Review - Ghost Rider: Spirit of Crank

So, I just finished watching Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance.

Now I'll start by saying that it wasn't a bad movie. I enjoyed it for what it was: a quirky action movie, with more attention payed to the visual effects and over the top acting than actual plot. And that isn't a bad thing.

Nicholas Cage was, as he always is, awesomely goofy. I've seen the man be serious before, but the movie played to his strengths. Not to say that I like when an actor is cast to play himself in a movie (rather than cast to play the character), but it works for good ol' Nick.

The character of Johnny Blaze felt off though. I have no real Ghost Rider knowledge (he isn't a favorite of mine), but it felt like Johnny Blaze transformed from one movie to the next. It wasn't a massive transformation, mind you, but it was still evident throughout the movie. Which brngs me to my biggest problem with this movie...

I felt like I was watching Crank. Don't get me wrong, I liked Crank, but that isn't what I signed on for in a Superhero movie. I could tell while watching that the plot was trying to be darker and more character driven, but the director just kept getting in the way. I imagine the director responding to every argument with "But I want to make Crank!" in a childish whine. It just had that super-hyper, pack-as-much-pointless-action-as-you-can feel to it.

On the note of the supporting cast: They did well. The woman, whose name I never even learned(most likely due to the fact that I didn't care), played her part exactly how it felt it was written. The boy, Danny, felt believable as a boy who was (pardon the pun) more than meets the eye. Moreau, the priest, was entertaining. He felt like a drunk Nicholas D Wolfwood (give yourself a cookie if you get the reference). And the Roarke was a good devil. I've seen a few people play the devil in various movies, and I have to say, this guy was one of the better ones.

I wasn't happy with the character of Carrigan. I wasn't exactly disappointed with the actor, he played the part that was written okay, but I was felt like the character didn't fit in the movie. I will point out that he meshed well with the feeling of Crank, but he felt out of place in the writing of the movie.

I also enjoyed seeing a few familiar actors from older supernatural fiction. I'm mentioning specifically Anthony Head and Cristopher Lambert. I haven't seen either one in quite some time, so it was nice to remember why I liked them again.

One other cast member I'd like to mention is Youtuber Tejbz (www.youtube.com/user/tejbz): He had about half a scene to shine, which is exactly what I expected when he mentioned that he was going to be in the movie. And he did about as well as you'd expect from the role limitations and his own experience being an actor (which I'm told is almost none). Hat's off to him.

On the note of sound design: I was saddened that Ghost Rider sounded like Transformers and Predator had a baby. It sucked me out of the moment every time I heard those noises.

On the note of special effects: They were done well, by which I mean they looked nice. A lot of the effects during fight scenes felt tacked on though. Do I really need the background to go black every time Carrigan is on screen? Does Ghost Rider actually see everything emobossed like that? The movie would have been just as good, and cost less, had they stuck with good camera work instead of pointless animation effects.

Overall: The movie was an enjoyable way to waste an afternoon, but the first one was much better.

Every Story is Different

I've spent a good many years of my life trying to figure out how people have the time, or energy, or money to do things that I couldn't dream of. What possesses people to sit on their porch for hours at a time telling the same tired stories? How on Earth could someone my age, who grew up in my town, not have ever heard of Megaman?

I'll forever attempt to unravel the mysteries of life (that's the type of person I am), but after a string of recent situations I'm willing to spend less waking hours on these things.

Recently, I went on a trip to see my Grandmother. Her husband died recently and we were worried about her. Her and my mother talked about loss, grief, and remembering lost loved ones at odd times. I sat in the other room reading a book. (Most of those close to me see me as cold and callous toward death)

My mind works faster than most and allows me to focus on more than one conversation at a time (something that could come in handy if I were a spy) so I listened as they talked, ready to chime in if I felt I could help. I wasn't needed, but I realized as they spoke that there reactions to lost loved ones were drastically different than mine.

Most people who know me well see my calm demeanor toward death as a lack of caring. I'll admit that if I've never met the person I feel no pain at their death unless I witness it, but I do care. My mother talked about walking into a store and feeling pain mixed with fond memories of my father(who died several years ago) and it sounded off to me. Every memory I have of my father is a pleasant one. I know there are memories locked in my mind of things he did that I didn't like, but I can't access them. I also never feel the pain of loss when I think of him.

He is still very much alive to me. Don't get me wrong; I don't see him around me or hear his voice, but I think of him as someone I just haven't spoken to in a while. This may well have something to do with the way I treat people who actually are alive. I enjoy your company, I'll help you out or hang out with you when asked, but I enjoy every second of "me time" I can get. Yeah I'm lonely, I wish I had someone special to spend my life with, but I like being alone too. So when some calls me and asks why I haven't sent them mail or called in 3 months, I inwardly chuckle: I probably forgot they existed for a time.

I guess that sounds mean and heartless... I'm not. I care very much for those closest to me (even when they're being an ass), but my mind doesn't sit still. Every second of the day I'm focused on something; a fictional universe, song lyrics, a friend. I am completely unable to sit and "veg" (which sucks because I would like to meditate). I can not "clear the storm of my mind" as I've been instructed in the past.

So I thought about what my mother said, while reading a book in which the main character discovers his mother has died, and it hit me: Everyone has different reactions to loss. A simple notion that maybe I should have picked up on years ago, but there it is.

And I realized that notion carries to life in general.

My brother is an excellent storyteller. When he gives me something he wrote, my only complaints upon first reading are technical complaints(spelling errors, grammar, etc.). It's not that he's the best author I've read, but he pulls me in; he weaves a world that I want to be a part of.

A friend of his, who is also a writer, mentioned to me how he'd been trying to get his authoring career off the ground for 10 years with limited success. He told me once (upon a request for his input on one of my works) of a website where I could get honest unbiased feedback for my writing. He told me of how the two guys he was sending me to ripped his work apart, and made him a better writer for it.

I write the previous 2 paragraphs to say this: I entered a writing contest and one 1st place out of 40 entries (1 of whom was my brother). I was paid and the work was published. I entered the story feeling like it was mediocre at best, but with a solid idea. I didn't expect to get mentioned, let alone win. And my brother wasn't even a top 3 winner. The event confused me and made me feel bad. I had just received accolades for doing something well, that I felt my brother was better at.

And the website for reviews? One of the two reviewers praised me, giving me tips on how better to draw a reader in, and telling me how much he loved the story. The other guy told me how he could tell that I was confused about who the story was really about, and that it made the story harder to like. But there was no ripping, no harsh criticisms.

I have been blessed with a great gift of Technical Writing (I'm good with the stuff editors hate to deal with), but I don't feel like I'm a great storyteller yet. And I've been so lucky in just the few months that I've begun putting my work out there for the world.

But two writers that work harder, and I feel should be praised harder, have had to struggle and work for their places in the writing community.

I have no big head, and don't expect any success in the future (though I of course HOPE for it). I'm not saying that you'll see my novels lining the shelves at some book store soon. But I have finally experienced the other side of life. I usually struggle for every inch I get in anything, wondering how come that guy gets it so easy, or why does she not have to try? But I finally see myself as the lucky one, the one someone is cursing for being in the right place at the right time.

This drove it home for me. These two seemingly separate events have forever marked me. People are different, yes; but the events surrounding them, shaping them are also different. My life, my odd way of thinking, makes me who I am. And though I've never felt the need to change myself, I now aspire to stop trying to change others.

Because your story isn't mine. I don't write it, I don't even likely have a starring role in it. I'm just a reader... And I want to hear your story.