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everydisneymovie · 3 years

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Review #66: Miracle of the White Stallions

Post #71

12/8/2020

Next up is 1963′s Miracle of the White Stallions

Just a warning, this movie fucking sucks.

Enjoyment : [2]

This movie is one of the worst experiences I have had so far. It is 2 hours of some of the most boring shit you will ever see. You know that phrase ‘Polishing the silverware on the Titanic’? A phrase meant to mock people who prioritize the wrong things during an emergency? Imagine two whole hours of a dude polishing silverware while the Titanic sinks in the background. My god this movie is dull. Every single character without a doubt is a despicable piece of flaming garbage who don’t deserve our attention. There is almost nothing to enjoy about this movie and about 75% of it could be cut without any loss to the main plot. I mean that, the main conflict is resolved about 40 minutes into this 2 hour movie. There is so little conflict that they actually switch to an entirely new cast of characters who have almost nothing to do with the main plot for the final half hour. I hate this movie with every fiber of my being.

Quality : [3]

I will give the movie this, the actors are trying their hardest and the locations are very pretty. The writing is absolutely atrocious. Every line of dialogue sounds like a rich brat whining about ‘daddy only let me have TWO gold plated dune buggies this christmas!’ and I hate it. The pacing is also pathetic. Like I mentioned, the movie gives up trying to have a plot and throws in a pointless fight scene with brand new characters we care even less about in the final half hour.

Hold up : [2]

This movie has a single easily identifiable flaw. It is pathetically spineless at the core of it’s being. This movie takes place during WW2, and somehow decides to go with the moral ‘There were good and bad guys on both sides’ While also totally ignoring the holocaust happening literally just off screen. There is even a line where one character says “Oh yeah my husband got taken to a concentration camp” “Aw jeez that sucks” and then they move on like it is no big deal. This movie is about a bunch of rich assholes using money and supplies that could have been used to help refugees to instead transport their expensive horses to safety. Excuse me if this is a controversial opinion but, JEWISH LIVES WILL ALWAYS BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR FUCKING FANCY HORSES. This movie is utterly pathetic, since it thinks anyone will care about the safety of some vanity project for the 1% over actual victims of war and genocide.

Risk : [1]

This is without a doubt the least risky movie Disney has ever made. The stakes are literally “we might not have our super expensive dressage horses after the war! We can’t have that! Rich people like watching horses prance around! This must be our top priority right now!” Which I have to say bud, are stakes I do not care about. What is worse is how much it humanizes the Nazis in this movie. The main characters are for all intents and purposes Nazis. They aren’t actually Nazis, but they hang out with Nazis, obey the orders of Nazis, and get permission from Nazis. We keep getting these extended monologues about how war is the real enemy and Nazis are just caught in the middle. How dare you Disney, how dare you act like Nazis were some misunderstood tragedy. We even get an extended scene where all the Nazi characters we met throughout the movie get happy endings where they conveniently leave out ANY JEWISH VOICES. This movie is pathetic because it refuses to take a side... on the holocaust. Why the hell did they think this would be ok?

Extra Credit : [0]

This movie deserve no extra credit. I cannot think of a single moment I enjoyed or thought had creative effort put into.

Final thoughts:

This is the second worst movie I have seen so far. The simple fact is that there is no way to get even slightly invested in the plot unless you are a complete psychopath. Horse dressage is a pointless leisure activity for the ultra rich, and as hard as this movie tries to convince me it’s part of some great ‘cultural heritage’ I just can’t give a damn. If there was a fire in an art museum, I would be sad at the loss of such important cultural artifacts, but I wouldn’t try to save the paintings before I tried to save the people still inside. Human life will ALWAYS matter to me more than some stupid fucking horses. The characters come across as fucking insane, since they value these horses above everything else. At one point they threaten a mob of starving refugees with guns because ‘these horses bring hope to people!” (bring hope to who? the fucking rich elite?) At one point a train conductor is like “No dude we can’t put your horses on this train we have civilians to evacuate” and they like, passionately argue about how important these horses are to the country... AND THEY GET LET ON THE TRAIN! Innocent people probably straight up died because of their selfishness! I cannot express how awful this movie is to watch. The only reason it isn’t ranked lower than A Light In the Forest is because that movie just seemed to ooze hatred towards minorities, while this movie just seems indifferent to the suffering of others. Call me crazy but I don’t care about Nazi horses even a little.

Total Score: 8/50

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nowuseeitnowudontium · 7 years

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The Cold Evening Aches

Oneshot. Part of the Fallout Earth AU created by an amazing @julientel and me

Ao3

They are sitting on the floor by the fire, inside the remnants of a terraced house. The street is deserted, every other houses alongside it are empty, same as this entire suburb. The fading light from the setting sun seeps through the shattered glass of a single window in what previously was a living room. Fire illuminates their bruised faces, so similar yet so fundamentally different. One person's eyes still hold that excited spark of curiosity and desire for knowledge, not yet stomped out by the hardships and struggles of the kind of life he is living. And the other one's inhuman eyes never had life in them to begin with.

Both are focused on their work, while the dinner is being prepared in a pan hanging above the fireplace.

Stan tears his gaze away from his little "diary", would you call it, to look at the canned soup and mix it with a steel rod he dig up (and boiled to sterilize beforehand).

"I think it's ready." When Ford doesn't even make a move to lift his head, Stan calls his name sternly. The traveller simply gives a muffled sound of acknowledgement, still remaining in his hunched position.

The synth then reaches to poke the man in front of him with the dirty and hot end of the stick. His irritated glowing eyes are finally met with the brown human ones, which seem to still be relieving the experience that he's been recording in his journal seconds ago. "Poindexter, I'm not the one who's gonna eat that food, so why don't cha take part in it's cookin, ha?" A second passes. Stanford finally comes back to Earth, setting his little book aside, "Yes. I guess that's fair." Stan rolls his eyes, handing him the metal plate he also found in the garbage lying everywhere around (and also sterilized).

He settles back down on his metallic butt, hearing his joints creak in protest. How can this thing still manage to hold up after this long? Heh.

The dude who put you together must be a genius.

Suddenly, something appears from the fog that is most of his mind, but disappears before he can get a glance.

"So. Whacha writin'?" Here. He started a conversation.

Ford, now having a full plate of hot soup in his hands, stops blowing at it and briefly looks up at Stan. The synth can swear his features even lit up a bit. Success.

"Well. I was honestly fascinated by that unique flora representative I saw near the crater we passed by today. From by my experience on this dimension's Earth I can state that any signs of life near places of nuclear blasts are a rare occurrence. Though this one looked almost like a cared for garden with a variety of plants of different lifeforms! I have been speculating on how they might have appeared here. Having a possibility to sample the ground would be great, that might have given some answers. I also noted some distinctive difference in the flower's structure, compared to the one of those on my Earth, indicating that it might have been subjected to mutation triggered by radioactive elements.."

Right. Leave it to Ford to blubber about flowers for goddamn hours straight. At least it’s making him a little bit happier through all this.. shit.

So much like his brother.. not his- the original Stan's. Not his. He isn't h-

"Stanley!" Oops, he drifted off.

"Wha wow chill! Wanna draw some freaks on us or what?"

"I'm going to guess you weren't listening."

"I just lived though it today with ya, why retell it to me! And I don't get most of your science junk."

"Ugh." Eye roll. Stan mimics it perfectly, earning a scoff from the man, who then picks up his now barely warm soup again.

The synth watches through the half-ruined window as the sky turns a darker shade of pink on the horizon where sun disappeared. Then he moves to pick up a journal of his own and starts writing again. He doesn't even notice himself getting lost in thought again as the next thing he hears is his brother (not your brother drop it) calling his name what must be the third time.

"What?!" he rudely snaps. Ford doesn't flinch nor does he shout back. His empty bowl is set aside, he has his book in his hands again. And his expression borders on something too similar to sympathy. Where did that come from and why

"What are you writing? Share with me," he pulls up a smirk.

"Wanna tease me about it? Nah, nerd, that's not gonna happen." The synth averts his eyes to look down at the shabby notebook in his hands again, cutting off any further conversation point-blank. You goof. Racked your brains over how to start one a minute ago

Ford is silent for some time, Stan even thinks he returned back to his own business. But then he hears a sound of a hard cover hitting paper, and realises that he isn't going to be left alone today.

"You know, I'm not a complete jackass to make fun of people for their personal recordings."

"You do realise you just hinted that I'm a jackass."

"Stan p-lease" They both laugh half-heartedly for a bit. Ford is sitting on a piece of fabric they found in the house, his folded sleeping bag beneath him. He pulls knees up and puts his arms on them. A little shiver goes through his body. The air is cooling down. The fire is flickering, sending waves of warmth wherever the wind blows.

Of course the synth is incapable of feeling any of it.

"I was.. I am-" Why is his mouth saying this? Too late "writing my memories down".

The dimension hopper looks his way. His face, now illuminated by the relatively bright light, doesn't look so young, he notices. This man has been battered badly, and not only in physical way.

Stan casts his gaze on the dusty cement. I feel sorry for him. Hey, focuse! Right. He just started opening up about stuff. Can't stop now. (you don't wanna stop now)

"Ya know," he shrugs irritated at himself, not knowing how to phrase it, "to put stuff in order. Since I met you I've been.. remembering, and, like, a lot, for some flipping reason" One of his legs lies on the floor bent at the knee. He rests his hand on the other that is pulled up, making a "whatever" gesture with it. This hand's tissue isn't yet torn to shards, unlike the left one, so the metallic carcass isn't exposed and creaky, which is a cause for joy.

"And.. it doesn't end up," he says it rather quietly, though Ford catches it nonetheless. The following question wasn't long in coming.

"What is?"

"A damn lot of stuff," he doesn't understand why he sounds so defensive. He did actually start this- monologue- himself. Well, he is a jackass after all. "But. Mostly that guy's real life and this," he gestured at his artificial body. "My life. I guess. I can't pin down the moment when it happened. I have no idea how it could even happen. I mean.. What the hell- how did the poor guy even get into this shit?

I remember.. war. I think I remember going to the war. Or planning to... There’s just, like.. fear? And twitching, and restlessness, and other emotional junk. And also your ugly mug." "We share the same fa-" "And another one that keeps coming in and out of focus- argh, this whole thing pisses me off! It doesn't end up, I've got only bits and pieces! It's so fucking frustrating, I- Jeez, I never even wondered much about it, I knew I had all this in my brain once but then I didn't and I did I care? No. Like, what's the point? It's not my life, I remember my life, and- it doesn't even have anything much to remember. It's not a life even.

I know I hate you- not you- for fucks sake!" he got pretty loud. "And that's not even that simple! Never this simple. It's always just a jumble.

That's what I remember! Just emotions! And no explanation to them. That's what sucks the most. For some reason I have this.. anger. Towards that other Ford. And resentment. And I feel like it came from.. me. Not the other guy. I can't tell. And it's freaking me out now more than ever." I thought you just said you remember your life clearly. loser. "Though I feel like.. like I owe him, or something. And, Jeez, of course I care about him. Cared." Well, that sounded not right. A sad sign escapes him. "It's a mess. And every day with you it gets messier. And every day I get new bits, but they are insignificant, like from childhood or somethin'. I don't know, today I got a memory of him geeking out about turtles." Ford snickers quietly.

Stan cracks a smile too, though after spilling his heart out like this he feels rather worn out. Which is new, since he forgot the last time he experienced this feeling. It is.. pleasant. Though of course fearing for his companion's life when he is pulling some stunt in order to get a closer look at some weird thing, or the anxiety he feels when they explore an unknown territory, or that time when he could say he was worrying sick when Ford had a strong fever after not eating or sleeping for several days in order to find a way to fix the synth's conked out brains, or any other time Ford gets injured- all that surely delivers its punch to the robot's seemingly non-existent nervous system. Luckily he is not physically affected by all this in the long run, how can he be.

He's just glad to feel again.

When Stan comes back to reality, he is met with a small, but sincere smile.

He realises he is smiling in a sweet, nostalgic-like way, himself. He corrects that slip pretty fast.

Ford rubs his hands together, breathes on them a few times, then turns away, rising from his spot in order to unpack the sleeping bag. "Glad you shared. I'm sure you'll find answers sooner or later. I'll help with what I can." "Don't get all sappy on me, dork." "Yes, yes. You wish." "God, save me from this." He can practically hear a smile in the irritated tongue clicking sound his friend produces, having already laid down, face away from the weakening fire and him. The synth looks out the window, the sky has no traces of red now, and the stars are barely seen behind the thick clouds that are almost always there as far as he can remember. Though his childhood memories are bright, he'd give them that. "You keep watch." "Sure." "Goodnight, Stanley." "Night."

#fanfiction #fallout earth au #gravity falls #crossover #fallout 4 #stanford pines #stanley pines #why do i even put tags here #my first coherent fic

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