quote:

ORIGINAL: AxlReznor

Actually, the book at numerous points hints that the stories are of the same soul travelling through time... some characters remember things from previous stories, or have premonitions of later stories, etc. It was always the intention that they were connected (they're also connected to his other books, Ghostwritten, number9dream and Black Swan Green).
The Wachowski's haven't misunderstood anything... in fact, they passed the script over to Mitchell for approval first to make sure they hadn't misunderstood anything. Seems to me that you misunderstood the book.

quote:

ORIGINAL: AxlReznor

Nope. You've definitely misunderstood it. He's writing on the style of a pulpy piece of fiction in the Luisa Rey mystery, because that's how he's presenting it. The connections were never meant to be tenuous, although the stories of course can be enjoyed separately, because they are six different narratives and not part of one "crossthrough" plot.

But it's supposed to be read as a full novel, and that's how most people get the most out of it. And if they had in any way misread the book, the film would never be made because they made sure with him that he liked the script before letting it progress beyond that stage. If they just did it as an anthology, they'd have a) missed the point entirely, and b) made a movie that jars every time one story ends and moves onto another.

If you don't like it, fair enough. But it's not due to the directors misunderstanding of the book that you don't like it.

I also find it funny when people (not demoncleaner) disregard a film (or anything for that matter) because they don't understand it straight away. As if it's somehow a fault with the movie if not everything is clear after one viewing. If I took that attitude, I wouldn't have bothered giving a second viewing to some of what would become my favourite movies. Don't disregard or write off a movie... give it a chance. Some things just take time to sink in. Cloud Atlas is one of those movies that is definitely an acquired taste, but I believe persevering with it is the best way to go. And if you still don't like it, then at least still support it. Because if you don't, the chances of anything in any way different being released in the future are drastically reduced. And we desperately need some things that are a bit different at the moment.

quote:

ORIGINAL: Olaf

Warning! Thesis about the meaning of this doggerel incoming. I really enjoyed the film, personally.

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I'm usually opposed to reviews of film adaptations that dwell for ages on the differences between the book and the movie, but it seems necessary in this case because of the book in question – specifically, the way that it's a book about books and how the Wachowskis and Tom Tykwer work around this. The most obvious stylistic predecessor to David Mitchell's novel is Italo Calvino's If On A Winter's Night A Traveller (both pull the 'multiple stories stopping halfway through' shtick), but the comparison is important for what they don't have in common more than what they do have in common. Both are books about writing and reading when it comes down to it of course, but by closing off the stories it starts, Cloud Atlas assumes we actually want to know how they end rather than just treating them as another game or writing exercise. In contrast to Calvino, where writing is writing and reading is reading, Mitchell's book instead suggests that these characters have some value to us after all, and these silly pastimes of reading and writing might actually have some function in a real-world context. 'We're not beginning to... to... mean something?'

This is an offputting concept for many people. The generally accepted approach in critical commentary has only recently turned away from the more self-contained (self-absorbed?) version of literature that doesn't 'pretend' to have any real-life significance. It's interesting to consider why – is it a genuine lack of belief in art's ability to convey emotion? Or is it that we'd rather it didn't, for reasons of the slightly uncomfortable too-much-information variety? We might be more comfortable with Cloud Atlas if it stuck to commenting on itself, rather than commenting on us, but a desire to comment on Us is its primary motivation. The fact that it does so through an analysis of its medium (ie how the way we read and write reflects who we are and what we do), doesn't diminish that motivation.

Which brings us onto the question of structure, ie Cloud Atlas the novel vs Cloud Atlas the movie. The novel's structure obviously reflects that element of reading half of a book and needing to finish it (a crafty way of getting you to finish it too, well played Mitchell), but also consider it another way. If you picture it spatially, the novel literally looks like a book inside a book inside a book etc, while structurally reversing it (the Letters From Zedelghem section is 'inside' the Pacific Journal, but the latter is in the text of the former). This probably seems like me overexamining this, but these two reversed structures is important to both the novel's recurring themes of containment/freedom, and the earlier contentious point about literature having some value beyond its own literature-ness. By suggesting that each of the texts exist both inside and outside of each other (and by extension, the text as a whole), there's a clear break with the 'Calvino approach', as you might call it. I dislike the phrase 'more than literature' because it implies a triviality in literature as a concept, but Mitchell gets this as well. These pulpy genre stories have value outside of their own literary existence, as evidenced by the big connected souls lark, but it's because of their literary nature that they have this value. The fact that Luisa Rey is a fictional character in Timothy Cavendish's world, for instance, is ultimately irrelevant; they're all fictional after all, and you care about them all the same.

All well and good, but Cloud Atlas is a movie now and it can't adopt the structure of a novel that's so intimately connected to novels as a concept. Which is why the cut-up structure of the film – something I was initially nervous about as a fan of the book – is absolutely essential to why Cloud Atlas works as a film. This really is a masterful work of editing, and that's because the Wachowskis/Tykwer understand that the edit is the filmic equivalent of what Mitchell was looking to highlight with his novel's structure. Eisenstein and Kuleshov argued that montage was the essence of cinema, and they were correct: instead of being a film about books, like a bad adaptation would have been, it's a film about films in the same spirit. Hugo Weaving talks about the consequences of upsetting the 'order of things' or whatever towards the end of the film, and both book and film offer an extremely effective way of upending that order in narrative terms. I might even venture to say that the film's continuous cutting and ensuing narrative disconnection (in a good way) makes it a more powerful challenge to that order than the novel – there's a great poignancy in Jim Sturgess and Doona Bae's characters being together at the 'end' of the film, even though we had just seen them separated minutes earlier centuries in the future.

It's moments like the aforementioned that mean the multiple casting stunt just about comes off for the directors. I had my doubts when Tom Hanks appeared with a really awful Irish accent, but the fact that Zachry and Meronym's love for each other feels 'right' when juxtaposed with Isaac and Luisa's meeting in the 1970s makes it worthwhile. (My only complaint is that Ben Whishaw was underused outside of the 1930s scenes, since he was by far the best thing about the film performance-wise.) As for the reincarnation motif – I preferred the more ambiguous allegorical approach taken by the book, but once again the more literal evocation of this idea in the film is borne out of a realisation that films and books are different mediums.

The unfortunate thing about this literal version of the reincarnation theme is that it leaves the film open to accusations of wishy-washy New Age spiritualism, which is sad because it's a film that's very heavily invested in the idea of faith in a more secular way. Sonmi isn't actually a god, but it doesn't diminish the real effect she has on Hae-Joo Chang's life (for example). The spiritual dimension implied throughout isn't as important as the faith human beings have in each other – Autua and Adam Ewing on the boat, Frobisher and Sixsmith, Zachry and Meronym (spelled out pretty bluntly with the 'thank Sonmi' 'no, thank you' line), etc etc. Yet again this brings us back to the idea of a form of art involved in the world beyond itself: it's a film about people because those texts are produced by people.

I've seen the film regularly accused of emotional and intellectual fraudulence – all the negative reviews have at least one of the stock 'it's not as smart as it thinks it is'/'it's trite and corny'/'it's manipulative' criticisms in there somewhere. This is a really similar point to the one about the undetermined veracity of stories in the novel being perceived as a point to latch onto for criticism I guess. I couldn't disagree more: it's a completely, bracingly honest film. It's possibly too honest, in the same way The Fountain is too honest. There's no irony (except of the dramatic variety) in Cloud Atlas. It's clear and upfront that it's a film, but it wants you to be emotionally invested anyway, just as the novel wants you to be emotionally invested even though it's very obviously a novel. I don't blame anyone for being slightly put off by this – it's a big ask for anyone when the question is as clear as it is in Cloud Atlas. But it's the same thing every film of this ilk asks its viewer, and while the question isn't always front and centre, it's always there. Some might point to a film like Precious, to give an example off the top of my head of a recent 'emotional' picture like this, but there's definitely an element of ironic detachment in that film in a quite repellent way – it can't help itself from tempering its empathy with disgust for its protagonist. Cloud Atlas on the other hand genuinely loves its protagonists, it loves itself (it is kind of pompous to be fair), and it loves you the viewer, as silly as that sounds.

What Cloud Atlas requires in return is an all or nothing approach. This is why it's a love/hate film, because you either buy it or you don't with no in between. And this is why it transcends genre exercises and solipsism, because it is, more than anything, about its role in the real world. All of the characters are fictional, but your emotional response is real, so what else matters if it achieved that?


5/5

quote:

ORIGINAL: AxlReznor
I do believe that the book and the film can be enjoyed separately from each other, and it can be read than just an exercise in genre fiction. The same way any piece of genre fiction can be read as just that. But it can also be read (and was intended to be) as a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall. It's the kind of thing Mitchell did in 'Ghostwritten', too.

The message (whether you think it's "new-agey/hippie", or just a general message about what it means to be human) has been done elsewhere, but very rarely have I been so affected by it (both by the book and the film). The additional emphasis of all of the connections in the film I think are necessary for it to work as a film, even if they weren't necessary to work as a book (they were there, they just mentioned as a matter-of-fact kind of thing)... it's two different media, and they need to do things differently to achieve the same goal.

I'm still not sure how anybody can say that the film-maker's misunderstood the material, when it's so clearly not the case. If the author had voiced concerns about it, and had said they'd missed the point, then that's fair enough... but he has nothing but praise for it, or the way they worked so closely with him on the script to make sure they got it right. Are people saying they understand the work better than the author?

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

quote:

ORIGINAL: MonsterCat

Never thought I'd see Cloud Atlas and Neighbours mentioned in the same sentence.

Anyways, I watching this this afternoon, and if it isn't any good I'm afraid Axl, Olaf and Rgirvan will have to reimburse me the ticket price.

quote:

ORIGINAL: demoncleaner

quote:

ORIGINAL: AxlReznor
I do believe that the book and the film can be enjoyed separately from each other, and it can be read than just an exercise in genre fiction. The same way any piece of genre fiction can be read as just that. But it can also be read (and was intended to be) as a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall. It's the kind of thing Mitchell did in 'Ghostwritten', too.

The message (whether you think it's "new-agey/hippie", or just a general message about what it means to be human) has been done elsewhere, but very rarely have I been so affected by it (both by the book and the film). The additional emphasis of all of the connections in the film I think are necessary for it to work as a film, even if they weren't necessary to work as a book (they were there, they just mentioned as a matter-of-fact kind of thing)... it's two different media, and they need to do things differently to achieve the same goal.

I'm still not sure how anybody can say that the film-maker's misunderstood the material, when it's so clearly not the case. If the author had voiced concerns about it, and had said they'd missed the point, then that's fair enough... but he has nothing but praise for it, or the way they worked so closely with him on the script to make sure they got it right. Are people saying they understand the work better than the author?

I think it’s absolutely feasible to say that a reader/viewer can understand the author’s limitations better than the author…sometimes.  I’m quite prepared to say, ok in the book there’s this message about I don’t know, civilsation’s hubris?  Fair enough, with prose you get away with that sort of thing, it’s a much more subjective medium.  But with a film, and its proven here as far as I’m concerned, you can’t do the “message” without being extremely mealy mouthed about it.     I feel this point is actually really pertinent when talking about the Wachowskis and the evolution of The Matrix trilogy as a prime example.  The first film is essentially people hitting each other in a rather cool way.  The public to a large extent took it principally at face value.  This was their principal reading of it and most people loved it.  But if you look for it there is a deeper reading in the first Matrix film, let’s say it is…

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

Fair enough, everything, (including Neighbours has to be about something).  Now, with the later sequels the demand on the audience is to perceive the franchise as being more about:

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

instead of it being about people hitting each other in a cool way.   The larger public reception to this was negative, not because the audience were wilfully shallow but perhaps because the escalation of message was accompanied by an undeniable mealy-mouthed attempt.  (And there were two quite long attempts to do it.  Cloud Atlas for me is a third wrought and mealy-mouthed attempt to send this profound message, that an 8 year old could also glean from a Terminator film).  You could say, in this case, that the audience understood the limitations of the directors better than the the directors.  That’s an inference we the public make ALL the time when we don’t like a piece of art/fiction/whatever…we ultimately perceive that we understand something about it the maker doesn’t…or doesn’t care about. 

quote:

ORIGINAL: Olaf

The phrase 'exercise in conflation' is an interesting one because it implies an objective measure for artistic merit - you clearly took my post as one such exercise which is fair enough. But when you write 'if the demand really is to think on these set of stories purely as cosmic occurrence and not based on the pleasures of genre fiction then that verdict is consolidating around the film' or 'What's becoming apparent from the release of the film is that the option to enjoy the source prose for what it is upfront, that is, a stylistic exercise in genre, is diminishing to the point where the absolute prescription is to consider Mitchell's book as some insufferable Pablo Coelho type hippy ponderance', I have to point out when I think you're misreading my intention. As I said, I'm sceptical of the Wachowskis/Tykwer overdoing the cosmic recurrence stuff in the plot because I read the book differently, but that's why I went off on a tangent about secular belief systems - it's a not case of either/or 'genre fiction that just exists to be enjoyed' and 'grand narrative of cosmic significance' as you're imagining it to be. The point (at least what I took it to be) is that the pleasures of (genre) fiction is a sensation that deserves to be rendered in cosmically significant terms, even if it's just allegorical. I don't literally buy into the reincarnation stuff or whatever, but it serves as an effective metaphor for the function of literature (or film obviously) in the 'real world'. You could probably argue that I'm placing too much significance on literature or film or art in general, but affording it that significance is what it comes down to for me.

quote:

ORIGINAL: demoncleaner

I think it’s absolutely feasible to say that a reader/viewer can understand the author’s limitations better than the author…sometimes.  I’m quite prepared to say, ok in the book there’s this message about I don’t know, civilsation’s hubris?  Fair enough, with prose you get away with that sort of thing, it’s a much more subjective medium.  But with a film, and its proven here as far as I’m concerned, you can’t do the “message” without being extremely mealy mouthed about it.     I feel this point is actually really pertinent when talking about the Wachowskis and the evolution of The Matrix trilogy as a prime example.  The first film is essentially people hitting each other in a rather cool way.  The public to a large extent took it principally at face value.  This was their principal reading of it and most people loved it.  But if you look for it there is a deeper reading in the first Matrix film, let’s say it is…

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

Fair enough, everything, (including Neighbours has to be about something).  Now, with the later sequels the demand on the audience is to perceive the franchise as being more about:

quote:

a message to humanity about their self-destructive tendencies that have been responsible for our rise and if we don't change, will be responsible for our fall.

instead of it being about people hitting each other in a cool way.   The larger public reception to this was negative, not because the audience were wilfully shallow but perhaps because the escalation of message was accompanied by an undeniable mealy-mouthed attempt.  (And there were two quite long attempts to do it.  Cloud Atlas for me is a third wrought and mealy-mouthed attempt to send this profound message, that an 8 year old could also glean from a Terminator film).  You could say, in this case, that the audience understood the limitations of the directors better than the the directors.  That’s an inference we the public make ALL the time when we don’t like a piece of art/fiction/whatever…we ultimately perceive that we understand something about it the maker doesn’t…or doesn’t care about. 

quote:

ORIGINAL: demoncleaner

quote:

ORIGINAL: Olaf

The phrase 'exercise in conflation' is an interesting one because it implies an objective measure for artistic merit - you clearly took my post as one such exercise which is fair enough. But when you write 'if the demand really is to think on these set of stories purely as cosmic occurrence and not based on the pleasures of genre fiction then that verdict is consolidating around the film' or 'What's becoming apparent from the release of the film is that the option to enjoy the source prose for what it is upfront, that is, a stylistic exercise in genre, is diminishing to the point where the absolute prescription is to consider Mitchell's book as some insufferable Pablo Coelho type hippy ponderance', I have to point out when I think you're misreading my intention. As I said, I'm sceptical of the Wachowskis/Tykwer overdoing the cosmic recurrence stuff in the plot because I read the book differently, but that's why I went off on a tangent about secular belief systems - it's a not case of either/or 'genre fiction that just exists to be enjoyed' and 'grand narrative of cosmic significance' as you're imagining it to be. The point (at least what I took it to be) is that the pleasures of (genre) fiction is a sensation that deserves to be rendered in cosmically significant terms, even if it's just allegorical. I don't literally buy into the reincarnation stuff or whatever, but it serves as an effective metaphor for the function of literature (or film obviously) in the 'real world'. You could probably argue that I'm placing too much significance on literature or film or art in general, but affording it that significance is what it comes down to for me.

I think that's completely fair and very well put.  I don't have an issue with anything here because I think what we're back to is the freedom to read it (the book, the movie) as we feel fit.   Where I'm coming from I think is the idea that I'm naturally going to resent the notion that taking the book at face value indicates a kind of dilletantism on my behalf.  When I read it I viewed whatever interconnectivity there was between stories as being more witty than profound.  There's a witty prospect I think in the suggestion that one protagonist's plight is another reader's tall tale, and conversely that a fictional "yarn” can evolve into something of quasi-religious importance (again I'm citing the Cavendish face on a cliff as an example of that type of existential joke al la Douglas Adams or something).  So I think my threshold of taste in terms of the inter-connections stops at the wry literary exercise and I don't find the more profound stretches at all palatable.   I can maybe sum up by saying that I think the film pushes the latter mercilessly.    Contrary to the fans of the film I don't think the structure of the film could only have been done this way.  Some compromise to a more anthology, portmanteau based structure (which the book completely compromises on) could have made for a more, I don't know, democratic watch.  But I think as it stands it's more ego-maniacal than that, you must look up at the stars and wonder about stuff. You must

quote:

ORIGINAL: Olaf

Warning! Thesis about the meaning of this doggerel incoming. I really enjoyed the film, personally.

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I’m usually opposed to reviews of film adaptations that dwell for ages on the differences between the book and the movie, but it seems necessary in this case because of the book in question – specifically, the way that it’s a book about books and how the Wachowskis and Tom Tykwer work around this. The most obvious stylistic predecessor to David Mitchell’s novel is Italo Calvino’s If On A Winter’s Night A Traveller (both pull the ‘multiple stories stopping halfway through’ shtick), but the comparison is important for what they don’t have in common more than what they do have in common. Both are books about writing and reading when it comes down to it of course, but by closing off the stories it starts, Cloud Atlas assumes we actually want to know how they end rather than just treating them as another game or writing exercise. In contrast to Calvino, where writing is writing and reading is reading, Mitchell’s book instead suggests that these characters have some value to us after all, and these silly pastimes of reading and writing might actually have some function in a real-world context. ‘We’re not beginning to... to... mean something?’

This is an offputting concept for many people. The generally accepted approach in critical commentary has only recently turned away from the more self-contained (self-absorbed?) version of literature that doesn’t ‘pretend’ to have any real-life significance. It’s interesting to consider why – is it a genuine lack of belief in art’s ability to convey emotion? Or is it that we’d rather it didn’t, for reasons of the slightly uncomfortable too-much-information variety? We might be more comfortable with Cloud Atlas if it stuck to commenting on itself, rather than commenting on us, but a desire to comment on Us is its primary motivation. The fact that it does so through an analysis of its medium (ie how the way we read and write reflects who we are and what we do), doesn’t diminish that motivation.

Which brings us onto the question of structure, ie Cloud Atlas the novel vs Cloud Atlas the movie. The novel’s structure obviously reflects that element of reading half of a book and needing to finish it (a crafty way of getting you to finish it too, well played Mitchell), but also consider it another way. If you picture it spatially, the novel literally looks like a book inside a book inside a book etc, while structurally reversing it (the Letters From Zedelghem section is ‘inside’ the Pacific Journal, but the latter is in the text of the former). This probably seems like me overexamining this, but these two reversed structures is important to both the novel’s recurring themes of containment/freedom, and the earlier contentious point about literature having some value beyond its own literature-ness. By suggesting that each of the texts exist both inside and outside of each other (and by extension, the text as a whole), there’s a clear break with the ‘Calvino approach’, as you might call it. I dislike the phrase ‘more than literature’ because it implies a triviality in literature as a concept, but Mitchell gets this as well. These pulpy genre stories have value outside of their own literary existence, as evidenced by the big connected souls lark, but it’s because of their literary nature that they have this value. The fact that Luisa Rey is a fictional character in Timothy Cavendish’s world, for instance, is ultimately irrelevant; they’re all fictional after all, and you care about them all the same.

All well and good, but Cloud Atlas is a movie now and it can’t adopt the structure of a novel that’s so intimately connected to novels as a concept. Which is why the cut-up structure of the film – something I was initially nervous about as a fan of the book – is absolutely essential to why Cloud Atlas works as a film. This really is a masterful work of editing, and that’s because the Wachowskis/Tykwer understand that the edit is the filmic equivalent of what Mitchell was looking to highlight with his novel’s structure. Eisenstein and Kuleshov argued that montage was the essence of cinema, and they were correct: instead of being a film about books, like a bad adaptation would have been, it’s a film about films in the same spirit. Hugo Weaving talks about the consequences of upsetting the ‘order of things’ or whatever towards the end of the film, and both book and film offer an extremely effective way of upending that order in narrative terms. I might even venture to say that the film’s continuous cutting and ensuing narrative disconnection (in a good way) makes it a more powerful challenge to that order than the novel – there’s a great poignancy in Jim Sturgess and Doona Bae’s characters being together at the ‘end’ of the film, even though we had just seen them separated minutes earlier centuries in the future.

It’s moments like the aforementioned that mean the multiple casting stunt just about comes off for the directors. I had my doubts when Tom Hanks appeared with a really awful Irish accent, but the fact that Zachry and Meronym’s love for each other feels ‘right’ when juxtaposed with Isaac and Luisa’s meeting in the 1970s makes it worthwhile. (My only complaint is that Ben Whishaw was underused outside of the 1930s scenes, since he was by far the best thing about the film performance-wise.) As for the reincarnation motif – I preferred the more ambiguous allegorical approach taken by the book, but once again the more literal evocation of this idea in the film is borne out of a realisation that films and books are different mediums.

The unfortunate thing about this literal version of the reincarnation theme is that it leaves the film open to accusations of wishy-washy New Age spiritualism, which is sad because it’s a film that’s very heavily invested in the idea of faith in a more secular way. Sonmi isn’t actually a god, but it doesn’t diminish the real effect she has on Hae-Joo Chang’s life (for example). The spiritual dimension implied throughout isn’t as important as the faith human beings have in each other – Autua and Adam Ewing on the boat, Frobisher and Sixsmith, Zachry and Meronym (spelled out pretty bluntly with the ‘thank Sonmi’ ‘no, thank you’ line), etc etc. Yet again this brings us back to the idea of a form of art involved in the world beyond itself: it’s a film about people because those texts are produced by people.

I’ve seen the film regularly accused of emotional and intellectual fraudulence – all the negative reviews have at least one of the stock ‘it’s not as smart as it thinks it is’/‘it’s trite and corny’/‘it’s manipulative’ criticisms in there somewhere. This is a really similar point to the one about the undetermined veracity of stories in the novel being perceived as a point to latch onto for criticism I guess. I couldn’t disagree more: it’s a completely, bracingly honest film. It’s possibly too honest, in the same way The Fountain is too honest. There’s no irony (except of the dramatic variety) in Cloud Atlas. It’s clear and upfront that it’s a film, but it wants you to be emotionally invested anyway, just as the novel wants you to be emotionally invested even though it’s very obviously a novel. I don’t blame anyone for being slightly put off by this – it’s a big ask for anyone when the question is as clear as it is in Cloud Atlas. But it’s the same thing every film of this ilk asks its viewer, and while the question isn’t always front and centre, it’s always there. Some might point to a film like Precious, to give an example off the top of my head of a recent ‘emotional’ picture like this, but there’s definitely an element of ironic detachment in that film in a quite repellent way – it can’t help itself from tempering its empathy with disgust for its protagonist. Cloud Atlas on the other hand genuinely loves its protagonists, it loves itself (it is kind of pompous to be fair), and it loves you the viewer, as silly as that sounds.

What Cloud Atlas requires in return is an all or nothing approach. This is why it’s a love/hate film, because you either buy it or you don’t with no in between. And this is why it transcends genre exercises and solipsism, because it is, more than anything, about its role in the real world. All of the characters are fictional, but your emotional response is real, so what else matters if it achieved that?


5/5

That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne.


TREK WARS

quote:

ORIGINAL: Timon

Finally saw it last night and thought it was fantastic - that's the true-true.

However I have questions:

Is the comet tattoo meant to symbolise change/rebirth in the characters that have it?

Was The Fall an apocalyptic war and were Zachary's visions a result of prolonged radiation exposure or just general madness?

Why does Jim Sturgess look really good as a Korean?