Papi

I went to see The Grand Budapest Hotel all by myself at the grand Vista Theatre in Hollywood, just up the street from where I live.  I love this theatre…It’s all old and vintage and there’s legroom galore and whenever I go to the movies here in LA I’m never stressed out the way I would get stressed out going to movies in New York Shitty.  Here in LA people work on movies, so it’s all quiet in the theatres, like the audience has respect for the piece of crap they worked so hard on.  I can’t see a good movie these days for shit…Not that The Grand Budapest Hotel was that bad…It was just kinda boring…Like Wes Anderson is still working out his daddy issues and we have to pay for it…But there’s some pretty shots and some fake looking dioramas or some such nonsense…And, as usual, the men outnumber the women and we’re again treated to some pseudo-father-son-wet-dream-cum-buddy-adventure-sans-cum.  How grand and Ralph Fiennes didn’t nail it at all…Like he knew something Wes Anderson didn’t and he didn’t have the balls to care…I don’t care.  I hate Tilda Swinton and don’t care if you do not.

So, to erase the $6.50 bargain matinee special memory, I rented Andy Warhol’s Bad.  A movie I swear I saw but turned out I hadn’t.  My loss…I think it might have changed my life – no, it’s changed my life but maybe it would have happened sooner…There are lots of retarded babies in it and some of them die horrible deaths.  How utterly new and different.  The babies reminded me of Mongo from Precious (see my first review ever here of Precious, please…if you can spare a minute…It’s a good review, I mean, it’s a bad review of a shitty movie but I think it’s very well written by me).

Bad's S. Tyrrell

Bad scared me in ways Precious did, but did it even better…Bad is so good, mainly because it takes place near where I was born, stars a brilliant Carroll Baker and a fucking brilliant, fucking amazing, fucking fucked up fucking Susan Tyrrell…I love this woman…Is that too easy?  A gay faggot saying he loves Susan Tyrrell?  Help.  Well, Bad is only about women and it pretty much takes Wes Anderson’s pussy adventure and fucks it a new ass, no lube…Would Wes Anderson have ever put Susan Tyrrell in a movie?  No...These balls he does not have…She’d have chewed him up and spit him out and we’d have eaten it up…Susan is dead now and Bad is a nightmare Wes Anderson only wishes he could conjure up.  In any case, even if he had made it, his daddy would probably have given him a timeout…Suck my sack, Wes Anderson…Rock Hard.