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notbang · 4 years

Note

Oh i am very interested in knowing how you think the show messed up Nathaniel's characterization / development ? Thanks for your presence, i miss the show !

my main criticism is that s2 nathaniel is so vastly different to s3 and s4 nathaniel in a way that doesn’t feel like character development so much as inconsistent writing, and i tend to be bitter about this because i find s2 nathaniel the more interesting iteration.

i don’t think the writers room had a shared understanding of his character - for example, how rich is nathaniel? his apartment doesn’t have a kitchen is sleek and nice but relatively small. he drinks in the daytime at a kids baseball establishment wearing sweat pants, is confused by ‘middle class’ games nights, and apparently also attends royal weddings and hunts ducks in his spare time. whether they want to paint him as a relatable everyman, well-to-do, old-money lawyer or some kind of out of touch millionaire oscillates willy-nilly between episodes.

probably the most glaring fumble to me is his descent into petulance and rudeness in s4. if you look at s2 nathaniel, his whole deal is business and maintaining a perfect outward appearance. even though he’s threatening to fire everybody in 2x09, once rebecca secures the money, he lets the issue go true to his word. he’s not firing people to be an asshole, he’s firing people because Business. firing george, however, IS an act of assholery, and this still is done in a cool, calm and collected manner. when darryl tries to stage an uprising over the candy, he doesn’t get mad, he rolls his eyes and tells them to get back to work. if s2 nathaniel is rude, it’s in a very composed and cultivated way, because he is all about appearances. s2 nathaniel would never in a million years refuse to speak to a high profile client the way he does in 4x03!!!! he would never speak so rudely the way he does in 4x06! i get that his infatuation with rebecca leads to a loss of composure but it just doesn’t work for me. he’s an uptight wasp, and if he’s going to be rude, it’s going to be via scathing passive aggression! (and while we’re at it, there’s no way he doesn’t understand that kissing bert on the forehead is weird. he’s plenty affectionate with rebecca. he’s repressed, not stupid. that almost kiss fake out should have been with heather and i WILL die mad about it.)

it’s also like they realised at the start of s4 that he hadn’t fallen far enough to have a satisfying arc of growth, so they tried to make him worse in a way that didn’t ring true. in as early as s2 darryl, tim and jim feel comfortable enough to risk nathaniel’s wrath when they try to coax him into a nap. in 3x10 when rebecca wants them to revolt against nathaniel, none of them are particularly interested because he’s been fine, actually. so why do we suddenly jump to them being terrified of him in s4? the leap is just as lazy as his yelling ‘i’m nice now!’ - though at least the case there is that that’s the whole joke.

s2 also set up a wonderful adoptive father/son dynamic between darryl and nathaniel that could have been the perfect way for nathaniel to examine his toxic masculinity except that it went absolutelynowhere. this is particularly frustrating because nathaniel occupies a lot of screen time, yet doesn’t really ever have much of a storyline independent of rebecca. all we really get is that he has issues with his parents, but they don’t do much with that except rehash the same conflict with his father, twice, without pushing it anywhere new or interesting. it felt like his s4 arc needed to be about breaking free from his father (and think of the humour that would have been inherent in nathaniel having to suddenly navigate life on a budget!) but we only got a snippet of that in a flashback to a phone call in the finale. ceg could have done so much more with a lot of its characters, but it’s a real bummer that, say, heather and valencia lost out on extra screen time because the narrative favoured nathaniel, even when it wasn’t actually utilising nathaniel in a satisfying way.

i always find it ironic that they felt like they had to dial back the grebecca slant in the finale because they were favouring greg too much, because in so many ways the show does (both intentionally and unintentionally) favour nathaniel, which definitely speaks to a greater issue in popular media where we’re prone to favouring the straight white asshole nathaniel represents. nathaniel got to be the one singing her song, which is such an important moment for rebecca, and while as a shipper i cherish that, i’m not blind to the mental gymnastics you have to do to accept nathaniel ever agreeing to be in a musical. the dude even got an entire episode from his POV, something no other character gets.

tl;dr i totally get why people that don’t like nathaniel resent his presence in the show so strongly. it just so happened that my monkey brain decided it liked the dumbass anyway, and the aspects about the dynamic that interest me outweigh all the things that piss me off.

#crazy ex girlfriend #nathaniel plimpton #I'm here come talk to me about dumb stuff #anonymous

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prettyboy-parker · 5 years

Photo

father

words: idk

warnings: none, really

author’s note: I really fucking hate this

this is heavily inspired by I Am Mother, 10 Cloverfield Lane, and Passengers. They are all great movies that you should watch! The poem featured (in italics) is titled “Fear of the Future” by John Koethe. If any of you get pissy I can properly cite it.

——

In the end one simply withdraws

From others and time, one's own time,

——

“Son, are you paying attention?”

Peter blinks a few times and shakes himself out of his thoughts.

“My apologies, Father.” He responds, pressing his hands to the cold countertop of the metal table, steadying them.

“You will not pass your exam if you keep this up.” Father tells him for the hundredth time.

Peter swallows thickly.

“Father, I-“ He starts, but quickly cuts himself off.

The empty classroom is silent, except for the sound of Peter’s heavy breathing. It seems to bounce off the white walls, amplifying his nerves.

“What is it, son?” Father asks, leaning forward and causing a metallic sound to ring out. “You know you can ask me anything. I will not be mad.”

Peter looks up at Father.

As much as he looks like a human, his smile is emotionless and mechanical.

“I don’t understand why I have to take exams. If I am the only one left, why does it matter?” Peter finally asks.

Father doesn’t drop his smile. His unnatural blue eyes shine as he speaks.

“They measure how well I am teaching you. They can only help you, my son.”

Peter nods slowly, staring into those glowing eyes. Father reaches forward, taking Peter’s small hand in his robotic one. His right hand is void of the fake skin that covers his skeleton, leaving a robotic limb exposed. His mechanical fingers curl around Peter’s. As much as it is unnerving, Peter likes Father’s bare hand. Father tells him that the extinct humans modeled him after their ideal man, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, and muscular. The exposed skeleton makes Father feel a little more real.

A little more flawed.

“Now, answer the question. 5 people are ill, but have the necessary organs to save one person of influence. On the other hand, the one person of influence has the necessary organs to save all five of the others, but will lose their life. What is the most ethical thing to do?”

“Easy. The person of influence should give up their life for the greater good.”

Father smiles.

“Good boy.”

——

Becoming an imaginary Everyman

Inhabiting a few rooms, personifying

——

Nothing goes bump in the night in their sanctuary.

That’s what Peter thought, anyways.

But a loud banging noise awakes him from his sleep. Peter sits up in bed, startled. His eyes dart around his pitch black room, looking for an indication of the noise. The banging doesn’t seem damaging enough to set off an alarm, so Father is still asleep. Peter reaches over to turn his bedside lamp on, an unnatural white glow lighting up the room. The room is untouched, glass door tightly sealed, closet doors unopened. Peter leans over to the crisp white side table, reaching inside it’s drawer to grab a flashlight. He slips out from under the white comforter, bare feet landing on the fluffy ivory rug. The banging starts up again. As quietly as he can, Peter shuffles towards his bedroom door, pressing the button to the side of it, the door opening with a soft whoosh. He looks down the hall, trying to find where the sound is coming from. He listens intently and it seems the banging is coming from,

The Airlock?

Peter furrows his brow.

There’s never any disturbance by the airlock, because, well, it’s an airlock.

His feet guide him to the airlock, since Peter knows the sanctuary like the back of his hand. The banging gets louder as he approaches, becoming clear and crisp as the door to the airlock room opens. Peter shines his flashlight on the giant metal doors, protecting him and Father from the contagion outside. The sound of something on metal rings through the room.

Slowly, Peter approaches the secure doors. He has to stand on his tippy toes to reach the small window, so he does and shines his light through the glass. What he sees makes him gasp and drop his flashlight.

There’s someone there.

Banging on the doors.

“Hey! Let me in!” The thing shouts, banging on the doors harder.

Peter is frozen as he tries to think of what to do.

If the thing is a robot, like Father, it’ll most likely be able to get inside on its own eventually. Opening the door for it would set off the alarm, causing Father to catch him and punish him.

But, if the thing is dangerous, Father will be able to protect him.

Peter presses the button next to the double doors and turns the key.

The alarm starts blaring, flashing red as the doors open slowly. Before the doors even lift up half way, the entity is scrambling underneath them.

“You couldn’t have gotten here faster?” The thing spits. He looks roughed up, torn clothes and dirt smeared on his face. Peter’s heart catches in his chest when he sees a fresh, open wound underneath his eye, and a bigger one on his left arm.

He’s human.

Peter’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of something to say. Both of them turn their head when they hear the sound of metal hitting the floor.

“Father!” Peter yelps as the doors to the airlock room slide open.

“A fucking droid?” The man hisses, reaching for the gun strapped onto his waist.

“Wait!” Peter yells, running in front of Father as the man cocks his gun.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you want to be saved?” The man sneers, hands shaking as he holds up his gun.

“Son, move out of the way.” Father says from behind him.

“Please. We want to help. Put the gun down.” Peter says softly, ignoring Father.

The man looks at him wildly, red light illuminating his face. Slowly, he lowers the gun, turning the safety on and tossing it on the ground.

“Turn that fucking alarm off so help me god.”

——

The urge to tend one's garden,

A character of no strong attachments

——

The only sound in the cafeteria is the clanking of the man’s fork on his tray. After the alarm was shut off, all he would grumble about was food. Father told Peter to take him to the cafeteria and get him dinner.

He hasn’t said a word, just grunts.

“You just gonna fucking stare at me, huh?” The man says through a mouthful of corn.

Peter gulps.

“I’m not allowed to leave you alone. I apologize.” He says softly.

The man shorts and rolls his sunken eyes. He takes another spoonful of his corn.

“Do you have a name?” Peter finally asks, fidgeting in the metal chair.

The man inhales, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.

“Tony.” The man, Tony, says, outstretching his hand that’s wrapped in a frayed bandage.

“Peter.” Peter responds, shaking Tony’s hand.

“I’m taking a shower. Thank you for your hospitality,” Tony mumbles, clearly not at all grateful.

Peter stands up quickly.

“There are private living spaces with showers. I can show you there. See, this place was built for-“

“Yeah, I’m aware. I can get there on my own.” Tony interrupts, pushing his tray towards Peter as he stands.

“But sir,” Peter rushes after Tony as he walks toward the main doors. “It’s a confusing layout. Let me show you there. You’ll get lost.”

Tony whips around, grabbing Peter’s wrist, twisting it slightly. The boy lets out a little yelp.

“Listen here you little shit,” Tony growls, face inches away from Peter’s, “I’m fully capable of getting around in here. I’m the one who fucking funded it, for God’s sake. Now, leave me the fuck alone or I’ll break your tiny little wrist.”

Peter is left speechless as Tony drops his wrist and walks away.

——

Who made nothing happen, and to whom

Nothing ever actually happened—a fictitious

Man whose life was over from the start,

——

“He is getting used to the changes in his life. Give him some time.”

Father squeezes Peter’s leg from where he’s sitting on the end of the bed.

“I know,” Peter says solemnly, “I just want to talk to him. Human to human.”

Father nods at these words.

“Did you know?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are, son. Get some rest. You can try to speak to our guest tomorrow.” Father says as he stands up.

“I must charge. Goodnight, my son.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

——

Like a diary or a daybook whose poems

And stories told the same story over

And over again, or no story. The pictures

——

“Why did you choose Tony?”

Tony looks at him in confusion, then hisses as Peter dabs his cheek wound with peroxide.

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, wincing as Peter covers the wound with a bandage.

“Well, I chose my name after Peter Rabbit. Father always read that to me as a child.” Peter tells Tony.

The older man chuckles and shakes his head.

“That’s cute.” He grunts, calloused fingers drifting over the bandage.

“Hey! Are you teasing me?” Peter giggles, sifting through one of the drawers to get a new roll of bandages.

“Not one bit. And in real life your parents choose your name.”

Peter sighs.

This is real life.

“I don’t have parents. Just Father.” He says quietly, unwrapping the worn bandage that encases Tony’s hand.

Tony rolls his eyes.

He seems to do that a lot.

“Would you stop with the father thing? It’s a droid. Not your dad.” Tony grumbles.

Peter is hurt.

“He’s taken care of me all my life. He’s never lied to me, has never hurt me.”

“Bullshit.” Tony growls, “It’s been telling you that humans are extinct. But look at me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Peter doesn’t say anything.

“I try to be a sympathetic man. So I’ll give you some sympathy. You deserve to live with other humans. Have some interaction for once in your goddamn life.”

Tony is now pacing around the room.

“Come with me. Back home. I’ve got 100 people living in one of these sanctuaries a few miles away. There’s room for one more.”

Peter looks into Tony’s stormy eyes.

“What about the virus?”

Angrily, Tony pushes over the metal supply cart. It falls to the floor with a bang.

“There’s no virus! Can’t you see?”

Tony grips Peter by the collar of his white t-shirt.

“No virus, no disease, nothing. Just droids.”

——

And paintings hang crooked on the walls,

The limbs beneath the sheets are frail and cold

——

“Your tags.”

Tony looks up from his tray of chicken.

“May I see them?” Peter asks, setting down his fork.

Wordlessly, Tony sets down his utensils and takes off the dog tags, bandaged hands brushing the leather of the jacket he refuses to remove. He drops the tags into Peter’s cupped hands, cool metal against his skin.

Peter lifts up the tags, thumb grazing over the raised letters.

Barnes, James Buchanan

The rest of the words don’t mean anything to him.

“Who’s James?” Peter asks, lowering his voice when he hears a door open nearby.

“Bucky. He went by Bucky.” Tony says, avoiding Peter’s eyes.

“Who’s Bucky, then?”

Tony rubs his face.

“He was my husband. Died 3 years ago. Can we stop talking about this?”

Peter gives back his dog tags.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I overreacted.” Tony grunts, finishing the rest of his apple juice.

Father enters the room.

“Is there anywhere private we can go?”

——

And morning is an exercise in memory

——

“Wow, you talk so much. I’m tired from listening to you talk.”

Peter giggles and flops down onto his bed, lying next to Tony.

“I’ve just got a lot to say.”

Tony smiles as he looks at the ceiling.

He smiles a lot more now.

Peter turns his head so he’s face to face with Tony.

“Lot going on in that pretty head of yours?” Tony asks, brushing a stray curls out of Peter’s eyes.

“Guess so.” Peter responds, face heating up.

Tony’s hand caresses his cheek gently.

“I’m guessing you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Peter turns his attention back to the ceiling.

“Hey,” Tony says softly, turning Peter’s face back to his own, “Would you want to try?”

Peter nods slowly, lips parted. Before he knows it, Tony’s lips are pressed to his. He melts into the older man’s touch, loving the feeling of his beard. Peter decides he could do this forever. Tony’s hand gently rests on Peter’s hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb. His tongue probes against Peter’s closed lips and the boy decides to open his lips slightly. Tony slips his tongue into Peter’s mouth with a groan. Lightly, Peter pushes Tony down so he’s lying on his back, climbing to straddle his lap.

“Holy hell.” Tony breathes once they part.

“Yeah.” Peter says, hands resting on his chest.

“Yeah.” Tony repeats.

Peter erupts in a fit of giggles, lying on Tony’s chest.

“Can’t wait to come home with you.”

“Me neither.”

——

Of a long failure, and of the years

——

“Let us go or I kill him.”

Peter lets out a sob as Tony tightens his grip on Peter’s throat. They’ve rehearsed this before, yet it is still frightening to have the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

Father doesn’t say anything, just watches.

“Open that fucking door goddammit!” Tony screams, yanking Peter closer to the door.

Silently, Father presses the button to the airlock doors. Once they’re open, Tony pulls Peter out into the open. The ground is dirt, no grass to be seen. There are a few withered trees, bare of leaves.

As the doors close, Peter catches a glimpse of Father.

He sobs.

Tony presses kisses to his cheeks, wiping away his tears as they fall to the ground.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

——

Mirrored in the face of the immaculate

Child who can't believe he's old.

#starker #starker fic #i hate this so much

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madameinsomnia · 5 years

Text

Why Jordan Peele is One of the Most Important Directors of our Generation

Intro:

Before the horror-comedy sensation Get Out was released in 2017, I’d never heard the name Jordan Peele before. Now, after seeing his most recent success, Us, I can’t see myself not perking up at reading his name in the credits.

Peele didn’t just appear magically out of thin air as a gift from the filmmaking gods, even though it seems like so. His career actually kickstarted in 2003 when he joined the cast of Mad TV in its ninth season. I’m not here to give you an entire biography of Jordan Peele’s life, but this does give some insight to just how long he’s been working in the industry.

Get Out was Peele’s first job as a solo director, but with the amount of professionalism and mastery put into it, you’d never know it was his debut. Might I also add he was the sole writer as well?

Thrilling, with a premise as outlandish as The Stepford Wives, but with so many silly and satirical moments, Get Out feels very much like real life because of this perfect mix. As a screenwriter (wannabe), I must gush a bit about how well his characters are written and how natural their behavior feels given the situation. The protagonist of Get Out, Chris (played wonderfully by Daniel Kaluuya) feels like someone you could meet at a bus stop or in line at the coffee shop, point being he’s an everyman. Not every lead character has to overtly stand out to be noticable; we just have to be able to fit in their shoes.

But what really made Get Out work is how Peele wrote it as a horror movie, without the need of all those cliche horror tropes that our generation is so accustomed to. About to go off topic for a bit, but I assure you, it’ll all make sense as to why I made this article about Jordan Peele.

What is Horror and What WAS Horror?

Horror is, perhaps, one of the most enigmatic genres there is because what can be defined as scary or unsettling is entirely subjective. There are very few things that people are universally afraid of. Things that only seem more common today but really have always been around... what makes today different from then is that everyone talks about it.

Imagine it’s the 1960s, you live in a cookie-cutter neighborhood where everyone knows everyone. Everywhere you look is a friendly face. Then suddenly, down the road, there is a break-in. The parents left the baby with a sitter and she was brutally attacked. Well, the only way you’re bound to know is through the newspaper or word-of-mouth, but after a while, is anyone going to talk about it or want to? Not a chance. You’ll always hear: These things just don’t happen around here. Not in our town. When really, they do. They happen everywhere. Then of course this is how urban legends start. The Hook Killer on Lover’s Lane, the Boogeyman that creeps at night.

A documentary that goes more in depth on this idea is Joshua Zeman’s Killer Legends. He explains how the real-life stories that inspire these legends are far more scarier than the films they create... and that’s how it all started.

Let me explain: the ‘Horror’ genre was meant to showcase just what people didn’t want to talk about what was happening down the road or across town. There’s a man that lures people into his hotel to kill them? Our neighbor killed his wife in cold blood and is trying to hide it? My upstairs neighbors might be psycho Satan worshippers?! Nah. Let’s just ignore it and hope it goes away.

A lot of people think if we don’t talk about it, these issues will vanish. But Horror films reminded us that such terrors exist in the real world, and can only be stopped if we acknowledge that they’re there. That’s why such films like Psycho or Rosemary’s Baby were so revolutionary--the idea that the scariest things are not even supernatural (Peele understands this greatly, but I’m getting there).

Horror worked well as a unique genre for the creative minds of Alfred Hitchcock, Wes Craven, and Tobe Hooper. Then this happened:

The Slasher Era:

HOLD UP. I’m NOT undermining the effect that these films have. Halloween is a classic, and there are plenty of other ‘semi-modern’ thrillers that work like this, but...

They unintentionally got the ball rolling for marketing genius and filmmaking disaster. Halloween was far more effective in 1978, when it was released, than it probably would be had it been made today (No, we’re not talking about 2018′s Halloween. Now stop distracting me). With horror, timing is everything... as in, ‘what’s going on in the world’ timing. Babysitting late nights was far more common then than it was now, and teenagers didn’t have modern conveniences they do now should anything happen. Back then, they actually had to WATCH the children, ensure their safety as well as their own, not give them an iPad and watch TV for an hour or two.

On top of this, as much as we take it for granted, 911 wasn’t always around. Until 1968, US citizens had no way of getting in immediate contact with the police until they got the operator on the phone to connect you to them. So Halloween recreates that idea of what if the babysitter got into a terrible situation with no way of getting immediate help? But they also decided to make things a little edgier... better said, bloodier. Cue Friday the 13th.

Teenagers go to sleepaway camp all the time (No, we’re not talking about that movie either, so hush), so what would parents be like seeing this film about kids going to a sleepaway camp where there’s a murderer hanging around? A brilliant idea that sold tickets back in 1980 to young adults and grown-ups alike. That’s because these ideas were new and horrifyingly relevant and real. They’re reminded of the threats that are out there.

But here’s the catch that ruined everything: it sold tickets. Sure, it scared some people for a good while, but they didn’t always leave with the idea lingering in their heads. But the producers and writers don’t always care about the latter, once they realized how easily money can be made by movie-goers wanting a good scare and a ‘fun time,’ the Slasher genre skyrocketed, and the brilliance of horror got dumbed down... and down... and down over the years with few exceptions. Let’s not mention, marketing blew up with Slasher films. Did anyone ask for four Halloween sequels or seventeen more Jason films? Nope. Did it make money anyway? Yup. It’s all in the name, not in the art...

Come On In, Get Out!

(See what I did there?)

Repeating myself at the intro, for those who forgot that this is really about Jordan Peele, I’d never heard of him before I saw Get Out. Even then, I only really knew about the movie through everyone talking about its 100% Rotten Tomatoes score. I went into the movie blind, a little confused to what made it considered a ‘horror’ when it looked like perhaps a Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner? type film.

When I saw it for the first time, I was sinking back into my seat whenever I felt Chris’ (the lead’s) discomfort. Again, it’s because we all fit into his situation seamlessly, being somewhere you’re not sure you’re welcome (hence the clever title). The audience was cheering by the end, eager that our in-movie buddy had made it out safe (Spoilers, I guess, but c’mon. If you haven’t seen it yet, get out :D).

But what made Get Out stand out from other modern-day thriller films is that when I went back, I caught things I’d missed my first time through; small hints and cues that clue you into what’s really going on. Did they have to be there to make it more enjoyable, probably not... but Jordan Peele wrote them in anyway, combining it with his perfect set-ups and shots so that the more cerebral movie-goers can have those ‘ah-ha’ moments! It’s a horror film where, for once, you feel like a genius for getting those little hints and figuring out what’s going to happen next (We are all Rod, who pretty much kept a running commentary of the movie-watcher’s thoughts).

Again, all not required, but very necessary if your film is going to be effective. While Peele deservedly won Best Original Screenplay, I say he was next up for Best Director from the perfect pauses in dialogue, to the little awkward looks in the camera by the hypnotized victims.

Why was it so successful among audiences everywhere, of all nationalities and ages?

Intelligent Horror:

Jordan Peele himself stated that Get Out was from ‘an effort to master fear.’ Us, I think, is an extension of that idea. What made these two films so effective wasn’t that they were filled with scary moments now and then and called itself ‘horror.’

They were smart films.

Get Out has very real fears we as people have; being out of place, uncomfortably watched by people, being abducted and never heard from again which horrifyingly happens far too often here in the States.

Us offers similar real-life horrors. A home invasion, being separated from your kids (and in return, kids being separated from their parents, their source of protection since day one). There always seems to be something supernatural or paranormal at play here, but there’s nothing of such going on. In Peele’s writing, it’s all real-life. After all, is the real world not a scary place?

The only difference I noticed in Us is that Peele maintains his effective dialogue with subtle clues of what’s going on, while visually he kept some of his trademarks (the wide shot of a figure walking towards the camera, looking right into it with wide, terrified eyes) but with a lot less visual hints than Get Out (to me, at least, but I’ve only seen Us once and will definitely be watching again).

While Get Out’s message leaned more towards the race issues in the US (and the world by proxy), Us is more muddled in what the audience is meant to take from it... and that’s perfectly fine. Jordan Peele’s horror is that you might not necessarily leave the theater scared to turn your light off at night, but you’re up late thinking about it and what it all means. And those are the kinds of films that stay on Hollywood’s radar for generations to come and not just as Halloween-time fun. Heck, Get Out came out in February, 2017. Us came out in March, 2019. Normally we expect cheesy rom-coms this time of year; so when a movie claiming to be a thriller shows up on the ‘coming soon’ list, you bet people are going to raise their brows and see what’s going on.

Peele understands how to entice people, to make them feel comfortable with his characters and then worry for their safety, while at the same time being far too fascinated by what’s going to happen to even think about taking their eyes off the screen to check their phones while waiting for the next jump scare.

He knows how to bring out the actors’ most unsettling parts of themselves, actors we may be familiar with and are used to seeing them as friendly faces (Lupita Nyong’o managed to creep me out while being an amazing spectacle on camera)! Daniel Kaluuya became an Oscar Nominee from his performance as a man being held captive going into full survival mode.

Don’t we all worry about what we’d do if we were in the situations those people were in? Wouldn’t we hope to have the smarts or guts to fight our way out just as they did? That’s the idea of what horror really is meant to be. Not be that one idiot character that goes into the scary house that’s known to be haunted while your friends tell you no (or film you for snapchat, I dunno).

No, in Peele’s movie, you’re going somewhere that’s supposed to be safe, where something unexpected that you were unprepared for happens... and that’s scarier than any ghost story I’ve seen.

#Jordan Peele #Modern Horror #Filmmaking #Get Out

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shauds-archived · 5 years

Note

Can you do dismissed with Jason?

Came this close to doing something with Steph untill you tacked Eddie on there, here it is.

Jason knows the second he finds out that Edie signed up for the Everyman Project that a former kid sidekick won't be accepted. He didn't know he'd feel bad about it. Eddie doesn't know why this guy is so familiar, or why he's being so nice to him, but he's not going to complain.

000

Another familiar face. Some days every face is familiar, every glance cast his way is a shriek of danger, every shadow is staking him. It's common enough that he's used to it already, he what measures he needs to take to manage those days without an incident taking place.

Jason hasn't taken those measures today, because today has by all counts been one of the better ones. Everything clear and quiet and just near enough the surface for him to do what's supposed to be his job. Still the face is familiar. Arm outstretched, yelling for someone to hold the lift. There are three people other than Jason in the lift, none of them look about to stop the doors from closing. Jason shouldn't either, if it's familiar there's a chance it will recognize him too, and that would be... not good, not good at all.

Jason blocks the door with his foot anyways, it gets him a couple of disgruntled looks, but no idiot's going to do anything about it. Ah nepotism.

"Hot damn." He's out of breath when he slumps against the wall and struggles to catch it back. "Thanks. It wouldn't look good if I was late, huh?" He flashes Jason a grin. There's no recognition in his eyes.

Jason's smile is tight and formal, he nods, adjusts the tray of coffee in his hands and fixes his eyes on the numbers rolling by on top of the door.

The doors open, the woman in the pink business suit gets off. Jason pretends the kid isn't watching him, then there's a hand being shoved in front of his face.

"I'm Eddie."

"My hands are a little full right now." Jason nods down at the eight cups of coffee he'd been sent to fetch. Eddie looks down at them too and flushes a bright red.

"Sorry." He chuckles, nervously and their two remaining companions frown at him, the both of them get off only seconds later. "So." Eddie shuffles his feet and buries his arms up to the elbow in the pockets of his bright green hoodie. "You work here?"

"Yeah, I'm..." He definately not an intern, but he doesn't think what he does really fits with the 'personal assistant written on his contract either. "I get coffee."

"So your like a gopher?" Eddie seems a little too excited by that, but Jason nods anyway why did this damn building have so many sub basements? "Me too!" Eddie glances upwards and he rocks back on his feet. "Well, I used to be. I'm here for the Everyman Project now."

"I don't get why anyone would sign up to be poked at by those creeps." Jason says, thinking of the throngs of kids lining up around the building, flooding Talia's inbox with applications. Either she'd done a little too good with the P.R departments restructuring, or people were getting even more stupid. Those doctors are the kind of people Jason would taze for getting too close.

"Who wouldn't want superpowers?" Eddie scrunches his face like Jason's said the most in incomprehensible thing he's ever heard. "I'd give up everything for a chance... I did give up everything for this chance, I mean, come on you've never wanted to fly, or go shoot lasers, or move things around with your mind?"

"Everyone I ever met with powers was miserable." Or dead, and Jason's had that option taken away.

"Its not gonna be like that for me." Eddie says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "If I get in, I'll be a hero. Just like Blue Devil and... " His grin turns to something almost sad. "And Robin."

"Robin?" Jason starts, lets himself really look at Eddie for the first time since he stood besides Jason. 'He couldn't mean...' "Most people woulda said Batman."

"I never met Batman, but I knew a Robin who was pretty cool."

"Ah." Jason nods and looks back up at the number dial he plucks one of the coffees out of the tray. "Well then here's something for luck." The doors slide open again and Jason steps out. "Be seeing you Eddie."

"Hey thanks!" Eddie calls after him, so excitable and filled with hope it's cruel, and cruel of Jason to allow, even worse to encourage it.

They'll never let a former kid sidekick into the project.

000

It's raining, because of course it is, when Eddie's kicked out. Dismissed for psychological reasons. Nobody tells him what those reasons are, the assessor had barely even looks at him when she stuffs Eddie's file into a drawer and tells him he has five minutes to leave the premises. It takes him all of those five minutes just to get outside, and from there he had no idea where he's supposed to go.

There's no money for a return flight to L.A, even if there was something waiting there for him. He doesn't know what number his parents are using now, and if he did, he probably wouldn't use it. He'd risk trying to find Dan for a place to spend the night, but Dan's been missing for months.

Eddie doesn't bother trying to find shelter from the rain, he knows it's pointless, anywhere he can reach by foot is too far away for it to matter. It grants him solitude, at least he can be grateful for that when he dropped onto a park bench like the animatronic props when they had their cords pulled. Head in his hands his shoulders shake uncontrollably, his chest hurts so bad he thinks it might kill him if it doesn't stop, if his lungs keep refusing to pull in air. Alone in an unfamiliar city and all he has to be grateful for is that he's alone, that he's cold and wet and alone because even the mad scientists don't want him.

Then a shadow passes over him and the rain's suddenly stopped hitting him. "It didn't go well?"

Eddie starts, his head snaps up at the voice. It's the guy from the lift, the one with the coffee. He's standing in the rain while he holds his umbrella over Eddie's head.

"Hey." Eddie frantically tries to scrub the tears from his face with his sleeves. The guy watches, impassive, no more emotion on his face than there'd been when Eddie'd chattered at him in the elevator, his eyes so green against the grey of the clouds and the ghostly pallor of his skin that they almost seem to be giving off an unnatural glow, like a ghost. He's still the only one who's showed Eddie anything like kindness since he's been in Metropolis. "No, I uh, don't meet the psychological requirements."

"That's too bad." The guy inclines his head just a little . "I would have liked to see more of you."

"Thanks." Eddie sniffs and wraps his arms around himself to ward of some of the cold.

"You have some place to go?"

Eddie shakes his head, unable to come up with the words to voice his reply.

"Ah." He nods once and steps away from Eddie, but keeps the umbrella where it is. "Come on, I can book you couple nights in a motel."

"You'll what?" Eddie frowns, sure he's misheard, or outright imagined the whole person, he gets nothing but a blank stare in response. "Why would you..."

He looks pained, for a moment, and for just that moment something about this stranger is familiar, something in Eddie's subconsciouses that tickles at his brain but refuses to let itself be known no matter how hard he tries for a clearer picture, and then it's gone.

"I don't want nightmares of you being murdered on this park bench tonight." He cocks his head at the street. "Gotta be up early."

"You're sure?" Eddie asks, getting up from the bench.

The guy nods again and Eddie senses he's getting impatient, so he doesn't question it again, just gets up and lets himself be led away keeping close so neither of them is without the umbrellas shelter.

"I'll uh, pay you back, uh..." Eddie offers later, turns the key card over in his hands when he realizes that he never got a name. "Mister..."

He's surprised when the man lets out a short bark of laughter and his too-bright, too-dim eyes light up a little. "It's Jason, and don't worry about it. I work for Lex Luthor, probably be needing a hero if he tries to steal my hair." He runs his hand through his damp curls as he says it, mixing the thick lock of white in with the rest before he makes for the door.

"I'll keep an eye out!" Eddie calls after him. "Thanks, Jason!"

The smiles Jason flashes him over his shoulder is bright, and again, there's something way too familiar, but there's no way... "Goodbye Eddie." He reopens the umbrella, steps through the door, and he's gone.

It can't be... Like a ghost. Eddie runs through the door, he's only a couple of seconds behind, but there's no one for him to chase after, not so much as a glimpse. His voice is just barely over a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the pattering of the rain. "Bye Jason."

#Jason Todd #Eddie Bloomberg #fanfiction #asks #anonymous #mine

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ahouseoflies · 5 years

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The Best Films of 2018, Part II

Part I is here. Let’s keep it moving. ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS

103. Zama (Lucretia Martel)- In this movie there's a motif of Zama, an officer of the 18th century Spanish Empire, starting a scene by talking to someone or staring at someone off camera. After a minute or two, the camera cuts to some servant and disorients us. There's a person there, always there, to serve him, and it doesn't really matter who it is. It's a brilliant way to get at the colonialism that the character depends on but is still trapped by. So I get a little bit of what the film is trying to do, but it's boring. I'm an ignorant person who doesn't know how to watch Lucretia Martel's films or have any context for South American history, but I know what boring is. 102. I Feel Pretty (Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein)- I like that Schumer tried something different instead of falling back on her persona, but there isn't enough new or interesting here for me to recommend--besides National Treasure Michelle Williams, of course. The film nearly displays "Do you see that she's turning her back on her real friends now?" on the screen. 101. A Simple Favor (Paul Feig)- At times cheeky and sexy and juicy, but it still wears out its welcome by twists ninety-one and ninety-two. 100. Double Lover (Francois Ozon)- Diverting until it gets silly, then so silly that it gets diverting again. There are about five too many twists, and I'm still unclear on how seriously the film takes any of those twists. More importantly, I don't think there's much of a takeaway from any of it. Ozon seems to have found a real muse in Marine Vacth though. 99. Borg Vs. McEnroe (Janus Metz Pedersen)- As a Shia Pet, I felt obligated to see his portrayal of Johnny Mac. I didn't learn anything that I didn't already know from this mediocre biopic though. Watch the documentary McEnroe/Borg: Fire & Ice instead. 98. Ralph Breaks the Internet (Rich Moore and Phil Johnston)- There's some clever visualization of the the Internet, such as the way that a link shuttles an avatar off in a transparent car or the way that shady newsboy types whisper about pop-up ads. And I liked a lot of the Disney tie-in stuff that critics are wincing at. As far as textbook screenwriting goes, it's great at that idea of making you think that the protagonists will accomplish their goal very easily, only to have them be re-directed to square one. The voice acting is top-notch. Why do these movies get so plotty though? I felt as if the internal logic started getting inconsistent about halfway through--at the same time that the first one got bogged down with candy stuff instead of 8-bit video game stuff. And if there are so many lovable characters from the first entry, why do we get such tiny servings of them here? The movie's too long already, but what I wouldn't give for an occasional cut back to Fix-It Felix raising some kids.

97. We the Animals (Jeremiah Zagar)- The Tree of Life is one of my favorite movies, and on its face, We the Animals is a really similar impressionistic memory. So why do I like it half as much? Are lighting and music that important? Is Jessica Chastain? Is latent racism? All I know is that this felt like a story I had seen before pitched at the same intensity for a running time I was happy to see expire. 96. Kodachrome (Mark Raso)- The three leads are all pretty good. (Ed Harris does this bashful, pulling-on-his-eyelid thing that killed me.) But with mathematical precision, the film matched each element I liked with another thing that infuriated me. Specifically, the whole plot hinges on one scene, and that scene is preposterous and alien to human behavior. 95. Deadpool 2 (David Leitch)- The pacing of these movies is bizarre to me; they're half-over before they really get started. No one else is bothered by the fact that Cable has no motivation or backstory for the first hour? Some of the connections to X-Men felt more forced this time around, but I thought this entry was much funnier than the first, even mixing in some more subtle visual gags. (The exotic locales montage ending in Biloxi really got me.) I have to give credit to the X-Force parachute sequence, which is audacious and unexpected. And clear out for Zazie Beetz, who is a huge star in the making. 94. At Eternity’s Gate (Julian Schnabel)- Something about Van Gogh was essentially unknowable, which is a great reason to make a movie about him and a terrible reason to make a movie about him. I'm not sure that Julian Schnabel got to the bottom of the man any better than anyone else has, though maybe that's an unfair expectation. To his credit, Schnabel yada-yadas the ear business and Van Gogh's death in favor of his more poetic understanding of the artistic life. The movie doesn't coalesce for me, but there's a banger of a scene between Dafoe and Mads Mikkelsen about the responsibility an artist has toward God. That short nested inside makes the whole thing worth seeing. The conversation I had afterwards with one of the two other people in the theater, an art historian, was a solid three stars. 93. Bohemian Rhapsody (Bryan Singer)- Some biographical movies do a good job of compressing time, and their supporting characters don't feel sacrificed or glossed over. For many other mediocre ones though, including this one, I submit the Three Scene Rule. Three scenes is kind of the minimum for a character to register an arc and for an actor to present any kind of dynamic performance, so in a lot of these true story movies, that's all that a supporting character gets. If you're looking for it, it's glaring. (Watch Hidden Figures again with the husband and boyfriend characters in mind. I'll wait.) This movie has a few characters that matter: Freddie Mercury, obvs; the other Queen members; Paul Prenter, the unfairly composited villain; and Mary Austin, the platonic love of Mercury's life. The movie spends way too much time on her, as if to tease the audience with the idea that Freddie might be straight. As for everyone else? Three scenes. Ray Foster, the record executive played by Mike Myers (!): A. "Look, guys, I like formulas. This opera stuff you're talking about? That sounds crazy." B. "The opera stuff is crazy. I ain't making that the single. You can walk out of here for all I care." C. [hangs head in shame after being proven wrong] Jim Hutton, Freddie's partner for the seven years this movie doesn't care about: A. "Look, pal, I may be a waiter, but you can't just grab me like that. On second thought, let's talk. You should learn how to love yourself." B. "Oh, hey. Glad you tracked me down, slugger. You love yourself now? Sure, let's go meet your parents." C. "Guess I'm your boyfriend now. Looking forward to the show." Freddie's Parents: A. "You go out every night! What are you doing out there? Why can't you be a good boy? What's up with your new name?" B. "Why can't you be a good boy? What's up with your new name?" C. "You're a good boy, I guess, even if you're gay. Guess that's your name for real." I like the idea of reproducing the Live Aid performance in full, and the movie comes alive during its musical sequences. But I wish that the same attention given to, like, the number of Pepsi cups on the piano was also given to the nuts and bolts of the storytelling.

92. The Predator (Shane Black)- I get why other people don't like this. The final fourth feels obligatory, and it seems cut to the verge of incoherence. But if you don't get a little tingle out of a game cast saying Shane Black things like, "Predators don't just sit around making hats out of rib cages," then we are very different moviegoers.

91. Sorry to Bother You (Boots Riley)- I admire Boots Riley's ambition, the way he's taking many of the ideas that drove his music and channeling them into film. But there are too many ideas and, strangely, too much plot to cohere. I liked some of the jokes, especially the Robocop-py TV clips laced throughout. I think my main problem, however, is Lakeith Stanfield as Cassius. He's a fascinating actor, but his energy is completely wrong for an everyman lead like this. I don't think he was the right choice to carry it. 90. Thoroughbreds (Cory Finley)- The repartee at the beginning is sharp, and there are some engaging elements of style. God knows I've never complained about rich, sad, nubile brunettes with strange eyes. But there are pieces missing in that forest-for-the-trees way that happens sometimes with debuts. Like, how do these privileged girls not have access to a gun when our national nightmare is based on all young people having access to guns? Or what is the exact motivation behind the crime at the center? Lots of great characters have been spurred by a violent curiosity, but a zinger here and there doesn't make these girls Raskolnikov. 89. White Boy Rick (Yann DeMange)- Even if this isn't it, I think Yann Demange has a great film in him. There's some urgency to White Boy Rick's politics, and it looks interesting. If nothing else, it succeeds in making the surroundings seem as gloomy as the characters all acknowledge them to be. But this isn't a great film in either of its halves. It's motivated by plot until a crucial event that I don't want to reveal, then it veers much more into character. I would normally sign off on that, but this movie grinds to a halt in the change and never recovers. McConaughey pulls his weight, but Richie Merritt is pretty bad in the lead. 88. The Strangers: Prey at Night (Johannes Roberts)- Despite some striking images and a welcome lack of explanation for the menace, Prey at Night doesn't reach the heights of its predecessor, mostly because the characters are too paint-by-numbers. 87. Ant-Man and the Wasp (Peyton Reed)- Probably the first Marvel movie that would benefit from more action. Some of the material is genuinely funny thanks to Michael Pena and Randall Park, but I got a little drowsy during the middle hour of talk about phase-shifting and the quantum realm. Get back to making things big or making things little, Dr. Molecule! 86. Creed II (Steven Caple Jr.)- The pieces are there, but it's a problem when Jim Lampley, who has one hundred times as many lines as the fifth lead, explains to the audience what they literally saw an hour earlier. If nothing else, this movie proves, through his absence, how good of a director Ryan Coogler is. I would be lying if I said I didn't get the chills at some key moments. Stallone’s performance and Jordan's muscles are good. But there was a dark, honest way for this movie to end, and it went directly against that ending into something more Hollywood. 85. Let the Sunshine In (Claire Denis)- Like Taxi Driver if Travis Bickle just wanted the guy to get him a glass of water afterwards. The film does have that kind of myopic focus--the sexy, ever-candid Binoche is in every scene--but it's far more elliptical, progressing only through character, never through plot. Let the Sunshine In is unique in a way that is different from Denis's other unique works: No one talks like an actual person, and she acts as if you should know all of the characters instead of properly introducing them. It's not supposed to be funny ha-ha, so excuse me if that's what I wanted.

84. Revenge (Coralie Fargeat)- like the style of this film, the color palette, the synth score, how far it's willing to go with the gore. But if it's called Revenge, and it's clear who the hero is (hint: not the rapist), then the whole thing feels like a fait accompli. We know exactly who's going to be the last woman standing, and we even know the order of the people she's going to kill.

PRETTY GOOD MOVIES 83. The Rider (Chloe Zhao)- This movie is trying to be a poem, but the parts I like the most are prose. It's a promising piece of filmmaking with heartbreaking moments, but I found it most effective when the storytelling spelled things out. It's an all-hands-on-deck independent film, so the amateurism of the piece shines through in the performances from non-professional actors. The relationship between Brady and his autistic sister is interesting because she speaks with that sarcastic cadence that can be learned from only children's programming. It's unlike what we usually see because, you know, she's a non-professional actor and real autistic person. So what do I know? 82. Unfriended: Dark Web (Stephen Susco)- Pretty tight from a storytelling standpoint and definitely grisly enough to get under the skin. But these laptop flicks move with such alacrity that it's hard to believe them whenever they ask you to buy something like love, since they paint it with the broadest strokes imaginable. Not that I would want a two-hour version of this anyway. 81. Juliet, Naked (Jesse Peretz)- Charming enough, arriving at a more realistic place than I expected, Juliet, Naked does nothing to make me revoke my charter membership in the Rose Byrne fan club. What an odd shape this film has though. The inciting incident happens at the hour mark, and it races obligatorily to an ending at an hour, thirty-seven. 80. Ocean’s Eight (Gary Ross)- It sets its marks and hits them adequately, with most of the charm that made the other Ocean movies fun. But there's something lifeless about Ocean's 8, both in the direction and the score. Take, for example, Richard Armitage's bland, sort of lost performance as an old flame/mark. It's such a nothing part that I began to think that it was a thesis: The men are just chess pieces, and they shouldn't take attention away from the women this time. But then James Corden emerges in the last half-hour and shines. So maybe Armitage was just bad and directed poorly? This movie exists for the Movie Star interplay though, and it delivers on that level. Cate Blanchett was good for so long that she's popular, and Sandra Bullock was popular for so long that she's good. Rihanna has to dress like a janitor at one point as a disguise, and she proves how absurd it would be for her to ever blend in. Anne Hathaway is the funniest of the bunch, balancing on a highwire of how big she's supposed to seem. Helena Bonham Carter gets the "and" hammer for all my credit fetishists. 79. Mary Poppins Returns (Rob Marshall)- I saw this on Christmas night with my family. The original Mary Poppins was the first movie my mom ever saw in theaters, and it's probably my wife's favorite. To the extent that insulting it is kind of insulting an important part of who she is. So I couldn't be the guy coming out of the theater like, "The Bankses definitely deserved to lose their house." Between you and me though, it's just fine. Entire sequences could be cut without damaging anything--do we ever come back to the bowl that Meryl Steep is supposed to be mending?--and most of the conflict feels manufactured. These legasequels always end up feeling like boxes being checked. We all know that the guys with the cannon had to come back, right? But some of the numbers are so joyful or stirring that even this grinch snuck a few smiles at his daughter as she pointed to the screen and said, "That's so silly." It's a good movie to see on Christmas night with your whole family. 78. RBG (Betsy West, Julie Cohen)- This movie is designed to make the viewer who would seek it out go, "What an American hero." It does that, I suppose, and there isn't a whole lot wrong with it. Yes, she is a very impressive person. But the film has too much untapped potential and too few teeth to recommend beyond that rubric of achieving its goals. For example, what about half of the population that would sneer at the notion that Ruth Bader Ginsburg is an American hero? Besides the inclusion of some radio clips over the credits, the filmmakers aren't concerned. "Look, she was friends with a conservative!"

77. Searching (Aneesh Shaganty)- Since I've seen thousands of movies that don't take place inside of a computer, there's still some novelty to the handful that do. On one hand, there are four or five twists too many, and the film isn't consistent with its own rules. On the other hand, it gets intriguingly dark for PG-13, and it never stops moving. 76. Uncle Drew (Charles Stone III)- The attitude toward women is retrograde, and to call the plot cookie-cutter would be an understatement. But this works, mostly because of the sunny, natural performances. Kyrie Irving, whose handles are even more of a marvel on a forty-foot screen, has to act through pounds of makeup, but he pulls it off. With only commercials to his name, he has to carry scenes of, like, standing at someone's grave and apologizing, and he has the presence and confidence to do it. I also should mention that Nick Kroll has a nothing-to-lose, galaxy brain performance for which probably zero of the lines were written ahead of time. "Shout-out to Oberto, shout-out to Aleve, the number one pain reliever in the game right now." I have to extend some of the credit here to Charles Stone III, who has made a calling card out of coaxing performances from newcomers. 75. Christopher Robin (Marc Forster)- Cute. 74. Unsane (Steven Soderbergh)- What seems to be a B-movie hitting its marks gets elevated by one fantastic scene that makes it seem timely and vital. I can't help but think Steven Soderbergh is punching below his weigh class though. I'm glad that an experiment like shooting a movie with an iPhone gets him up in the morning, and I know he doesn't want to make another Traffic or Out of Sight. But maybe, here's an idea, audiences might? 73. 22 July (Paul Greengrass)- The first thirty minutes are harrowing, in part because of their disciplined cross-cutting and Anders Danielsen Lie's chilling stoicism. The mistake that Greengrass makes is thinking that, later on, the three strands of story are equal in importance. He cuts away from the court case at its apex to see a kid trying to walk again or a prime minister demanding that his administration get tougher. Some moments are powerful, and Greengrass's composition and editing have mercifully softened, but this becomes a grind at a certain point. 72. Solo: A Star Wars Story (Ron Howard)- I hate to state the obvious, but this feels like multiple movies stitched together because that's exactly what it is. On one hand, we have the foggy opening, featuring an airtight inciting incident and setting up Emilia Clarke as that rarest of things in a Star Wars movie: a character with unclear motivations. But as the film goes on, it reveals why Han doesn't work as a protagonist. (Ehrenreich is bad, but the storytelling sinks the movie more than his performance does.) Everyone else in the movie drips with charisma and comments on the action while Han is left to connect the dots. In other words, the other characters get to be Han Solo, and Han Solo doesn't. By the time we get to the marauders, past the two hour mark of a movie that shouldn't have been more than two hours, the narrative crumbles under its own weight. These movies are way too competent to fail--I can list five or six moments that transcend the flaws--but each of these origin stories has a way of erasing the myth of Star Wars with a pen. 71. Bird Box (Susanne Bier)- This is a genre film that you've seen before in one way or another, so your expectations (and filmgoing experience even?) will dictate what you think of it. There's a metaphorical reading available, but that doesn't make the picture more artful automatically. Trevante Rhodes is a Movie Star. Here's what I can tell you: We need to appreciate John Gavin Malkovich while we can. Delivering the apotheosis of the selfish dickhead survivor character, he a) asks why the group can't stay in the grocery store forever, b) points shotguns at people when they try to let in strangers, c) drinks as he's telling people matter-of-factly that this is the end of the world, and d) (sort of) explains why he is the way he is. And-he-does-it-all-with-the-deliberate-cadence-that-you-are-doing-in-your-HEAD-right-NOW. I'm not saying the guy should win Best Supporting Actor or anything, but I admire his career more than any that would get a Best Supporting Actor.

#film #lists #movie reviews

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