I am to this site what The Meg (2018) is to cinema
Guerrilla war struggle is a new entertainment
Gang of Four- 5:45
Terror itself is a commodity. There is value in the violence. Not the aftermath- the extinguished life, nor the damaged structure. The value of terror is in the spectacle. Carlos shoots right between the nose, not for effectiveness, but for the brutal spectacle. As often we expect from the movies pink mist sprays out from the back of their heads, but here it is real. We are consumers of…
Perfectly captures the essence of Murakami. A dreamlike trance that makes you question what is real and what is paranoia. The droning of the sleepy jazz, and the muted vibrance of the dusk created and atmosphere that perfectly matched this story. The first half while somewhat visually similar to the rest of the movie perfectly flows from a light, yet well written drama, into the hitchcockesque nightmare near the end. This film felt like a fever dream in the best way possible.
Despite its many glaring flaws, this film does have a certain geriatric charm to it. As much as I want to hate it there’s just something seemingly genuine at its core. It’s so unlike it’s contemporaries, so sloppy, childish, at points confused, but at least real, brimming with a type of reflective tranquility reminiscent of that of a wake. This bizarre and authentic culmination of the career of an often mis-stepping yet charming America icon feels as though it is a jumbled but memory of something once familiar, but now distantly lost. The lines between art and reality have never seemed so muddled.
Imagine a world where everyone is in debt, from the so called bums on the street up to the seemingly “successful” college graduates with jobs in the financial sector. Imagine a world where those with the means to do so can bet on the lives of those without as if it was a horse race. Imagine a world where the only way to pay off our debts was to sell our bodies for fractions of their worths, spending everyday wasting…