“Most overrated movie”, Milkriver Madman saied. Well there are some. Of course it is difficult – how would one define “overrated”? No fear, I will not deliver a philosophical diatribe on this. But the most overrated movie dealing with “philosophical” subjects – or The subject at all: Who are we? Why are we here? (Kant’s questions, Ger.) – is The Matrix (Ger., Eng.) – a philosophical pro-seminar gone wrong starring a piece of wood called REEVES. Worse are the sequels.
The acting “ability” of Mr. REEVES is only comparable to the non-botox related facial insufficiency of the incredible Mr. FORD, Harrison that is, who managed to drag his blank staring face through the 116 minutes of boredom called Blade Runner (Ger., Eng.). I mean, Rutger HAUER is surely not the incarnation of Thespis, but even the old hitcher (Ger., Eng.) Rutger has at least TWO facial expressions in his repertoire – and after some thinking he can even find the second! FORD … Blank stare is not acting, even when the scene is oh so dramatic. Apocalypse Now (Ger., Eng.) transports some impressive images, but when SHEEN finally squishes brabbling BRANDO with his trusted machete he looks a bit like Hans ALBERS and I expected him to burst out singing something like this. ALBERS, also called as the Maharaja of Whiskeypur, was known for his stare into the endlessness – in fact he was mostly too pissed to remember his text and he was trying to read the cardboards they showed him. Somewhere. Ofer sere … the horror …
Other films that are a bit overrated in my humble opinion include Titanic (Ger., Eng.) – “stretching” is the most friendly word I find to characterize this epic voyage to the bottom of the sea, where it belongs. Oh and see, there’s Wolfgang PETERSEN ready to shoot Poseidon (Ger., Eng.), the stupid remake of a stupid “original” (Ger., Eng.), hello sailor!
Anyway. The most overrated movie I saw collected five Oscars – nominated for two more -, a Golden Globe – nominated for at least four more – and a Silberner Bär. It’s The Silence of the Lambs (Ger., Eng.) from 1991, based on the Thomas HARRIS novels, wrung out with sequels and prequels and whatnot. Thrilling like cold tea. HOPKINS had nothing else to do but stare and grin, FOSTER had to scream from time to time.
Yes, I am an emotionally atrophied stone with the social skills of a trash can; the fine lines of life, the distinguishing variants of mimic, sound and tone of voice and body language are unbeknownst to me, I grew up in a cave. To line up this “psychological” “horror masterpiece” with Nosferatu and Psycho is simply annoying.
Here is what HOPKINS has to say about the flic. Ah, roasted lamb with garlic.