The Watcher

    When I left the theatre after viewing this film, I beheld one of the most beautiful sights that I've ever seen nature arrange: a long stream of crows... far more than a murder of them... flew from the horizon in a long, winding ribbon straight over the theatre. And this one moment (one and a half minutes, if my hasty watch-glance was right) of beauty gave more meaning to my life than the entire one-hundred-seven minutes of The Watcher and its confused, pretentious atomic pile-driver of a message. To properly convey how confused this film's message is, I must borrow from the esteemed Homer Simpson, as he lectures Bart on how wrong it is of him to steal:
    Homer: How _could_ you?! Haven't you learned anything from that guy who gives those sermons at church? Captain Whatshisname? We live in a society of laws. Why do you think I took you to all those "Police Academy" movies? For fun? Well, I didn't hear anybody laughing! Did you?! Except at that guy who made sound effects.
    [Homer makes some and laughs to himself]
    Where was I? Oh yeah: stay out of my booze.
    Wow, that's a long ramble before the ratings, but there's so much material to cover! Let's get on with them, okay?

    Gore: 8
    Schmaltz: 5
     Character Development: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAohGod... that's a good one...
    Sturgeon Principle: A whopping 5%!!!!!

    I have some great news for you! The cameraman who used to do the Batman TV series, and who later seemed to migrate to Battlefield: Earth, has found more work! This has been quite a banner year for the guy, let's give him a big hand! Now, I'm going to hand hold you through a few of the more notable scenes because this movie is so full of Goose-crap that to do it all would probably take twice the space that blogger allocates me for a single post.
    First and foremost, this is a Wall film. What, might you ask, is a Wall film? Quite simply, it's a film which -- like the seminal example of Pink Floyd's The Wall -- must be watched on drugs to be fully appreciated. The usual earmarks of a Wall film are sudden cutaways, confusing flashbacks, blurred shots, tortuous camera angles and audiences going into Pokemon-like epileptic shock.
    So, we open this film with our erstwhile hero Joel Campell narrating over a scene of helicopters in frantic action as they fly over the Chicago bay! Suddenly, though it's likely the same scene, day turns to night! This is not a dramatic decision on the director's part, however -- this movie clearly has trouble with the concept of time as a linear phenomenon. Apparently, both Spader and Reeves are capable of becoming unstuck in time! Or else whoever handled continuity on this film needs to be shoved back into the Bajoran Wormhole from whence they came.
    Then, Reeves is doing his cat dance in a little apartment, making devil's horns with a gun and his fingers, all the while screaming 'I AM the ONE!, I AM the ONE!'... well he doesn't, but he's probably thinking it pretty hard. But suddenly, we discover that none of this has any relevance at all to the plot at this stage in the game! Apparently, the director decided to show it here to prove to the audience that they were watching a film in which he would make the tough choices, like making Reeves shake that moneymaker.
    Enter James Spader, the man who we are forced to accept as our hero for one-hundred and seven minutes, until reality snaps back into the comfortable form that we all recall. Someone in Hollywood-land had a great idea. One that just couldn't miss. Someone pitched the idea that 'hey, if Reeves is an actor who can't emote worth a damn and gets paid lots for it, why don't we get another actor who similarly cannot emote, and face them off against one another? Sounds like a pitch worthy of Manimal, doesn't it? Well folks, this is the kind of treat that you're in for in this game.
    Spader is a driven, near schizophrenic, adulterous ex-FBI agent who won't even open a freakin' FedEx package that arrives under mysterious circumstances until three days after its expiration date. Naturally, because this is HIS case, the Windy City PD lets him head it up, no questions asked. See, Reeves and Spader are like those bratty brothers who squabble all the time but wouldn't know what to do if they lost the other. Or so we're supposed to believe. I dunno, just shoot me now...
    So it seems that Spader works for the division of the police that's in charge of Doing Hard Detective Work But Missing Finding Their Asses With Flashlights. They also miss the fact that they can spend five minutes in full daylight and suddenly it'll turn to night as they drive away. Wait, I know... someone invited Robin, The Boy Wonder onto this case!!!
    So meaningless stuff happens. Girls get murdered. The movie tries to teach us a lesson; but by now our brains have wandered off to the concession stand to grab some sour-balls. Somehow, Spader figures out that Reeves is going to be at the cemetery where someone we keep flashing back to is buried. The flashbacks are done in full The Addiction-vision, which means that they're blurry, impossible to decipher and look like they were shot for an art-school final exam. Reeves offers Spader a beer. It seems that Reeves has captured Spader's psychiatrist and won't tell Spader where she's kept, nyah nyah. So Spader offers Reeves his gun and asks to be taken to her.
    I'll repeat that in case your brain just hit cognitive dissonance. Spader hands Reeves his gun.
    Spader's character has medical problems. Apparently he hears really loud, exciting theme music. This causes him to go into X-Men levels of angst and then convulse on the floor. Fortunately, the miracle of modern medicine has provided him with a drug that he can inject into himself; and magically, this drug stops the incidental music!
    One more time. Spader hands Reeves his loaded weapon of inflated self-esteem . No, he doesn't shoot Reeves in the knee and drag him back to the Chicago PD to get worked over by those folks who know what makes psycho-killers talk. He HANDS REEVES HIS LOADED WEAPON.
    The film just goes downhill from here. The ending scenes tie in with the opening scene, which just goes to show that the director seems to have forgotten that time works by set chronological precepts. The director steals from Backdraft. The director steals from Face/Off. The director... oh I don't know any more. This film gives me migranes, just like the main character (who looks like Nicholas Cage on a REALLY bad day) gets. Obviously he's read the script. There's a Cop Rock ballad just after a grisly scene. Films generally have a rising action and a climax and a falling action... this film instead, like an Annie Sprinkles (is that her name? Argh, can't recall no more. My brain it be worn out from this feelm...) performance, has multiple orgasms right in front of you, and you're left feeling very unsatisfied afterwards. You also wonder if any of it was NECESSARY, or even made a POINT...
    I recommend this film highly. Why? It's total Goose shit... but it's damned fun for goose shit. It's utterly atrocious. If you enjoy badfeelm, see it.
    I give this film half of a cat named Frank. Ew.

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