And, of course, the all-too-common too-muchness on display spills over into the narrative, which, beyond its glut of plot holes and contradictions (Maleficent becomes a dark tyrant the moment she learns Stefan chose nasty power over their love), gets dizzy-drunk on ensuring the new tale is stocked with the staples of the animated classic. This results in Prince Phillip (Brenton Thwaites) getting a whopping—and worthless—five minutes or so of screen time, and the three "good fairies," native to Maleficent's realm, shifting allegiances with the breeze. All of this effectively deflates Maleficent's climactic emergence as a black-sheened beacon of feminine power, which, however glorious to behold, is an afterthought the film couldn't care less about assessing. The goal, as expressed in treacly shots of Maleficent hovering above sunlit clouds like an angel, is to strip this beloved villainess of every iota of impurity, thus making her safe and accessible to today's preposterously sheltered and aggressively deluded youth. We may have all wanted to know the story behind those famed horns, but the mystery was far preferable to having Maleficent de-fanged and de-clawed in the process.
I'm glad all of my faves (Kesha, Michael Fassbender, Kristen Stewart, et cetera)
are interesting, intelligent people, and, more importantly, self-aware.
Poor Lady Gaga. Poor Jennifer Lawrence. Poor Justin Timberlake. Kristen Stewart
is a real feminist, very low-key but straight to the point. One that doesn't have to
scream it from the rooftops like embarrassing celebrities, such as Lady Gaga.
