I’ve been rewriting and rewriting a post about comparing the experience of watching a four-hour headache-inducing director’s cut of a blockbuster with a tender and emotionally engaging 90-minute indy, and I have finally — finally — realised that I’ve been on a hiding to nothing the last few days.
There is no comparison.
They’re two very different creatures, with two very different target audiences, and woe be to those who try connect the two.
I couldn’t help it. All humans try to make sense of the world around them, and I suppose that’s what this New Zild screenwriter was trying to do after watching such different films almost back-to-back.
I guess this is a timely reminder to self that the world is a big place, that it caters to all tastes, that it’s okay to enjoy the taste of apples and oranges, and that, yes, a rifle and a shotgun both go bang but they’re for two very different distances and animals.
Biting into an apple and wishing for juicy orange-y goodness is unrealistic. Shooting possums with a shotgun may be satisfying in the moment but the neighbours tend to want a word the following day.
A four-quadrant tentpole event is not the place to find subtext and nuanced relationships.