I, Tonya
I film about people of low socio-economic class that ruin their (shitty) lives after talking to the FBI. J. Edgar Hoover, continuing to ruin lives beyond the grave.
This is a really funny film. Most scenes have preposterous details that are too zany to be made up. The final credits sequence confirms it, what a bunch of crazy people. Incorrect, Americans. Truly the post-Reagan American Dream, work hard to enrich the status quo, get probation, and have Letterman make fun of you on national TV. 40 years later, a biopic will set the story straight, no biggie.
I think the mom is the star of the show. At times, it’s like I’m watching Bad Santa, it’s that over the top. But then she appears in the flesh, with the bird on her shoulder, cawing like a maniac. It’s beyond satire, just awe inspiring.
The rest of the people are more dumb fucks in general. White Trash, Rednecks, middle America (even though she lives in Portland). They live in squalor, get really impressed by people that have living rooms, constantly eat crap food. Their arguments are meaningless and involve hardcore violence. They also resist low-level authoritarian controls as much as possible, but get completely fucked by the feds instead of pleading the Fifth. Just don’t talk to the cops.
Ultimately, who cares about some sport feud? It was all the rage for a few months and then they were dropped like an ugly baby. It was all over when another sports personality murdered his own wife and ran away from the police in a white Bronco.
This is my place for ramblings about sequences of images that exploit the human visual limitation know as persistence of vision.