Love Long and Prosper.

DISCLAIMER: Russovoir takes pride of taking a film with a pinch of salt. Although while accuracy of review is credible - more credible; throw a bone - had he been a Star Trek fan or had read the The Great Gatsby novel, and while Russovoir's focus is the cinematic aesthetics, including but not limited to, the plot presented and individual performances of actors present, too much salt is bad for your health.

The Enterprise.

Mysterious. Mysterious how Star Trek: Into Darkness is an aura of advancement light years away, seemingly infinite of steel gray and the automatic and the convenient; technical jargon that could've slowly detached and bored Russovoir, and yet, as if like a CT scan that sees through you, Russovoir showed signs of malign emotional reaction. How mysterious, billions of miles away, millions of years into the future Earth, the infinite world of Star Trek was somehow bottled up in the finite scope of human understanding. As if the vastness of the universe doesn't and will not make sense, isn't a stardust fascinating if there aren't human values orbiting around its unknownness, like a covalent atom into another covalent atom to deem valuable.

Surely Star Wars has their own thing going, and that's another story Russovoir couldn't possibly have the interest to dwell on. That being said, Star Trek: Into Darkness, together with the first installment, Star Trek (2009), kept its plot down-to-earth despite in space. The story is simple, not too simple to keep you interested; coherent, as if following the film's ecliptic story line; extrapolative - hear Russovoir out - where which the Star Fleet is the far, far future's Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). It took a while to realize that.

The Enterprise of Jay Gatsby.

Fabulous. Fabulous how American men dress in the 1920's. Affluent American men. Russovoir instantly picked up on it because he found himself on those men; the crisp suits, the ceremonious bow ties, the walk-on-water shoes, fine sweaters, iconic fedoras from which glossy hair is only for the wealthy. Hence a certain cosmetic hair gel was branded after the infamous, poor rich man, Jay Gatsby.

Reportedly a snapshot of the author F. Scott Fitzgerald's experiences on Earth, in America, in 1920's nascent New York, The Great Gatsby is a manifesto of the societal framework and convention in the male-driven, roaring Twenties. As frank as Russovoir is presumptuous, women in the 1920's, with their bobbed hairs and in short skirts, had bodies but no backbones, hence were called a 'flapper'; one who flaps to whoever man has the stronger pull. Indeed, they were a new breed.

Although while that was harsh, and probably it's intrinsic of a man to protect and a woman to be protected, the novel turned celluloid is comparable to Romeo + Juliet (1996); it could be one of the most tragic love stories ever told. And what is this, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Romeo too? It is no coincidence. DiCaprio, at 38, still got it. That ageless romeo-esque charm, only in this case, while as passionate, was classy, awkward, hesitant, suspicious and, as it's always been, fiercely in love. Jay + Daisy. Traces of Marilyn Monroe from My Week with Marilyn (2011) were felt on Carey Mulligan as the handle-with-care Daisy Buchanan. But since both women are broken in their perspective time periods, it can only make sense how it was reminiscent. Enviable, insatiable, delectable, the cinematography was - and God, those lavish parties! Then, like a gum losing its zing, the film numbs you at the end like your mouth overchewed and felt, used.

"Tell me what you don't like, I'll change it."

What failed to send the message across from what had seen, can be heard from Lana Del Rey's powerful Young And Beautiful (click it).   

 

    

Evil Dead Possesses You!

"Oh my God Russo! You're sick! Why are you enjoying this? Oh God, ewwww!", a friend of Russovoir wails, audibly overlapping the ominous sound, seconds before someone is out of limb again (figuratively and literally). It's true, Evil Dead is the most terrifying film you will ever experience. Russovoir thought at first it's bollocks since what really can a remake do. The 1981 original, from the hellion who scared us in ever coming across a wrinkly spinster begging for a loan in Drag Me to Hell (2009), Sam Raimi permitted the remake; for a film that centers on gore and the wickedness of your worst manifestation of a demon, what better time than when eye-writhing films that came pouring in over the last decade. The time is now. The time is perfect because, quoting an accolade, the film was near perfect.

How exactly do you play a demon incarnate? Russovoir is fascinated by Jane Levy (above). Were there any camera tricks, or was it all her? Either way, Russovoir is possessed with the idea of being possessed. Had there been camera tricks involved, it must've not worked as perfectly without still Levy's satan-on-your-face performance.

"The fucking book won't burn."

We'd like also to commend Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci (above), Jessica Lucas, and Elizabeth Blackmore, with whom the film was neither overshadowed nor compromised. They have enough talent to withdraw pain and suffering and horror where make-up and a green screen could've deadened them. Then it makes sense to us. Comparing it to the grainy, dusty, paste-like, and rustic gore of the 1981 Evil Dead, the remake is a patient long overdue. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, run faster!" and "Oh my God that looks so real, it's amazing!" came gushing out as effusive as each time there's going to be merciless torture on each one of the characters. Have faith to lose faith altogether because - imagine the next line in a satanic voice - The Poltergeist is coming. Chant it.

Inception says, "Sweet Dreams!".

Russovoir wants Trance to be as critically acclaimed as Christopher Nolan's Inception (2010). Where which out of respect Inception is still close ahead by a couple of millions because that's how it works in the competitive industry of firsts. "I call dibs on hacking the mind.", Russovoir hears Nolan saying to himself at one point, or to a group. Regardless, Trance, as if simply mentally picking out a few general and interesting points and presumptions of the aforementioned and innovate them, is a unique Danny Boyle experience. Like scraps from an old car that have been collected and sculpted to become a work of art (not that Boyle is scrap nor Nolan is an old car).

Russovoir feels too it's important to mention Nir Paniry's Extracted (2012). He watched this months back and servility of work plugged the creative juices to finish the review. Doesn't matter, Russovoir is determined to finish it and, look at the bright side, how timely you have something to compare it with now. Trust Extracted and Trance have two completely different plots. But equally brilliant.

Sasha Roiz in Extracted.

Unforgettable in Wanted (2008), James McAvoy was a new kind of fierce in the film. He's like a bad dream you didn't mind soundly sleeping through because the volatile persona is a beautiful nightmare. *telephone ringing* Hold that thought, that's probably Beyonce.

Now where were we? Ah, yes. Rosario Dawson. Allow Russovoir to assume. Prior to this film, and maybe during the making, there must be a lot of things in her head regarding the role she's going to play and its bare stipulations. The hunch is, Dawson believes in the story so much - the story really is remarkable - that the audience will look past, or even forget these 'revelations'. However, not immediately but rather gradually because, 1) you understood the necessity and at the same time, 2) there's a race between the heavy plot and your limited faculties in which you have to win or else, it's frustrating. All while the climax is escalating. Yes, you're going to have to think.

"You're going to forget me."

Think hard and think fast. Or else you're going to want to watch it again (as admittedly so). This is not a movie after a long day of work. Russovoir will not even walk you through the plot; you're going to have to watch it and exercise your mind for once. One thing is certain, Trance, much like its ending, on the account that there is either an overload or a breach of information, one as well ultimately has a choice to keep or discard it; so as to be tranced.