It's a Judd Apatow production. It's directed by Michael Showalter. It's gonna be R.
DIRECTOR: Michael Showalter Can I tell you how much I love Kumail Nanjiani and Emily Gordon? We saw Nanjiani a few years ago when Lauren and I went to the Montreal Comedy Festival. (Oh, holy crap. I just realized the connection to this movie. Small world.) I instantly went on iTunes and tried to download his album. No album. I tried Youtubing his stuff and there was practically nothing out there. But then he started to blow up. Perhaps it was his work on Silicon Valley, but I got to really know him through the Nerdist podcast network. He had his podcast with his wife, The Indoor Kids. It was all about video games and, while I really enjoy video games, I don't really have time to play them very often. The podcast was great, but I also knew that stuff I wanted to play would eventually get spoiled. Then he was a regular on Harmontown, to which I regularly listen to now. I knew about his courtship with Emily Gordon, whom I enjoyed on their show The Meltdown with Jonah and Kumail. They are one of the few (this word seems cheap) celebrity couples who really seem like they are in love and will work to make their relationship. This movie explain why their relationship works. My wife loves rom-coms. I just was thinking that there aren't that many great rom-coms that come out anymore. This is the exception to the rule. I think the more polished the rom-com, the more disappointing it tends to be. Maybe because I'm a dirty hipster at heart, but when a rom-com gets that perfect indie-feel, there is something special about it. I love Apatow's stuff, for the most part, and I actually thought that he directed this one. Instead, he passed it off to Michael Showalter, who has a really amazing understanding of tone. If you know Showalter's work with The State, Stella, and Wet Hot American Summer, you know that he tends to lean towards the absurd in his creations. But Showalter has a history of being able to adapt other voices into something that matches an authentic tone. Perhaps Showalter's work tries to emotionally distance itself from its audience, but he tends to get that not all of his works should be that. He might be the perfect director of this film. The reason is that this movie is very funny, but the comedy definitely takes a backseat to the narrative. Apatow would have tried to make this movie howlingly funny, and there are moments where I don't want to laugh. Showalter kind of gets that. The jokes are almost not left to the audience, but rather seem conversational, despite the fact that the story itself is about a stand-up. It sounds like I'm saying that the jokes don't land. They 100% land, but not in a way that waits for a laugh. It doesn't necessarily indulge the joke, but rather weaves it into the narrative fairly flawlessly. There are a few exceptions, but these moments are meant to break tension and that balance is extremely important. The odd thing about this rom-com is that it almost isn't a rom-com. (Is that why I like it? Am I so broken inside? More at 11.) This is really about the relationship between a guy and his in-laws. You know what? No, it's more than that. It's about cultural values and how we deal with mistakes. There's so much here. But the relationship is still there. I'm going to take a breath. The Kumail and Emily story is great. Kumail Nanjiani has no problem balancing the fact that he is a good dude while stressing his own faults. Knowing that he is married and in love with Emily in real life definitely gives me a big ol' sense of the "awwws" pretty instantly. Similarly, they give Emily these moments that might be dealbreakers in a traditional rom-com. But again, these moments are humanizing knowing that it is a true story. Rather than make either of them overly desirable and larger than life, it feels about the genuine bond between two people and, if you didn't know the premise of the film ahead of time, you'd root that nothing would ever hurt them. Their dynamic is something really special. The movie had to Hollywood up the story a bit more than I would have liked. Nothing was wholly unrealistic, but there is this dramatic irony regarding Nanjiani's commitment to his family and their values. We know more than Emily does and, because we've seen the story of the man hiding a secret coming back to bite him in the butt. It's a real moment and there's nothing necessarily cheap about, but we know the character's flaw pretty quickly and how it is going to be his undoing in the end. But then it moves out of the rom-com storyline and deals with a man on the outs who learns to be genuine, despite parents who don't necessarily like him. This is how a man bonds with total strangers because he has to. That story is almost even better. The movie could have slipped pretty badly at this moment. Kumail could have been seen as a guy who is manipulating these parents into convincing Emily to take him back. That's a real fine line and I don't think the movie ever missteps with that. Really, Kumail simply allows himself to be vulnerable and I think that's an awesome choice. But the movie doesn't completely avoid that aspect of commitment. Instead, it handles it in a lovely broken way and that's pretty cool. And then, when all is said and done, it also deals with mortality. I know that Emily survived. She's doing awesome stuff today. But watching this movie, the suspense of Emily's disease still manages to tear at my heartstrings. I'm 34. I have two kids. For the first time in a movie, I jumped between the perspective of Kumail and Emily to the perspective of Emily's parents. That's weird. I always saw myself relating to the protagonist. But in this case, I was afraid for my kids. That's pretty impressive, Movie. (I name you "Movie" because I lack creativity.) Similarly, I had genuine empathy for Kumail's parents. They are definitely portrayed as the more unreasonable of the two characters, but they weren't that at all. If I had to give a criticism, it does portray culture and religion in a bit of a cold light. Nanjiani is an atheist, so it kind of makes sense that he views his parents' views as oppressive. But the parents are never portrayed as monsters. They are portrayed as concerned and conflicted. They are given an ultimatum about a choice and they handle it, albeit dramatically and comedically, with a degree of grace. The concept of arranged marriage also makes for a fascinating narrative tool. (Look how flippant I am, treating a culture like it's quaint...) It does give a Western perspective on arranged marriage, but it never paints it like it is stupid. Admittedly, there are some jokes and, since I'm not the one who could be offended, I don't really find any of these jokes as inappropriate. But again, I'm not the receiving end of those jokes. I have to applaud not treating it as dumb. Nanjiani definitely expresses how much he loves his family, but just doesn't agree with them. The movie was touching. I really love a lot of what I saw one screen. It isn't a perfect movie, but it is perfect for what it was trying to be. It had an amazing checklist and, good golly, I have to say that they achieved everything that they were trying to do.
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Some movies deserve to be R. This is one of them. You know, when a beast designed by H.R. Geiger explodes out of someone's back and murders everyone on screen? That's an R-rated movie.
DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott I have a weird relationship with the Alien franchise. I don't know what I think about them, yet I keep coming back to see every entry in the series. With Prometheus and Alien: Covenant, I can go as far as to say that I was full on excited to see these movies. You see, Alien is one of my favorite horror movies of all time. It is absolutely terrifying. Finding out that Ridley Scott had come back to save a franchise that had lost its way is fantastic. I'm not in love with Ridley Scott or anything. I think Mr. Henson and myself are the only two nerds who don't worship at the feet of Blade Runner. But these movies are far from perfect. So what about these movies keeps me coming back and leaving slightly unsatisfied. Shy of the crossover films, which share a dubious continuity with the others in the franchise, none of the movies are full on awful. (I even have a soft spot for Alien: Resurrection.) I kind of need to examine that idea and I think Alien: Covenant might be the best movie to do that. Alien: Covenant has so much going for it. I was one of the people who kind of liked Prometheus. It was one of those movies that I enjoyed enough once, but never felt the desire to revisit. Covenant is kind of the same thing. Both of these movies do something special with a lot of the philosophy. I know that there is depth to the original Alien. It wouldn't be considered a classic without some pretty heady stuff supporting it. However, at its core, it is a very scary monster movie. That movie is just the most terrifying. Covenant also has really good scary parts. There are moments in the movie that mirror the claustrophobia of the Nostromo and that's really nifty. But at heart, Covenant is complex. There is an examination of consciousness and parenthood that really caught my attention in Tom King's The Vision comic. Fassbender's portrayal and understanding of David makes the movie super watchable and transcends the original simple film in comparison. Alien introduced Bishop and that character was cool, but much like Walter in Covenant, he wasn't as self-aware as the terrifying David was. But as good and compelling as Fassbender's David is, he almost doesn't belong in a movie focusing on a super-space killer. There is a story there that should be told (holy crap, it's Blade Runner all over again), but it almost seems like the movie isn't sure what it is supposed to be. I don't know exactly what ratio works with this kind of storytelling. Looking at Jurassic Park and why it works is because it used the supernatural horror menace as a backdrop for character analysis. Covenant tries doing the same thing, but it doesn't carry as well. I said, David is a cool character and he's performed hauntingly by Fassbender, but something just doesn't click about the merging of the two stories. I don't know why, but the same thing happened in Prometheus. Part of the problem is the problem that comes with many prequels. Prequels feel the need to explain the things that don't really need explanation. I remember seeing those early images of the space jockey from Alien appearing in Prometheus and getting really excited. We would finally get an explanation for the mystery that's been teased for however many years. But that mystery can't have a really great answer without indulging in insane worldbuilding complexity. What made the first Alien work was its simplicity. It had a built world, but none of that stuff really mattered in the long run. Then each additional movie added to the background of this corporate world (BLADE RUNNER!) and the story just became this ourobouros. These prequels had to become complex because that's what the stories built up to. The continuity became a nightmare and there wasn't much that could be done to ignore that. So this corporation that was the background of this world became the foreground. There became this mythos that just detracted from the simple genius of a crew of miners against an unstoppable creature. The odd thing is that many films copied the structure of the original Alien and haven't found that magic spark that makes it work. So what is the right answer? I don't know, and that's probably what pulls me back to the franchise time and again. But if I had to simplify an analysis about what makes a scary movie, Alien: Covenant kind of works. I saw perhaps a few too many beats harkening back to original film. Katherine Waterstone's Daniels hits a few too many Ripley beats, down to hairstyles and physique. Ripley has always been a really interesting character to me because she isn't someone who wanted to be the protagonist in the story. Rather, she is the unlikely hero in the story and Daniels takes the same route. She is given a reason to mourn with the death of cameoing James Franco. (It's odd that this technically is another James Franco / Danny McBride vehicle.) From there, she doesn't become the captain, but rather someone who criticizes the captain. Her strength is shown through her constant suffering. Ripley had the same thing going. She is a survivor who can't catch a break. Daniels is kind of being groomed for the same thing. I suppose the same could be said for Prometheus's Elizabeth Shaw, which makes me question how Scott writes his characters. I think that the Alien movies should be driven by female protagonists. But there is a fine line between showing a strong woman and just making another Ripley clone. Also, the more trauma that these characters endure, the bell curve kind of takes them from "strong woman" to "horror movie starlet." That's where the character becomes problematic. I want the character to be strong and self-assured. I don't want them to become a victim of these things. The original story of Ripley is a woman solving a problem. Really, replace "alien" with "lumbering serial killer" and the part gets very cheap for the other films. That's no good. I don't know if Daniels really hits the actualization that Ripley does, but she is a strong protagonist still. I'm just worried if she is the new Ripley stand-in, will that feeling last? I had a really good time in this movie. I was amazed that Danny McBride played the part of Tennessee without really cracking a joke. Sure, there were no appropriate times for jokes, but he played it pretty straight. The movie is entertaining, but again, lacks that greatness. Perhaps I have unreasonable expectations, especially for it being technically the eighth film in the franchise that has more misses than hits. (By the way, I don't particularly love Aliens, which is blasphemy to most.) I know I'll still get excited to see the next one. I know that Fassbender is super-fascinating. I just don't think it hits on all cylinders . PG. An elegant rating for a more civilized age. Also, my kids ran around the garage while watching it.
DIRECTOR: George Lucas I did it. I finished the machete cut. Okay, I kinda did it. It took me way too long to get through both trilogies (I haven't even rewatched The Force Awakens! Geez...) so I can't officially say that I did a machete cut in the true nerd sense. But I get the gist. I still stand by my original statement that the machete cut does little to improve the franchises. I still loved watching Star Wars, especially the original cuts on Blu-ray. One thing you should know about Return of the Jedi is that it used to be my favorite as a kid. Real Star Wars nerds already have written me off, but I had a super fun time with this movie. As an adult, it is the one I've seen the least. If I get in a Star Wars watching mood, I start with A New Hope and find myself both short for time to finish the trilogy and oddly satisfied with The Empire Strikes Back. While I definitely knew all of the beats of the movie, a lot of me was watching this one for the first time...kinda. George Lucas really was something special. Nerds will say that he dropped the ball with this movie, but I think that's a lot of hatorade being doled around because there's a theory that there is no such thing as a perfect trilogy. Number three always seems to get a lot of hatred in any series, but the third movie of the franchise has unreasonable expectations always put on it. The Dark Knight Rises is the weakest of the trilogy, but it is a perfectly fine movie. Back to the Future III is loved by many. Okay, I haven't seen The Godfather Part III, but it is on my list. Return of the Jedi really wraps up a lot of things that are left hanging. But the weirdest thing about the movie, and I definitely don't necessarily label this as a fault, is that the structure of this film is really bizarre. The movie almost has a really long James Bond opening with the mini-adventure that involves saving Han Solo from Jabba the Hutt. The other movies really don't have these. If you think back to the time on Hoth, the story is actually pretty slow moving, even though I think the Hoth stuff might secretly be my favorite. (It's not a secret! Curse you, inability to have an internal monologue!) But going out to save Han Solo in the beginning of the film is actually pretty exciting. Luke versus a rancor? Kiss off, wampa! Sure, I don't know how Luke got to be an awesome Jedi between the end of Empire while he's still recovering from his fight in Cloud City to getting to Jabba's palace and putting together a slightly ham-fisted Ocean's Eleven style rescue/heist. (Ocean's Eleven, shy of the Sinatra version, hadn't exactly redefined the heist genre since Italian Job, so I'm giving Return of the Jedi a pass.) It also is the big emotional connection with the film. Having Darth Vader tell Luke that he is Luke's father at the end of Empire (the most public spoiler I've done on this page) is a cool twist. But having the emotional core amongst the heroes in danger? It had to be resolved in a spectacular way. I love the Jabba's palace stuff, even though I thought it was going to devastate my kids. It didn't. They got scared at the Emoji Movie, but shoving a bone into a rancor's jaw does nothing to them. They're ridiculous. The issue with Return of the Jedi that I can't wrap my head around is how straightforward the movie is. This might actually work to discredit the Machete Cut theory more than I thought it would because those prequels are just stupid complex. Return of the Jedi almost only has an A plot with a really long pre-credit sequence ahead of it. The characters aren't separated for all that long. Luke goes to Dagobah to end the Yoda plot. Ben does his ridiculous "...from a certain point of view" line and the heroes are back to bookending the franchise. Is a second Death Star kind of a lame plot? Maybe. But the second Death Star is so much cooler. It had been six years of people losing their minds. Making a Mary Sue superweapon in the first movie means that the final film has to pay off on the threat of the Empire and that's hard to do when the first movie has a superweapon literally named "The Death Star." The half completed Death Star, for some reason, resonates as way scarier than the fully built one for some reason. The movie does a great job of really establishing that the Rebellion is near its final end in this one and the space battles are just fantastic. We watched this movie in the garage in near perfect resolution and, boy-oh-boy, did it look amazing. It was very impressive watching Lando and Nien Nunb flying the Millennium Falcon between Corellian Corvettes and TIE fighters flying all around. So the simple structure almost doesn't matter. Ending the movie with a very simple plot of the Rebellion and the Empire on their last legs works really well. It leans heavily on its sense of wonder that comes with the movie. Those space scenes make everyone a kid again. (I hate to use "everyone." I'm sure lots of people turd on this movie regardless of how cool it looks.) The thing that probably takes the biggest hit from the creation of the prequels is Darth Vader returning to Anakin Skywalker. When I watched this movie as a kid, I loved that Luke's dad was mysterious. Finding the good in him was a generality and I needed no understanding of who was behind that mask. It's gross and creepy, but when Luke pulls back the helmet, there are the eyes of an old man who wishes he had more time with a son that he never got to know. Cornball, sure. Am I reading too much into it? Maybe. But seeing Hayden Christensen, especially in the Special Edition recut, jump into that spot. It's odd. The final shot (and I guess SPOILER for everyone who is reading this who have also clearly already seen Return of the Jedi) is Ben, Yoda, and Anakin. Ben keeps talking about how they are close friends, but that shot should be closer, especially when you add Christensen into the shot. People argue, "Why isn't Anakin older?" I guess the logic is that he stopped being Anakin Skywalker when he became Darth Vader at that age. I'm kind of cool with that logic. But seeing young Anakin next to old Ben is just an odd choice. The original casting always made more sense to me. But I guess that Lucas always waned to affirm his choices in the prequels. I guess that opens the door to me griping about Lucas and his worldview post prequels. I've done this in about six or seven reviews (EIGHT if you count American Graffiti!) so this is nothing new. But Return of the Jedi might be the most flagrant misunderstanding of what made an original copy of the movie great. There are moments in the other Special Editions that I can kind of get behind. Ships taking off in A New Hope are pretty cool. Seeing the wampas wander around their caves does kind of add to the suspense in Empire Strikes Back. But I can't really justify any choices in Return of the Jedi. The scenes are all really forced. The Jabba dance number is so painful and so uncomfortable. Jabba is a gangster, so it makes sense that he'd have some kind of floor show. Fine. But the movie stops its very natural progression and focus on plot to focus on the floor show? Adding to the fact that the scene looks super digital and now dated is even more painful. It's like someone put on another movie in the middle of this sequence. Also, there is the worse reverse justification of Vader's "NO!" sequence, retconned into the movie to parallel the choice made earlier. Admittedly, the "NO" not as jarring as it is in Revenge of the Sith, but it seems like Lucas is doubling down on his criticisms. The shout is just silly. Vader throwing the Emperor over the ledge is such a perfect moment and using this moment to retroactively bolster a movie that sucks? C'mon. Oh, I never realized that when Chewbacca and the Ewoks swing onto the AT-ST, they are doing the Johnny Weismueller Tarzan-cry. Lucas, that Frankenstein sequence doesn't feel that weird or out of character anymore. It's still a remarkably dumb choice, but I get it. I guess I should talk about Ewoks pretty quick. Ewoks are just fine. I don't think we need a planet full of Wookies. Kashyyk (spelling clearly wrong) wasn't that cool. It never hits Jar Jar levels. I don't know if there was ever a contingent that really thought that the Star Wars movies were devoid of humor and are just dark. The Empire Strikes Back is kind of a litmus test for how dark a franchise can get, but with movies that have characters like R2-D2 and C-3PO, it's odd that people get so mad about Ewoks. Okay, it's a bit silly that these adorable little teddy bears can take on stormtroopers, but stormtroopers have yet to impress me in any situation. It kind of works better than the wookies in terms of speederbike theft anyway. The only way to really enjoy Return of the Jedi is to just accept the Ewoks. If you go in thinking, "They're fine," they'll be exactly that. If you think Ewoks ruin the movie, then there's no pleasing you. Jar-Jar is a bad character in a bad movie. Ewoks are entertaining to a certain degree. Live with it. Wow. I'm done with the original movie. Now I have to get the gumption to rewatch The Force Awakens. Not rated, but like the first movie in The Apu Trilogy, a complete bummer. My kids could totally watch this. (Remember, Olivia reads really well. Henry would have no clue what is going on.) But then I'd have to talk about what death is and why parents keep dying. Technically, nothing objectionable if you don't mind dealing the fragility of life.
DIRECTOR: Satyajit Ray I guess the moral of the story is "Never leave for any reason or your family is going to die." Yeah, it's spoilery. But spoilery in the sense that the entire first movie is dealing with unfair death and that theme hasn't been ignored just because Apu is going off to school. Aparajito is a tough film again. I had some friends of mine who said that they couldn't get into the movie and that makes a bit of sense. The movie, which now deals with Apu as an adolescent, continues his almost cinema verite journey through life. I'm not used to seeing kids in Criterion movies behave so much after Francois Truffaut made me fear French children in his Antoine Doinel films. I'm going to have to talk about the plot because there isn't much of a plot, much like the first film. Again, Ray is using these novels as character studies and as analyses of the struggles of growing up. The tone of the movie is instantly different from the first film simply because of the setting. While this definitely is a progression from the first film, it automatically feels very different setting it in the city. Poverty still haunts Apu's family, but it seems less soul crushing than it did in the first one. Auntie and sister are gone, but in the context of a city filled with either equally poor or poorer families, Apu's family seems very functional. What Ray and the filmmakers explore, however, is the vulnerability of woman here. The overarching theme of the fragility of life is still constantly in the forefront of this movie, but watching Apu's mother deal with her daily life, fearful of the dominating presence of men. What is interesting is that Ray doesn't really hammer the point home, but gives a realistic context for her fears. She shies away from her upstairs neighbor, a larger man who may or may not have untoward intentions towards the frail mother. His gestures are always kind towards her, but she sees his presence as a genuine fear in the absence of her husband. Apu must act as an intermediary, even though that Apu himself is a fraction of her size at this point in the movie. (There is a jump in time and Apu grows up at one point.) But this is a very telling moment. Part of her change feels like her cultural position as a woman in this society and part of it feels as the result of a mother who has been hurt one time too many. But this is where I get critical of a character. This isn't even a criticism of a story so much as I have real concerns about Mom's neediness. I am actually apologizing to a fictional character right now because I know that there were a ton of circumstances going into her choices. Apu's mother is weirdly selfish in this movie, but I get why. Apu is this angel of a child, especially compared to the French kids of other films, who tries his best to move on with life. He is self-motivated and is way too hard on himself. His calling is to go to Calcutta and be the best student he can possibly be. I'm being super-Western in my criticism of this character because I know that, as the son of a priest, Apu is on track to being a priest himself. (He does actually become a priest for a modest part of the movie.) It is clear that her character wishes to support her son, but allows her own needs to cloud her desire for him to go. Instead, she plays both sides, which is wholly unfair to Apu. She hits him and gets mad at him for committing himself fully to his studies. Maybe, as critical as I am of her, this is my favorite part of the movie. I've never really seen a character who is morally doing the right thing, but also experiences the pangs of selfishness, especially when it comes to her children. Every time we see the good parent, we see the joy in the success of a child. But there are moments where you want to be you and the mask of parenthood is quite the burden. I'm far from Empty Nest Syndrome, but I can imagine the sadness of knowing that my children are only a small part of my life. Apu's mother's feelings are valid, but they are also infuriating. Perhaps it is a bit melodramatic for her to die of sadness. That is very Bronte of her. But her physical ailment reflects the turmoil of her soul. She is dying of sadness because she has lost everything. I just don't see how Apu can manage. He is in a constant state of dealing with death. The odd thing about death in these movies, and I joked about this idea earlier, is that it is always the fault of another family member's absence. Auntie died in solitude. Sister died when father was gone too long. Father died because mother wasn't there to ensure that he stayed in bed. Mother died because Apu was away at college. For dramatic effect, it definitely has merit. By adding guilt to an already emotionally complex situation, the character has to be left scarred and questioning his choices from that moment. The problem is that Apu is given this heavy burden when he really does go out of his way to take care of his mother. He's a teenage boy by the end. He does hang out with his friends instead of always being with his mother, but he is also empathetic enough to know when his choices affect his mother's well-being. He has a strong moral compass, aware of when he is hurting others with his choices, but mother's silence is a form of torture to him. Mother hides her illness and tests his love by assuming he would come back to see her without a request to do so. Is the movie criticizing the idea of "breathing out"? Is the entire third movie about Apu's wrestling with his own sanity? No one could possibly deal with this burden. But I guess it's unfair as a white male who weirdly identifies more with Apu than mother, despite the fact that I have more in common with Mom at this point, that I can't understand her loss in the same way that I understand Apu's potential. Her constant fear of her son's death ironically leads to her own. The movie never really addresses her fear for Apu's safety, but considering the people she has lost in such a short time, that has to be a concern. She is truly alone. She has her peers, but that's all flash and no depth for her. For a guy who really used to get lonely, who am I to throw stones? The movie is shot again in the same method as the first one. I really had a hard time keeping focused on the slow pace of the first movie. The same one has the same pace, but I was prepped for this one. Perhaps the only thing that really makes this one move a bit better is the change of location and time. The first film has Apu as a baby to a child, but these changes seem pretty minor for the storytelling sequence. In this one, Apu goes from being a child to being someone leaving for college. It almost is like introducing a new character because his education is drastically different in this moment and he goes from being carefree to being intensely responsible. But the movie doesn't have much of a plot, which is its own intention. Rather, this is an examination of life in 1920s India. Apu is an avatar for the lives of many children dealing with poverty and opportunity. The movie never really gets critical of social structures, considering that all of the characters are steeped in poverty. Rather, it is simply matter of fact, acknowledging that there is a problem but embracing that problem. It is sad, but there is joy. I talk about death and poverty and the movie is extremely depressing, but it doesn't feel like a bummer through. Apu has happy moments with his mother and and his friends. That's what might make the death the more impactful. It is a contrast and we know how much Apu loses in these moments. His life is hard, but it isn't preachy-hard. He lives his life and doesn't gripe. I like these movies, but I wish I liked them more. The pacing is very painful for me at times and I like slow movies. I don't know if the third movie is supposed to wrap things up for me, but I have weirdly high expectations for it, which is never a good thing. I do think it is going to be slow, but that's okay because I'm nearly done. I dig them, but I have a hard time recommending them for everyone. |
Film is great. It can challenge us. It can entertain us. It can puzzle us. It can awaken us.
AuthorMr. H has watched an upsetting amount of movies. They bring him a level of joy that few things have achieved. Archives
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