decide whether the romance is believable.
Then come back and tell me what you thought.
I’ll be here.
I have already made a cup of tea, opened my notebook and prepared several additional complaints.
And if the director would like to discuss any of them, they know where to find me.
I would like to speak to the manager.
