• Seven Psychopaths

    Seven Psychopaths


    I tend not to accuse films of being overwritten, because I dig hard on a lot of dreary slavic or pretentiously japanese shit out there, with the full knowledge my lack of linguistic cultural osmosis means I’m missing out on reference, allegory, nuance and other tiny but significant details that only come from being an actual participant in said culture. that said, this movie is bonkers overwritten in a way that hearkens back, way back, to that glossy mid nineties…

  • The Village

    The Village

    in 2004 when this came out I almost got kicked out of the theater for howling laughter at the “big reveal*” and in the end of the year of our lord 2021 my boss came into my office to ask me why I was laughing myself nearly to tears and not understanding why I was chortling out “the…the present! it’s the present!” and cackling. 

    *bruh this might be the dumbest fuckin twist ever I swear to god eighties cheapo exploitation slashers put more thought into set-up than this clown ass corny fuckin pilgrim a well then there motherfucker bullshit

  • Body Snatchers

    Body Snatchers


    I know this one gets shit on a lot for being a woozy post-fuck-you-Reagan “military obedience as hive mind” obvious commentary flick but honestly I just wish Ferrera had made more scifi. everything here is pretty sweaty and gooey and wild-eyed and who’s doing that now? Clair Fuckin’ Denis. and everyone says that French number is a true artist. so what I’m saying is slap Fererra’s hands away from whatever nonsense airport-thriller bullshit he’s making now and just have him make High Life 2: Now With Even More Cum! I could be a Hollywood exec, this shit is easy.

  • The Funeral

    The Funeral


    Artie Bucco punched the piss out of Vincent Gallo while making this movie and frankly that makes this “Abel Ferrera does a cute lil Cassavettes movie” brooding nihilistic criminal drama all the better. is it King Of New York? no, no. what is. does it slap? sure it slaps. ending had me both hooting and hollering. Gloria Trillo is uh this too. I know both her and Artie have real names but Sopranos is life, bruh. I’m so glad it’s having a memessaince. back to The Funeral; pretty good! Abel Ferrera ya goofball.

  • Robin Hood

    Robin Hood

    at least I got to see Ben Mendelsohn eat a lemon.

  • The Humans

    The Humans


    I can only speak for myself, but as a charismatic lad with somewhere between one-to-three antisocial personality disorders, I would rather be held hostage with a shotgun aimed at my perpetually exhausted mug than I would willingly go to a dinner party where the talk is all of family and careers and oh dontcha know. I know some people love that shit and can’t get enough but for me that’s the real nihilistic dark underbelly of suburbia, the living autopsy…

  • Stalker



    if you could get something you wanted more than anything, wouldn’t you, correspondingly, do anything to get it? 

    on my quest to see every Strugatsky adaptation (even the shitty, goofy ‘89 Hard To Be A God) Stalker rants number two among them for the bleak tone, hostile philosophizing, arrogant desire, and russoaesthetic of it all. sometimes when some pleb I know complains about all those old artsy scifi movies where nothing happens I think about how this must go over…

  • The Beatles: Get Back

    The Beatles: Get Back

    Tomorrow Never Knows is tight as hell but I’ve always been a Stones guy. I like drugs and sex, I guess. I think I got only fifty minutes into chaff cheek blimey guv’nor bloody shame innit chips crisps oi lift lorry british rambling before giving up. I prefer my documentaries to be about the liberation from cruelty or the cruelty of an indifferent world, or whatever Herzog is on about. I’d watch a Herzog Beatles doc in a second. 


  • The Switchblade Sisters

    The Switchblade Sisters


    Jack Hkll xp blo. S babe
    Knife  oghrt clenched down. Goldenc goos shit. Hammer gord rvrtyehere Imp galis galua Jean Seabert ce wannabees 
    9?44 the  love hand landing color 
    Avsjre grasp titanic switch oco exdokt

    EDIT: Going to assume this was a positive review!

  • Proof



    about 1/3 as interesting as a Hal Hartley movie (the permanent high water mark for artsy nineties indies) but it’s nice to see Hugo Weaving in shades this early on. I found myself thinking about how formulaic yet somewhat charming all these nineties indies are. do I fathom them as a sort of background radiation art from when I was first a poxy mean-spirited teenage loser getting into film, when life seemed like the conduits and connections were always flowing,…

  • Django the Bastard

    Django the Bastard


    while not quite up to snuff as the last one, this spaghetti western has a kind of charming slapdash giallo feel to it at parts, when it’s not being fucking weirdly lit or doing the “wish I was Sergio Leone” long landscape shots. still, a good time and everyone loves revolvers that sounds like a volcano going off. or at least I do.

  • No Room To Die

    No Room To Die


    this has everything you want from a primo spaghetti western; silly and terse ultraviolence, a wonky score, gross sweaty humanoids caught in constant competition, and an aura of supernatural dismissiveness for body counts. no Django movie is bad (well) but some of them are much much more violent than others, paisano.