I just finished reading Philip Muthacluckin' Pullman's
Northern Lights, or rather
The Golden Compass. I had already seen the movie, but it's been a while, and what actually went on has since blurred somewhat, but I still remembered enough to realize why the movie made an ass out of itself:
Firstly, the ending (of the movie) sucked because it wasn't the real gatdamn
climax.
Secondly, I remember bears slapping each other about, but I'm fairly certain no one ripped anyone's
gory, still-beating heart out and made a meal out of it. I don't care if the movie was for all ages. I CAN'T HELP LIKING COOL THINGS.
Thirdly, I got such a terrific sense of the bond between humans and their daemons in the book, that I'm tempted to go back and watch the movie again, because I don't remember getting that sense of caring and love at all.
It seems as though the pooch was screwed harder and more vigorously than I had previously thought, because I considered the movie okay at the time (despite my being annoyingly confused during a few bits), but clearly, the book was pretty damn entertaining.
The biggest flaw I can think of was that the
alethiometer made shit a little too damn
easy sometimes, but what ya gonna do. I didn't really think about that until after I was finished reading, though, so I guess Philip Pullman did his job, that tricky dick!
I shall now pursue the sequels. They'd better be pretty ding-danged blasphemous, for all I've heard!