Words of a Stranger

Waxing lyrical of the crappy details of my life and my views with a healthy dose of cynicism, sarcasm and everything you like about non-wholesome movies.

Monday, October 23, 2006

This is going to be another one of those entries that should be very long, but is cut short because I need sleep, and cannot be done any other time because I seriously need to dedicate the time when I am awake to do homework.


It's going to be a hell of a next two days.


Anyway, watched The Prestige just now. It's not arthouse, but it's a thinking film.


My goodness. So many subtle hints. I'm still trying to figure out if there's any more.


I pity the wife of Borden. Poor creature.


And the two magicians... are pure idiots.


But that's what obsession turns you into.


The diaries are a killer. Metaphorically.


Poor tesla has been framed, methinks. But the presence of his character makes the subsequent storyline much more plausible.


Actually, I realise I can't say too much here without revealling the several cruxes in the storyline.


So, just go watch it. Just make sure the girls come with a good boyfriend or a strong stomach.


And if you haven't figured things out in the end... let's just say that there are 100 corpses lying somewhere. 101.

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