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.
