OMFG HARRY POTTER IS OUT THIS WEEK LOLOLOLOLOL

[Epimetheus]

To be honest I don't even remember the Order of the Phoenix film well enough to be sure. 

[Sir Squid Diddimus]

balls.

[the last yatto]

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RonTheDeathEater

[Cain]

I was hoping this was an actual fanfic, and now I'm disappointed.

[Suu]

To be honest I don't even remember the Order of the Phoenix film well enough to be sure. 

Phoenix is the longest book, if they were going to split any of them, it should have been that one.

[Cain]

IOZ reviews: The Half-Blood Prince

As I have occassionally noted in the past, there is nothing in fiction or film quite so awful as the conviction of certain inferior authors that the only way to move a story forward is to cause characters to make exactly the wrong choice at every fork in the road, hurtling from one climax to the next on the hurricane winds of poor decision making. A minor mutation of this particular genus of viral ineptitude is the story in which some or other Chosen One, no matter the fact that he is known high and low, far and wide, upwards and downwards, leftways and rightways as exactly such, no matter how preternatural his Jeezitude, cannot for the life or death of him get anyone to believe him when he declares the the skulking, plainly evil villain is skulking, plainly evil, a villain.

The conceit can work if no one knows that Joe Messiah is actually the Christ, especially if he himself doesn't yet know it, and children's literature is obviously full of stories reflecting that greatest of childhood frustrations, adults really refusing to listen to you because you're just a kid. In the first dozen or so volumes of Rowling's billion-word centology, we are nearly in such territory, as the stories both feature and are written for younger kids, and the hero, though known to some as the übermensch of the master race, is as yet enough of an unknown quantity in the "Wizarding World" to be treated as a . . . well, a mixed-race arriviste. By now, however, in the series' penultimate volume and next-to-penultimate movie, the child has had his bar mitzvah, can be considered a man, and in any case has featured prominently in the magical gossip columns. J.K. Rowling also took great care to emblazon his forehead with the messianic mark, and why it is, at long last, that the young man cannot simply march into his kindly headmaster's office and lay bare his suspicions never becomes clear. Harry Potter, the Pubescent Prince, likewise makes liberal use of the related conceit: characters who withhold crucial information from other characters To Protect Them. Remarkably, this tactic does not appear to work out very well for anyone.

The book, which I attempted to skim at the library, is broadly expository. The film necessarily condenses, but can't quite account for the total lack of plot, the series of largely unconnected MacGuffins that occupy time between infodumps the length of Atlas Shrugged. In order to signal that the kids are growing up, the moments between magical chases are in the movie mostly occupied by moments of uncomfortable cryptopederasty and something the British call "snogging," evidently kissing, most memorably a few extras in a bizarre nighttime hallway makeout scene like something composed by Richard Linklater and set off in the shadowy corner of the field beyond the keg party. There is also the obligatory sports competition, an invented contest called Quidditch, a sort of cross between jai alai, lacrosse, Go-Kart, and a Bel Ami flick, in which boy fly around on long, thin, uncircumcised penises, chasing a ball.

The run time is just under five days, and in the end the school's headmaster is killed by Alan Rickman, who by never hiding how much he despises acting in this movie or how preposterous he finds the lines he is obliged to speak perfectly captures his pseudoviallainous character, whose uncolored sourness telegraphs his ultimate redemption from this grand distance of two films and a thousand light years. The cast of these movies is remarkable. Kill all the children and you would have Kenneth Branagh's Shakespeare's Whatever standing around on coffee break. Poor Maggie Smith seems to have misplaced her Demerol, and in the midst of it all, there is a funeral for a spider, which unaccountably moves some other professor to get drunk, which inexplicably causes him to instantly sober up and yet still spill the beans: the villain, Voldemort, has found a way to make himself immortal. Yes, I was not surprised.

If George Lucas was able to concoct his fictional universe by imagining Joseph Campbell as a moron, J.K. Rowling has done it by imagining him as an attention-deficient child, a wall-banging Ritalin addict who doesn't want to draw, he wants to catch, doesn't want to catch, he wants to eat, doesn't want to eat, he wants to play with blocks. Like Odysseus, her hero is forever bumbling into an interminable digression, but unlike Odysseus, he has no wits to keep about him. Confronted by Scylla and Charybdis, he would find himself simply borne aloft and away from danger by some hippobirdiphant who happened to be winging by; Tiresius would be his algebra teacher, whom he'd just follow into the world of the dead, perhaps hiding behind some trees along the way; held in amorous captivity by Circe, he might do a bit of snogging, but in the end, dream only of returning to his dormitory garret, to the tender embrace of his strapping redheaded roommate, or the fey, tattooed, emogoth Draco, last seen crying in the restroom because They Just Don't Understand.

tl;dr version: Potter holds the Idiot Ball....forever!

[LMNO]

Damn, that was amazing.

[Cainad (dec.)]

Woah.

[Cramulus]

ahhhhhahahahah that review was Perfect! remind me to send IOZ a bottle of red.

The word "cryptopederasty" ... wow, that just says it all


how does he cram so much wit into such a small space?

[Cain]

If you spent three years studying literature at a private college, you too could be a pretentious yet witty and iconoclastic homo, living in Pittsburgh, secretly plotting to overthrow your bosses in anarchic revolution and making fun of Democrats.

[Roaring Biscuit!]

Dumbledores speech patterns remind me of Flight of the Conchords' David Bowie impression.

Also, those kids were so acting.

Honestly, I don't think I've seen a better comedy in years.  I was practically wetting myself the whole way through.

[Kai]

Dammit Cain, I just came here to post that amazing IOZ piece of work! 

[Dysnomia]

He'll come back....








right?

of course he does Squiddy 


hey look!  BABY OWLS

[Sir Squid Diddimus]

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!







look at their fuzzy butts!!

[Doktor Howl]

Bump.