Ephemera of Vision
This is my place for ramblings about sequences of images that exploit the human visual limitation know as persistence of vision.
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A very modern take on the revenge plot even though our “hero” murders uncountable people in the most gruesome ways, his raiders of the land of Rus burn up hundreds in a barn (Come and See, history rhymes), and not even his mother escapes his night blade. This is exactly what Beowulf wanted to be, but wasn’t.
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Back to the convent she goes, this time to teach a group of unruly inner city kids what life is all about: bust your ass for a possibility of an education, while external consultants suck the school money into their pockets, until they close it down and earn passive income from the capitalist leeching.
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Gus van Sant does a shot-for-shot remake, with Anne Heche as Marion, the thief and philanderer, and Vince Fucking Vaughn as Norman Bates. With Viggo Mortensen on the cast, as the married boyfriend!
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Yet another prototypical Wes Anderson film. Not an inch of novelty, no twist on the formula, just whimsical stories within stories, within stories, with the regular cast, deadpan deliveries, and gorgeous visuals. It’s less on the nose than The French Dispatch, but a similar state of mind.
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Come on man, I got four kids to feed!
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Like a refined jewel inside a pouch of imported silk, devoid of any imperfections or blemishes. Makes Frank Sinatra look like a complete idiot without charisma.
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Just a 2 hours long Red Bull/Monster commercial, with the added beats from the older film. No pitbulls being thrown at our protagonist, sad. It kinda makes sense instead of being surfer dudes, the new anti-social anti-heros are ecoterrorist stunt YouTubers.
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Where Do I Begin? Life is Sweet, The Salmon Dance, Snow falls.
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Violence begets violence, silence continues the suffering, vengeful catharsis only delays the problem. In this case, for the next generation.
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Woo, Will Smart in the start of its Schwarzenegger-isation. It’s not MIB II-levels of “wooo”. Just like all Emmerich epics, this is bursting at the seams with shit happening, but at the same time it feels hollow.
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A libtard look into the life of Cheney, with barely any mention of more explosive stuff, and only a small video of Hillary Rodham selling the Iraq War like the corporatist war criminal she is.
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Good grief, the sound mix is truly awful. You can’t hear the dialogue, if you try to raise the volume your ears will be split on the explosions. I can see why teenage me thought this was the best thing since sliced bread: teenage me was dumb.
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How quaint. It appears that someone thought that the best part of Ocean’s Eleven was the horrendous British accents and the sex jokes, and therefore based the entirety of a major motion picture on those skits. Preposterous, I say, good chap.
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The followup to Murder by Death, with Peter Falk playing the Marlowe private dick that gets all the girls in the end. Incredible, considering he is a broke guy without a steady job.
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Riot Girl is tight! Meek girl learning to face her oppressors is goddamn tight! Kangaroo-men are hopping mad!
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