This week's Answer:
You See What I "Saw," Too?
George, thanks ever so for your e-mail. I'm
not a big fan of the horror genre, but it just so happens that I did
happen to see "Saw." Ergo, I saw
"Saw." I guess many of us are asking that very
important question: "Did you see "Saw 2"?
But therein could lurk communication problems galore (or at least a
kind of Abbot and Costello routine):
Abbot: I just saw a movie. Very
scary. Did you See "Saw"?
Costello: Yes, I saw "Saw Two."
A: Oh, so you saw "Saw."
C: No, I didn't see "Saw."
A: But you said you saw
C: That's correct.
A: What's correct?
C: That I saw "Saw Two."
A: Then you saw "Saw."
C: No, I did not see "Saw."
A: What? As a kid you never seesawed?
C: Of course I seesawed.
A: Then why did you say you did not seesaw?
C: I didn't say that. I said I saw
"Saw Two." I didn't see "Saw."
A. Wait a minute now. Only seconds ago, you
admitted to me that you seesawed and now you're saying that you didn't
seesaw. Make up your mind. Did you or didn't you seesaw?
C: Of course. What kid didn't seesaw?
A: Now you're saying kids should see
"Saw"? What kind of parent would you be to send kids
to see "Saw"?
C: I'm not saying to send kids to
A: You're not?
C: Absolutely not.
A: Then obviously you've seen
C: No, I can't say as I have.
A: You saw "Saw," but you won't
say you've seen "Saw"?
C: No, I would say it if I had, but I'm
saying I can't say that I have because I never saw "Saw."
A: Now you're saying you never saw
C: I never said that I did.
A: Said what?
C: See "Saw."
A: There you go again, saying you never
seesawed. What kind of kid were you?!
C: I good one.
A: Then why didn't you seesaw with the
C: I did. I seesawed all the time.
A: You seesawed all the time.
A: Let me get this straight. You
C: Of course.
A: And I saw "Saw" and you saw
A. So, you did see "Saw."
A: Finally. That's all I needed to
C: On the playground all the time.
George, are you still there? The
vaudevillian inside of me gets carried away. Back to the
question at hand. I must admit that as "Saw 2" came on
the screen, after having to see the horror before it (brace
yourself): the six or eight commercials about cars, television
shows, soft drinks (ever have one of them? I'd like to know
what's soft about them. My esophagus and gums are still getting
over the carbonation assault.) and other products -- so many that I
lost count, lost my sense of where or who I am. Honda's don't
fly! Nobody cares about an Internet movie ticket
Somebody stop this horror!? This Corporate Onslaught!!
We pay 12 dollars to see brainwashing Commercials!!?
Put an End to this MADNESS!!
But after that, the film was pretty
subdued, compared to what was inflicted on us before.
Referring a little more directly to
the film, "Saw 2," and focusing on the screenplay...
That's What I do, God help me!!
Sorry. The horror writer
inside of me gets a little carried away. Looking at "Saw
2," the screenplay creates a powerful and lasting tension,
stretching our ability to endure such relentless and merciless
anxiety. It's not easy on the nerves, but, then again, any film
with a title of a tool probably isn't supposed to be a walk in the
It's alone in Central Park and AT Midnight!!!
Sorry. The park-walking at
midnight part of me gets carried away. Without giving anything
away, there's a clever development that prolongs the tension and
deepens the suspense. The dialogue is crisp.
like Burned Flesh!!
Sorry. The cannibal part of me
gets carried away. The pace is excruciatingly perfect. The
claustrophobic and dismal environs are extremely suitable to terrorize
and just generally have you wanting to never see another light
greenish, puke-yellowish room (or whatever color we were
seeing?) And don't expect a "they lived happily ever
after" ending. Horror screenwriters usually like to leave
room for more horror to come. Do you want to know the true
horror of it all? (Brace yourself.)
The horror of not being paid to
write another sequel.