Was supposed to be going out on a boat last night, but there were storm warnings so the skipper cancelled. Mark called, and I ended up meeting him and sara downtown and going to see Minority Report.
As a huge Philip K. Dick fan, I had to see it. I’d gathered that it was good from the reviews, but I wasn’t expecting too much. In the end, though, it’s probably one of the best movie adaptations of a Phil Dick story. It doesn’t remove most of the plot twists, like Total Recall. It doesn’t skip all the religious content, like Blade Runner. It doesn’t have an incredibly irritating opening sequence that gives away the plot, like Barjo. It’s not quite as true-to-Dick as Screamers, but it’s pretty close.
I’ve seen some people complain that the humor is out of place. Well, Phil Dick’s books often contain humor; in fact, Galactic Pot-Healer is more of a comedy than anything else. What was intrusive was some of the mawkish sentimentality; but I suppose a Spielberg movie without sentimentality would be like a David Lynch movie without long tracking shots.
Anyway… it’s worth seeing, in spite of at least one plot hole so gapingly huge you could drive a truck through it. It’s a rare movie that I can’t predict how it’s going to end at least half an hour from the final credits, so bravo to Spielberg for at least keeping me guessing longer than The Usual Suspects or Se7en.
After the movie, we went to Chinatown to find something to eat. Buddha’s Delight was closed, so Mark took us to a place he knew. sara and I couldn’t help but notice that we were the only caucasians in the restaurant, but once I’d noted the fact it ceased to bother me.
The T was packed with suburban sports fans on the way home. I really wish the politicians had called the Red Sox’ bluff and told them to go move to Rhode Island if they wanted a handout.