Zero Dark Thirty

I’m not up for reviewing the movie, ’cuz I have all sorts of ambivalence towards the whole War on Terror / torture vs. enhanced interrogation thing. Even if you leave all that out of consideration, I didn’t like the flick. Without the intense subject matter, the movie stunk, and it stunk for one major reason:

Moody, angst-y, diverse thirtysomethings overdosing on testosterone and punctuating their never-wrong convictions with the F-word!

Argh!

And since when does everybody smoke? Didn’t we all stop smoking – at least in government buildings – 25 years ago?

If I’m not mistaken the lead chick’s nominated for a Best Actress Oscar. Didn’t know they gave out nominations for one-dimensional, unimaginative performances, but I guess they do. Hey, screenwriter, by all means, don’t waste our time with character back-story. It’s not like we might want to know why she’s so moody and angst-y. Might make her two-dimensional and somewhat imaginative.

The only truly interesting part of the movie was the final twenty minutes – the raid on Bin Laden’s “compound.” And even that failed at the end, for we never see what exactly happens to that monster. Indeed, save for a nose and a scruff of gray beard, we don’t even see him. And why is our moody angst-y heroine crying at the end? Shouldn’t she be telling somebody to go to f-in’ hell or something?

I might watch it again on the small screen. Or not.