Mr. Right
Mr. Righti is the definitive notation of the mainstreamii mating dance as per mainstream expectations, regulations and aferations anno 2015, loosely fitted to yet-another rendition of thatiii tired oldiv script. You wanna know what's the ideal for repartee today, watch this, it's all therev. Otherwise the only noteworthy point is that threesomes of the girl-boy-girl variety are clearly on the move, and in a little while it will no longer be socially acceptable for a woman that surprised her boyfriend fucking another woman to decline joining them if invited. Which, after all, is exactly as it should be, the "traditional marriage"/monogamy bullshit has certainly outlasted its sell-by date.
As far as Anna Kendrick is concerned, the stupid bitch is so uptightly wrapped even #TheFappening produced naught but a few dozen shots of her fully dressed (she also did some Playboy features in the same vein). This is key to her credibility in the role of disobedient, puritanical, neurotic girlie lost among a sea of symbols that are truly alien to her just as she pretends this not be the case. She has a lot in her heart and mind, you know, and her cheap mass market blouse must be chosen to "reflect" this. Because reflection is a word without meaning, just like all the others, and can ignorantly be applied by one of these "upper class" "intellectuals" to any random thing in any random context. Post-structuralism ftw, except implemented by chickens in the chicken coop.
The bullet jet streaks are all there by the way, you can rest easy Neo hasn't died in vain. More generally, all the pointless, intricate effort that went into the script, all that superficial differentiation and meaningless curlicue merely makes the tedious, trite, entirely expired conventions of the RomCom ever more glaringly obvious underneath, nude in all their shrivelled, odorous inadequacy. Which, in a sense, is an apt comment on the entirely pointless generation that lost itself to polishing the turd ; that sorry bunch of useless, worthless, ignorant and infantile idiots splitting their time between finding "themselves", not being racist and making etsy cutesy vintage-like purses and cat ears.
Say goodnight, Agatha. Trump is here to sell you all into bondage-marriage to Saudis and Somalis. You will not be missed.
———- 2016, by Paco Cabezas, with Sam Rockwell, Anna Kendrick and a nicely aged Tim Roth (Remember when he was skinny ? And it was the 90s, and Tarantino-Ritchie killed ? Mmmmkay.). [↩]
- Remember the "class issues" ? That dumb shit, wanna-be "intellectual" 20-something barrista. [↩]
- You know, Romantic Comedy on the fish-out-of-water mold where he's a "hired killer", which in practice works like a he's-a-stock-trader 2 sort of thing, where the gender barrier is enforced by recourse to morality - she oughtn't know! - not merely complexity, as in she's too dumb to know. That's not fashionable anymore, you know that every derpy 20 something anglotard female is perfectly capable to fit the entire world in her tiny skull, what! Who'd dare affirm the contrary even!
Anyway, you know it, Grosse Pointe Blank was the same nonsense. [↩]
- "No scripts are new" means Jurassic Park Two and a trillion little dinosaur toys... [↩]
- Including the idiotic pauses, deliberate interjections and inflexions, not to mention the god awful drawings. You know, "for creativity". [↩]
Thursday, 5 May 2016
I'm not sure Tim Roth's been lighter nor more loveable than he was in Four Rooms. Those were the days.
Thursday, 5 May 2016
"I've got days. Fucken plural."