คุณเคยถามตัวเองบ้างไหมว่า ใครกันที่เกิดมาคู่กันกับเราอย่างจริงๆ?
การที่เราได้รัก..... ได้รับ สิ่งดีๆ .. จากคนต่างๆ ที่เราได้พบ ได้พูดคุย และได้รู้จัก แต่ จะมีซักกี่คนที่เราจะใช้คำว่า ..... เรา
คนที่เป็นคน คนนั้น คนที่จะอยู่กับเราเสมอ ไม่ว่าจะเกิดอะไรขึ้น เราก็จะได้เห็นหน้าเค้าอยู่ข้างๆ เราเสมอและคอยให้กำลังใจเรา ที่นอกเหนือจากพ่อแม่แล้ว
คนที่เราจะบอกว่า เพียงเธอ เท่านั้น ที่เราจะรัก......
คน คนนั้นอยู่ที่ไหน คนที่เกิดมาคู่กับเราจริงๆ???????
วันอาทิตย์ที่ 23 ธันวาคม พ.ศ. 2550
วันจันทร์ที่ 20 สิงหาคม พ.ศ. 2550
The Bourne Ultimatum
Story:
Jason Bourne still suffers from bouts of amnesia. The one thing he does remember is that there are people who want him dead. See, the CIA who trained him to be a killer, are still after him. In a way, he's still after himself; Bourne's not all too clear about his identity. So when a reporter offers to help him put some pieces together, Bourne comes out of hiding. But who's good at finding people when they're not hiding? The CIA! And another new organization that wants Bourne dead too! It's a pretty clear ultimatum: Travel across the world to find out who you are, and then get away or get killed.
Review:
Has a film's running time, in this case a breathless 115 minutes, ever involved so much actual running? The superbly kinetic action picture "The Bourne Ultimatum" treats its own narrative almost abstractly, as a series of hurdles to be knocked over quickly, casually, en route to the next futile attempt on Jason Bourne's life.This is the most satisfying thriller of the year, capping the Bourne trilogy taken from the Robert Ludlum novels. The films are faithful to those books in name only. Ludlum is one kind of popular storyteller. Director Paul Greengrass is another. Ludlum used 10 exclamation points in the two-page prologue to "The Bourne Ultimatum." The film version doesn't have time for exclamation points; it barely has time for dialogue.
Matt Damon, as effectively taciturn (near-mute, even) as he was in "The Bourne Supremacy" three years ago, returns as the CIA-trained assassin in search of his brain-washing handlers and a little rest. Even more valuably, director Greengrass returns alongside Damon. The filmmaker took over the "Bourne" franchise with the second installment, and he is the primary reason No. 2 and No. 3 are something special. These films are pure velocity, practically without let-up. They come with plenty of identifiable tricks: the restless, woozy-making hand-held camera work; the eye-blink cutting rhythms (Christopher Rouse edited all three "Bourne" films," plus the superb Greengrass docudrama "United 93"); the unusual realism of the physical violence. Yet Greengrass is a master of pacing. He favors the prestissimo but miraculously, he's not a pounder.The globe-trotting budget of "Ultimatum," rumored to be in the $130 million-$150 million range, is easily twice that of the last one. Potential disaster there. Was Greengrass giving in to blockblustery gigantism, simply because he could? Turns out he wasn't. The new one may zip all over the world, but it doesn't feel appreciably larger or more consciously dazzling than its predecessor. It is built for speed, like its bullet-headed protagonist.Bourne's secret training program, Treadstone, has been rejiggered as something called "Blackbriar," and a Guardian newspaper reporter is about to break the story of this secret, below-the-radar spy program wide open. Bourne's ruthless former keepers interrupt a meeting between Bourne and the reporter in a London train station. This is the first of many action set-pieces, the most remarkable being an exhilarating rooftop chase through Tangier involving Bourne; his pursuer, Paz (Edgar Ramirez); Bourne's poker-faced ally Nicky (Julia Stiles, who really does seem like someone you could trust with a secret); and a passel of hapless Moroccan cops.Nearly every Greengrass film features a "war room" and a war going on somewhere else. The figures of authority remain comfortably behind the control station, unable to control their situation. Here the smugly unctuous pooh-bah of power is played by David Strathairn, governmental shadow operation incarnate. At one grimacing moment in a breakfast meeting with Joan Allen, his intel inferior but in every way his superior, Strathairn's character orders a "heart-healthy omelet." Why? For his non-existent heart? Good line; good actor, making the most of a role spun out of exposition and twigs."The Bourne Ultimatum" hops from Moscow to London to Madrid to Tangier to New York City. To the screenwriters' credit you generally know why Bourne is where he is, wherever he is. Now and then the action threatens to grow as seizure-like as a Michael "Transformers" Bay outing. There are some major differences in approach, however. Bay rarely shows you anything like ordinary human behavior; he's a hopelessly kitschy glamorizer as well as an action thug. Greengrass, by contrast, knows how to work over an audience without pulling their collective spine out just for kicks, the way you suspect Bay would if he could and not get sued. In the one-on-one combat sequences, "Ultimatum" goes for the jugular, yet the violence doesn't have that wearying tinge of sadism so many thrillers rely upon. Composer John Powell, another alum of the previous "Bourne" pictures, complements the mayhem rather than competing with it.Greengrass has said he brings no particular ideological agenda to this series, but he can be forgiven for fudging the truth. The whole movie plays like a caffeinated essay on the craziness of contemporary surveillance, with Bourne continually zooming his former employers at their own computer-hacking, voice-activating, wire-tapping game. Near the end we get the "one bad apple" speech from Allen's character, designed to isolate the weasel portrayed by Strathairn, in which she affirms her belief in America and whatever it does, within limits, in the name of counter-terrorism. But Greengrass doesn't give this speech much emphasis. Leave the good and evil business to Tom Clancy, Greengrass seems to be saying. "The Bourne Ultimatum" may be fantasy, and it has its share of movie-stupid lines such as "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?" But as a cinematic rush with one fleet foot in the real world, it's a hell of a show.
Transformers
Story:
It's a special day in any young man's life when he gets his first car. The day gets all the more special when it turns out it's not a car at all, but a robot in disguise. Luckily for Sam Witwicky, his new ride is one of the robots out to defend Earth (Autobots) and not destroy it (Decepticons). It will take a mighty battle involving all sorts of military might to keep the bad robots from ruining everything.
Review:
Transformers is a movie aimed squarely at the hearts of boys everywhere, though it might be more accurate to say that it's aimed at the boy who still lives inside a lot of men. For anyone who grew up with the Hasbro action figures that first appeared in 1984 (and yes, a number of those fans were girls), it's a kiddie dream come true to groove on the heavy-duty sci-fi transformations. In the movie, cars and trucks erupt and unfold, their mechanical guts spilling out, as if a trash compactor had suddenly exploded into bits and pieces, which then reassemble themselves, with miraculous speed and precision, into giant stalking robots.
At least one of these extraterrestrial machine men has a true touch of cool. His name is Optimus Prime, and he morphs out of a big rig, has a super-nifty '70s-outlaw red-flame-on-blue design, and speaks in a booming voice (by Peter Cullen, who originated the role in the Transformers cartoon series) that's like Darth Vader with a touch of Gene Simmons. The rest of the robots, who include Optimus' nice Autobot comrades as well as the grayish, looming, nasty Decepticons, are dazzling to look at but don't have much character. They're noisy, rather impersonal shape-shifting contraptions, and so is the movie, which is like a mash-up of War of the Worlds, RoboCop, The Terminator, Christine, Gremlins, Aliens, and Godzilla.
Transformers was directed by Michael Bay and executive-produced by Steven Spielberg, and if the credits had been reversed, you can just imagine what a tingly buildup of wonder Spielberg might have gone for. Bay, by contrast, slams right past mystery. He loses no time assaulting the audience with gizmo fever, as a boom box on Air Force One erupts into a scissor-limbed mini-robot, a U.S. desert platoon gets attacked in Qatar by a metal scorpion, and Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf), a teenager who's all fumbly, driven hormones, gets his first car — a rusty yellow 1976 Chevy Camaro, which will soon transform itself into the trusty Autobot named Bumblebee. The movie sets up a meet-cute union between Sam and a hottie named Mikaela (Megan Fox), but she's made such a jaded princess that their buddyship has little innocence (or appeal). Like the overcooked political-military ''intrigue,'' it's just a frame, an excuse for the war of the toys. LaBeouf has the hefty job of single-handedly injecting the action with personality, and he brings it off, though without offering much variation on his nervous, hipster-squirt charm.
So why is this epic battle transpiring on Earth? The backstory of Transformers — the conflict between the Autobots and the Decepticons; the mystic cube that guides their destinies; the fact that Sam's great-great-grandfather was an Arctic explorer whose eyeglasses got imprinted with a crucial code — is the most tiresome thing about it. I wasn't always clear on the robot rules: They lumber around — and then they can fly. De-limbed by conventional weapons, they reconstitute themselves and appear to be indestructible — until they get destroyed. Bay, at heart, isn't a fantasist; he's a literal-minded maestro of demolition. But then, that serves Transformers well during its climax, a spectacular clash of the heavy metal titans, and a primal reminder of why boys love their toys.
At least one of these extraterrestrial machine men has a true touch of cool. His name is Optimus Prime, and he morphs out of a big rig, has a super-nifty '70s-outlaw red-flame-on-blue design, and speaks in a booming voice (by Peter Cullen, who originated the role in the Transformers cartoon series) that's like Darth Vader with a touch of Gene Simmons. The rest of the robots, who include Optimus' nice Autobot comrades as well as the grayish, looming, nasty Decepticons, are dazzling to look at but don't have much character. They're noisy, rather impersonal shape-shifting contraptions, and so is the movie, which is like a mash-up of War of the Worlds, RoboCop, The Terminator, Christine, Gremlins, Aliens, and Godzilla.
Transformers was directed by Michael Bay and executive-produced by Steven Spielberg, and if the credits had been reversed, you can just imagine what a tingly buildup of wonder Spielberg might have gone for. Bay, by contrast, slams right past mystery. He loses no time assaulting the audience with gizmo fever, as a boom box on Air Force One erupts into a scissor-limbed mini-robot, a U.S. desert platoon gets attacked in Qatar by a metal scorpion, and Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf), a teenager who's all fumbly, driven hormones, gets his first car — a rusty yellow 1976 Chevy Camaro, which will soon transform itself into the trusty Autobot named Bumblebee. The movie sets up a meet-cute union between Sam and a hottie named Mikaela (Megan Fox), but she's made such a jaded princess that their buddyship has little innocence (or appeal). Like the overcooked political-military ''intrigue,'' it's just a frame, an excuse for the war of the toys. LaBeouf has the hefty job of single-handedly injecting the action with personality, and he brings it off, though without offering much variation on his nervous, hipster-squirt charm.
So why is this epic battle transpiring on Earth? The backstory of Transformers — the conflict between the Autobots and the Decepticons; the mystic cube that guides their destinies; the fact that Sam's great-great-grandfather was an Arctic explorer whose eyeglasses got imprinted with a crucial code — is the most tiresome thing about it. I wasn't always clear on the robot rules: They lumber around — and then they can fly. De-limbed by conventional weapons, they reconstitute themselves and appear to be indestructible — until they get destroyed. Bay, at heart, isn't a fantasist; he's a literal-minded maestro of demolition. But then, that serves Transformers well during its climax, a spectacular clash of the heavy metal titans, and a primal reminder of why boys love their toys.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Story:
Lord Voldemort has returned? Eh, who's going to believe that? The Ministry of Magic says to shun anyone who even suggests such a thing - folks like Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Well, maybe those jerks should be a little more vigilant, because there's going to be a hullabaloo at Hogwarts. Good thing Dumbledore is forming a secret resistance, training our hero Harry his mates for a wizardly battle. But how can Harry concentrate on magic when he's also trying to be a teenager? Rebellion, romance, and raging hormones make for a memorable fifth year at school.
Review:
the ultimate outcome of our hero's campaign against the nefarious Lord Voldemort will be revealed in the book world, where true Harry Potter fans reside. As trillions of readers are anxiously aware, J.K. Rowling's seventh and final installment will have to make good on the harsh prophecy that ''either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.'' In the movie world, meanwhile, the battle lines are just being drawn. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and his classmates Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) and Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) are in their fifth year of study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And the weight of responsibility being laid on Harry — now quite believably embodied by the increasingly chiseled 17-year-old actor as a teenager with all the moods that come with the hormones — is enough to darken this fifth movie interpretation decisively.
Gone are the childish diversions of Quidditch matches and other jewel-toned visual manifestations of magical thinking, and in their place is an attitude of grim, adult risk taking. Under the circumstances, assigning the project to British TV director David Yates, who won awards for the 2003 BBC political thriller State of Play, is a shrewd choice. (Screenwriter Michael Goldenberg is also a newbie to the Potter franchise.) This episode spends time with the student gang as they practice wand work and imprecations (''Stupefy!''), and pauses for a sweet kiss between Harry and Cho Chang (Katie Leung), whose shy smile first fogged the young wizard's glasses in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. We also meet Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch), Harry's pale and empathic new friend, and Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter), whose name suits this Azkaban Prison escapee's style but underplays her sadism.
But for all the action — and there's plenty of it, even if it's only a portion of what was crammed into Rowling's 870 pages — the most important stuff is what takes place in Harry's head, where troubling visions, intensifying in clarity and dread, attest to the young man's foretold connection to the evildoer most safely referred to as You-Know-Who. (You know who plays Voldemort, again, too: Ralph Fiennes, embracing his character's malevolent noselessness with regal delight.) And therein lies a conundrum — of busyness and waiting — that The Order of the Phoenix can't magically solve. The advances and setbacks pile up, but time hangs heavy. And that's even after Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge (Robert Hardy) puts Harry on trial for illegally using magic outside of school and Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) intervenes. After Harry's godfather, Sirius Black (Gary Oldman), entrusts his godson with new secrets. And after the students establish Dumbledore's Army in preparation for Voldemortian Armageddon.
In the midst of such earthbound preparations, though, an image of menace upholstered in pink arrives to rock wizards and Muggles alike: the deliciously named Dolores Umbridge. Bullheaded in his insistence that Voldemort has not returned (despite Harry's eyewitness report), Fudge installs Umbridge at Hogwarts to teach a strictly censored and quite useless version of Defense Against the Dark Arts. And she is as shockingly fascistic in her approach to old-fashioned values as she is amusingly dowdy. Rowling describes the woman's voice as ''fluttery, girlish, high-pitched.'' But a festive Imelda Staunton (memorably dressed in drab to star in Vera Drake) has other plans: Her showstopping Dolores slays her charges with pepperminty steeliness. ''Progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged!'' this educator from hell proclaims.
With her wardrobe upgraded to suits and pillbox hats that, in a blander color, might entice Queen Elizabeth II (the Umbridge hairdo appears to be a direct homage), the character is a Pepto-Bismol-tinted bolt of energy — and political commentary — inspiring grand gestures from her costars. When Staunton's Umbridge goes up against Maggie Smith's Professor McGonagall, it's a wonder the movie-set walls don't crumble. As that singularly acidic potions teacher Severus Snape, Alan Rickman responds to the new blood by lacing his sneers with an even more flavorful degree of sourness. The flourishes don't answer the question most on Potterites' minds — who lives, who dies? — but they briefly stupefy.
Gone are the childish diversions of Quidditch matches and other jewel-toned visual manifestations of magical thinking, and in their place is an attitude of grim, adult risk taking. Under the circumstances, assigning the project to British TV director David Yates, who won awards for the 2003 BBC political thriller State of Play, is a shrewd choice. (Screenwriter Michael Goldenberg is also a newbie to the Potter franchise.) This episode spends time with the student gang as they practice wand work and imprecations (''Stupefy!''), and pauses for a sweet kiss between Harry and Cho Chang (Katie Leung), whose shy smile first fogged the young wizard's glasses in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. We also meet Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch), Harry's pale and empathic new friend, and Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter), whose name suits this Azkaban Prison escapee's style but underplays her sadism.
But for all the action — and there's plenty of it, even if it's only a portion of what was crammed into Rowling's 870 pages — the most important stuff is what takes place in Harry's head, where troubling visions, intensifying in clarity and dread, attest to the young man's foretold connection to the evildoer most safely referred to as You-Know-Who. (You know who plays Voldemort, again, too: Ralph Fiennes, embracing his character's malevolent noselessness with regal delight.) And therein lies a conundrum — of busyness and waiting — that The Order of the Phoenix can't magically solve. The advances and setbacks pile up, but time hangs heavy. And that's even after Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge (Robert Hardy) puts Harry on trial for illegally using magic outside of school and Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) intervenes. After Harry's godfather, Sirius Black (Gary Oldman), entrusts his godson with new secrets. And after the students establish Dumbledore's Army in preparation for Voldemortian Armageddon.
In the midst of such earthbound preparations, though, an image of menace upholstered in pink arrives to rock wizards and Muggles alike: the deliciously named Dolores Umbridge. Bullheaded in his insistence that Voldemort has not returned (despite Harry's eyewitness report), Fudge installs Umbridge at Hogwarts to teach a strictly censored and quite useless version of Defense Against the Dark Arts. And she is as shockingly fascistic in her approach to old-fashioned values as she is amusingly dowdy. Rowling describes the woman's voice as ''fluttery, girlish, high-pitched.'' But a festive Imelda Staunton (memorably dressed in drab to star in Vera Drake) has other plans: Her showstopping Dolores slays her charges with pepperminty steeliness. ''Progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged!'' this educator from hell proclaims.
With her wardrobe upgraded to suits and pillbox hats that, in a blander color, might entice Queen Elizabeth II (the Umbridge hairdo appears to be a direct homage), the character is a Pepto-Bismol-tinted bolt of energy — and political commentary — inspiring grand gestures from her costars. When Staunton's Umbridge goes up against Maggie Smith's Professor McGonagall, it's a wonder the movie-set walls don't crumble. As that singularly acidic potions teacher Severus Snape, Alan Rickman responds to the new blood by lacing his sneers with an even more flavorful degree of sourness. The flourishes don't answer the question most on Potterites' minds — who lives, who dies? — but they briefly stupefy.
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