No roundup of critical opinion regarding the new John Cusack stinkbomb "The Raven" would be complete without having Rufus Wilmot Griswold himself weigh in on the matter. As you can imagine, the movie just killed him.
"I spent eleven dollars and nearly two hours of my afterlife for the privilege of sitting in stunned silence amongst fewer than three dozen other movie-goers, all of whose enjoyment of the movie was at first spoilt by some creep hurling obscenities at the on-screen Poe… Until at length the usher told me to quiet down or I would be escorted out of the theater."
"I’ve no complaint regarding the film’s portrayal of Poe as a drunk, a drug addict, a madman & a litterbug; I am in fact pleased to see that my posthumous characterization of the Poet Inebriate is alive and well!"
I say no more. Just head on over to the Reverend's place (enemy territory though it may be) and enjoy reading a truly fine tomahawking. Much as it goes against my principles to give this particular Devil his due, I can now say that "The Raven" has finally been given the critical respect it deserves.
A footnote. [Mild spoiler alert--as if I could spoil this thing more than the filmmakers already have.] Regarding the "dramatic climax" of this movie: Does anyone remember how a novel, which later became a film, called "The Vanishing," ended? It's obvious the writers of "The Raven" remember it very well, except that they made a complete botch of it. The bloody idiots can't even steal very well.
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