I watched ‘Magnolia’ last night. Yeah, I know : get with the times you cheesy halfwit, that movie is soooo 20th century! We’re all about Keanu having a Mark Hamill moment over the pincushiony corpse of Trinity as the swarms of cgi-squid thingos penetrate (heh) the womb (woohee) of humanity (oh-ho!) like so many stainless-steel sperm these days, boyo. Get with the program!
Oh f–k off.
So, anyway, I watched all three hours of this fine film, and I am here to tell you, the last person in America that hasn’t seen it, that it is indeed a fine film.
Perhaps the best things about the movie for me were all the damp, crumpled-up faces, contorted and shivering under the hammerblows of nearly unbearable emotions, or close facsimiles thereof. The long long closeups of those emoting auteurs were a veritable emotional Dustbuster™, by crikey, sucking the carbon out of my psychosexual valves. Then squirting in a healthy spritz of WD-40, which your average Dustbuster can’t do without special attachments. Which was why this was so damn good!
(By picking this particular metaphor to describe the mood I was in as the credits rolled and I closed Winamp™ and toddled off for a healthy crap, I am in no way claiming that this movie sucked. On the contrary, it rocked me! Rocked me like a tropical depression at the very least.)
No, seriously, folks. I loved this movie with an unhealthy passion, and I’m merely cracking anticlockwise to try and hide the uncomfortable feelings it stirred in my heart. I cried a bit, even. Especially when Tom Cruise’s unfeasibly large package was flopping around. C’mon! That sh-t was scary, damn it!
Anway. When I die, if I don’t get a f–king rain of frogs, I’m complaining to the management.
(Thus ends my very first movie-review blog post, which is soooo summer 2003, unless you’re Mistah Kottke and can get away with that sort of thing, I know. I really am trying like hell to get with the program, I swear, but when you spend as much time as I do plucking the newly-lush profusion of hairs out of your ears, you get a little behind, all right?)
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I gotta watch that movie again.
A very good movie, but I’m not sure I’d call it great. It’s ambitious as hell, which is much more than 99% of the movies out there can say, but it has its flaws. For instance, I think it could lose an hour off the running time and have even greater impact.
But each time I see it I still cry my eyes out. And some of the trailers are brilliantly edited.
Having never seen Magnolia, I cannot comment on the movie, but I am right up there with you when it comes to hair growing out the ears. If only I could pull out all the hair that grows on various parts of my body where I don’t want it and plant it on top of my head, I could stop blinding people every time I go out in the sun.
yes.
hair.
ear hair.
except my hair grows *on* the outer rim of my ears, not within. it glows golden and wavy when lit from behind.
fuck!
you did read Skot’s post on The Hair?
http://www.izzlepfaff.com/blog/archives/000175.php#000175
So, what’s this movie about then?
I don’t remember the last time I saw a movie. More than a year ago, maybe more than two years. I hadn’t even heard of Magnolia until just now, and I laughed heartily because I thought you were going to tell us about renting Steel Magnolias (another movie I’ll never see, but I remember an unavoidable ad campaign starring the Golden Girls or something) and having a good cry or feeling empowered and beautiful on the inside or something.
So that’s my dare to you: review Steel Magnolias. And every other movie with Magnolia (or maybe Mongolia) in the title.
Or not. It’s a slow day.
But…but…*lip quivers* I am beautiful on the inside, Eeksy!