The Wonder of Women
Mesmerising isn’t a skill to be gloating about casually, especially if you may end up being tasked to charm a cobra from a basket as testament to your abilities. And yet here I find myself absolutely transfixed, hypnotised by wonder. In particular, a woman of wonder.
I really enjoy most of the comic adaptions and although openly confess utter ignorance in terms of accurate portrayals to the hallowed magazines, I usually sit there on my fat ass and scoff as much salty popcorn and teeth ache juice into my fat face as is physically possible within a 2-hour filming window without passing out.
It’s not often I’m drawn to a character on screen; they must possess some fairly sturdy acting chops to muster that kind of attention. An actor of Olivier or Burton proportions must be equalled or eclipsed for me trace their every movement on screen, with maw agape and popcorn tumbling out. Or the complete opposite of course, being so horrendously bad that you watch them hoping to befall some kind of film-ending injury. In the case of Gal Gadot though, you are simply mesmerised by her sheer beauty. The universe stands back and says “you thought auroras were special? Look at this!”
Why? Because of the way the movie was shot. Oh, and also because she is stunningly beautiful with a bewitching countenance that stops time. She is almost as striking as my girlfriend (bases = covered). But mostly this was, I think, because of the way the film was created: every other character seems slightly drab, slightly less colourful. It’s partly set in Second World War Britain, so everyone is a lot less tanned with some yellow teeth popping into the picture at opportune moments reminding us that the next time we see the beautiful Wonder Gal, her teeth seem sculpted from the finest marble by Michelangelo himself. Then there’s the smile that would charm a hurricane, and hair that calmly bounces and bouffs to their own slow-motion Enya soundtrack despite the ferocity of the scene. I entirely expect the hair to have a film of its own in a year or two.
Worthy of Feminism
The movie itself is fairly average, with guessable plot-lines and acting within everyone’s limits, apart from the poor sods that have to appear in the same scene as that woman. There is though a clear triumph hidden underneath, and one which I think deserves serious merit.
This is the first time I’ve seen a superhero film led by a heroin that I genuinely enjoyed because she’s such a strong character. There were no gratuitous cleavage shots or scenes where Miss Gadot is casually walked in-on whilst climbing into her lingerie. In fact, we see more of Chris Pine’s body than we do of Wonder Woman’s, which is fantastic! I mean fantastic for the film, not me necessarily, although Chris Pine fans will certainly not be leaving disappointed and the man does have a good body – credit where credit is due! I cannot remember a single pithy or corny line by Wonder Woman at all in fact (ok, there were a few average remarks). The script writers clearly made efforts to play it as straight as possible, and the film certainly reaps the rewards of that. Yes, there are some lines by the men that pin-point her bewitching beauty, but at the end it’s certainly the men and humankind in general that appear weak, not the new light of my life. It makes a change that the evil villain, Dr Poison, is also a woman and almost gets seduced by Chris Pine’s sexiness.
Finally, a Hollywood Superhero movie worthy of feminism. Well done one and all! Alien’s Ripley would be proud! Well, perhaps if my Gal were wearing overalls she may be proud, then again, even Ripley appeared in her tiny-whities. Which come to think about it, weren’t all that mesmerising.
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