Part your ways,
quarantine your compassions away for you will be
regents without mercy, agents of destruction
sent from god to free us all from the terror of
them, they, invaders of our homes,
usurpers of our homeland,
veritably powerful only in weapons but not in heart,
xenogenous and parasitical,
you will annihilate
Before we begin again,
cast the last shadow of
doubt away into the sun, suffer vicariously,
emphatically amd honestly
for all those souls we burned and saved, for all the
gentle spirits we vanquished with our
heads held high
intensely staring into their darkening eyes
just for a few seconds, or a few more,
keeping them silent with one hand
like a lover shushing their loved
martyring all pain.
You’re a journey with speed bumps in place to appreciate this town, you’re a Sunday with a reminding hangover not weighing me down,
you’re a multitude of imperfect perfections, you’re a galaxy of future photographic collections.
Our souls were forged in a collapsing star
billions of years ago, I for you, I for you.
My life, alone, a pastiche that seemed so noir, our days, together, will always be too few.
To have and to hold, to never forget, to never regret
that January day we met: six years a fairytale
guiding each other down the trail
to here, now, where I take thee, and I take thee on this longest day of the year, the brightest day of my life,
hovering in a celestial sphere,
to be my husband. To be my wife.
I fill my lungs with embers of pain,
scratch you into memories with the might of kings,
interlock my hands in vain.
Days progress as endless fractals,
one after one of immaterial battle:
a trajectory clean as shrapnel.
I saw a world that might provide:
a meaning found, at once highly prised,
a meaning drowned, at once belied.
If I could douse only the times
that truly deserve extinction
We are a clacking cacophony of a bag filled with pearls,
we are inveterate asymmetries of fantastic worlds,
we are an unpredictable future that slowly unfurls,
we are boys in a long-forgotten playground chasing girls,
we are the unremarkable window stains left by whorls.
Hither all greys, thither all colour:
this universe has been one of squalor,
with wits unlike swords ever duller
and, somewhere, one last disused muller.
We are but made of stardust that each night swirls
through dimly lit streets in small towns, curls
up to young souls and away all the innocence it hurls.
You bleed the night sky bright,
swallow the moon-covering cumuli
like cotton candy on a hot summer’s day.
How wasted your wings must be,
carrying the burden of our specters;
how sleepy your mind must be,
lending all your wishes to us.
You quench the rain with sunlight,
dismantle the shadow-casting nimbi
like a toy after a prurient afternoon.
To walk through intimate places, deserted of familiar faces,
is to remember all the years of drinking and laughing with peers.
Who am I if not the one walking beside you,
what if not eyes tinged in your smile each day anew,
if not sighs permeated with your optimism so refined?
Who am I if not the one repaying you in kind,
what if not a hand in yours suffused with immutable peace of mind,
if not a soul filled with blue skies imbued in morning dew?
To meander following traces, memories of warm embraces,
is to regret teasing how one day we’d move on without any tears.
I am become Void, the emptiness of our hearts.
Hold me firmer, halt my mind churning, murmur
the story of how we nurtured our love.
How we went from great fervour to a soul merger,
with the inevitable always lurking, growing
each time we jerked around and shirked
arguments about increasingly irking quirks.
We’re squirming, twisting and turning,
cursed to serve our own thirst only.
We’re performers, transformers oscillating
in between mourning, smirking, playing with dirks.
Sometimes I yearn for the past,
your face in turn is always stern.
If only we could learn to leave,
discern a less burking future –
if nothing else it’s what we’ve earned.
The Lego Movie is the first CGI-animated film set in the beloved, blocky world inhabited by little yellow figurines and tells the story of how The Special, Emmet (Chris Pratt), came to free all the Lego worlds from the tyranny of President Business (Will Ferrell).
Emmet is a rule-abiding citizen who listens to the one popular song, ‘Everything is Awesome’, and hasn’t had an original thought in his life (bar a double-decker couch, which everyone agrees is the worst idea ever). Emmet doesn’t have any friends since, although being a perfectly nice guy, he lacks any personality. He leads a lonely, ordinary life until he runs into Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks) who thinks, due to a misunderstanding, that he is The Special mentioned in the prophecy of Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman). He will have to fight against and take down the evil President Business and his sidekick Good Cop/Bad Cop (Liam Neeson).
When you think The Lego Movie, your first thought might not necessarily be excitement. Sure, the toy will probably bring back fond childhood memories, but the idea of using the little yellow figures and their world for the setting of a film appears ludicrous – even if stranger concepts have made it to the silver screen. The Lego Movie however not only succeeds, it outdoes pretty much every other animated film in the process.
The film is aware of what it is at all times, and the writers have clearly taken great pleasure in not only the self-deprecating humour but also grabbed the chance to parody everything from Hello Kitty to Abraham Lincoln to Star Wars. The voice actors read like a who’s who of celebrities who have knack for not taking themselves too seriously: the Green Lantern is voiced by Jonah Hill and Superman by Channing Tatum. Nick Offerman voices Craggy, while Cobie Smulders does Wonder Woman. For some jokes, the producers went all out: C-3PO is voiced by the original actor, Anthony Daniels, as is Lando, which sees Billy Dee Williams reprise his iconic role. Shaquille O’Neal meanwhile simply voices himself.
None of this distracts from the brilliance of The Lego Movie‘s main cast: Chris Pratt, the friendly, moustached receptionist from Her excels. Morgan Freeman channels his inner god from Bruce Almighty as a Gandalf-like wizard and Elizabeth Banks tones the Effie Trinket craziness down several notches to star as lovable wannabe rebel Wyldstyle. Her boyfriend, Bruce Wayne’s alter ego, is voiced brilliantly, since very reminiscent of Christian Bale, by Will Arnett. Alison Brie is fantastically annoying as Uni-Kitty. Will Ferrell delivers a very strong performance as President Business, especially following the twist at the end. The true star of the film however is Liam Neeson, who switches between Good Cop and Bad Cop with such ease and funny excellence, it makes you sad that he so often wastes his talent on largely plotless action thrillers.
The jokes, nods and references to other films are almost too many and delivered so quick wittedly that it can be hard to keep track of all of them – a fact which proves The Lego Movie to be one that recommends itself for several viewings. Whether it’s Batman declaring that “I only work in black. And sometimes, very, very dark gray.” or Abraham Lincoln leaving the assembly because ” A house divided against itself… would be way better than here.” , it’s quote upon quote of brilliant writing. There’s even a great Night Valian moment when President Business is announcing on his broadcast to “take extra care to follow the instructions or you’ll be put to sleep, and don’t forget Taco Tuesday’s coming next week.”
The Lego Movie is a film for children aged 5 to 99, and will entertain you with jokes, lovable characters, truly gorgeous animation and a twist at the end that will break your heart (in a good way). Do yourself a favour and rush to the cinema as soon as you can to indulge in what will quite possibly remain the best animation of the season – it’s certainly put the bar almost unattainably high for others.