Not my cup of anything

Rating: 1/10 (3 February 2011)

I'm rather happy so many people like this film. It confirms my opinion of mankind. Other reviewers have pointed out the stupidity of this film and I advise everybody to go to the 'hated it' section of the reviews at IMDb and read up a bit about the true nature of this movie. It stinks. It is a corpse that has been underwater too long. It is terrible. It's just another Hollywood production with people running from bullets and never getting hit while too loud droning music tries to add tension where it is simply not there. Sure, there's things exploding and amazing visuals and allegations to human themes (without of course ever becoming real human emotions; allegations are much safer and more popular, because you don't have to actually feel, you can just sit back and go 'oooooh, aren't we amaaaaazing' - well, no, not really), there are characters that are never ever real people - I choose life over the dream here, really, and I hope my dreams never become as lousy as what I see here. In my dreams I feel, I touch, I smell. I dream music and books, I dream people, despair, tears. I dream violence, pain, sex, even death. I have stupid dreams in which I simply work, like I do all day. I sometimes run marathons and wake up exhausted. All these dreams are dear to me, because they are me. This film is not me, or anyone. Even my worst nightmare is preferable over this. At least I feel something there. My tiniest memory of someone I have loved is worth more than this film. A fragment of my capacity to hurt has more energy than this. I could go on, but you get the drift. I rarely give up on films, but this one I did. I quit after 45 minutes. And no, I'm not going to give it another go. As Hemingway said: 'I don't have to eat a whole bucket of snot, to know that it's snot.' One star for me trying to watch this.