Every week, Patey and I go to Asian Taste for their all-you-can-eat sushi buffet. Since he’s vegan and I’m not fond of seafood, mostly we eat avocado cucumber rolls. Twenty-four of them. Each.
Not to mention the sweet potato tempura, edamame and spring rolls.
We then proceed to head to our respective homes, fall into a sushi-induced coma for the rest of the night; tired, bleary-eyed, full of rice, avocado and sweet potato.
Did we, knowing the impending sushi-coma, go see Super 8 directly after said sushi consumption? Did I knowingly proceed to order and consume popcorn as well? Yes. Guilty on both counts.
Super 8 rendered all of it null and void. No coma happened. Nothing. Not even a stifled yawn escaped me. Sure, the story isn’t the most original, but the story it does have is told with such detail that you care for each character as a whole.
Lately, with movies being sadly short on story and heavy on 3D, it’s been rather rare that I leave a theatre with such a feeling of contentment as I had after Super 8.
Though I gotta say, after Cloverfield, Star Trek and Super 8, J.J. Abrams either needs a new creature guy, or Neville Page needs to find some new inspiration. Please.