My previous post was subtitled “…Chapter Nine:…” – What happened to Chapter Eight? What happened to the Dufrenes?!? How can you blog at a time like this, when Chapter Eight is lost in the wilderness of Antarctic Hollywood with Anthony Hopkins, Liam Neeson, and Dennis Quaid staring slack-jawed and salivating like voracious Mumm-Ra underlings??!?!?! Hey, man, there’s a whole lotta smartness out there — Try not to get any of it on ya.
I finally watched “Battle Royale” – I sandwiched it sauerkraut-style between the fatalistically futilitarian “Knowing” and the Didn’t-the-80s-Just-Make-You-Feel-Like-a-Splattered-Baked-Potato-on-a-Windshield “Down and Out in Beverly Hills”. The movie filled me with the requisite joy and pluck to face forward and confront with raised eyebrow and twirly ‘stache that Infernal Racket-‘n’-Clamor that Man has Dubbed…TUESDAY. Tell me again about the appeal of this..this..Quentin Tarantino somethin’-or-other; I’m not certain I can wrap my mind ’round it…or my Fists of Fury.
I’m a notorious Disaster Movie junkie – Iced coffee and the End of the World <—-One Cancels the Other. IT DOESN'T END LIKE YA THINK IT DOES!! Movies like "Knowing" that can't creep through a midnight kitchen raid shouldn't be cursorily rejected for its prosaic storyline – just think of every new Disaster Movie as another Head of Tiamat or Tentacle of the Kraken (hey – another post in which the Kraken is namedropped – your interpretation of obsequiousness may ink your epitaph, but I'll be laughing on the Shoulders of Madness MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAH)
And so it goes.