I Saw This (double
exclamation point) is our all-too regular feature wherein Graig or David
attempt to write about a bunch of movies they watched some time ago and meant
to write about but just never got around to doing so. Now they they have to
strain to say anything meaningful lest they just not say anything at all. And
they can't do that, can they?
Okay, time to get back up on
this horse.
Noah - 2014, d. Darren
Aronofsky -- netflix
Dogtooth
("Kynodontas")- 2009, d. Yorgos Lanthimos --netflix
Zero Dark Thirty - 2012, d. Katheryn
Bigelow -- netflix
Nebraska - 2013, d. Alexander
Payne -- netflix
John Wick - 2014, d. Chad
Stahelski, David Leitch -- blu-ray
Harmontown - 2014, d. Neil
Berkeley -- netflix
Blue Ruin - 2013, d.
Jeremy Saulnier -- netflix
The Scribbler - 2014, d.
John Suits -- netflix
---
When I was becoming a burgeoning cinephile in the mid-to-late 1990s, taking
note of writers, directors, actors and actresses, composers and other names on
the production roster that were making the movies that I both liked and
connected with (sometimes deeply, sometimes superficially), Darren Aronofsky
was high on my list of directors to follow, a singularly intriguing
creative person worth being devoted to.
What struck me most about Aronofsky wasn't anything he did on screen,
but what he did off-screen, which was bridge the worlds of comics and
cinema. With comics obviously being a
very integral part of my life, releasing a movie with a comic book tie-in (not
just a licensed prequel, sequel or adaptation) was a sure-fire way of getting
my attention. Aronofsky did this with
his very first feature, Pi, and I was hooked. The one-shot comic (published by Dark Horse
if I recall correctly) and the feature were both black and white art-house
endeavours, cerebral and somewhat impenetrable, but fascinating and puzzling in
equal, mostly good measure.
His follow-up was Requiem
For A Dream (2000), one of the most profoundly disturbing and intense films
I've ever seen. It's a brilliant piece
of cinema, joining the likes of Clockwork Orange and Dancer In The
Dark as astounding cinema that can only be watched once.
Aronofsky went back to comics
again with The Fountain (2006), his third and highly troubled feature,
creating an accompanying graphic novel (with artist Kent Williams) that expands
upon the three timelines presented in that film. I owned the graphic novel for years before
read it, as I wouldn't read it until I ha watched the film. I wound up owning the film on dvd for some
time before I actually watched it and subsequently read the graphic novel. While I appreciated the entire endeavour, it
left me somewhat cold. Despite this, I
would follow Aronofsky to The Wrestler (2008) and Black Swan (2010)
in the theatres, finding both to be great movies on their own, but again not
resonating with me. I was disappointed
when he dropped out of The Wolverine, as I thought he would make a great
comic book movie, particularly a great, brooding and dark Wolverine story, and
even more disappointed to find out his biggest budget movie would be a biblical
adaptation. How boring.
Yet, Aronofsky's next
feature, Noah, would find once more be accompanied by a graphic novel
(actually an adaptation of the screenplay by Nico Henrichon) fleshing out his
tale at something less directly religious and more
disaster/spectacle/epic. Even still, I
waffled with seeing this production, my interest level never reaching past
mild. The graphic novel would be a
pricey purchase and the film's subject matter far from enticing, so getting the
full experience (as I only assume it was intended) was somewhat off-putting.
It was only its arrival on
Netflix that I finally conceded in watching the film, and I found it a curious
product. I'm still not entirely sure I
understand why it exists. It's almost as
if it was made in an exercise to see whether the Bible could be mined for
blockbuster motion pictures. The focus
seems to be more spectacle than anything resembling religious parity. This isn't the "true" story of Noah
being told, and, not being a religious student of any sort, I'm not even sure
what the biblical message of Noah is supposed to intone, but I would be surprised
if the biblical moral was at all in Aronofsky's mind when putting together this
production.
It is indeed epic, a
sweeping tale of birthright and revenge, of fathers and sons, of obedience,
love and betrayal, the temptations of evil, righteousness and the gray area
between selfishness and selflessness.
Noah is a man convinced in his mission, unwavering in his belief that
God has told him what needs to be done, and the climax of the film deals with
exactly how unwavering will he be. Can
he perform an unspeakable evil as part of God's will?
Noah is a flawed beast, an
awkward behemoth that's both awe-inspiring and teetering on the fringes of
being comically laughable. The key cast
of Russel Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, Ray Winstone, Emma Watson, Logan Lerman,
and Douglas Booth are extremely serious minded about the events they're
participating in (Winstone may be a bit more on the scenery chewing side,
though), probably its saving grace from being B-movie camp. Anthony Hopkins as Methuselah provides the
film's brief moments of comic relief...or marginal levity as it were.
It's still hard to believe
this film got made. It's not unwatchable
but it's also not outright entertaining.
It has moments of action and some visual sense of wonder but the characters
never settle in as believable people, nor do they reach the height of mystical
figures. They persist as figures in a
tale, servicing a specific story with no will the change the outcome of the
tale. The emotion that should be wraught
throughout never materializes under the weight of the expectations of the story
at-hand. That tsunami set to encompass
the world sort of nullifies almost any other drama the film attempts to build.
As noted in David's take[link], there's a sense that this was supposed to be even more wondrous and
metaphysical than it actually was (which perhaps that graphic novel I've yet to
read bears out?), and I think the tale could have used a bit more of an alien
setting to explore its characters and story, distancing itself from any form of
Earth-based history (real or Biblical or allegorical)
---
The idea behind this Greek
film is fascinating, the story of three siblings who are the subjects of lifelong
social experimentation by their parent.
They've effectively been held hostage in their family home and yard,
unable to view the outside world at all, except through the limited exposure to
outsiders brought into the home by their father. They are taught the wrong words to represent
objects, they are told that the land outside of the fence is toxic, and that a
sibiling (that likely never existed) escaped and is trapped out there in the
land just beyond the fence. They are
kept placated, if not happy, by an endless stream of lies, some elaborate
others simple. Now in their late teens
and early twenties, they're starting to become restless and curious, though the
outisde world is still a monster. The
main lie, from which the title draws its name, is that they will only be
allowed outside the compound once they lose a dogtooth (the parents more than
aware that those permanent teeth aren't going anywhere on their own).
The film plays out with
deliberate, observational pacing. It's
not interested in celebrating or reveling in the lies the parents are telling
the children, nor is it condeming them.
There's a passivity to the camera -- it's of the handheld, mobile, sort,
a seeming adherence to the old Dogme '95 aesthetic -- a watchful eye peering in
unobtrusively on events with no judgement borne out for what it sees. In every right these kids parents are
monsters (even before dad's heinous act with a VCR) but they're portrayed just
as carefully as the kids are.
In my anticipation for
watching this film, knowing only the rough plot and a few details, I was
expecting something more exploitive, a bit more kitschy or on display for
laughs. I was anticipating looking in
with fascination and delight, I wasn't expecting the engrossing curiousity,
disgust and intensity with which I watched.
Something like the kids being told that flying planes overhead are
actually just toys (and once they've passed out of eyesight they can be found
in the grass as mother has thrown a toy in the grass to be found) could be riotously
amusing as, say, a Will Ferrell film, but here it's bizarre but
certainly not played for laughs.
Likewise, their listening to Sinatra's "Fly Me To The Moon" in
English, being willfully mistranslated to Greek by their parents could be comical
but sits just as it is...something that happens in this household. The film ceases to continue so much as it
ends. There's easily more story to be
told here, as the criminality of the parents actions, or the psychological
implications of what's been done to them are left unexplored. A second feature following at least one of
the kid's journey into the real world is filled with tremendous possibility
(just imagine their reaction to a real plane).
---
Zero Dark Thirty was an Oscar winner for the
2012 cinematic year, and a resoundingly successful follow-up for its director Katheryn
Bigelow after winning best director for the Hurt Locker. It's at this point the infamous story of the
intelligence tracking and death of Osama Bin Laden, and while many who have
seen it focus on the gripping third act's focus on SEAL Team 6 as they invade
the compound they suspect is housing Bin Laden, they tend to gloss over the
rather fiercly feminist aspect of the film.
The progressively feminist story is purly by its true story nature, not
so much by design, as Jessica Chastain's Maya, a recent graduate and recruit
into the CIA, is thrust head-first into the war on terror and takes the lead on
finding Bin Laden.
All manner of obstacles are
in Maya's way, political and organizational are the tip of the iceberg. Facing down illegal torture methods, possible
threats to her life, systemic sexism, and her own novice background are all
trial by fire for her. These things
harden her as they threaten to break her, but her resolve is strong, and her
persistence, as well as her intelligence and dedication, is enviable.
As a "based on a true
story" film, Zero Dark Thirty is a masterpiece. It's equal parts military and political
thriller, as well as personal drama and, in its own way, revenge fantasy. It juggles many levels of beurocracy,
international travel, intrigue, and more with a fluidity that finds no
diversion it takes out of place. The story is propelled forward with increasing
momentum, the audience already knows where its going but is never made to feel
like it's just biding its time before getting there. Though no doubt there are embellishment,
unlike, say, Argo which took extreme (and obvious) liberties with its
source material in the name of manufactured drama, Zero Dark Thirty
rarely, if ever, steps on its own toes or hits its audience over the head with
false notes.
The shame here is Bigelow
has crafted an immensely entertaining and successful feature, award-winning and
important, delivering the story of Bin Laden's death in just over a year after
it happened allowing for some sense of public closure, and yet she did not
become a highly sought after, in-demand director. Bigelow's execution here is deft, navigating
multiple genres and wonderful character and world building with defiant
ease. It's a film on the same scale as a
Bond or Bourne movie which would make her a natural target for taking on a
blockbuster franchise and yet we never hear her name in the rumour mills for
the next big feature. Is it
institutionalized sexism of Hollywood studios, or is it that Bigelow is just
not interesed in those kinds of films (Point Break, Strage Days and K-19
tell me otherwise).
---
Was Nebraska also on
that aforementioned list of best 50 films of the decade so far? Even if it wasn't, it'd been a film sitting
on my "to watch" list for a long time. I loved the pacing and light humour of
Alexander Payne's The Decendents and I had heard great things about Bruce
Dern, Will Forte and June Squibb's (award nominated)
performances in the film, but seeing as there wasn't a single sci-fi, action,
fantasy, or metatextual "gotcha" to the movie, it just took a long
time (languishing in my Netflix queue for months on end) for me to get to it.
It's a simple story filled
with complex emotions. Dern is a
cantankerous senior citizen who's going senile while also restless as his
freedoms are stripped from him. He's
never had a good relationship with his sons (Forte and Bob Oedenkirk),
and he and his wife (Squibb) can barely stand one another's company. When a Publisher's Clearinghouse-esque letter
arrives telling him that he "may have already won", he's convinced he
needs to make the trip to their home office in Nebraska to claim the
prize. Everyone around him tells him
it's just junk mail, but he's dedidcated to the trip. Eventually Forte concedes to driving him,
giving the two men their first ever real moment of togetherness.
It's a road trip movie and a
family movie, as they stop and visit elements of Dern's past along the
way. His home town revels in his story
of sudden fortune and the extended family gather for an impromptu reunion that
goes about as well as any assembly of family goes. It's frequently chuckle-funny, occasionally
awkward and sad, but always rewarding.
There's a depth and truth to the story at play, particularly to the
emotions, with Dern being a man who has never cared for showing his, and Forte
coming to understand not just who his father was before, but who he is now, and
that like most parents, despite the difficulties they have, he has done as best
as he knows how.
Forte delivers a
perception-shattering performance. The
weirdo/goofball/creepy characters he's played in previous films and in Saturday
Night Live sketches fade away almost immediately as Forte's eyes show a
knowingness, a maturity and wearyness that he's never earnestly expressed
before. Dern's Oscar winning performance
is almost the easier job, being gruff, stoic, and occasionally completely
unsure of his surroundings, but he delivers a character that never wavers in
identity and provides the framework for everything else in the film to react
to. Squbb, meanwhile, is the overt comic
releif, the Oliver Hardy to Dern's Stan Laurel.
She's mouthy, aggressive and uncensored (she even shocked me a couple of
times), the perfect counterpoint to Dern's weary silence. She didn't win the best supporting actress
Oscar, but it was a likewise worthy performance.
---
We're not Keanu fan's
over at the Kent household. While I have
a greater threshold for Keanu than the missus does, it's not really much of a
qualification...it's like saying I can take
cleaning the litter box more better than she can... which is a bad
example because she definitely cleans up the cat crap more than I do... but I
digress. Point being, Keanu is not a
great actor, in fact he's pretty terrible.
Consistently so. Limited facial
expression, even more limited vocal intonation, the most animated Keanu ever
got was in the Bill & Ted movies and the last of those was over 25
years ago. The perfect role for Mr.
Reeves would be Pinocchio because he's a little wooden boy...except that
Pinocchio would demand he turn into something resembling human. Maybe if Pinocchio turned into a T-1000 at
the end of that story instead. Scratch
that, just make him a Terminator and be done with it because that's spot on the
type of range he displays.
Woah.
Anyway, John Wick. John Wick showed up in last October in
theatres with little hype or enthusiasm (because Keanu's last bunch of pictures
were all major duds...to be clear, no, not a remake of Gerald McCraney's Major
Dad) but became a rare honest-to-goodness blockbuster success through
word-of-mouth. One friend of ours love
the movie so much he saw it multiple times in theatres and continually sang its
praises (and waited with baited breath for its Blu-Ray release). That David even spoke effusively aboutit [link] resonated and, with these collective signs
I began to actually want to see the film.
Woah.
The wife was still far from enthused... she gets that way about things with too
much hype and/or starring Keanu. The
aforementioned friend (shout out to Troy-who-doesn't-read-this-blog!) got his
copy of the film on Blu-Ray, watched it a couple times over and lent it to us
for a viewing. It was a unique
experience. The wife, naturally, wasn't
looking forward to it and chose to distract herself from her lack of enjoyment
by live-Facebooking her reaction to the film.
I chose to turn out the lights and have a spiked refreshment at
hand.
At first we gently mocked
the movie -- a few "Fuck you, Theon!" comments (something me and the wife shouting regularly
at co-star Alfie Allen's Game of Thrones character) and mimicry
of Keanu's stilted acting tossed about for good measure -- but then Allen's
character, the entitled son of a Russian mobster, goes and kills John Wick's
puppy (after he was denied the acquisition of Wick's sweet ride), and things
get goofy/serious. The puppy was a
present form Wick's recently deceased wife, so that he wouldn't be alone, and
the ex-mob hitman sees only red, and we're thrust, along with John, back into
the world he had hoped to leave behind.
It's this world, it's
neutral ground hotels, it's secret society gold coins, and it's weird codes of
honour, that make the movie. Keanu is a
vehicle for delivering both this world's nuances and it's brutal yet
beautifully orchestrated violence, and the film's directors Chad Stahelski
and David Leitch and writer Derek Kolstad seemed to understand
the exact type of character Keanu should play, and the limits of what he can
play. This was obviously tailor made for
him. He can't quite handle the sombre
hurt of the recently widowered nor can he take on the deep emotion of having a
piece of his wife restored with the puppy to any great shakes. But when he's asked to be a cold, calculating
orchestrator of violence, which is 90% of Keanu's role here, he nails it
straight on.
The film is beautifully
stylized, the fluorescent greens and blues saturate the parts of the screen
that aren't bathed in shadows. It's
Michael Mann by way of modern graphic novels.
The action is top notch... it's not "another level" like the
big budgets of the latest Fast and Furious or Mission Impossible
or James Bond feature, but it's full of John Woo-esque gunplay and throw-down,
drag-out fights are close to par with the greatest fight porn of the modern
day, The Raid 2 [link]. My favourite of the battles found
John Wick taking on Adrianne Palicki's Ms. Perkins, an assassin more
ruthless than Wick... but I enjoyed even more Lance Reddick's reaction to her
breaking of the hotel rules.
John Wick was exactly what it
should've been, only better. It's a
B-movie ratched up to A-level status thanks to savvy filmmaking and tremendous
world building. I even caught the wife, on
more than one occassion, watching the movie intently, forgetting about the
Facebook updating for a spell. Though
still hard pressed to admit that a Keanu movie actually entertained her, I'm
fairly certain there was a begrudging amount of respect there for the end
product, and that's about as big a praise for this film as anything.
Woah.
---
Harmontown is a documentary about the
creator of the beloved cult TV show Community creator Dan Harmon,
and the months following his firing from the show as producer and showrunner
after its third season. Harmon had,
before his firing, started a live show/podcast that was part comedy show, part
confessional, where he would ruminate with his co-host Jeff Davis about his
life, his failures and successes, his frustrations, and anything else he wanted
to get off his chest, most of which probably better suited for the therapist's
couch than a public forum.
After his firing, at his
lowest point, he thrust more energy into his podcast, and he started sensing a
bit of a groundswell. Not so much a movement, but a cult of personality forming
around him. Taking a risk, he decided to
take the show on the road and let a documentary crew follow him.
It's a film about Harmon,
primarily, about who he is as a person, and that person is admittedly very,
very difficult. The film highlights the
Harmontown podcast and the people who gravitate towards it, embracing honesty
and pain and the communal catharsis it provide, but it's all centered around
Harmon and his often self-desctructive tendencies. The people along for the ride are his
girlfriend, Erin McGathy, Davis, and the show's resident Dungeons
and Dragons gamesmaster Spencer Crittenden, and each has naturally a
different relationship with Harmon.
McGathy bears the biggest brunt of Harmon's self-destructiveness which
often manifests as lashing out, while Davis more deals with pushing the show
forward. Spencer meanwhile sits quietly,
uncomfortably on the outside of it, and observes.
It's with Spencer's story
that Harmontown as a documentary justifies its existence as more than a
piece of self-glorification/implosion.
Spencer is the fan's way into Harmontown, as he was a man on the outside
who innocuously offered to run a D&D campaign and suddenly found himself a
man on the inside. Spencer is a
stereotypical outcast nerd, the kind with a quiet, gruff exterior, a shell
hardened by traumatic childhood ostracisation, a person who finds comfort in
the world of fantasy and its nuances.
But through his role on Harmontown's podcast he's given the opportunity
to have a voice in the world he never though he'd have, to be heard and seen
and validated. As he's on tour he has
people, not unlike himself, awkwardly approaching him with admiration and
adulation, genuine affection for who he is and what he contributes, and the
film captures intimately what that discovery is like for him. Where Harmon, a bit of a self-aggrandizer, is
only marginally surprised by his supportive fanbase (there's an expectation of
some level of worship going on, like how a televangelist preacher takes the
worship of God as his own), Spencer is genuinely shocked. Though in their own ways both men are
grateful. It's obvious though that
Harmon needs the outpouring of support and affection, almost like a drug, for
Spencer it's almost an affirmation that his place in the world is okay.
This is a film that's meant
for the fans and the outlier fans, all the avid Community watchers and
AV Club message boarders, the people who know what a showrunner is. It's not that it can't appeal to a broader
audience, but without having the shorthand of understanding Harmon from his
work (and for sure Community is a devastatingly hilarious and often
genious personal endeavour with each character a manifestation of his
personality) the uninitiated viewer may just wonder "what's the big deal
about this guy?" That difficult
personality Harmon displays can rub even the most ardent fan the wrong way at
times.
---
Of all the films in this I
Saw This!! column, Blue Ruin is the one I enjoyed the most, and yet,
it's the one I'm having the hardest time recalling. I have specific images in mind, a general
impression of what the movie is, but a lot of the details are fuzzy. Perhaps as I write about it, it will come
flooding back. Spoilers will
follow.
The film is a low budget
revenge thriller (partiall funded via Kickstarter, no less), that's less
exactly a thriller, and certainly not your typical revenge story either. Dwight (Macon Blair) is a drifter
living out of a bullet-hole-riddled, tarp-covered car. He scrounges and survives, but hasn't given
up completely on civility, reading novels by flashlight at night. The police stop by, obviously familiar with
Dwight's story, and inform him that the man who killed his parents is being
released from jail. Very quickly Dwight
sets up his plot to take his revenge, connecting the battery back to the engine
and returning back home, a place it's apparent he hasn't been in a long time.
Where most revenge fantasies
find their lead characters frighteningly proficient at stalking and murder,
Dwight's plans fumble and falter from moment one. Clean shaven, wearing stolen oversized
business casual clothes, Dwight looks like a soft man, timid, bleary eyed,
pudgy, completely unassuming. He's not
cut out for this sort of business, particularly when his target's family begins
to hunt him down, and yet, he has no choice.
This is his drive, his mission.
His sister should be the one to talk sense in him, in any other film she
would be admonishing him for what he's doing, angry abut how it impacts her
life, and yet she's cautiously supportive.
I hesitate to call Blue
Ruin a dark comedy, because it's a dead serious movie, and yet it's spin on
the revenge tale is so fresh and about face that it's impossible not to laugh
unconsciously in reaction to Dwight's failures and botched successes. Dwight a fascinating character, burdoned by
what he does and what he wants to do, but it's the only thing he has left in life
to care about. His time as a vagrant
leaves him awkward in conversation, reserved... he keeps to himself, he doesn't
make eye contact. He seems to want
nothing more than to slink back into that life of desperate solitude but he has
his mission which he has to see through to the end.
Director Jeremy Saulnier tells
his film in an extremely straightforward manner, and yet it's exactly the right
touch. There's no distraction, no flashy
angles, unusual cuts, or any of the vast variety of tricks indie directors for
so long following the Tarantino boom have used to try and distinguish
themselves. Saulnier instead relies upon
holding shots, minimal cutting and letting scenes and actors breathe. It's not as much about mounting tension, but
about establishing the natural settings and normalicy that otherwise exists in
this unconventional scenario.
Yeah, I'm remembering it
well now, but it's certainly worth another watch.
---
And finally for today (in
actuality, I've been writing this column over a 5-day period), there's The
Scribbler. I first heard about this film via Bleeding
Cool (a comic-book and nerd cinema-related website I write for) as they
reported a graphic novel being released for the picture. A couple days after this report I noticed
that the film was on Netflix, so I figured why not give it a watch. If it’s bad, I can turn it off.
It’s
not a bad film, per se, but it’s far from great. It has the same sensibilities
of The Crow, a highly stylized, dark and gritty
quasi-supernatural/quasi-superhero-esque production, replete with whatever
janky emo-style music is fueling the goth teenagers as they brood
introspectively in their bedrooms. Set
in a facility that’s home to residents undergoing psychological rehabilitation
(long and short term residents), it’s definitely not a Cuckoo’s Nest full-blown
lock-down/caged-in situation but more of a half-way home. But it’s dank. Extremely so.
Remember that toilet stall Ewen
MacGregor dove into to retrieve his suppository in Trainspotting? Imagine that stall as an entire
building. Yeah, it’s gross. The city this building resides in seems to be
shrouded in perpetual night, or at least whenever it is day it’s like the sun
nervously shines as the darkness threatens it’s habitual take over. Also, rain and lightning seem almost a
constant, for mood you see, except when it’s more convenient not to be raining.
Our
protagonist, Suki (played by Katie
Cassidy) is a young woman with multiple personality disorder who comes to
the building recovering from her latest suicide attempt. There she rekindles a friendship with Hogan (Garrett Dellahunt), a gearhead who
pretends to be insane in order to live in the building on the cheap, sex up its
desperate/vulnerable women, and liberate their drugs for his own profit. She also befriends Cleo (Gina Gershon) a long-term resident, who shows her the ropes,
including avoiding the stairs where a crazy naked girl likes to push people
down them.
The
film is so aggressively in your face about how edgy it’s trying to be. It uses all the cinematic tricks of
psychological thrillers and body horror films (oh, those shadows and neons),
only never to any great terrifying or suspenseful effect, it’s strictly an
aesthetic choice, like it wants to be a horror movie but the story doesn’t facilitate
it. The sex scene between Suki and Hogan is kind of disgusting rather than
titillating because of how it was shot, edited and soundtracked. It’s like the film wants you to be repulsed
by it because of the style choices it makes, but it’s only a slightly left-of-standard
superhero origin story. It realistically
wants you to root for the title character as she comes to understand who she is
and how her multiple personalities help her fulfill her true potential but it’s
story is at cross purposes with its tone.
The
acting in the film is quite good. I
liked everyone’s performances in it (including Michelle Trachtenberg as Suki’s nemesis, Michael Imperioli as her skeevy psychologist, and Eliza Dushku as the detective
investigating the deaths in the building), they truly seem invested in their
roles, so it’s unfortunate that the director’s vision (which seemed to be “let’s
make a Cronenbergian superhero story but with a Zack Snyder pastiche”) clashed
with everything else going on. Honestly,
I probably would have liked this in 1993, when comic-to-screen movies were
rare, and rarely good, but we’ve moved well past that in the 20 years since.
---
Man,
this took a long time and over 5000 words.
If I were concerned with page hits and visitors and any sort of
monetary-earning angle to this site, I would’ve pushed each review out
one-a-day. But even though they have no real connection to one another, beyond
the fact that I’ve procrastinated in writing about them, they still feel like
part of a whole and belong together in one fell swoop. I’m rather impressed at my ability to recall
how I felt about a film despite not entirely recalling the film (though as I
write the specifics of the film tend to re-emerge). I’m working from the top of the “to review”
list with this one, but I may start at the bottom and work up from hereon out,
get to the fresher stuff first instead of taking forever and having current
releases wind up in yet another I Saw This!!
