Rather than review Serenity, I would prefer to reflect briefly on a few questions that we were able to discuss during the last four-and-a-half hours of the resolution (where L rocked back and forth in his stadium barcalounger mumbling “serenity now, serenity now” to himself). First, why wasn’t this done as a straight film noir? It seems like there was plenty going for it without the idiotic turn (see L’s review). The second question is one L posed just last week (maybe it’s something about January movies): what makes a film interminable? Serenity offers one possible answer, which is that making an idiotic turn prematurely can be the difference between excusable (see A Quiet Place) and the never-ending story — this movie just would not end. Third, what would compel Matthew McConnaughey to take this role? Was it the awesome location in paradise and all of the flexing and fishing and, um…. yeah, the steamy and extensive interludes with Diane Lane and Anne Hathaway? Was it the chance to smoke indoors (with some of loudest-burning cigarettes since Nick Cage in Wild at Heart)? The fresh fish? The chunky paycheck? Is this really the best script he’s seen since Gold?
Anyway, try not to think too hard about any of this, because the more you reflect, the less you will like this movie. Indeed, you may downright start to hate the movie and hate yourself for sort of enjoying it and wanting to talk about it. If you just can’t help yourself along these fronts, stay home.
But if you a movie junkie and you do break down and go, L&D recommend that you channel your best Frank Costanza and just let it pass over you, like a warm tropical breeze tainted with a hint of cigarette smoke.
Mmmmm, I feel better already.