There is a movie coming out of Bridge to Terebithia. Trailer can be viewed here. Now, like most people who read BtT as a child, I love the book. It was beautiful and tragic and perfect and unforgettable, and above all, realistic.
And I want to know why the trailer is acting like this film is the frickin’ Lord of the Rings. I don’t think I’ve EVER seen a more misleading movie trailer. If I didn’t know that this was the actual, official trailer to this movie, I’d think it was one of those recut trailer jobs, like “Shining,” “Must Love Jaws,” and “Ten Things I Hate About Commandments.” (All of which, by the way, must be seen to be believed. Brilliant!)
And here’s the really weird part. The screenwriter and producer of this film is the the author of the book’s son. The son she wrote the book for. The son whose childhood friend inspired the story. So I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here. I doubt, given the connection to the son, that the movie will stray too far afield from its source material. I suspect, however, that whoever cut the trailer decided that all the fantasy shots were much more marketable and should be played up.
The downside is that a lot of people are going to be coming to the theater expecting to see The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe — but they’re going to get My Girl without the amusing undertaker comedy. Even the title treatment of the film is that swirly, fantasy, Chronicles of Narnia-esque font.
For anyone who has NOT read this book, let me enlighten you: 1) It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a fantasy epic. 2) It’s about coping with senseless death and survivor’s guilt.
I don’t know if the Patersons have any control over what “marketing” decides is the best way to present the story. My guess is that they were probably handed the argument that most people already know what BtT is about, and a misleading trailer won’t make them stay away (I reserve judgment on that), but that it might bring in people who otherwise wouldn’t see the film but loved Narnia to come see it. (Yes, and then they’ll hate you, but who cares, we already have their money, woo hoo!)
I’ve heard from several BtT fans who say they plan to stay away because they suspect a chop job on the story. One’s response was, “Bitch better die.” Macabre, perhaps, but to the point.
You see this kind of thing all the time in the book industry. Historical romances with modern, cartoony covers, paranormal romances without a hint of paranormal on the covers, erotic looking covers with tame sex scenes inside. Probably the most egregious example of false advertising I’ve seen of late is the cover and back cover blurb of Monica Jackson’s “Mr. Right Now,” which is a paranormal romance but has a seventiesish cartoon cover of a chick waiting by a telephone and a back cover blurb that makes it sound like a chick lit about three friends.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that, much like most authors, young directors like Paterson probably don’t have much clout against coprorate marketing machines who are convinced that their marketing strategy will get the “best” response. Of course, the “best response” to them is, I suppose, butts in seats, not people actually enjoying the film, returning to see it again, and telling all their friends to see it as well.
If the film footage is there, the trailer makers can use it how they’d like. And, as the recut trailers prove, you can make just about anything look like any genre you want. But unlike the marketing machines, I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Expectation, and the fulfilling of it, accounts for a lot of audience enjoyment. When I went to see Deja Vu a few weeks ago, I was all, “Come on, bring on the time travel, I know you’ve got it.” If I were a parent taking my 6 year old to BtT and expecting it to be Narnia, you can bet there’d be a nasty letter on its way to Disney.
I can’t help but feel like the trailer is doing a massive disservice to the film, both for the people who are going to see it and hate it, and for the people who aren’t going to see it because it looks like they’ll hate what’s been done to it. But what do you do? What, indeed, can you do? If I go to see BtT, they’ll say, “Look, people like misleading marketing.” If I *don’t* go to see it, they’ll say, “Let’s not make any more films from classic children’s literature unless it’s about talking animals and swordfights.”
So what do you do?
PS: Congrats to all NaNoWriMo winners! I’m so proud of you!
I know some of you are tiring of hearing me go on and on about TV shows for the last few days.
But, um, Veronica Mars was Tuesday night, so bear with me. In white text, as usual, to prevent spoilage. Highlight to see…
I LOVE LOGAN ECHOLLS.
It’s a pure love, a deep love, the type of love that I can no longer hide. Fortunately, Sailor Boy understands. He thinks that he might love him even more than I do. And SB’s parents also understand, and accept our love. And now that Logan is single, we can be together, at last. Darling Logan, call me soon! I know you’re like a decade younger than I am, but isn’t it time for you to get yourself a real woman, the type of woman who can appreciate you so much more than that ditz you’ve been dating? Logan, darling, don’t make me wait.
Baseball bat! Police car! Brilliant. My Logan, O Logan, O darling, you’re back to your bad boy, loyal, wonderful wonderful self. The way you flexed your hand in that jail cell made me swoon. My heart pounded the whole way home. Sailor Boy is so wrong about it being contrived and about how you’re going to be stuck in jail for a while now.
Okay. So that was thing number one I loved. Other things I loved: 1) Mac. Always. Mac being brilliant and wonderful and snarky and tossing out drinks and saying awful things and wearing a fabulous t-shirt. Why don’t they use her more? 2) Dick. Always. Dick being a dick. So much love. 3) The unicorns. Clearly Carrie is actually Harmony, from Buffy. 4) The Neil Diamond tribute band. 5) Parker, saving the day, and Parker’s Posse, backing her up (note to Veronica: this is how you handle confronting a rapist. You take a posse with you). 6) The dean. 7) Logan. Logan. 9) The fact that I totally called Moe. 10) Logan. 11) Deputy Sacks, getting schooled by both the junior cop and Keith. 12) Logan, I love you. I love you when you’re getting your heart broken. I love you when you’re beating someone’s face in. I love that you think the best pathway to personal revenge is getting yourself locked up. I love that you think nothing of taking a baseball bat to a cop car. Marry me, Logan Echolls. We can be DiLo. Or LoDi. Or something.
Things I hated: 1) Veronica, being a moron. Ws it GHB or stupid pills that she’s been taking? I have no idea why she thought that was the best recourse for dealing with her discovery of the rapist. Has she not realized over the course of her other near-death experiences, how bad an idea it is to go off, alone, to confront the villain? And where is her phone? She has her taser, but not her phone?
To quote Ally Carter, who is also a huge VM fan, and with whom yours truly dissected last night’s ep:
“But when is our 105 pound heroine going to learn that there are OTHER people who can stake out the dorm room where the rapists are going to be showing up? Call the cops and TELL them what’s going on. Call the campus cops. Call your dad. Call Logan and Wallace. Grab five random guys at the incredibly crowded party and say “hey, want to go wail on a pervert?” I’m betting she could get some backup. Hey, go get Backup–anything!”
Exactly, Ally. Exactly.
2) Mercer, monologuing. 3) Veronica, being a really unforgiveable moron. You run upstairs to get away from the wounded villain? Have you never seen a horror film? And where was your rape whistle then? And why the hell would you expect Piz or Wallace to be in their room when you know you left Piz at the party and Wallace went to the marina with Logan? 4) Mercer’s weird master/slave thing with Moe. WTF? See below. 5) Did I mention how Veronica was acting like an idjit? 6) The fake IDs. She hasn’t learned her lesson from season 1? 7) Wallace=Wasted.
But mostly, everything I disliked about the episode was redeemed by Baseball bat + Logan + police car = LOVE. Wow, was my heart pounding when I saw that scene.
Okay. Moving on. I also fianlly saw the series “finale” of Carnivale yesterday. Thumbs DOWN. But it was a good lesson for me, as a writer. In fact, the whole series was a great lesson in the following: 1) Do not let worldbuilding get in the way of the story. As interesting as carniers and the Depression were, they should serve as backdrop to the tale, not the other way around. 2) Yeah, make ‘em wait, but don’t make ‘em wait for longer than the payoff is worth. 3) Make sure there is a payoff. Sheesh. This, for the record, is why I gave up on Lost. I already went through this crap with The X-Files.
Updated to add: VeronicaMarsWhite Text: Thank the good people at Television Without Pity for pointing out to me what the dea was with Mercer “sir” and Moe “prisoner”: it was a reference to the prison experiment from the beginning of the season that Moe said “changed his life.” Ta da.
More loafing yesterday, even though I need to 1) clean, 2) pack, and 3) sew my suitcase back together again. The suitcase industry is such a crock. You pay hundreds of dollars for some supposedly “lifetime guarantee” bag that goes out of warrantee the second you check it onto an airline? And then you’re blamed fo rhte fact that its seams have apparently been manufactured with fairy gloss. I bought a really nice suitcase this year for all the travelling I knew I’d be doing and the thing looks like an afghan with all the patching I’ve had to do to it.
I finished Nalini Singh’s Slave to Sensationyesterday. Amazing story, very much worth all the hype — go out and buy it right away! Her next book, Visions of Heat, is marked with “#1 National Bestselling Author.” Does anyone know what that means? Nalini? I’d be excited to hear if the blog tour worked. And I’m thrilled to see such a deserving book get all this attention. Fans of urban fantasy, of futuristics, of paranormal romance — you have to check it out.
Note: the following is NOT an Ode to Piz.
I feel like Piz is to Veronica Mars what Andrew was to Buffy. We’re supposed to like him as much as the writers apparently do and think he’s just ever so cute and clever and blah blah blah blah blah, and are told as much, over and over and over again, and yet… no. And the more he’s shoved down our throats, and the more unearned screentime he gets, and the more he’s treated as some sort of darling of the show, the more we resent both his character, the actor playing him, and the show that won’t give us what we want.
And regarding the argument put forth earlier about how it’s okay, because we all hated Logan in 1st season, I think that’s different. We all HATED Logan. We had strong feelings. We adored hating him. We lived to hate him. We tuned in every week just to revel in our searing, seething, burning hatred of him and rejoice every time Veronica got the better of him, and growl every time he proved that payback was a bitch, and wonder, occasionally, if there wasn’t something more searing, seething, and burning than hatred going on between these two, because, holy shit the television remote melted every time they were on screen together, and the sand on Neptune Beach turned to glass beneath their feet. And this is why the copy of Weapons of Class Destruction is wearing out Chez Diana. Because, that kiss? Oh my goodness oh my goodness oh my goodness.
Piz, on the other hand, evokes no strong feelings in me whatsoever, and continues to fail at doing so. The writers’ insistence at shoving his cuteness and completely contrary-to-fact love-triangulation abilities in my face at every opportunity, however, does evoke strong feelings…of annoyance.
Annoyance does not make me want to tune in the way that love and hate do. You often hear the phrase, “the guy we love to hate.” You never hear the phrase, “the guy we love to annoy us.” There is a reason for this. Now, if the category was “the guy we love to annoy Veronica” then the winner would be Dick Casablancas, whom I love and whom they’d better not kill off, because “rich dude Kryptonite” is the best line EVER, and the character who would say something like that deserves life, liberty, and the pursuit of shallow and empty happiness. Dick Casablancas is to Veronica Mars what Cordelia Chase was to Buffy.
How fortunate we are that Veronica is not to Veronica Mars what Buffy was to Buffy, eh? (knock wood, knock wood!)
Naturally, I reserve the right to change my mind, as Thomas et al. are very good at showing heretofore unknown depths of character on short notice. Still, if they pull some weird Beaver shit like last year where I’m all WTF? even the second and third time that I watch, I may have to punch someone. It will probably be someone with seventies bangs and a penchant for vinyl.
But yeah. I am VERY excited about tonight. And if they make me love Piz, expect tomorrow’s post to be an open request for good crow recipes.
On a related note: Joan of Arcadia, Season 2 is out today. Top of the Netflix queue, baby! I have heard that they took the wonderful first season show and turned it into some sort of unforunate Joan the Demon Slayer hybrid in order to up ratings, which is a shame, but I loved loved loved first season (Adam and Joan’s first kiss was also a DVD that got a lot of repeat viewings) and I want to see what happens.
I enjoyed the blog vacation. It’s amazing how little time it takes to fall out of the habit completely. Writing this seems vaguely foreign to me right now.
I gorged myself on Thursday, lay around on Friday reading books, spent most of Saturday out and about with various friends, and did more reading, research, and movie watching on Sunday. I’ve now finished my book-a-week goal for 2006, so everything from here on out is gravy. Have a few inching their way to the top of the TBR pile that I’m super excited about, including Surviving Demon Island.
Writing? No. But I look at it as “refilling the well.” And without getting into too much detail, my well? She brims. I won’t be “winning” NaNo this year, but I did do 30k that I’m very proud of. It’s possible I may write a few more k this week. But there’s this new proposal that I’ve been itching to start, so I may work on that this month instead. I’m also taking two trips to Florida, which will be mostly consumed by partying, wedding planning, partying, and celebrating my incredibly talented friend Cheryl Wilson’s long awaited first-sale, at auction, in a two-book deal. (I hope we shall soon be celebrating the launch of her website). These books are amazing, folks. I’ve been in love with them ever since I first read them in 2003.
Some things I may be discussing on my blog sometime soon:
* All those dehydrated horses standing right by the water. * Why agents won’t tell you what they’re looking for. * The Knife’s Edge of Bridal Insanity * Titles, or We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ English * More on POV * Dear Writing Santa * Dear Regular Santa * Diana’s New Year’s Resolutions * What is “Done” in YA
And of course, more Veronica Mars than you can shake an incredibly convenient and variably charged taser gun at.
Some things I probably won’t be discussing on the blog any time soon
* Under the Rose Spoiler Thread (wait ’til June) * Titles for SSG3 (wait ’til further developments are afoot) * Diana’s favorite books of the year (mostly to avoid the endemic comment encouraging the addition of a particular title — man, those fangirls are out in force!) * My trip to Rome (mostly because I’m not taking one)
First of all, Veronica Mars ROCKED. Wow. But when they did that ad with LoVe/Piz=?? and then said to go to that website, http://veronicaviewers.com to share your thoughts? “Piz is a whiny little bitch of a character who Veronica would steamroll within minutes” was not an option to check. What am I supposed to do? Jeez, I don’t know what they’re thinking. All the show literature about Piz make it out like there’s something between those two. If there is, it’s not the little something known as chemistry. She had more chemistry with Duncan. The idea that they would be a good match is laughable, unless there’s some sort of heretofore unknownbadass tendencies that Piz has been hiding.
Moving on. I finally turned in my line edits and now I’m footloose and fancy free and taking a much needed vacation. Sailor Boy is off from school, so if I don’t check in, you know it’s because we’re vegging out.
And by vegging out, I mean, finishing my NaNoWriMo book. 9 days. 32k. Uh, yeah right.
But I will not leave you bereft. Oh no, rather, I leave you with this. Beautiful. Talk about Goal, Motivation, and Conflict! This artist’s a genius. I hope he got a great job. As a lover of all things Kiwi, I adored this.
And, yes, I cried. But then, I cried at the little toys that worshipped “The Claw” in Toy Story, so that’s where I stand on being a sap about animation.
I can’t decide what I like best about this site: the fact that the blogger makes jokes about how to pronounce the acronym for New York Public Library (never occurred to me before, but now I odn’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking of it), the fact that she (?) is clearly a huge Scott Westerfeld fan, or maybe, because of this:
Secret Society Girl Maybe it’s because I went to Dartmouth and the “Eli” university in this book is very similar, or maybe it’s because I was in a coed frat, but I absolutely ADORED this book.
Peterfreund, Diana Delacorte Press Secret Society Girl: an Ivy League Novel 2006 Amy Haskel, editor of the “Eli University” (Yale) literary magazine, is a shoe-in for Quill & Ink, the literary senior society, so when she’s tapped by Rose & Grave, the most powerful, most secretive, most all-male society at Eli, she is surprised to say the least. As Amy enters a world of initiation and tradition, the reader enters Peterfreund’s colorful and witty world of college life. The adventures of the last few weeks of Amy’s junior year are as exciting as any episode of Alias, with the added advantage that there need be no suspension of disbelief as the author creates a very real world it is easy for the reader to relate to, even if they do not have the Ivy League experience or the vocabulary of the main characters of the book. Peterfreund puts the first person to good use in this “confession”.
Tons of other great reviews here, from manga and YA to adult books that will appeal to the younger audience. Enjoy, bookmark, return: http://giggglius.livejournal.com/
That’s National Novel Writing Month Hate Blogging, which seems to be a hot new trend. Look here, here, here, here, here, and, most surprisingly of all, here. (This last contains an open letter to the organizer beginning, “Every year when you run your event, I cringe.”)
Okay, I know Anne Crispin means well, and I’m usually in total support of her crusade against literary scammers, and have pointed blog readers to many of her alerts. But I can’t help but be disappointed that she thinks a) that it’s somehow a mandate on the part of the organizers to keep participants from being scammed by publishers, and b) that they aren’t. Ever since I’ve joined NaNo, I’ve seen a big spot on the forums dedicated to informing members about industry scams. There’s info out there on the NaNo site for people who want to avoid scam artists, so I think Writer Beware sounded foolish and needlessly confrontational by admonishing the program for not doing something that, in fact, they were, and that, in fact, really has very little to do with their mission statement.
Which is the point. It’s like telling a company that gives out free makeup tips that they have a responsiblity to warn the people who learn how to put on mascara from their website about those creeps who claim they’re from modeling agencies and just want to take dirty pictures. They’re just a makeup tip site. They aren’t telling people to become models! Why should they be responsible for not only determining what could be the long term consequences of their entirely altruistic attempts, and also attempting to prevent it? It’s this attitude that results in there being text on all of my grocery bags that say, “This is not a toy. Do not place over head or breathing may become inhibited.”
As far as I’m concerned, having any info at all available about the publishing industry is not the purpose of the program, and the organizers should be applauded for making it available at all. I’ve done NaNo for two years now, and the vast, vast majority of people I’ve met at write-ins and on the forums, are doing this for FUN. They have no interest in selling their product.
This, however, appears to be the major complain of most of the other hatahs. “NaNo tries to convince people that anyone can write a novel.” “It’s disrespectful to the real writers.”
Well, I’m a “real” writer — a full time, professional, this-is-how-I-pay-my-rent published novelist, and I’m not offended. The truth is, almost anyone can write “a novel,” a book-length work of fiction. In the same way that almost anyone can take a canvas and splatter paint on it and call it art. Anyone can pick up a basketball and make a couple of free throws in their driveway. Not everyone can be Michael Jordan. Yeah, I get offended when people act like my job is easy. But if someone tells me that they want to write a novel, I tell them that they should give it a whirl.
And that’s the point of NaNoWriMo. Those people whose life lists include “write a novel” are given an opportunity and a support group in which to help them do it. It’s supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be silly. It’s, above all, an amateur event. It’s free. these people are, for the most part, hobbyists. It’s not about bringing down the profession, any more than people who play pick up football games on thanksgiving Day are supposed to be an affront to the NFL. They’re doing it for fun. It’s not National Write a Publishable Novel Month. It’s a lark. Lighten up. Those pro writers that I’ve met are using NaNoWriMo as a tool to help them increase their word count or etc, but I think we’re not the majority of participants.
Lay off the NaNo people. They’re doing a great thing, and they’re doing it for free. Just because some people choose not to understand the point does not make it a bad program.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the type of attitude that has almost sunk the amateur artist. The guy who just wants to take out his easel and his oils and paint crappy sunsets because, hey, it’s fun, and it keeps him off the streets. But there’s so much pressure to PERFORM, so much fear that someone else will say it sucks, that it’s somehow embarrassing to do it. You’re not going to be any good, you’re not going to be a professional, so why bother?
This was a hard lesson I had to learn last year. I am, by no stretch of the imagination, a good artist. I can’t draw stick figures. But my old co-worker is a great artist. She does all kinds of amazing artwork, sells quite a lot of it, and has a studio in her basement. And she regularly invites her friends down to make art with her. You know, because art is fun. She loves doing it, she loves sharing, etc. At first, I was really embarrassed about doing it. After all, I was, um, not a good artist. But then I got down there and I saw all kinds of people on all kinds of levels making all kinds of art — some were serious about it or proud of their work or were having fun with it or a mix of all of that or were just glad to be doing arts and crafts like they hadn’t allowed themselves to do since they were in grade school, because they, like me, were told that it’s “disrespectful” to the real artists to produce stuff for fun.
Bullshit. Do it for fun if you want. Paint, or take tap dancing, or throw a football around, or write in a journal, or write poetry, or take pictures, or run a marathon, or stargaze or cook gorumet meals or write a novel. Why not? There’s no law. It doesn’t hurt anyone. Robert Levin and Savion Glover and Mike Alstott and David Sedaris and Maya Angelou and Annie Leibovitz and Jelena Prokopcuka and Phil Nicholson and Mario Batali and Stephen King will not be offended if you make a hobby of their chosen professional field. I promise.
Art can be fun. Long before I made this my job, I wrote stories for fun. Sometimes I showed my parents, or my friends, or no one at all, because the point was the doing of it. Choosing it as a profession brings all kinds of different requirements into the mix. Understanding the difference is a good thing. The problem is not making it a hobby; it’s confusing the hobby with the profession.
Someone just emailed me to ask if she’d done anything to get excised from my blogroll. Apparently, her link disappeared. (Of course, if I did any kind of culling like that, you know that biyotch Gena would have been out on her ear long ago.)*
If anyone else has had their link vanish from my blogroll recently and thought I was doing some kind of Golden-style Hot and Not friends list, let me know and I’ll put you back.
*This is what is known in the biz as sarcasm**
**Whatev. Gena’s the devil. I’ll prove it:**** **** Yes, Gena. That means it’s open season on photoshopping moi.
I’m now officially behind on my NaNoWriMo goals, but the good news is that I’ve turned the last corner on my line edits. Sixty-three pages left. I’m reminded of the character in Anne of the Island (which Robin has, shamefully, never read) who claims she can’t write a paper unless she throws each page to the ground as soon as she finishes it. Picture me doing that sixty-three times. And at the end, the reward of getting back to writing!
It occurred to me that I have not yet posted the cover copy for Under the Rose, being the second book in the Secret Society Girl Series. Which is, I might add, how I like to think of it, though no notation to that effect appears on the cover.
I wish I could show you guys the back. It’s so amazing. Actually, the backs of both paperbacks are things of beauty and joys forever. The back of SSG shows the rear view of the picture on the front, and all the text is written inside the sweater draped over her shoulders. The back of UTR shows her waist and the top of her blue jeans with a rosebud in her pocket. It’s gorgeous — all those blues and just a hint of red. The art department really outdid themselves there. But I digress.
Under the Rose:
The Washington Post called Diana Peterfreund’s first novel, Secret Society Girl, “Undeniably juicy — from steamy makeout sessions with campus hotties to cloak-and-dagger initiations.” Now Peterfreund returns with a new novel, a wickedly brilliant look at what goes on behind padlocked doors when initiation is over and life as a full-fledged society member begins…
Amy Haskel made it into elite Eli University. then she made it into the ultraselective Order of Rose & Grave. Now a senior, Amy is looking her future squarely in the eye — until someone starts selling society secrets. When a series of bizarre messages suggest conspiracy within the ranks and a female Knight mysteriously disappears, no member of Rose & Grave is safe… or above suspicion.
On her side, Amy has a few loyal Diggirls — her fellow female Rose & Grave Knights. Against her? Certainly it’s a group of Rose & Grave’s uberpowerful patriarchs who want their old boys’ club back. As new developments in her love life threaten to implode and the case of the vanished Diggirl gets weirder by the moment, Amy will need to use every society trick she’s ever learned in order to set things right. Even if it means turning to old adversaries for help — or discovering that the real foes are closer than she’d thought…
Not doing Thursday Thirteen this week because I don’t feel like immortalizing “13 ways that yesterday sucked” in my blog.
It was getting a little desperate yesterday afternoon (those of you who received the whinging emails and phone calls can attest to that) and I didn’t really feel like going out, but I had these two passes to the sneak preview of Denzel Washington’s new movie, Deja Vu. So I called up a friend to try to give them away. His wife had to work late, so the two of us ended up going together. (Turns out his day sucked, too). I’m so glad I went.
First of all, let us feast upon the magnificent form of Denzel. Ooooh, aahhhh. Okay, now onto the movie. Most of you know that I am usually against the “X meets Y” version of the high concept pitch, unless it fits really well. In this case, yes. This movie is Enemy of the State meets Twelve Monkeys.
Anyway, Denzel plays a super-smart N’awlins ATF agent called into a bomb site. Also starring (and I’m so not kidding about this) Val Kilmer (who was probably as chill as I’ve ever seen him in a role), Adam Goldberg (who wrote and directed a film my buddy Josh produced called I Love Your Work), and Jesus Jim Caviezel, who was not speaking in Aramaic this time, and was definitely playing against type. And some chicks.
And I kind of knew from the commercials and also the name Deja Vu that there had to be some sort of wacky sci fi shit going down at some point in the movie, but really, most of it’s a pretty straightforward action thriller. It’s quite a while before they embrace all 12 of their monkeys.
I liked it. Cute action thriller. Good acting, well-paced plot, interesting premise, at least one plot hole big enough to drive a Ford Bronco through, and I guessed all of the twists and a fair number of the lines, but hey, have some popcorn, gaze upon the magnificent form of Denzel Washington (only one semi-nude scene, but yes, it’s worth it) and enjoy.
Logan. 9) The fact that I totally called Moe. 10) Logan. 11) Deputy Sacks, getting schooled by both the junior cop and Keith. 12) Logan, I love you. I love you when you’re getting your heart broken. I love you when you’re beating someone’s face in. I love that you think the best pathway to personal revenge is getting yourself locked up. I love that you think nothing of taking a baseball bat to a cop car. Marry me, Logan Echolls. We can be DiLo. Or LoDi. Or something. 
