Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 2 Review
I now know why people who as much watch as make horror movies seem fine to the eyes of everyone else despite this, ahem, mask we wear: it is actually harder than either living or even loving (considering how it can consist of both) despite what Bobby Vee would've argued. I'm not kidding, how do I even continue this review from here after starting it off as honestly as that? I could go in many different directions. I could begin with the fact that taking too many risks seems to be the second biggest risk (if "not taking one" is what the movie doesn't do) that the movie takes now. I could also debate with myself on how this movie more enhances my childhood than ruins it compared to what the world has become in its present state. I could even bring up my review of the first installment here and there (though that's where it would get severely uncomfortable given a similarity to the sequel if not my grammar). However, I think I can at least add this before resorting to my notes: my present catharsis makes me realize how imagination and solitude have one similarity when I recall a quote by John Lubbock: "The whole value of solitude depends upon oneself; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it." This I saw especially by the 2nd act when, like meeting face to face with a crime lord that turned out to be your childhood friend you abandoned at the start of High School, imagination and intelligence, when mixed together, become like ingredients to a speedball: effective yet the kind of concoction that killed Heath Ledger. But now that I've made it this far let me return to the beginning. Despite the movie not only pointing out how all things truly wicked start out innocent, and even strutting its Terrifier 2 influence out in the open, you can't help but be reminded of the one version it was trying to eradicate if not deconstruct from the beginning: the Disney version. Whether it's concrete like the intro flat out paying homage to the first animated film (or maybe the Russian version) or figurative with the level of development Christopher Robin goes through, be it with his family, psychiatrist, girlfriend, etc. The director at least acknowledges how we longtime fans exist yet kept an open mind this far. The argument could even ve made that there's an innocence that Disney has lacked for quite some time for as much convoluted as controversial reasons in at least a third of the movie. To bring back what I said about intelligence and imagination this mostly works for the same reason The Banana Splits movie worked, which is because the narrative ties effectively with these themes of innocence and childhood. The difference here, however, might resonate better with what I had previously mentioned in my review of TBS's movie towards people who, for a lack of a better way of putting it, had more in common with, in John Oliver's own words, a "Sad English childhood". That's not to say the premise becomes a fairly inspired mixture of horror and dark science fantasy that just so happens to be based on these books. Plus as much the prosthetics as the visual mise-en-scene of the landscape bring you back to the golden age of practical effects (as well as Tigger and Pooh emenating the obvious slashers better than even the latters' most recent installments). But without getting into further detail I know my words can never explain properly I will just finish by pointing this out: the real horror lies in the fact that Pooh himself is less a villain/hero and more an allegory/metaphor for something.
Something that can only be interpretted by everyone on an individual level now.