The entertainment world was rocked last night as it was confirmed that a motion picture had been released without the actress Jessica Chastain in it. The indie drama “Difficult To Watch” - about a couple of heroin addicts living in a car in Kentucky during the Winter of 1977 – was shot apparently without Jessica Chastain appearing at least as a secondary character, perhaps a sad prostitute in a dress, or an over-worked social worker with a drinking problem who drives a Honda.
The Jonestown massacre lives on in our hearts even today, like a sad stent inside a fat person, and that fat person is us, humanity.
Jonestown showed us our innocence lost alongside our own paradise lost, and we can only wish Milton had concentrated on cheese production in rural England as subject matter, and not the terrible fate upon fate that befell those in Jonestown.
For is not Jonestown Everytown?
Literally any town in the world can be the setting of mass murder – just as long as there’s enough people. That’s all it takes, Ladies and Gentlemen.
Rest in peace, Jonestown massacre victims.
Sleep a little sounder, Jonestown massacre survivors.
Let The Monkees sing the truth to power, and love to hate.
From the video description:
“This is another departure from the types of videos I usually make, but I felt compelled to do a tribute to some of the brave souls who survived the massacre at Jonestown. If anything positive is to come from such tragedy and loss, it is that their pain was not in vain and that more can be done to help prevent such terrible things from happening again. The faces of these people show rays of sunshine and their memory is not forgotten. Let’s continue to honor them!”
“Kate (Halle Berry) is a shark expert whose business has been failing since a shark attack killed a fellow diver under her command. Once dubbed “the shark whisperer,” Kate is haunted by the memory of the attack and unable to get back into the water. With bills piling up and the bank about to foreclose on Kate’s boat, Kate’s ex-boyfriend Jeff (Olivier Martinez) presents her with a lucrative opportunity: lead a thrill-seeking millionaire businessman on a dangerous shark dive…outside the cage. Battling her self-doubts and fear, Kate accepts the proposal — and sets a course for the world’s deadliest feeding ground: Shark Alley. ” (link)
It's hard to describe how nauseous this stupid fucking film makes me. But, let's try. I've never eaten an oyster, so I've never had the chance to eat a bad one, so I'm guessing it's kinda like that – eating a bad oyster. Eating a bad oyster after a week-long taco diet, with each taco not expelled in the usual way, but stored in my stomach cavity like a hamster hoarding sesame seeds. And all the tacos were bad.
There is a strain of British cinema that's the polar opposite of the usual Oscar-bait costume drama you normally see trailed everywhere. Some call it "miserablist", and it usually involves a portrayal of often alcohol-fuelled violence, the "working class", multiple cups of tea, then some more violence. Then some more tea. Calling it "miserablist" is painting a whole host of independent cinema in broad strokes, much in the same way I just did with the eponymous "costume drama", but everyone needs a sound-bite length description of everything these days, much in the same way we need a "like" button to show agreement or pleasure. The phrase "miserablist cinema" doesn't carry much weight with me – it's too short-hand, too glib and does a disservice to the actual content. I prefer "realist". And it doesn't get more real than Tyrannosaur.
Yeah, I said it. Super 8 wasn’t that good. As someone who grew up during the golden age of Spielbergian wonderment (Jaws, Close Encounters, Raiders, ET) I had high hopes of watching Super 8 and being somehow transported back to that time. A time when I used to leave the cinema literally hyper-fucking-active with joy at what I’d just seen minutes before, either looking up at the sky or pretending I had a bullwhip as I ran home to tell my mother what I’d experienced. Nostalgia sweetens the expectations of the current as well as numbing you to it, I’m aware – but something was distinctly lacking in Super 8.
I don’t have any children. Never really been into the procreating thing – don’t get me wrong, I love the practicing part and the oral stuff, but unless spanking and dirty talk are going to be required to get a lady pregnant, I’m going to be childless for the foreseeable. Now news reaches my brain that Lionsgate – those pushers of the Saw movies – are to adapt the best-seller “What To Expect When You’re Expecting”, which is apparently about pregnancy and raising a mewling little brat only you really love, into a motion picture that you can watch.