M. Price's Blog: Jhaegar Holdburn's (and M. Price's) Movie Reviews (Cuz Why Should We Settle just for Books?), page 3
August 13, 2022
Thomas was only following orders by Ethereal Snake
THOMAS WAS ONLY FOLLOWING ORDERS
by Ethereal Snake
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
What can really be said about a seventy second long clip on YouTube with no dialogue starring a children's character spliced into the Nuremburg Trials?
Honestly, Way Better Than It Has Any Right To Be out of Four
by Ethereal Snake
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
What can really be said about a seventy second long clip on YouTube with no dialogue starring a children's character spliced into the Nuremburg Trials?
Honestly, Way Better Than It Has Any Right To Be out of Four
August 8, 2022
The Virgin Spring by Ingmar Bergman
THE VIRGIN SPRING
by Ingmar Bergman
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Jumpin' Christ, I'm not a virgin, just cuz I say it in the title, doesn't mean it's true, stop asking, jumpin' Jesus--ya know what? I don't even have to explain myself to you! It's not my fault--ya know, if I'm gonna hop on the "Blame Everyone Else" train like the rest of the world? What's really stupid is--I can't even--and get these people out of my street, I'm trying to write about Bergman's symbology...symbolism? And what, is she Amish or something? Hutterite?
But yeah, my doctor (my "alleged" doctor) was like, "So yeah, Jhaegar, I think you're developing misogynistic tendencies. What I believe you should do is find numerous young women, at a bar, perhaps, where young women tend to be, you should engage in THE SEX with them, then find more young women, so as to continue your cycle of THE SEX, thereby learning about said young women and beginning to empathize with them," and I'm like, "So you basically want me to have anonymous "THE SEX" with a bunch of strangers and then leave them after like one night so I can keep finding MORE strangers?" "Yeah." "Well, wouldn't THAT make me a misogynist?!?!?"
Do these people even think before they tell me that nonsense? In what moron dimension is that a solution? And I mean, like really? And (jumpin' Christ--cuz I'm sure that as I'm saying this YOU'RE thinking, "Wow, he's not down to plow? What a clown!" like did you ever think that maybe you're the one who's sick?) cuz I'm not even doing anything! I'm just sitting here watching Swedish movi--oh my God, not THOSE Swedish movies! Really? Really? You just can't--for one minute?
Ya know? Maybe I'll become a doctor. They'll evidently let anyone in...become a firefighter, too, that way I'll burn down the hospitals and prescribe the fire more gasoline or something. Burn it down. Burn it all down. Fire burn! Burn fire! Jhaegar HoldBURN the fire down, fire fire, in the pyre, we all dance and sling our lyre!
Zero Stars out of Four
by Ingmar Bergman
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Jumpin' Christ, I'm not a virgin, just cuz I say it in the title, doesn't mean it's true, stop asking, jumpin' Jesus--ya know what? I don't even have to explain myself to you! It's not my fault--ya know, if I'm gonna hop on the "Blame Everyone Else" train like the rest of the world? What's really stupid is--I can't even--and get these people out of my street, I'm trying to write about Bergman's symbology...symbolism? And what, is she Amish or something? Hutterite?
But yeah, my doctor (my "alleged" doctor) was like, "So yeah, Jhaegar, I think you're developing misogynistic tendencies. What I believe you should do is find numerous young women, at a bar, perhaps, where young women tend to be, you should engage in THE SEX with them, then find more young women, so as to continue your cycle of THE SEX, thereby learning about said young women and beginning to empathize with them," and I'm like, "So you basically want me to have anonymous "THE SEX" with a bunch of strangers and then leave them after like one night so I can keep finding MORE strangers?" "Yeah." "Well, wouldn't THAT make me a misogynist?!?!?"
Do these people even think before they tell me that nonsense? In what moron dimension is that a solution? And I mean, like really? And (jumpin' Christ--cuz I'm sure that as I'm saying this YOU'RE thinking, "Wow, he's not down to plow? What a clown!" like did you ever think that maybe you're the one who's sick?) cuz I'm not even doing anything! I'm just sitting here watching Swedish movi--oh my God, not THOSE Swedish movies! Really? Really? You just can't--for one minute?
Ya know? Maybe I'll become a doctor. They'll evidently let anyone in...become a firefighter, too, that way I'll burn down the hospitals and prescribe the fire more gasoline or something. Burn it down. Burn it all down. Fire burn! Burn fire! Jhaegar HoldBURN the fire down, fire fire, in the pyre, we all dance and sling our lyre!
Zero Stars out of Four
August 4, 2022
My Man Godfrey by Gregory La Cava
MY MAN GODFREY
by Gregory La Cava
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD CAROLE LOMBARD IF THERE WAS ANYONE OTHER THAN AUDREY IT'S CAROLE IT'S LITERALLY CAROLE!
Sorry, but like, uh, ya know? When people talk about comfort food--like eating fried chicken and puking over yourself about thirty minutes later (if you're me, that is (and likely Audrey (did you know she was, like, malnourished and fought the Nazis when she was a kid? Now THAT'S a woman)))? My Man Godfrey is like Fried Chicken, the Major Motion Picture, but subtracting the eventual vomiting--well, I guess you ARE vomiting something--but it's not pain and alcoholic regret, it's JOY!
For starters, this is literally (I hate when people say literally, like, "I am literally going to the bathroom," okay man, I don't care) the best screenplay (like, physical screenplay, not necessarily story) of all time. It is non-stop laughs, non-stop memorable characters, and non-stop cinematic bliss. One of those films you can just have playing in the background cuz it's just so--I don't know--just so listenable, but then you realize you can't cuz it's just SOOOO good that it draws you back in and you're distracted again. And I mean really, how is it that people were allowed to be THIS funny?
The stars really aligned here, I'll tell ya what. And oh my God oh my God stars stars Carole Lombard! Look at her! Listen to her! That voice! That mischievious-ity-ness? Mischieviousness? She's mischievous! And only in My Man Godfrey could "The Kiss" happen like only a third into the film but still have the romantic tension fly higher and higher--and what a KISS! If Audrey was fifty years ahead of her time, then Carole was a century. They really don't make women like that any--
--Okay, I'm not a redpilled misog--get outta here! It's literally (SHUT UP) it's quantifiably a movie from the 1930s, settle down. Give me a break and give yourself a hobby other than watching The Office why don't ya? "Oh, but it's a good show! It's just so watchable." Yeah, things that can be viewed tend to be watchable! I--and no, they're not the same. Godfrey's watchable in a different sense!
You just don't get it! But after all, why would you even care? Just go listen to Nikki Minaj or something...
Honestly, like Five Stars out of Four
by Gregory La Cava
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD CAROLE LOMBARD IF THERE WAS ANYONE OTHER THAN AUDREY IT'S CAROLE IT'S LITERALLY CAROLE!
Sorry, but like, uh, ya know? When people talk about comfort food--like eating fried chicken and puking over yourself about thirty minutes later (if you're me, that is (and likely Audrey (did you know she was, like, malnourished and fought the Nazis when she was a kid? Now THAT'S a woman)))? My Man Godfrey is like Fried Chicken, the Major Motion Picture, but subtracting the eventual vomiting--well, I guess you ARE vomiting something--but it's not pain and alcoholic regret, it's JOY!
For starters, this is literally (I hate when people say literally, like, "I am literally going to the bathroom," okay man, I don't care) the best screenplay (like, physical screenplay, not necessarily story) of all time. It is non-stop laughs, non-stop memorable characters, and non-stop cinematic bliss. One of those films you can just have playing in the background cuz it's just so--I don't know--just so listenable, but then you realize you can't cuz it's just SOOOO good that it draws you back in and you're distracted again. And I mean really, how is it that people were allowed to be THIS funny?
The stars really aligned here, I'll tell ya what. And oh my God oh my God stars stars Carole Lombard! Look at her! Listen to her! That voice! That mischievious-ity-ness? Mischieviousness? She's mischievous! And only in My Man Godfrey could "The Kiss" happen like only a third into the film but still have the romantic tension fly higher and higher--and what a KISS! If Audrey was fifty years ahead of her time, then Carole was a century. They really don't make women like that any--
--Okay, I'm not a redpilled misog--get outta here! It's literally (SHUT UP) it's quantifiably a movie from the 1930s, settle down. Give me a break and give yourself a hobby other than watching The Office why don't ya? "Oh, but it's a good show! It's just so watchable." Yeah, things that can be viewed tend to be watchable! I--and no, they're not the same. Godfrey's watchable in a different sense!
You just don't get it! But after all, why would you even care? Just go listen to Nikki Minaj or something...
Honestly, like Five Stars out of Four
August 3, 2022
Come and See by Elem Klimov
COME AND SEE
by Elem Klimov
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Visceral expressionist wail into the cosmos Boy's mind shatters shatters I shatter screaming into clarity aging forty years in two hours our eyes His Eyes bleeding the Eternal Shot of Elem Klimov eye Eyes of the Cow flickering past us past temporal scarring seismic trauma Come and See Eyes Bleeding bodies stacked against the wall Eyes Bleeding Eyes Screaming
A Screaming Across the Sky
Into his head boiling from within and burning I can't get it out of my head the burning the burning the burning make it I need shut up what happened to Balto he is dead and burned and stuffed with straw and pissed upon and spat upon and rolled over with flame make it Burn wading through the mire of mud and childhood knowing everything is behind you knowing it is all lost and Bleeding ashes and your within will never be the same now always the Eyes of the Cow and the whistle of Hell as sightless bombs rend your trees and the dancing and the dancing and the dancing and the dancing and sometimes we all dance dance together
Irrevocable Despair
by Elem Klimov
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Visceral expressionist wail into the cosmos Boy's mind shatters shatters I shatter screaming into clarity aging forty years in two hours our eyes His Eyes bleeding the Eternal Shot of Elem Klimov eye Eyes of the Cow flickering past us past temporal scarring seismic trauma Come and See Eyes Bleeding bodies stacked against the wall Eyes Bleeding Eyes Screaming
A Screaming Across the Sky
Into his head boiling from within and burning I can't get it out of my head the burning the burning the burning make it I need shut up what happened to Balto he is dead and burned and stuffed with straw and pissed upon and spat upon and rolled over with flame make it Burn wading through the mire of mud and childhood knowing everything is behind you knowing it is all lost and Bleeding ashes and your within will never be the same now always the Eyes of the Cow and the whistle of Hell as sightless bombs rend your trees and the dancing and the dancing and the dancing and the dancing and sometimes we all dance dance together
Irrevocable Despair
July 25, 2022
Who Really Was Marvel's First Black Superhero?
LETTER TO THE EDITOR
by Tiresias "Rooz" Roosevelt
Hello, it is me again. I had a new thought upon waking today, a thought born from a somnambulist terror which scarred my psyche the previous night. Yet, I had to share it with you, Dear Reader, and you as well, Friend Jhaegar, for I believe it enriches our discussions we previously had over Duane Jones and the Socio/Racio fiasco that was Night of the Living Dead.
The thought was this: Who was Marvel's first Black superhero? That is, in terms of film, as I am well aware that our Jhaegar has no interest in the medium of "Comic Books," at least insofar as they are not written by a certain...hmm...regardless, please answer my question. You would likely state, "Black Panther," the titular hero of the so-called-landmark-movie of the 2010s that moved a nation. And but of course, how could you answer anything different? After all, Disney said Black Panther was Marvel's first Black hero, and when has Disney ever spread falsities in the interest of a higher profit?
The fact of the matter is: Black Panther is incorrect. The correct answer, the correct hero, arrived about 20 years earlier.
His name is Blade.
Disney (and the rest of the Moralist Marauders) simply want you to forget Blade. They want you to forget him because he did not listen to rap music. They want you to forget him because he did not say, "What's up, homie?" or, "I ain't playin' wit'chu, man!" They want you to forget him because no other character in the film ever mentioned his race.
The world wants you to forget Blade because he was never condescended to or catered to as if he were any less than a human due to the color of his skin.
But, it is likely Blade would not have cared either way. Why? Because Blade was tough. He was capable and even a tad mischievous if he wanted. He was calm and confident and original and never qualified his own character by pleading with the world, saying such absurdities as, "Hey, I am a Black man, so I obviously had to work harder than a White man, so I obviously am more superior and you must tell me how worthy I am and how much better I am than the rest." And we ask again: Why? Why did Blade not have to advertise to the void that he was cool?
Because he already knew he was.
Blade never needed rap music to qualify himself as a Black man. He had a "fly" haircut, but never needed to brag about how it made him unique and how a White man could never grow it, despite the fact he himself could never grow long, luscious blonde curls. Blade never needed a soulless company to condemn and shame those who never saw a movie, a plain movie, as if somehow seeing an hour and a half moving picture determined an individual's moral constitution.
Such an era of careless, fancy free film-making is gone...or perhaps not? After all, if I, Tiresias "Rooz" Roosevelt am simply a human like other humans, and if I exist, does that not mean that others like me must exist as well? Could there be artists out there who concern themselves more with the contents of their stories and less with the shades of their heroes' skin...or even the ideas within their minds?
by Tiresias "Rooz" Roosevelt
Hello, it is me again. I had a new thought upon waking today, a thought born from a somnambulist terror which scarred my psyche the previous night. Yet, I had to share it with you, Dear Reader, and you as well, Friend Jhaegar, for I believe it enriches our discussions we previously had over Duane Jones and the Socio/Racio fiasco that was Night of the Living Dead.
The thought was this: Who was Marvel's first Black superhero? That is, in terms of film, as I am well aware that our Jhaegar has no interest in the medium of "Comic Books," at least insofar as they are not written by a certain...hmm...regardless, please answer my question. You would likely state, "Black Panther," the titular hero of the so-called-landmark-movie of the 2010s that moved a nation. And but of course, how could you answer anything different? After all, Disney said Black Panther was Marvel's first Black hero, and when has Disney ever spread falsities in the interest of a higher profit?
The fact of the matter is: Black Panther is incorrect. The correct answer, the correct hero, arrived about 20 years earlier.
His name is Blade.
Disney (and the rest of the Moralist Marauders) simply want you to forget Blade. They want you to forget him because he did not listen to rap music. They want you to forget him because he did not say, "What's up, homie?" or, "I ain't playin' wit'chu, man!" They want you to forget him because no other character in the film ever mentioned his race.
The world wants you to forget Blade because he was never condescended to or catered to as if he were any less than a human due to the color of his skin.
But, it is likely Blade would not have cared either way. Why? Because Blade was tough. He was capable and even a tad mischievous if he wanted. He was calm and confident and original and never qualified his own character by pleading with the world, saying such absurdities as, "Hey, I am a Black man, so I obviously had to work harder than a White man, so I obviously am more superior and you must tell me how worthy I am and how much better I am than the rest." And we ask again: Why? Why did Blade not have to advertise to the void that he was cool?
Because he already knew he was.
Blade never needed rap music to qualify himself as a Black man. He had a "fly" haircut, but never needed to brag about how it made him unique and how a White man could never grow it, despite the fact he himself could never grow long, luscious blonde curls. Blade never needed a soulless company to condemn and shame those who never saw a movie, a plain movie, as if somehow seeing an hour and a half moving picture determined an individual's moral constitution.
Such an era of careless, fancy free film-making is gone...or perhaps not? After all, if I, Tiresias "Rooz" Roosevelt am simply a human like other humans, and if I exist, does that not mean that others like me must exist as well? Could there be artists out there who concern themselves more with the contents of their stories and less with the shades of their heroes' skin...or even the ideas within their minds?
July 24, 2022
La ricotta by Pier Paolo Pasolini
LA RICOTTA
by Pier Paolo Pasolini
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Whenever a film is named after a cheese, it's generally a good indicator that, uh, ya know? There's cheese in it. There's definately (how the piss do I spell definate-ly?) um...sorry, sidetracked. I'm an expert in only parmesan, so to be honest I'm not sure if I'm equipped to pen this review. But guess what losers? I'm all you've got!
In this film, Orson Welles (OOOhhhoOOHhhoh thhHHee FrrennCHHH CHAMppppaaiiigggnneeEEEEE) pretends to be a filmmaker in Pasolini's super gay, super Marxist 10th retelling of The Passion (The Pasolini-on), all the while, all the "actors" cast to--oh piss, I should have explained this better--it's a film about a film, okay? The real life actors are playing fake actors--not to say real life actors are also (for the most part) fake actors. But one of the acting actors is this dude who's just trying to score some nice cheese and let's be real, we can all relate. There's a lot of neato burrito editing tricks that films pre-1970s seem to have and somehow died along the way (I, for one, blame Martin Scorsese (but never his angelic Mother)) and Orson's trying really hard to be taken seriously and he gives some pretty cryptic answers to a reporter--an actor, reporter.
But yeah, people often assume (or I would assume they assume (presume)) that Pasolini is inserting himself in as the filmmaker via Orson Welles and that it's he himself giving these cryptic answers to his audience via the reporter. Not so! Pasolini isn't the filmmaker at all! Pasolini knows enough to NEVER insert oneself so directly into one's own work (as an exaggeration, fine, but never a complete copy) and here's where the cheese comes in...Pasolini is the CHEESE GUY!
The Cheese Guy's just trying to get his cheese, man. And once he finally does, all the acting actors find him and laugh and him (or, I guess, WITH him) and it's a grand ol' time and the Cheese Guy is shown to have brought a nice comedic community or whatever about...and then they return back to the Passion (the The Passion) and and and, um, uh, so the Cheese Guy rehearses his, like, one line and he's okay and someone stresses him to remember it and it doesn't look like he feels to good and it's THE TIME to start and Orson cues him and he doesn't speak at all. Then they go ask and ask and then prod him and they're like, "Aw geez, he's dead."
And then they say something like, "Maybe he was serious, cuz everyone can be serious, cuz everyone is just a human after all. A human like other humans," and THAT'S Pasolini. He's not actually this cryptic, enigmatic, mysterious cypher we all have to figure out. He's just this regular dude (who also probably likes cheese (well, maybe not more than Charlie, just average, ya know?)) who really just likes to make people laugh and it's THROUGH this laughter that maybe he has a point. His message isn't hidden in his pretense, it's hidden right in front of the audience, but it is in fact THE AUDIENCE who is too pretentious to see it, to realize it...which is actually...kind of a pretentious way to do things...
Piss, maybe Pasolini really was an asshole?
Four Stars out of Four
by Pier Paolo Pasolini
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Whenever a film is named after a cheese, it's generally a good indicator that, uh, ya know? There's cheese in it. There's definately (how the piss do I spell definate-ly?) um...sorry, sidetracked. I'm an expert in only parmesan, so to be honest I'm not sure if I'm equipped to pen this review. But guess what losers? I'm all you've got!
In this film, Orson Welles (OOOhhhoOOHhhoh thhHHee FrrennCHHH CHAMppppaaiiigggnneeEEEEE) pretends to be a filmmaker in Pasolini's super gay, super Marxist 10th retelling of The Passion (The Pasolini-on), all the while, all the "actors" cast to--oh piss, I should have explained this better--it's a film about a film, okay? The real life actors are playing fake actors--not to say real life actors are also (for the most part) fake actors. But one of the acting actors is this dude who's just trying to score some nice cheese and let's be real, we can all relate. There's a lot of neato burrito editing tricks that films pre-1970s seem to have and somehow died along the way (I, for one, blame Martin Scorsese (but never his angelic Mother)) and Orson's trying really hard to be taken seriously and he gives some pretty cryptic answers to a reporter--an actor, reporter.
But yeah, people often assume (or I would assume they assume (presume)) that Pasolini is inserting himself in as the filmmaker via Orson Welles and that it's he himself giving these cryptic answers to his audience via the reporter. Not so! Pasolini isn't the filmmaker at all! Pasolini knows enough to NEVER insert oneself so directly into one's own work (as an exaggeration, fine, but never a complete copy) and here's where the cheese comes in...Pasolini is the CHEESE GUY!
The Cheese Guy's just trying to get his cheese, man. And once he finally does, all the acting actors find him and laugh and him (or, I guess, WITH him) and it's a grand ol' time and the Cheese Guy is shown to have brought a nice comedic community or whatever about...and then they return back to the Passion (the The Passion) and and and, um, uh, so the Cheese Guy rehearses his, like, one line and he's okay and someone stresses him to remember it and it doesn't look like he feels to good and it's THE TIME to start and Orson cues him and he doesn't speak at all. Then they go ask and ask and then prod him and they're like, "Aw geez, he's dead."
And then they say something like, "Maybe he was serious, cuz everyone can be serious, cuz everyone is just a human after all. A human like other humans," and THAT'S Pasolini. He's not actually this cryptic, enigmatic, mysterious cypher we all have to figure out. He's just this regular dude (who also probably likes cheese (well, maybe not more than Charlie, just average, ya know?)) who really just likes to make people laugh and it's THROUGH this laughter that maybe he has a point. His message isn't hidden in his pretense, it's hidden right in front of the audience, but it is in fact THE AUDIENCE who is too pretentious to see it, to realize it...which is actually...kind of a pretentious way to do things...
Piss, maybe Pasolini really was an asshole?
Four Stars out of Four
July 19, 2022
The Lure by Agnieszka Smoczynska
THE LURE
by Agnieszka Smoczynska
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn
Okay, well to start, I'm kinda pissed--ya know that song in the trailer? It's like slightly different in the movie and it's like, "Didn't you see the trailer, Filmmaker?" (I'm not gonna say her name cuz I can't pronounce it cuz--oh, but I'm just typing it...Agnieszka Smoczynska) and--what was I--the music! Like it's way better in the trailer! I mean, the movie's still a total bop cuz the song's still good, as well as the other songs and stuff, but it could have been so much better!
Jumpin' Christ, I always nitpick at nothing...ya know, this is like the third movie I'd show a girl if she came over to my place (cuz I can't just push them right into foreign cinema, ya know?) but I'd start with Punch, Drunk, Love by--you know his name--and then probably like House or something (but I'd be sure to present that as explicitly kooky, not erotic) and then I'd get to this...there's a lot of nudity, but for the most part the nudity's like, implied? Cuz they're mermaids? But it's got jammin' music and I love music and the actual musicians are in the band at the end in the wedding scene?
Speaking of the wedding scene, that part where Silver (I think it's Silver, she's the better one and I like Silver better anyway (*silver, piss)) kills Golden's Not-So-Golden boyfriend and then there's just that shot of her standing in the water, looking back at the crowed with that confused, exasperated expression on her bloody face? So powerful, as if she's emoting all the frustration of youth in one look, as if--oh, I just spoiled the ending?
Oh well. As they'd say in The Lure: Shoom shoom shoom nada soapy meshooney! San voon coon nala Svenka something Coolidge! PreSaaaam Stole Miyashny!
The Lure (Movie): Three Stars out of Four
The Lure (Album): Four Stars out of Four
by Agnieszka Smoczynska
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn
Okay, well to start, I'm kinda pissed--ya know that song in the trailer? It's like slightly different in the movie and it's like, "Didn't you see the trailer, Filmmaker?" (I'm not gonna say her name cuz I can't pronounce it cuz--oh, but I'm just typing it...Agnieszka Smoczynska) and--what was I--the music! Like it's way better in the trailer! I mean, the movie's still a total bop cuz the song's still good, as well as the other songs and stuff, but it could have been so much better!
Jumpin' Christ, I always nitpick at nothing...ya know, this is like the third movie I'd show a girl if she came over to my place (cuz I can't just push them right into foreign cinema, ya know?) but I'd start with Punch, Drunk, Love by--you know his name--and then probably like House or something (but I'd be sure to present that as explicitly kooky, not erotic) and then I'd get to this...there's a lot of nudity, but for the most part the nudity's like, implied? Cuz they're mermaids? But it's got jammin' music and I love music and the actual musicians are in the band at the end in the wedding scene?
Speaking of the wedding scene, that part where Silver (I think it's Silver, she's the better one and I like Silver better anyway (*silver, piss)) kills Golden's Not-So-Golden boyfriend and then there's just that shot of her standing in the water, looking back at the crowed with that confused, exasperated expression on her bloody face? So powerful, as if she's emoting all the frustration of youth in one look, as if--oh, I just spoiled the ending?
Oh well. As they'd say in The Lure: Shoom shoom shoom nada soapy meshooney! San voon coon nala Svenka something Coolidge! PreSaaaam Stole Miyashny!
The Lure (Movie): Three Stars out of Four
The Lure (Album): Four Stars out of Four
July 18, 2022
Barry Lyndon by Stanley Kubrick
BARRY LYNDON
by Stanley Kubrick
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Ya know? I actually used to hate this movie! I watched it when I was--oh I don't know, like sixteen (but actually sixteen, not, uh--yeah, you get it) and thought it sucked. Well, I at least acknowledge that my at-the-moment-mind-state can negatively (never positively, let's be real) affect my viewing experience and decided to watch it like years later and when I saw it the second time, all I could think about was...I USED TO NOT LIKE THIS MOVIE? THIS MOVIE'S SICK!!!
First off, the guy's a total Thot Killer, like I'm watching this again and I'm thinking, "This dude's literally me and--" ya know? Okay, fine. The 'literally me' trope is overused and trite and...and edgy and...nonsensical and...ya know? Why do you even care?! Are you really gonna sit there and tell me you've never watched a movie and been like, "Wow, that's literally me!" like NEVER? NEVER?!?!? Not even like, "Oh wow. Han Solo is a cool guy. I am a cool guy. Han Solo is literally me be cause we are cool guys," like get out of here.
It's just typical that all jokes go after sick people, huh? God forbid any film in the "literally me" joke pool be about anything other than lonely, mentally ill, emasculated males so that everyone can come after them and any of the "literally mes (thems?)" who try to defend themselves are even more harshly judged and pushed deeper into "Literally Me" territory. It's so frustrating that every--what movie was I even reviewing?
Look what you did! I can't even th--what was I actually--was I even doing a review? Jumpin' Christ, that's so "literally me" or whatever else it is I'm sure you're thinking right now. Ya know, I didn't ask for this! Neither did Travis Bickle or Tyler Durden or any Ryan Gosling character, sorry I can't be as wholesome as Agent Cooper (as much as I'd like to be (and as much as I want pie now)) ya know my favorite piece of pie is probably pumpkin pie. I always make pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving for my mom. Her birthday's around then, too, so sometimes I bake a cake (too). I like baking. It's pretty stress free. Usually I prefer cooking, but baking is great for just...ya know? Just sitting there and watching it. I wish I could watch stuff. Sometimes I think I do, but a lot of times I think I don't.
Jhaegar Holdburn's Secret Family Recipe Pump-up-the-Pumpkin Pie
Four Stars out of Four
by Stanley Kubrick
(review by Jhaegar Holdburn)
Ya know? I actually used to hate this movie! I watched it when I was--oh I don't know, like sixteen (but actually sixteen, not, uh--yeah, you get it) and thought it sucked. Well, I at least acknowledge that my at-the-moment-mind-state can negatively (never positively, let's be real) affect my viewing experience and decided to watch it like years later and when I saw it the second time, all I could think about was...I USED TO NOT LIKE THIS MOVIE? THIS MOVIE'S SICK!!!
First off, the guy's a total Thot Killer, like I'm watching this again and I'm thinking, "This dude's literally me and--" ya know? Okay, fine. The 'literally me' trope is overused and trite and...and edgy and...nonsensical and...ya know? Why do you even care?! Are you really gonna sit there and tell me you've never watched a movie and been like, "Wow, that's literally me!" like NEVER? NEVER?!?!? Not even like, "Oh wow. Han Solo is a cool guy. I am a cool guy. Han Solo is literally me be cause we are cool guys," like get out of here.
It's just typical that all jokes go after sick people, huh? God forbid any film in the "literally me" joke pool be about anything other than lonely, mentally ill, emasculated males so that everyone can come after them and any of the "literally mes (thems?)" who try to defend themselves are even more harshly judged and pushed deeper into "Literally Me" territory. It's so frustrating that every--what movie was I even reviewing?
Look what you did! I can't even th--what was I actually--was I even doing a review? Jumpin' Christ, that's so "literally me" or whatever else it is I'm sure you're thinking right now. Ya know, I didn't ask for this! Neither did Travis Bickle or Tyler Durden or any Ryan Gosling character, sorry I can't be as wholesome as Agent Cooper (as much as I'd like to be (and as much as I want pie now)) ya know my favorite piece of pie is probably pumpkin pie. I always make pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving for my mom. Her birthday's around then, too, so sometimes I bake a cake (too). I like baking. It's pretty stress free. Usually I prefer cooking, but baking is great for just...ya know? Just sitting there and watching it. I wish I could watch stuff. Sometimes I think I do, but a lot of times I think I don't.
Jhaegar Holdburn's Secret Family Recipe Pump-up-the-Pumpkin Pie
Four Stars out of Four
Jhaegar Holdburn's (and M. Price's) Movie Reviews (Cuz Why Should We Settle just for Books?)
You know him. You love him (you actually probably hate him). He's your favorite teenage Edgelord--ya know, Jhaegar Holdburn?--and he's here to review more pretentious films you'll never see!
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