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| Here are three reasonably good-looking young people and a bird that is on fire for some reason. |
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
In these opening lines from the Prologue to Act I of Henry V, Shakespeare establishes what academics would later describe as a "topos of inexpressibility." The high and kingly matters of war and politics are so consequential, so deeply and intensely real, that it is beyond the ability of a playwright and a handful of actors to reproduce them; the players can only point to grander things than themselves and hope the audience will forgive them.
A moment ago, as I sat in front of my computer preparing to review the fourth and final film of the Hunger Games tetralogy, I was reminded of Shakespeare and his topos of inexpressibility because reader, I cannot fucking express to you how bad this movie was.
I feel so empty inside.
That was such a bad movie.
I mean, it was SUCH a bad movie.
Near the end, while yet one more excruciating, plodding scene offered us more flabby expository dialogue regarding the fates of characters we last cared about no later than 2013, I turned to John and whispered, "oh god, how much more of this must we endure?" and he was nice enough to say "ssshh," because the man who had been snoring behind us for the last 45 minutes* seemed to have woken up, and it was possible that he was once again attempting, against all reason, to enjoy the steaming shit-heap of a movie that was The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2.
