I had the distinct misfortune of catching up on two of 2004's worst films back to back this morning: first, the incoherent CGI-driven emptiness of The Chronicles of Riddick, and then, the embarrassing vanity project known as Greendale. One cost multimillions and the other cost pennies, but they're both bad. Really, really bad.
Up front I should state I'm not the world's biggest Neil Young fan, but he has contributed his share of classic tunes: from Buffalo Springfield (whose best recordings were Young compositions) to Rust Never Sleeps, Harvest, and Mirror Ball, the man has penned some really great songs. Sadly, there are no great songs in Greendale, and precious few good ones, and the film around which they are built is truly cringeworthy and simplistic political sloganeering. Completely without merit as art and unimpressive as polemic, Greendale is best left forgotten. Buy the book if you feel compelled to contribute to Young's bank account.
Up front I should state I'm not the world's biggest Neil Young fan, but he has contributed his share of classic tunes: from Buffalo Springfield (whose best recordings were Young compositions) to Rust Never Sleeps, Harvest, and Mirror Ball, the man has penned some really great songs. Sadly, there are no great songs in Greendale, and precious few good ones, and the film around which they are built is truly cringeworthy and simplistic political sloganeering. Completely without merit as art and unimpressive as polemic, Greendale is best left forgotten. Buy the book if you feel compelled to contribute to Young's bank account.