Happy Death Day
Top badass moment? Tree going through her ‘Buffy in a black leather jacket’ phase, except she’s not Buffy and as a result gets her ass totally kicked.
Here’s a plot summary: It’s a “Groundhog Day” slasher. Now that’s done…
Our hero is called Tree. Seriously? What we see and find out about her parents, there’s no suggestion that they were hippies, keen gardeners or conservationists. So I ask again, what sort of name is Tree? Couldn’t her parents be bothered to whittle the list down to at least species level? And the way she continually dismisses the nice young woman collection signatures doesn’t suggest she had any sort of environmentally focused upbringing or interest either. (Did you see what I did there, using “whittle” as a verb in a sentence about trees? That’s pretty clever.)
As an aside, the young woman was collection signatures for global warning. We generally try to fight Climate Change now; global warming is simply one of many outcomes that Climate Change precipitates and is not necessarily a problem in some localities. (Did you see what I did there, using “precipitates” as a verb in a sentence about climate? That’s also pretty clever.)
Technically it’s fine, if somewhat lumbered with a ‘Netflix Original’ look and vibe; the plot’s very much a cliché, but I think that’s deliberate and is part of its charm; the script does its job and it did make me laugh a few times; and the acting’s fine.
I didn’t much care for Tree or her sappy, would-be boyfriend, not even after she’d gone through the whole learning-about-myself-and-becoming-a-better-person routine. It’s fun but mostly forgettable; in fact it’s so forgettable that I last watched it just over three years ago, but had no recollection of having done so whilst watching it again recently. Or I’m becoming senile; hopefully it’s just a very forgettable film. (Did you see what I did there, using “sappy” as an adjective in a sentence about Tree? I’m on fire today!)
It really needed some Ned Ryerson.
No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.
Here’s a plot summary: It’s a “Groundhog Day” slasher. Now that’s done…
Our hero is called Tree. Seriously? What we see and find out about her parents, there’s no suggestion that they were hippies, keen gardeners or conservationists. So I ask again, what sort of name is Tree? Couldn’t her parents be bothered to whittle the list down to at least species level? And the way she continually dismisses the nice young woman collection signatures doesn’t suggest she had any sort of environmentally focused upbringing or interest either. (Did you see what I did there, using “whittle” as a verb in a sentence about trees? That’s pretty clever.)
As an aside, the young woman was collection signatures for global warning. We generally try to fight Climate Change now; global warming is simply one of many outcomes that Climate Change precipitates and is not necessarily a problem in some localities. (Did you see what I did there, using “precipitates” as a verb in a sentence about climate? That’s also pretty clever.)
Technically it’s fine, if somewhat lumbered with a ‘Netflix Original’ look and vibe; the plot’s very much a cliché, but I think that’s deliberate and is part of its charm; the script does its job and it did make me laugh a few times; and the acting’s fine.
I didn’t much care for Tree or her sappy, would-be boyfriend, not even after she’d gone through the whole learning-about-myself-and-becoming-a-better-person routine. It’s fun but mostly forgettable; in fact it’s so forgettable that I last watched it just over three years ago, but had no recollection of having done so whilst watching it again recently. Or I’m becoming senile; hopefully it’s just a very forgettable film. (Did you see what I did there, using “sappy” as an adjective in a sentence about Tree? I’m on fire today!)
It really needed some Ned Ryerson.
No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.
Mini Review: Top badass moment? Tree going through her ‘Buffy in a black leather jacket’ phase, except she’s not Buffy and as a result gets her ass totally kicked. What sort of name is Tree, anyway? Couldn’t her parents be bothered to whittle the list down to species level? Not that I much cared for her, even after she’d gone through the whole learning-about-myself-and-becoming-a-better-person routine. Fun but mostly forgettable; it really needed some Ned Ryerson. No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.
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