There are days, people, when you find that you are not the most miserable being on earth; when you realize that you have not yet raised misanthropy, though a way of life for you, to an art form; and when you know, you just know, that you are a sick fuck. And damn, those are good days, because you are now laughing hysterically at someone even more bitter than you. I give you: The 16mm Shrine, "An examination, exploration, and celebration of what drives society to create things like Rocky and expect us to watch them. God, I hate movies. And now you will, too."
I love movies, but I also have quickly fallen in love with the way this man dissects them. On The Brothers Grimm: "Terry Gilliam and I have never really gotten along. I find his comedy too broad, his metaphors too obvious, and his pacing too panicked and frantic, like the last few seconds of a homemade sex tape after the condom breaks. He, in turn, finds me crude, endlessly repetitive, and rigidly formal in my deliberate soullessness, like an engineer running trains to Buchenwald. I don’t think he’s met a wide-angle lens he hasn’t liked, and he’s been known to comment that I go through similes like a junkie collapsing veins."
He liked (relatively) The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which I just saw this weekend. I came home and was going to blog about it, but then I realized all the details of the movie had fallen right out of my brain. I remember laughing, but I don't know why. That's why I have to say I enjoyed Wedding Crashers more (though our boy Ash did not). I'd post more links, but just read the archives your damn self, you lazy bastards. (Okay, wait, read this one about Sin City. And this one about Star Wars.)
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