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Republished today in memory of Michael Parks, our own Howard Howe.
I became acquainted with a Walrus when I was lost at sea.
I would describe Tuskas a horror-comedy. I really would. I’d also describe it as the most atrocious, upsetting, horrific concept I’ve ever had to wrap my head (and my poor, poor eyes) around. So, while Kevin Smith will offer you his usual jokes, I cannot be responsible for how many of you will not find this funny. Just not even a little bit at all.
Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage. If we know ourselves, we’re always home, anywhere. – Glinda the Good
If I’m being honest with you, it’s taken me far too long to write and publish this post. I knew months ago that The Wiz was a film that should be revisited and spoken about critically; not just as a cult classic ’70s era musical, but as a standout political and humanitarian statement pertinent to our times.
But I put it off: week after week. I’ll upset people. Someone will get mad. I thought it wasn’t my place. I’d overstep my bounds. I’m a white girl. This is a black film, right? It isn’t my story.
The Lobster is the kind of movie you’re going to need to see twice.
The Lobster (2016)
Because lobsters live for over one hundred years, are blue-blooded like aristocrats, and stay fertile all their lives. I also like the sea very much.
Three times. Possibly four. You’re going to need the appropriate amount of viewings to sort it all out. One, to feel uncomfortable. Two, to understand why you feel that way. Repeat ad nauseam until some sort of cathartic experience is had (*note – it may never come).
Yelchin passed away Sunday morning in Los Angeles.
Taking a look today, I’m struck even more that at only 27 he has left us with such a large reel of film.
If you recognize only his face, it’s probably from the latest Star Trek franchise. Yelchin was funny and bright in that part. A scene stealer to be sure. You can see him play Chekov one last time in Star Trek Beyond, in theaters next month.
If you’ve been following Yelchin’s career (and it has been a career’s worth of work), you know he’s been around a very long time.
“You have to have men that are moral, and at the same time able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill; without feeling, without passion, without judgement. Because it’s judgement that defeats us.”
– Colonel Kurtz, Apocalypse Now
Apocalypse Now (1979)
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Drop the bomb! Exterminate them all!
When I think about Apocalypse Now, I think about where it ends – in a green, foggy haze. Marlon Brando mumbling a mantra equal parts survivalist and absurdist. Crazy-eyed Martin Sheen wielding a machete under orange lights, while Vietnamese men perform a ritual ax murder of a (literal) golden calf. This is a surrealist film, right?
It’s two days into March and I’m bringing an official (and officially late) end to #ChickFlickFebruary. I wanted to end with something classic. I wanted to end with something new and different. I had a strong desire for something with a bit of a twang, maybe a Southern Belle, and crazy rich mothers with a lot of absurd rules for their precious daughters. I figured I’d watch The Notebook. It was also suggested I watch Boy Meets Girl.
Made a decade apart, there are many reasons these films might be seen as polar opposites. What’s most striking, though, is that their differences are totally unremarkable.
The Notebook (2004)
I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, that has always been enough.
This is the new classic, isn’t it? This is the movie women supposedly sit down and watch with a cup of tea, a box of kleenex, and/or a pint of ice cream (depends on how much crying you’re planning on doing – that shit melts).
Shame on me for assuming Philomena would be precisely the type of “based-on-a-true-story” sentimental feature I hate. Shame on me, because Stephen Frears’ Philomena is a great deal more than that.
Because ‘human interest story’ is a euphemism for stories about weak-minded, vulnerable, ignorant people, to fill newspapers read by vulnerable, weak-minded, ignorant people. Not that you are.
That quote said it all, and it said it within the first fifteen minutes of the film. It was said by Steve Coogan, playing Martin Sixsmith, telling one woman why another elderly woman’s story wasn’t worth writing about. It was curt, honest, cruel, and wrong. And clear that what Mr. Sixsmith was really referring to, were stories about women, for women. Those are the stories not worth writing about.
Philomena does a great deal to prove that notion wrong.
Deadpool could have been worse. It could have been better. But this is not a place for aimless thumbs up or down or to the side reviews – this is a place for critique. And there is A LOT to critique in Deadpool.
You look like Freddy Kruger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.
You may have heard a lot about Deadpool without actually knowing anything about Deadpool. Consider me your compatriot. I am not a consumer of comic books (save the Alan Moore graphic novel or two), and I could not have told you before the previews for this movie whether Deadpool was a Marvel or DC creation, what made him super, or what was with the full coverage red body suit.
But I found myself in the theatre this week because I had heard no less than ten interesting things about Deadpool, one of which involved a scene wherein our superhero gets “pegged” (more on that later).