Well, hah! And not surprisingly, the reviews, including of course this one from Jeannette Catsoulis at The New York Times, are confirming that Captivity is pretty stinkola.
I loved this from the review, especially the last line:
"By the time those heightened expectations are dashed (What? No chain saw?), the money is in and the sequel already in the works. There are no refunds on your innocence."
Though from the sounds of it, I suspect the likelihood of that particular sequel is slim to none.
Cinematical.com's Ryan Stewart has also reviewed Captivity, but I must say I was kinda revolted by his review, and felt compelled to leave a comment.
IGN also reviews the film, saying:
"There is precious little to recommend "Captivity." It is an ultimately pointless tale that throws in anything and everything that might offend -- misogyny, cruelty to animals, patricide, incest, pedophilia, mutilation, cannibalism -- in the hopes of being shocking."
The L.A. Times is reviewing it Monday, due to the lack of a press preview screening. They did, however, review this week's Captivity party in which they quote After Dark promoter Courtney Solomon:
"Solomon claims that Joffé was supportive of the revisions to the film, returning to do reshoots, if not perhaps to the test-marketed ending. 'He's a really nice man,' says Solomon."
Huh. I do wonder what the real story on that is...
They also note, "The original billboards made a cameo appearance at the party, when they were affixed to the outside of the building during early evening hours, easily visible from Sunset Boulevard, until representatives from the MPAA showed up on-site and demanded their removal."
How very socially-conscious and green of After Dark to recycle their discarded billboards.
Defamer.com also sent someone to the party:
"If you're wondering why all the hardware stores in LA were sold out of electrical tape, it's because much of it was stuck to the nipples of the models at the Captivity premiere party last night."
Classy. From the descriptions of the party, I guess Solomon has given up all of his earlier pretense that the film is "also about female empowerment...". By the way, the star and most of the announced celebrities, including the director, failed to attend this glittering soirée, which is sad, because they missed, among other empowering moments, this:
"The music takes a turn, buckling from a poppy remix of The Bravery's 'An Honest Mistake' to the grind of Pantera's 'Walk.' And on cue, like a magician removing a cloth to reveal his latest bit of trickery, the curtain drops and a steel cage full of Suicide Girls spill out, teasing on-lookers, teasing each other, dancing to the music. Hallelujah. This moment crescendos with the entrance of a bald fella who proceeds to hang himself from the top of the cage by hooks in his chest. His skin stretches like rubber. The audience gasps. Those aforementioned tanned bedmates who befriended Navarro? They stand by the sidelines, cameras in hand. Eyes wide and flawless lips curled up in shock. It becomes apparent these are not Suicide Girls by any means. Likely wannabe actresses/models hired for the show. Sheep in a den of wolves."
Oddly, for what seemed an obvious attempt to court additional publicity-arousing controversy and protest, the event-planners were a tad ambivalent about the party's media coverage, according to Condé Nast/portfolio.com/The Hollywood Deal, first inviting, uninviting, and then re-inviting three reporters.
"...it was hard to understand why the party set-up had been handled by super crisis-management firm Sitrick & Co., or why three female reporters--from Portfolio, the Wall Street Journal and the New Yorker--had been told over the weekend they were uninvited to the party. After kicking up dust, they (we) were let back in. When asked about the initially rescinded invitation last night, Solomon said, "there had been a lot of sketchy people on the list " and that we had been flagged. Hmmm. Portfolio? WSJ? New Yorker? Sketchy publications indeed."
Portfolio.com also reported:
"Toward the end of the night, Solomon, who stood watching as a pale and bare chested man was suspended from a rack by pins in his flesh, ruminated on what might be the sunset of the torture-porn genre. 'It's at the end of a movie cycle,' he said. 'This is like a party for the end.' "
OMFG, one can only hope.
This party was held just around the corner from me, at a club charmingly-named "Privilege." I think probably if I had just dressed in black, stuck a prop axe through my head and carried a blender, I could've gotten in. Unfortunately, I had to wash my hair or something, I forget what exactly.
