danny rosenberg
sr. copywriter

Soggy Waffles

Welcome to Soggy Waffles. Here’s how these bite-size, digestible movie reviews work. Every movie gets a haiku. That’s one movie, 17 syllables. Every movie gets a short write-up. I’m talking so short that you should be able to completely syrupize a plate of waffles in the time it takes to read the write-up. If not, then I’m not doing my job. This is my take on the movies I see, not a chewed up and spit out version of anything you’ll find online.

 And finally, every movie gets a Soggy Waffles rating. The scale is as follows:

1 = The Frozen Waffle. The type of waffle that you can still taste the freezer burn when you bite into it. That bite was so traumatizing that you it might be awhile before you can safely bite into another.

 2 = The Soggy Waffle. You don’t need a pick-axe or other climbing gear to attack this waffle, but the pneumonic device you learned in elementary school to memorize the cardinal directions still applies: Never Eat Soggy Waffles.

3 = The Microwaved Waffle. This is the type of waffle that won’t stick with you for the rest of your life, but damn you enjoyed it nonetheless. Not every movie can be a Superbad.

 4 = The Crispy Waffle. Oh yeah, it’s not the best waffle you’ve ever had, but it’s pretty close. This is the type of movie that cracks into your End-of-Year best list, but doesn’t quite make it onto your Best of All Time.

5 = The Toasty Waffle. This is that from-scratch, special recipe, best-you’ve-ever had waffle. The kind in which the waffle is so good that the act of adding chocolate chips, butter or even syrup would be sacrilegious. You can never eat it for the first time twice, so savor it when you’ve got it.

Logo and illustrations by Adrienne Luther.

Logo and illustrations by Adrienne Luther.

Welcome to Soggy Waffles Reviews. Here’s how these bite-size, digestible movie reviews work. Every movie gets a haiku. That’s one movie, 17 syllables. Every movie gets a short write-up. I’m talking so short that you should be able to completely syrupize a plate of waffles in the time it takes to read the review. If not, then I’m not doing my job. This is my take on the movies I see, not a chewed up and spit out version of anything you’ll find online. And finally, every movie gets a Soggy Waffles rating. The scale is as follows:

Soggy_Waffles_Draft-08.png

1. The Frozen Waffle

The type of waffle that you can still taste the freezer burn when you bite into it. The whole experience is so traumatizing that it might be awhile before you can safely bite into another.

Soggy_Waffles_Draft-07.png

2. The Soggy Waffle

You don’t need a pick-axe or other climbing gear to attack this waffle, but the pneumonic device you learned in elementary school to memorize the cardinal directions still applies: Never Eat Soggy Waffles.

Soggy_Waffles_Draft-03.png

3. The Microwaved Waffle

This is the type of waffle that won’t stick with you for the rest of your life, but damn you enjoyed it nonetheless. Not every movie can be a Superbad.

Soggy_Waffles_Draft-02.png

4. The Crispy Waffle

Oh yeah, it’s not the best waffle you’ve ever had, but it’s pretty close. This rating is reserved for the movise that crack into your End-of-Year best lists but don't quite make it onto your Best of All Time.

Soggy_Waffles_Draft-01.png

5. The Perfectly Toasted Waffle

This is that from-scratch, special recipe, best-you’ve-ever had waffle. The kind in which the waffle is so good that the act of adding chocolate chips, butter or even syrup would be sacrilegious (but obviously you still do). You can never eat it for the first time twice, so savor it when you’ve got it.

First Man

firstman4.0.jpg
Rating: Crispy.

Rating: Crispy.

 Normally I’d say

Get popcorn at the movies

But not for this one.

Also, skip the nachos. And the knock-off ICEE. I wish someone would have told me that before seeing “First Man,” so you’re welcome. I’d heard that director Damien Chazelle really puts you in the cockpit with the astronauts, but I guess I underestimated how nauseating it is to be an astronaut. When Neal Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) and his cohorts puke all over their NASA-administered jumpsuits during training, I was almost right there with them. But luckily, for my sake and everyone else’s around me, I’m not a thrower-upper. Not even after my worst nights of drinking.

Anyways, all that’s to say that “First Man” is a technical feat, beautifully edited and transportive (which Word is currently telling isn’t a word?) in the way that sends you into orbit with its astronauts. As a showcase for directing and editing, it’s great. Maybe one of the best movies of the year. But if you’re like me, that’s not enough to carry you through a movie. As someone who loved the shit out of Whiplash and once Instagrammed a picture of Rylan Gosling for #ManCrushMonday (2013 was a different time), it physically pains me to say this, but I didn’t love “First Man.”

Given my aforementioned love for Damien Chazelle’s past work and, yes, Ryan Gosling, I’ll admit my expectations were high. Surprisingly, I think this movie suffered from a bad case of surface-level characterization. The scenes that had the astronauts doing astronaut things were riveting enough, but they were offset by too many moments in the Armstrong household that just seemed to scratch the surface of Neal’s psyche and his relationship with his wife, Janet (Claire Foy).  Foy was awesome, by the way, but I think her character could’ve benefitted from a little more depth. As it is, she was probably a few outbursts shy of any serious supporting actress consideration.

Perhaps what “First Man” suffers from most is a pacing problem and a lack of momentum. It’s just not that exhilarating of a movie, and a recounting of the first moon landing absolutely should be. There’s still a feeling of awe when Armstrong actually steps foot on the moon, but not in the all-encompassing way it should be. I couldn’t help feeling like there wasn’t much build-up to that moment, so it wound up coming off as more anti-climactic than I expected.

Here’s the thing. I love Ryan Gosling when he’s at his most stoic: take “Drive,” “Blade Runner 2049” as evidence for his ability to do more with less dialogue. But as Neal Armstrong, he never gets excited about any of the amazing things happening to him. And maybe that’s how Neal Armstrong was in real life, but when the protagonist isn’t excited about all the dope shit going on around him, it’s hard for me to share any of that excitement with him.

 

In Theaters, CrispyGuest User