Session 9
Starring:
* David Caruso
* Stephen Gevedon
* Peter Mullan
* Josh Lucas
* Paul Guilfoyle
Director:
* Brad Anderson
When you work at an insane asylum, you gotta be… crazy. YEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Sorry, that will be the only CSI: Miami joke in this. The movie is a wonderfully slow romp through psychosis, in which you develop little feeling for the characters because they aren’t well fleshed out and little emotional ties to when they die. The story takes place at at an abandoned insane asylum that a crew wins the bid to restore. Enter Phil, Gordy, and their crew, which only has 1 week to complete the repairs. The place seems to have been left almost completely in tact, with files, folders, patient interviews available to anyone who was to stroll in or casually do some B and E.
The acting is very wooden and stiff, Caruso does a decent job of shedding his CSI police-ness and does a great job of throwing the creepy at you. The rest of the actors were not very attachable. I felt no qualms when one of them died because the story never gives the opportunity to form any type of bond before they are murdered off. The camera work is done well, as is the atmosphere. Any movie that takes place in a real abandoned insane asylum is going to get top rating in the field of atmosphere. The angles used for shots was done well, which speaks more to the location design than anything else. The special effects are almost nonexistent, but there are a few, blood/flashbacks/etc. With the acting being sub-par, the camera work and atmosphere being excellent, but the lack of any significant special effects, Session 9 earns a 3 out of 5.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Writing: Moment in Time - The Right Moment
As the last drops fall from the cup, trailing the course through his cracked lips to slide in fiery trails down his throat, he felt a light touch on his arm and a voice next to his ear telling him that it was time to leave. He pushed his chair back from the table and tossed his faded leather jacket over his shoulder. With a quick wave to his friends, he took her hand and they stepped out the door, feeling the wave of cold strike their hot skin. He pauses, pulls the pack of menthol's from his inner pocket and strikes his lighter, sending a small heat to battle the chill. He takes a deep breath and her hand in the same instant as they walk down the sidewalk which was dimly lit behind the hazy snow obscuring the globes above them.
They talked of little things, the words almost meaningless, the only thing mattering is that their were together. They laughed at an off-color joke she made and he felt her body tense, as if the act of enjoying herself was something to be frightened of. They passed restaurants and bars, gas stations and office buildings, totally engrossed in each other and lost in the moment. The trail of smoke from his cigarette could have been the chill losing the battle from the warmth in each of their hearts, but they never noticed.
They walked to her door and he flicked his cigarette into a snowbank, watching the cherry red tip flare in its death throws and die. She slide her hands into both of his, her heart in both those warm pools of brown. He smiled at her and told her that they would have to do this again, adding, as he looked into the swirling snow above them, during better weather. She agreed and told him so, watching the emotions flick across his face, but she could have been seeing the heat of the moment and the cold fiercely fighting on his face. She turned to walk in her door, but heard her name called just as her small hand touched the bronze door handle. She turned to see him on one knee, reaching deeply into one pocket all the while never taking his eyes from the reason he was happiest in life. Her breath caught as he pulled out a small box. Her eyes watered as he opened it. She never forgot that cold, snowy night, where the lights in the snow reflected in a rainbow starburst on the small diamond he placed on her finger.
They talked of little things, the words almost meaningless, the only thing mattering is that their were together. They laughed at an off-color joke she made and he felt her body tense, as if the act of enjoying herself was something to be frightened of. They passed restaurants and bars, gas stations and office buildings, totally engrossed in each other and lost in the moment. The trail of smoke from his cigarette could have been the chill losing the battle from the warmth in each of their hearts, but they never noticed.
They walked to her door and he flicked his cigarette into a snowbank, watching the cherry red tip flare in its death throws and die. She slide her hands into both of his, her heart in both those warm pools of brown. He smiled at her and told her that they would have to do this again, adding, as he looked into the swirling snow above them, during better weather. She agreed and told him so, watching the emotions flick across his face, but she could have been seeing the heat of the moment and the cold fiercely fighting on his face. She turned to walk in her door, but heard her name called just as her small hand touched the bronze door handle. She turned to see him on one knee, reaching deeply into one pocket all the while never taking his eyes from the reason he was happiest in life. Her breath caught as he pulled out a small box. Her eyes watered as he opened it. She never forgot that cold, snowy night, where the lights in the snow reflected in a rainbow starburst on the small diamond he placed on her finger.
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