Confessions of a Dangerous Mind


I thought I detected the Soderbergh touch, not only on the very extensive cast, most the cut away gags, the stylish editing-based jokes. The underlying seediness, the depression, the mental instability, that’s something else, something Being John Malkovich-shaped.

Who would have thunk, some low rate producer of trash TV was a CIA assassin? And there wasn’t any kompromat either, he was just a willing participant in the conspiracy, a true believer in the American Exceptionalism gospel.

That he got depressed over that particular role the spooks played in shaping the public discourse, I can buy that.

Even that counter-programming on broadcast TV, a dumb mass-market show to distract people from all enemies, foreign and domestic, I can buy that.

That some weirdo moron throws away true love, a mutual relationship, for nothing, I can totally buy that.

Maybe the other guys weren’t even spooks, maybe they were mobsters. Maybe it’s all an excuse for his benders, an excuse for his failures at cultivating healthy relationships. It can’t be just misanthropy, fucking up that badly might require some extra work.


Seeing the title and the Miramax logo creeped me out right away. The rest of the producers were competent enough the Weinstein dudes might not be involved in the day to day management. Less potted plants and impressionable minds would be spared that way.

It was sweet that George Clooney used his aunt’s music in the credits.

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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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