My Favorite Movies of 2013

2013 has come and gone and yet its contributions to the world of cinema remain.  I am here with a list of what I deem my 10 favorite movies of 2013.  Please note I am not deeming it “the best” movies of 2013, only my personal preferences.  I hope this list inspires spirited debate and shows you a movie or two you haven’t seen and encourages you to delve a bit deeper into this wondrous art form.  I’ll not delay any further dear readers!  Feast your eyes and brains on the following….

13. Dredd: This movie came out in 2012 but continues to make me want to slice off my own face with its sheer greatness.   Simply put, its awesomeness spilled over into 2013 and forced its much deserved inclusion here.  Gritty heroics don’t come much better than Dredd. 

12. The Dark Knight Returns: This one had a release schedule so tricky I considered drinking battery acid while grappling with its possibilities for inclusion on this much anticipated and soon to be much ballyhooed list.  In short, the movie was essentially divided into parts with each part adapting 2 issues of Frank Miller’s landmark 1984 four issue miniseries.  Part 1 was released sometime in that rustic, far off time of 2012 while Part 2 was released in early 2013. However the Brothers Warner – slave to the corruption of the ring – decided to release both parts as one full length feature in autumn 2013.  In the end (classic phrasing) and due to this scattered release schedule I could not on good faith include it on the list proper, hence this specialty placement.  DC Animated continues to put out exemplary filmic adaptations and reinterpretations on their classic stories and this is no exception.  It’s difficult to imagine any fan of the original comic – or of Batman, or of comic books in general – not feeling the excitement when watching this.  I won’t spoil the plot for the uninitiated save to say the story chronicles an aged Batman coming out of retirement for one last case wherein he must contend with a new rising threat in Gotham as well as several classic rogues and all culminating in a battle with a most unexpected adversary.  The comic remains a landmark of the genre and the movie adaptation only enhances its legacy. 

11. Hannibal: Savvy folk will be quick to point out this entry is not movie but in fact a television program on the NBC network.  This would explain its spot as number eleven on a classic ten item list yet you are no doubt wondering why it is even worthy at all of receiving a much coveted spot here.  Upon its initial announcement, no one in the history of mankind was more skeptical of a Hannibal Lecter TV show than yours truly.  I had a great literary love affair with the books while in middle school (where a physically abusive Wonder Woman was one of my most prominent fantasies, so little has changed in my life) and would eventually go on to view all the feature films.  For those who care to know: Manhunter and Hannibal are great and rank among my faves, Silence of the Lambs is quite good (I know I’m probably the only person in the universe to rank Hannibal above above Silence but I am no longer afraid of reprisals), Red Dragon is bad and Hannibal Rising is gosh-awful (great adaptation of the book in that regard).  Suffice it to say I was far from the only one who thought Dr. Lecter had long since been overexposed and rendered inert in that Freddy Krueger diminishing returns kind of way.  A TV show seemed like nothing more than a great way to put one last nail in that coffin.  But oh how delightfully wrong I was.  Hannibal is rich, elegant and sumptuous high art television.  The three leads – Hugh Dancy, Mads Mikkelsen and Laurence Fishburne – captivate while the intricate and unfolding tale and truly beautiful gore paint this narrative in the red stained hues of a legend reborn better than ever.  I will say it: Mikkelsen’s Lecter is superior to Hopkins and this show superior to any of the movies.   It warrants inclusion here because it is much more cinematic than most movies I saw this year (the elegance of the gore really cannot be overstated).  With the weight, pathos and body count of a Shakespearian tragedy it is a darkness I constantly long to enter again.  It restored my faith in television.  The fact that I love this show almost certainly means it will be cancelled after the next season. 

10.  See way down below.

9. The Counselor: Beginning my list proper with one of the most reviled movies of 2013 is certainly a bold, audacious move but it is precisely this risk taking attitude which brought me to where I am today.  This is such a fascinating movie and that is the key to my heart and its placement here.  This movie was generating great early buzz and why wouldn’t it?  Directed by Ridley Scott with a cast featuring Michael Fassbender, Penelope Cruz, Javier Bardem, Cameron Diaz and Brad Pitt and sporting the first ever screenplay by Cormac McCarthy, author of No Country for Old Men, The Road and Blood Meridian (or The Evening Redness in the West) it seemed tailor made for greatness.  Anticipation was certainly high right up until the movie was screened.  But where the Cohen brothers were somehow able to distill McCarthy’s clipped pulpy prose from No Country for Old Men into a brilliant film for the ages, The Counselor feels very much like one of his books transcribed to a movie.  Actors vomit reams of his trademark hardboiled dialogue with not a single line ever feeling natural.  Yet somehow my interest in this movie only grew stronger with each passing minute.  From Cameron Diaz’s now infamous windshield scene to a rather innovative garroting and the apocalyptical predictions of the denouement, I wanted nothing more than to watch this movie again once it was over.  I fully understand why this movie was so despised. But something eminently interesting will always be a thousand times more valuable to me than something generically good.  I cannot wait to purchase it on blu-ray and watch it 37 times in a row while etching a mark in my skin for each viewing.  It surely is a mess.  But what a glorious mess. 

8. Blancanieves: A black and white silent film retelling of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves set in 1920’s bullfighting Spain?  The hell you say!  That is certainly what I was saying when I first heard about this gem.  I was also intentionally slamming my hand repeatedly into my automobile door in frustration at having to endure yet another  Snow White movie after 2012’s lethal double dosage of the dull and forgettable Mirror Mirror and the too awful to forget Snow White and the Huntsman.  Yet here, against all odds and known natural laws of science, was an adaptation which felt fresh yet retained enough familiar elements that the effect was somewhat akin to having an old love try out a sexy new hair style.  Maribel Verdu has a reputation for being reliably great and her portrayal of the evil step mother is no exception.  However it is surely the two actresses which portray Snow White – Sofia Oria as the child and Macarena Garcia as the more grown up – which give the movie an incalculable charm and unexpected pathos and grace.  The accompanying flamenco soundtrack (the blu ray comes with a code for a free download of this!) and old Hollywood film style are the enriching spices which makes this a sumptuous retelling of a classic.

   

7. Prisoners: Dark, moody, atmospheric and above all: narratively compelling.  My heart was yearning for a fantastic mystery ever since every single one began to disappoint around the turn of the century.   The truly swell thing about this movie is the way it seems to plays to the standard convention of mysteries in the form of all the red herrings.  These initially all appear to be unrelated before a far more carefully constructed design is revealed. Basically – in a shell of nut – this is the movie I so wanted from The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.  Since this also features cinematography by Roger Deakins it means it is also the best looking movie of the year (just like last year’s Skyfall).  

6. Only God Forgives: After making three of the manliest movies ever in a row with Bronson, Valhalla Rising and Drive, what does director Nicolas Winding Refn do as an encore you are no doubt screaming at the top of your tar stained lungs.  He makes a flick which seems to undermine any of the obvious grand machismo of the former works while still giving us plenty of ironic tough guy moments to fully satisfy our inner heroic cavemen.  Essentially, he satiates our ever growing blood lust while also forcing us to think.  Those who call this movie Lynchian are only looking at the pretty colors and not paying attention whatsoever to the story or its thematic subtext (this is no insult to David Lynch whom I would gladly give my life for).  This exploration of the male id is thematically light years away from what makes Lynch’s movies tic.  Challenging in all the ways Drive was welcoming this movie can only be described as Winding-Refnian.  This flick also has my favorite fight scene of the year. 

5. Man of Steel: I will not go as sense shatteringly deep into this movie as I could because I plan on writing some kind of much longer Superman retrospective and film review(s).  My anticipation for this movie was almost as high as my anticipation for my own death.  And what did I get from it?  Probably my favorite live action Superman ever in Henry Cavill.  A great General Zod in Michael Shannon.  Wonderful, heartfelt scenes between Clark and his parents.  A fascinating Krypton .  Superman being Superman in equal measures uplifting and badass.  All this and a pitch perfect score by Hans “Paint Thinner” Zimmer.  I was feeling like garbage when I walked into the theatre and felt truly inspired when I left.  I’ll pull out the tired and lazy trick of asking myself questions one more time to finish this one.  Do I think this movie is perfect?  Absolutely not.  Are there things I want improved upon in future installments?  Most definitely.  Does it feel like I finally received the Superman movie I always wanted to see?  100% yes. 

4. To the Wonder: Ah Terrence Malick, how I await your every film, your every move.  It’s easy to describe this as a simple companion piece to The Tree of Life but that would do a great disservice to the narrative and emotional resonance.  In fact, any description would be a pointless endeavor and I love saying this because it means I can be lazy and write less.  There are so many lazy, worthless people in this world and I am one of them.  Malick’s movies are to be experienced.  Javier Bardem’s monologue near the end…there is nothing relevant I could say about it.  Malick’s movies portray a reality and a beauty I always search for in real life.  A spiritual movie. 

3. American Hustle: The latester which made a mad sprint for the finish line in the final moments of the race.  This is the freshest movie on the list for me and the one with the fewest viewings which means it has the potential to drop the farthest or even disappear from the list entirely at one point.  However my first impressions were so favorable that I considered going home and cleaning my flat and then slitting my wrists in the bathtub while listening to my favorite Enya album once it was all over.  The whole cast turns in uniformly great performances with Christian Bale and Amy Adams in particular providing some subtle and effective work amongst all the over the top debauchery.  The soundtrack also includes an amazing cover of Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit – one of my all time favorite songs – by Mayssa Karaa.  I cannot recall seeing a funnier movie this year, nor a movie whose running time passed by so briskly, simply leaving me basking in the sweaty afterglow and desperate for more.  The thematic heart of this movie is essentially quite simple: at any given moment we all cling to some kind of constructed dream, some kind of façade, to get us through life.  Yet this truth continued to hit me hard in the face over and over again with aplomb and humor in a deliriously satisfying example of art imitating life (imitating art).

2. The Hunt: This Danish flick came shockingly close to claiming my number one spot.  I think the only thing which stood in its way was my unusually good mood at the time of writing this post which prevented me from going with something on the more cynical side of things.  I won’t reveal any plot details here - and all you clowns who must first read the description on the back of the blu-ray case or from IMDB need to stop sucking the life out of humanity and learn how to grow the fuck up.  Those who have been reading my blog for the past 47 years will have noted my constant imaginary love affair with Mads Mikkelsen and his performance here is heartbreaking in its honesty.  A truly frightening non-horror movie that is frightening precisely for its accuracy of these occurrences and their consequences.  Highly recommended to all responsible adults.     

1. Before Midnight: There is something strange about commenting on a movie that is almost entirely dialogue.  I could focus on lead actors Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy and their pitch perfect performances.  The Greece setting is lovely to behold as is the accompanying soundtrack (Haris Alexiou’s song during the credits always melts my heart).  I could also say the look into a marriage – a look that applies to any long standing relationship – captures the complexity and emotional layers inherent to such a relationship better than almost any movie I can recall.  Honestly, I feel irresponsible saying these things because the movie is far more nuanced, eloquent and beautiful that my contributions here could not possibly add anything significant.  It was the most immersive and pleasurable cinematic experience I had this year.  I think the only relevant thing about this film I can say is this: If Before Midnight is truly the end for these characters then it is ending on what is so far the best note of the series.  But this film makes me hope this series never ends.  Beautiful. 

And there you have it!  List done, load shot.  Nothing left to do but drink a bottle of wine and pass out on the sofa.  Yet there are still a couple more items to discuss, including that mysterious tenth movie which was somehow left off the list.

That #10 left off the list: Lords of Salem: Rob Zombie borrows liberally from Ken Russell, Roman Polanksi, Stanley Kubrick and some other hip folk to make a movie which still could somehow only come from his mind and which is easily the best and most stylish movie of his career.  Zombie is easily one of the best directors in horror today and one of the only true auteurs of the genre.  The imagery in this is incredibly striking – everything from makeup to lighting – and the lead performance by Sheri Moon Zombie is invaluable and light years ahead of her previous work.  The atmosphere is suffocating in its creeping thickness and the way Zombie flips the standard horror conventions of witches, demons and genre music is deserving of all manner of praise.  In terms of pure artistry this easily belongs on my list so why it’s mysterious exclusion?  Honestly, the seemingly pro Satan message frightened me a bit too much and it became difficult to promote or recommend in that regard.  The fact that it is not actually on the list but instead listed here would seem to make no difference whatsoever but I never said I was intelligent.    

Here a few honorable mentions to keep the fun rolling:

Riddick: Chronicles of Riddick disappointed for its reach far exceeding its grasp.  This latest installment returns the series to its Pitch Black roots and it is the far better movie for that reason.  Highbrow fools call this sci-fi schlock.  Yet this is obviously a passion project and I call it art.   

Smashed: blu ray release in 2013, theatrical in ‘12, great study of an alcoholic couple and what happens when one decides to quit drinking. 

Enough Said: Honest, charming and heartfelt romance, could easily work its way up the list in due time and with subsequent viewings. 

The Conjuring: Great American horror movie.  I almost died of shock at there being 2 great American horror movies made this year.  This was one of my most fun theatre experiences in ages.  Still not quite sure of its staying power but that first trip was a righteous doozy! 

All is Lost: Robert Redford and the sea.  Lots of water.  Lots of Redford.  Oddly captivating. 

Out of the Furance: Bale broods, Affleck rages, Harrelson terrifies, the movie grits and grinds and hits hard. 

The Iceman: Michael Shannon doing his thing as mob-enforcer family man.  Lightweight but engaging. 

I considered making a list of the worst or most disappointing movies of 2013 but then reconsidered.  There is already so much negativity in the world.  Still, I’d be remiss in not mentioning at least a few.  Gangster Squad is too easy but it was also a movie of pure unadulterated horseshit.  And I cannot recall any movie in recent memory which matched the dull, bloated uselessness of World War Z, a movie made me want to eat my own feces.  As for three independent (because indie superiority makes me so mad) movies – one drama and one horror and one documentary (or however you would classify Room 237) – which had insane amounts of buzz and to which critics lavished altar like praise but which disappointed me almost as much as my own life, those can only be Upstream Color, Berberian Sound Studio and Room 237.  But what do I know?  I’m just a guy trying to earn a living. 

And there we have it!  What great joy it is to engross oneself in the art of cinema, no matter how good or bad!  I hope my dear fans enjoyed reading this post as much as I enjoyed writing.  I’ll see you all back here real soon for more epic tales of my useless existence and be sure to tune in this time next year for the best movies of 2014 (the new Hercules movies and I, Frankenstein are already fighting for a coveted spot)!

Prologue to a uh

Why is it so difficult for me to play the game? 

The other day I was driving around late at night with a saxophone on the seat next to me and I was suddenly struck by all the meaninglessness everywhere.  I wish I had untold millions of dollars so I could purchase every DC Comics Archive which has ever been released in the history of mankind.  Then I would line them up on gorgeous oak bookshelves and drool while staring at the numbered spines.  Then I would pay voluptuous Latina prostitutes to read them to me while using my face as their footrests.  I think I’m going to buy the Criterion blu-ray of Days of Heaven today but don’t quote me on it.  I have been misquoted too many times before, especially by the left-wing muckrakers at The New York Times.  The Times is such a toxic periodical I sometimes wrap several copies around my face in the hopes the poisonous vapors will extinguish my futile existence.  Alas, it seems I’ve built up an immunity to toxins over the years, no doubt through my various criminal enterprises and well documented experiments with chemicals and narcotics.  

At some point in the next 457 days I would like to purchase another volume of the Superman Chronicles.  Holy shit I love golden age comic books.  There is an elegance and beauty in their simplistic art and storytelling.  If only my life were more like a golden age comic book perhaps I wouldn’t be such an ugly, fat-faced sack of garbage.  But I probably still would be.  Even in the golden age not everything was golden.  But Superman in particular I love because he has such a good and pure heart.  His is an example I catastrophically fail to emulate each and every day.  I always hoped Jim Caviezel would play Superman and he was my top choice for the role since the early forties.  However now it seems this was simply not meant to be.  Still, if Warner Bros. ever decides to make a live action filmic adaptation of Kingdom Come or any other type of future Superman story where the character is portrayed as a bit older then Caviezel would still be top choice.  Interesting how Caviezel stated playing Jesus Christ greatly damaged his career (though he also added he would do it all over again).  Interesting that this would be controversial.  I know far too many people who are not tolerant of any beliefs or way of thinking other than their own.  I have been described as a misanthrope.  I wish I had a future…anywhere.    

If I were tasked with selecting my favorite John Frusciante album I would no doubt start by dropping large piles of excrement into my rent trousers due to the stress.  Frusciante’s discography is rife with amazing material.  I can’t deny Shadows Collide with People holds a special place in my heart but could that be considered my favorite?  What about the bleak yet endearing Niandra Lades or the cleansing return to form To Record Only Water for Ten Days?  Still, I lean a bit towards The Will to Death but then I think: what about the acoustic elegance of Curtains or the stormy, impassioned The Empyrean.  And fuck, what about the electronic gumfuddlingly angular and brain-tittingly righteous PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone which I have pretty much listened to 897 times a day since it was released last year? 

Lately I have been having intense, burning while I urinate desires to purchase a synthesizer.  I’ve narrowed it down to 233 choices but I will likely only be able to afford 2.  After purchasing a synthesizer the next necessary purchase will soft slash hard ware for recording my great avant-garde musical expressions.  You, dear readers, will likely be the first to have their earholes blessed with my muzak. 

The older I get the more I become a stew of bizarre fetishes.  Truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’ve recently been burning my way through a collection of used blu-rays.  There are so many books I need and want to read I sometimes wonder if I will ever find the time or if I am simply destined to die a worthless and ugly man.  The amount of time I spend doing things which mean nothing to me is shocking.  People are a mass of contradictions.  Something which is acceptable one moment is reprehensible the next.  Something flattering at dawn is offensive at dusk.   Something is coveted for a single minute and then forgotten in the following one.  No one is guiltier of this than yours truly.  

I loved her belt.  I wished to compliment her on the belt but I did not have the guts.  I didn’t have the testicular fortitude.  I didn’t have the chops.  I couldn’t cut the mustard.  That fact will haunt me for the rest of my days and render me impotent in the zaniest of situations.  How I long for a woman who would break a plate over my head.  If I am at all honest with myself and my constituents it wasn’t simply the belt I loved but also what was lurking underneath the belt.  Oh sweet glory.  And thank you department store for all the different colors.  Seeing is believing as they say.  

The treadmill scene in Season 8 of Dexter is one of the best scenes ever filmed in the history of television.  Those who have not yet seen it will know what I am talking about when they do and their lives will never be the same.  When next we meet you will all be telling me what amazing taste I have but the funny thing is I am already well aware of this fact.  

Batman Returns is my favorite Christmas movie and one of my favorite films of all effing time.  I love the divisive nature of this movie.  I love to love it.  That’s the great thing I can say about anything I love – from a piece of music to the most bizarre fetish – I love to love it.  I have felt so connected to the bass recently.  What a beautiful instrument.  It is the perfect instrument for me, how I love a fat bottom end.  Bass humping the face, that’s what I always need.  How I love a fat bottom end humping my face. 

For obvious reasons, Never Say Never Again is my probably my favorite James Bond movie.

I'll kneel before you if it will save lives

Last night I watched the movie Watchmen again.  It filled me with the same sense of unbridled joy which always comes with viewing this film.  How I love it so.  Immediately after I reached for my well-read but still well preserved copy of the trade paperback and started re-reading all my favorite parts – not realizing until untold hours later I had just re-read the entire story once more.  Watchmen truly is one of my favorite literary works and I often cling the trade paperback to my bosom the way a child clings to a beloved and comforting plush bear.  It is a fully absorbing and inspirational work.  Likewise the film also has a spot amongst my all-time favorites.  Mark my words: Watchmen (the movie) will one day be held in supremely high regard in the cinematic world.  I predict a 2001: A Space Odyssey-like resurgence in critical and popular opinion.  I am often correct about these things.  I wisely predicted back in my review of I'm With You by the Red Hot Chili Peppers blog post from September 4th, 2011 that Ben Affleck would one day don the cape and cowl of the dark knight (though some predictions I wish would never come true.  Still, I am doing my level best to remain optimistic). 

It’s occurred to me recently U2 are one of my favorite bands. This occurs to me at least once a week.  What more could possibly be said about Achtung Baby?   Tis’ only one of the greatest albums ever made and I say that with all the authority of a man who has not listened to nearly all of the albums ever made.  I feel so bad for those misguided fools who cut themselves off from entire decades of music.  What pathetic parasites that deserve all the hate in the world.  It makes me want to take hammer to nails and build a log cabin out in the wilderness where I would live off the land and never have to see their vile faces again. 

I watched the movie Out of the Furnace this weekend and before the feature presentation there was a slew of previews of coming attractions.  The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug arrives at the multiplex this Friday and even though I have no real interest or desire in seeing it I am certain I will.  Not sure what other movies I’m looking forward to this year.  November and December are those ultra-tacky months with all the miserable award-bait movies.  How the academy disgusts me.  How award-bait movies repulse me.  I don’t reckon The Hobbit will be an awards-bait movie (especially considering the not-great critical reception of its predecessor) so perhaps I should be more excited for that movie.  Honestly, I cannot recall when I was more looking forward to watching a movie as much as The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug.  I still need to get my hands on the director’s cut of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.  I wonder what uncut goodness has been added to the film! Perhaps another 27 rousing hours in Bilbo’s house, washing dishes and singing songs!  Maybe another 19 hours of running in tunnels from horrible CGI goblins!  Perhaps each and every scene was simply extended even further, thus ensuring that a single line from the book now takes 59 hours to unfold on screen rather than the previously rushed 34. 

Fantasy fans are amongst the absolute worst when it comes to arguing about adaptations or taking personally a criticism of their favorite works.  So to that end I will just say to all you Hobbit fans (movie, I enjoyed the book) out there that I respect your opinion and believe there is room enough in this vast, ever expanding crazy universe for all types.  I will be there opening night for this new adventure in Middle-Earth though I am a bit worried since Benedict Cumberbatch played the Necromancer in the first one and is now playing Smaug in this one and I fear I may confuse the characters throughout the entire film!

Transitioning back to the more level-headed and calm world of comic book movies, all everyone on the planet has been discussing this past week is the announcement of Gal Gadot playing Wonder Woman and the news of this character set to appear in the upcoming sequel to Man of Steel which may or may not be a Superman vs. Batman movie (though it definitely has Ben Affleck as Batman).  I cannot recall another movie in the history of my worthless life which has subjected me to such a consistent and dramatic fluctuation of emotional highs and lows, each devastating in their impact.  To say the news of this casting broke the planet into a billion irreparable pieces would be the gross understatement of the millennium.  Reaction to this casting choice has been mixed at best with many folks and sites throwing out some particularly venomous comments.  I would not be much of a smelly comics fan if I did not throw my 2% of one dollar American currency into the mix so here goes less than nothing:

I am a huge fan of Wonder Woman and have been so for untold centuries.  It is true that she cannot claim the number one spot on my list of favorite superheroes on a particularly consistent basis though she can claim it at least a few times a year and this is something which cannot be said for 99% of the rest.  She is simply a great character.  I am deeply in love with her.  The combination of beauty, power, intelligence, compassion and sexuality is utterly irresistible to me and in a future blog post I would like to delve uncomfortably deep in what I find so fascinating and wonderful (haha) about this character (icon).  I have not seen any of Ms. Gadot’s work (for better or worse I tend to avoid the Fast and Furious movies) so I cannot comment on her acting.  At this point it is largely irrelevant anyway without any idea of the story or the size of her role.  Comic book movies have a rich history of casting not-as-well-known actors to great success.  As far as acting is concerned I am far more worried about Mr. Affleck.  So instead I am going to be a jerk and comment on her physical appearance like everyone else is doing.  Then I can happily be labeled superficial or chauvinistic or some other delightful thing.  She looks too skinny.  There.  I said it.  It’s all out in the open now.  It’s been twisting around in my stomach since I first saw the announcement. 

I know, I know, I’m being a superficial jerk but the look is without a doubt a significant part of this character (as are my heated S&M style fantasies).  I know, I know, I’m also not paying attention to history.  Plenty of actors have been deemed too skinny or short or out of shape or just wrong for these types roles and again and again have proven living jokes like me wrong (Henry Cavill most recently and Heath Ledger quite famously).  Why, just a couple years ago I was screaming to anyone in earshot how Tom Hardy did not look physically imposing at all and would not be a credible Bane but I was proven so wrong I should have been forced to watch The Hobbit: A Long Drawn Out Journey again before being subjected to  The White Stripes entire discography.  Additionally, from interviews I’ve seen, Ms. Gadot is very personable, very charismatic and yes, very pretty, which are all qualities inherent to the character.  I am ashamed of my fanboy self just as I try to resist his pull.  I want nothing more than to be proven completely wrong (as I happily often am) by a photo or piece of footage and to then be ridiculed for ever doubting.  I was so happy to hear that one of my favorite characters (from any medium) was going to finally have a big screen debut and I want that feeling to only grow.  And so I will focus only on that feeling from now on.  I am sorry Gal, you deserve so much better.  The negativity is all out of my system.  I can now be cautiously optimistic. 

Regardless of all the misgivings I've discussed in this insightful blog post I must now express pure happiness at simply being able to watch so many movies!  Watchmen, Out of the Furnace, The Hobbit, the upcoming Superman vs. Batman and introducing Wonder Woman and featuring Everyone in the World!  Regardless of whether I love or hate something I am just so gosh darn thankful to the powers that be for the opportunity to view it all!  And what a great time to be a nerd!  At what other point in cinematic history could we witness a Hobbit trilogy and the makings of a Superman vs. Batman movie?  Repulsion from director Roman Polanski is so captivating and the Criterion blu-ray so beautiful that I am tempted to simultaneously gouge out both my eyeballs with a horseshoe just from thinking about it.  I like to have binge marathons where I watch Repulsion, The American Friend and La Nave de los Monstruos 17 times in a row at 5 minutes past every hour. 

I have been thinking of getting the logo of my favorite XFL team tattooed on my back while waiting for the new season to start.  

What have they done to the earth?

I can’t be the only one who thinks the chorus melody to the song Alien by Britney Spears (track 1 off her new album Britney Jean) sounds like the pre-chorus melody to the song Behind Blue Eyes by The Who.  Or can I?  Spears’ new album is unusually restrained; a gentler, slower burn of a disc following the dance heavy trifecta of Blackout, Circus and Femme Fatale.  That does not inherently make it less interesting musically speaking or less vital in her catalog though this is not the only reason the album initially stands out as something of an oddity.  The shortened length and lack of promotion does make one initially wonder if the album exists more as an advertisement for her Las Vegas residency and less as a serious minded artistic statement (either way the timing is very likely not a coincidence).  Highbrow folk may be quick to point out the slew of writers and producers which worked on this record as something which would preclude any artistry whatsoever (I was almost tempted to follow this logic when I saw how much credit is given to the odious Will.I.Am).  

However I have always found something of a strange nobility and artistry in extremely glossy over-produced pop music and Spears’ oeuvre is no exception.  Certainly, Ms. Spears herself has stated this is a more personal work and one expressly crafted as a “thank you” to the fans.  And the songs themselves are already yielding trademark production intricacies along with some surprisingly yearning vocals.  The icy synths of this release cascade before me like a shimmering bubblegum snowfall.  In this way perhaps it would be better to draw comparisons to Nine Inch Nails’ 2008 album The Slip.  This was an album given minimal promotion (receiving more attention for the innovative way it was released rather than for any of the music), spawned only one single and was a good deal shorter than the releases which preceded and followed it.  Yet Trent Reznor also noted that The Slip was for the fans first and foremost and seemed quite proud of the work.  Years later it remains one of my favorite Nine Inch Nails releases.  Indeed, part of its charm is actually its shorter length and rougher edges which provide a fittingly dramatic counter-point to the more layered and polished records by this artist.  How Britney Jean will stack up in upcoming years and what place of stature it will fine in her catalog remains to be seen of course.  But I am interested to find out. 

It seems she is single now.  I remember with vivid Technicolor clarity the very first time I saw her.  It was a standard mournful, depressing morning – the likes of which rear their ugly faces at the start of each and every punishing day in my failed life – and I had fixed myself a lofty bowl of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes (the ones with the colorful cock on the box) and switched on the television, anxious to suckle a bit on the glass teat before beginning what was sure to be a miserable, worthless day.  Images flickered across the screen and before my eyes like flipping through a picture book of corruption: killers on the city bus, people slaughtering entire families, teenagers succumbing to drugs and gang violence, girls getting pregnant while in 6^th grade, racial discrimination, political corruption, wars overseas, wanton acts of terrorism everywhere.  Can one blame me for feeling disgusted?  What vile creatures we are.  

But then.  

Then.  

Then I happened I stop on the E! network and suddenly all the world’s problems and all the disgusting humanity wreaking (while also reeking) their typical and repugnant havoc across the planet seemed far away.  The smoke began to disappear and I could make out the figure of a woman.  A voluptuous goddess taming everything with her spirit of peace and nurturing and in that moment I felt all was going to be okay.  I set my bowl of aside and called in sick to whatever pointless job I had at the time.  The latest issue of TV Guide informed me I was catching the early stages of a 4 hour marathon and there was nothing which would tear me away from this pure, exquisite vision; she was love, she was everything. 

I watched her crack an egg open and allow the yolk to fall into her hand.  It stayed there for a moment and then slowly she allowed the liquid to slip through her fingers and into a waiting bowl before letting the entire yolk fall in after.  This was glorious, indefinable sex.  How wet my immediate surroundings became that day.  And everything from the pastels of her wardrobe to her hair – as dark and rich as the chocolate she loved to eat – to her teasing accented voice, only drew me deeper into her wonderful caloric web.  Oh how she savored her creations.  How I longed for her to roll me up as though I were a ball of cookie dough and playfully plop me into her mouth like all the delectable food she makes and then crush me between her glorious white teeth and then roll me against the roof of her mouth with her elegant tongue while her hot saliva begins to drown me.   Perhaps I would become inadvertently wedged in between two of her molars and she would have to be rough and push me out with said tongue.  And before she swallows me she tells me in her posh accent how tasty and yet how pathetic and ugly and useless I am.  Beautiful. 

Last night I had a rather horrifying dream involving a woman named Lynda with whom I actually went on a date a few months ago.  In the dream I found her somewhere – it felt like a house I used to live in but everything looked a little off – and she was extremely visibly shaken.  I asked her what was wrong and she related to me a history of alien abduction, with 5 experiences taking place all within the past two weeks.  She started to cry while describing the appearance of the aliens and suddenly I was able to see them too and I then joined her in the crying.  I spent the rest of the dream desperately trying to convince her that she was dreaming or suffering from strange hallucinations but I did not truly believe this.  When I awoke I spent the rest of the night with the blanket pulled over my head, still trying to convince myself her experiences in my dream were only dreams themselves.  It did not entirely work.  

I really don’t think this texting thing is going to catch on. 

A fight to the death in the tunnel of love

If there is one thing I am attracted to in a woman it is when she uses a Bumpit in her hair.  I once worked at a very high profile jewelry store in a commercial mall where I frequently racked up millions of dollars in sales – earning a commission on every penny sold which I would immediately turn around and invest in low risk mutual funds in wise anticipation of the market dipping.  Each day, while walking through the mall on the way to the jewelry store I would pass a Mexican restaurant which employed literally thousands of tempestuous waitresses.  During this moment in my daily sojourn I would turn my head in their direction and walk using only my peripheral vision.  I would pay particular attention to a delightful and full-figured hostess (as full as a ham on rye sandwich stuffed with delicious meat and dripping condiments) who happened to sport a Bumpit.  I do not believe she ever caught my lecherous leers and likely knew nothing about the rich array of fantasy she inspired.  I imagined climbing her Bumpit enhanced hair like a mountain, only to lose my foot on some uncertain strands and fall screaming to my death.  I imagined her lowering her head and charging me like a bull and crushing my stomach with the iron like strength of her Bumpit where I would then subsequently die of internal bleeding and in extreme pain.  I imagined a swarm of enraged killer wasps flying out from her hive like hair and stinging me millions of times until those wonderful final, feverish moments. 

Day after day I would stare into that glorious restaurant, imagining what I would say to her if given even half the chance.  I wanted to reach my hand out with the promise of taking her away from all the sweaty resignation of common, everyday life.  In that scenario I liked to imagine her pulling out a heretofore hidden machete (perhaps carefully stocked away inside her towering Bumpit hair) and swiftly chopping off my arm at the elbow Jason Vorhees style.  After years of careful consideration I finally decided I would walk right up to her and say, “Hi, is that a Bumpit in your hair or are you just happy to see me?”  I said this out loud to myself in a quiet and red colored room to get a feel for how the words sounded when making contact with the air.  The cleverness of this line caused me to erupt in childlike fits of laughter and the joy was so great that I was only able to quash my enthusiasm by taking a sharp and sterilized Exacto knife [which I’d pilfered from a local middle school science lab after doing a presentation there on monotremes (egg-laying mammals) – a subject which I became something of an expert on after a lengthy study abroad and following several papers which were published in widely respected periodicals Scientific American and Popular Science] and making three 5.9 inch cuts along the inside of my left thigh.  I then doused the cuts in rubbing alcohol and sat on my bed staring at a hole in the wall where I was convinced lived a man who had seven kids, each of them telling me to commit unspeakable acts.  When I finally worked up the courage to step foot inside that restaurant and speak to this woman I was crushed to find she had quit.  For the following eleven weeks I ate 9 double cheeseburgers a day in order to cope with the loss.  At the end of each day I would look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and tell myself it was all going to be okay and one day I would be able to love again. 

There is a big ugly hole in things and I do not know how to fix it.  This cannot be what was intended.  I once called it a social disease (cleverly quoting from Bon Jovi) and was told I sounded like a Republican.  What is this horrifyingly empty life we create for ourselves?  Every single day I have at least one moment which borders on sheer panic as I confront things so profoundly empty and repulsive.  Some of these things want to reach out and touch me.  Some of them even have intimate knowledge of me and are so blind they actually believe there is a point.  There is nothing inside any of them and sometimes I have to wonder if they are real or simply a terrifying illusion from a tortured dreamer’s mind.  In those instances I am not sure who exactly the dreamer is…but I think I know where he or she or it may be living.  Oh god please get away please don’t touch me don’t come near me why do you talk to me why do they all talk to me how can they not see how disgusting it is how wrong all of it is why all this waste and emptiness how we can go on thinking that everything is okay fuck it is so repulsive it is so fucking repulsive please don’t let me see it anymore oh god what is happening all the thoughts inside my head are crashing against one another I can’t think at all I can’t see anything except horrible ugly fucking faces and one massive creeping soul that eats every fucking thing exists only to eat and hate and fuck endless fucking oh please oh god oh please what is happening to me

At long last the trailer for The Strange Colour of Your Body’s Tears was released yesterday. I watched it 267 times while at work and an additional 471 times while relaxing in my posh flat and sipping on a glass of Pinot Noir.  I have often found myself wishing my life would begin to mimic the plot outline for a Giallo but so far this has not come to pass.  Needless to say this is going to be one of those movies I look forward to almost as much as my own demise and the months will pass like millennia until I am finally privileged to view whatever limited release it may have.  Additionally, since the waiting and anticipation has been so intense – and coupled with my passion for the horror genre, Giallos and anything with a surrealist kinetic style – I will surely convince myself I love this film regardless of how truly amazing or truly awful it is.  I wish I had a future, anywhere.     

It’s that time of year again ladies and germs!  The time has come where I prepare a list of my favorite movies, music and reads of two-zero-thirteen.  My lists are going to set the whole town on fire!  Hold on to your asses because these next few weeks are going to see a lot of great updates and hog-wrangling excitement!  It’s going to be the literary equivalent of someone shooting their spunk into your eye and then slapping you across the face with a lightly seasoned poached salmon.  Can anyone guess right now what my favorite movie of ’13 is?  I will give you all a hint: it could be a cute and clever movie about slugs that enter a racing competition.  Still can’t figure it out?  Don’t worry, in time all will be revealed.  However I can for sure tell you that The Strange Colour of Your Body’s Tears will definitely be on my list of the best movies of 2014!  Already a freebie and the year hasn’t even started yet!

That’s right, you keep pumping em' out and we’ll keep paying for em'.