Intersecting adventurous clips, securely stashed in a spell; wandering blindly baffling blips, serving to cast off a shell.
The forest provides what the hapless surrenders, riddle me opaque bouquets.
Paths intertwining, confidence rendered, lushly air brushing the haze.
The narrator holds things together.
It's not to be taken seriously, Into the Woods, according to his unconcerned tone, as if, even though the events that take place have paramount repercussions, love, happiness, giants, they're still simply banal and insignificant.
This aspect is captured in the film's focus on preparation as opposed to orchestration, apart from the accumulation of necessities, the land of the giants remaining overtly off limits, the balls Cinderella (Anna Kendrick) attends, never actively showcased.
Brilliant way to save money.
It also explains how easily the Baker (James Corden) and his wife (Emily Blunt) acquire the bizarre knick-knacks they must find, the humdrum coronation of the fantastical, realistically equipped with sensation.
The songs are kind of fun.
Evil is punished, good natures, rewarded.
It wasn't enough to keep me captivated, although I did revel in its mischief.
The middle-class finds salvation.
Paths lined with embowering gold.
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