We had been planning on seeing Red Riding Hood for months. It opened last week and we thought we’d be able to see it over the weekend. Our girls are 18 and 17 but, yes, we still watch movies with them, as a family. I’ve often been warned that when kids get to a certain age, they go through a phase when they’re embarrassed to be seen in public with their parents. Fortunately, that
doesn’t hasn’t happened with us. Sam and Alex like going out with us but whether that’s because they know they don’t have to spend anything when they’re with us, I don’t know.
Anyway, so we were planning on seeing Red Riding Hood last weekend. But Alex had to be out of town on a shoot. Sam insisted we still go and see the movie. And, honestly, I was torn. Wouldn’t it be unfair to Alex if we went without her? Wouldn’t it be unfair to Sam if we didn’t do as planned because Alex chose to go out of town? She did make the choice. If it were a school requirement, it would have been a no-brainer, we’d have postponed our plan, but it was an extra-curricular activity. So…
Sam doesn’t have classes on Monday so went to see Red Riding Hood on Monday evening. Last full show. Then, we drove her to the condo. Alex was there and when she found out that we had been to the movies, she went all pouty.
“Never mind,” Speedy and I assured her, “you didn’t miss anything. It was terrible.” Truth be told, it was more than terrible. It was horrible but not because it was trying hard to be a horror movie.
Movie trailers these days can be so misleading. Choice scenes are woven together and, with the right music, Red Riding Hood, based on its trailer, seemed like a well-crafted, suspenseful film. But it wasn’t.
That Catherine Hardwicke (Twilight) was the film’s director should have been a warning. Nay, a foreboding. Amanda Seyfried is a wonderful actress but, under the direction of Hardwicke, she could only convey so much. The leading men, Shiloh Fernandez and Max Irons, were wooden — more wooden than Keanu Reaves in his worst film and I thought that no one could break Keanu’s wooden acting record ever. Gary Oldman, that character actor who could be hero or villain with a switch of intonation, looked ridiculous.
The production design was magnificent. Not surprising since Harwdwicke was a production designer for a long time before she became a film director. But it bothered me that the production design — the colors, the mood, the tenor, the flavor… eerily echoed Twilight (I hate Twilight). Shiloh Fernandez even had one costume — tight black shirt and tight black pants — that looked the same as something that Robbert Pattinson wore in Twilight. Hardwicke’s lucky charm, what?
The story and the script… oh, let’s not even go there anymore. A flimsy whodunit with touches of torture a la Middle Ages. Sheesh. It just pains me that we spent almost seven hundred pesos on a lemon that had been misrepresented as a peach.
So, Alex dear, fret no more that we went to see Red Riding Hood without you. Think of it as our punishment for leaving you behind. Think how you were spared. Because you were spared. Trust me.