The Cell (2000)
Best of Netflix Watch Instantly: We Are What We Are (2013)
Americans tend to think we can do everything better than our foreign counterparts. Movies are one of our favorite challenges, and the horror genre seems to garner extra brownie points. These attempts have been met with mixed results: “Two snaps and a twist” to Let Me In and The Ring to name a few and a big “Hated it!” to The Eye, and One Missed Call amongst many, many others. Director Jim Mickle takes recent Spanish horror film Somos lo que hay and weaves a dark building story that reads more like a character drama with a secret. We Are What We Are owes a great deal of its success to the cast: lead by an overbearing father Frank Parker played by Bill Sage, and rounded out by his daughters, newcomers Julia Garner and Ambyr Childers. Cinematographer Ryan Samul makes the Catskills look like a grey, rainy place that I would NOT be interested in Airbnb-ing anytime soon. Everything is washed over in hues of grey and brown and when we meet the Parkers, they all look like they could use some vitamin E, a green juice, and that Sephora was having a Beauty Insider sale on scarlet eye shadows that make you look like absolute shit.
Things to Do: David Lynch in Conversation at BAM 4/29
Oh. My. God. You. Guyyyysss. David Lynch will be speaking at BAM!? I’d like to queue both the Mad Decent air horn and the sound of a thousand Oprahs screaming because I am SO excited. Lynch will be making a rare appearance to chat with New York Public Library’s director of public programs Paul Holdengräber about his non celluloid related passions including Transcendental Meditation, the creative process, his films, and if we’re lucky who his barber is! Tickets go on sale tomorrow morning at 10am!
Tue, Apr 29, 2014 at 8pm
Peter Jay Sharp Building
BAM Howard Gilman Opera House
TICKETS START AT $25
see more info here.
The Howling (1981)
This is how I feel when the cashier at McDonald’s tells me that I have to pay for extra Sweet N’ Sour sauce.
Under the Skin (2014)
This feeling was familiar. It first happened to me roughly five years ago when I saw Gaspar Noé’s Enter The Void. As the credits began to roll I sat frozen in my seat, it was as if I had melted into the polyester cushion and was simply a wig and some clothes tossed onto a chair. I felt empty, but mostly angry. As the final images of Under the Skin flickered on screen it came to me again: the emptiness. The title cards hit like a thud and as I looked over at my friend her face held my same stunned contemplation. “Whoa. What just happened?” we both asked as we drowsily walked out of the sticky theater. I felt so disoriented, in a fog. Scarlett Johansson had taken our souls just like all of the helpless Scottish blokes in the film. But whyyyyyy?
Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995)
Tonight I saw Heather Matarazzo at a MoMa screening and nearly wept at her feet to proclaim my love for this movie. In reality I nibbled on a trail mix cookie and stared at her like a creeper while basically chanting to my friend “Heather Matarazzo is over there!”. Michael Shannon was there too, so I am obviously typing this from the grave.