I am an appetite, nothing more.

Nosferatu (2024) — 3.5/5

It's most definitely my favorite of Eggers' movies because I think there's an undercurrent of humor to the whole affair. The high foreheads and high drama is all just a bit silly, isn't it? Beyond that, I waited too long between watching and writing down my thoughts so I've mostly forgotten the details, but I recall appreciating that this movie is about women fucking, and for me this movie is part of a larger theme of modern horror movies that I love where the monster is some aspect of shame; this time of having experienced orgasmic pleasure and the indignity of liking it. Nosferatu is la petite mort, writ large. 

I want to feel everything for as long as I can.

Dying For Sex (limited series) — 4/5

Weird takeaway, but it makes me feel the beauty in dying slow. And then a couple of days later I got a headache that lasted all day and man, what a stupid thing to think. So I'll dial that back and say that yes, I can see there is beauty within dying slow, and the show illustrates that wonderfully, but no, God, if you're listening, I'm not sure I'd like that for myself. Though its exploration of sex wants to be a 50/50 split between itself and death, death is what the show excels at, taking you through the process of a body and mind practicing its cessation of existence. And, similar to 'Fleishman Is in Trouble', feels like the show successfully makes you think the show is about one person only to reveal it's about the other person as well. Jenny Slater seemed like a supporting actress in the Judy Greer mold (lovable, happy to see her in anything), but she grows to be the second lead, and her life, like the dying girl's, is put on pause. Love stories about friendships are my favorite love stories. Michelle Williams is adorable, and I'm sorry she has to die, but what a way to go and thank you for taking me with you. And though I haven't finished 'Catastrophe' yet, I hope Rob Delaney's character ends in divorce so that this can be a pseudo-sequel to that show.

The order of things.

House of the Dragon S1 — 3.5/5

Were I not watching this for work, I would not have watched it, as the idea of a prequel two hundred years before a foregone conclusion gives me little to concern myself. How pleasantly surprised am I, then. The show, just as Game of Thrones did so well, has cast interesting actors as interesting characters, and very quickly I'm sucked back in to the scheming. Milly Alcock, particularly, is almost unreadable as an actress; seemingly sincere, a liar, a sweet thing, or a deviant, based on the turn of the light. The show loses something to focus on when it loses her, but it then pivots to being about the everything and all of it, distracting you with new characters and allegiances. On the whole, those characters are characters that are quickly formed, but as far as the central duo, I honestly can't tell what the show wants me to think of them. Are they vile powermongers, or just the unfortunate people caught up in it all? There's fun to be had in that lack of surety, but it mostly just makes me care about anyone else more than them. 

Not the fault of any one driver per se.

Death of a Unicorn — 2/5

Fun concept that doesn't have a tonality to match. I've grown to believe Paul Rudd is a bad actor outside of a very niche form of comedic acting. I pretty much hate him when he tries to be serious, as I can never take him as such.

Now that you know this,

what will you do?

I'm gonna let you tell me who you are.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps — 4/5

I just want to call the whole thing 'cohesive.' It's not a word that's going to drive people to the theaters, but man oh man, does everything just fit together. The style matches the tone, the art direction decisions all add up to a singular world. It feels different; it feels purposeful. The hubbub — or lack thereof — around the movie makes me want to knock it down a half-point, they're making me feel like I'm wrong, but I'm trying to hold on to how much fun I had watching it. It feels big, it's cosmic, it's got a giant Galactus roaming the streets of New York, but it also doesn't go further than is needed. The first three years of their existence is handled with a quick summary, the Thing and Johnny don't overplay their joke-y characteristics, Reed's hints at self-hatred (?) and a slightly nasal voice, a cute robot, and "yeah, sure, let's go to space" without excess fanfare. All the stylistic touches could have easily turned it into a cartoon, but they're all played casually. They live easily within the world that's been created. It gives you enough to get it, and then gets out. 

A real branding issue.

Mo S1 — 3.5/5

Largely enjoyable, though not as much a comedy as it is both a fiery and informal look into another culture. I have a soft spot for those. 

Smile, you son of a bitch.

Jaws — 4/5 (rewatch)

What strikes me most about this rewatch is how much of this movie feels like it's just a step above a TV movie. Everything about it is an example of something poorly made, done well. There is no large character arc with anyone involved, just a lot of texture in who those characters are. Shaw doesn't change, Hooper doesn't change, Brody doesn't change—but 'who they are' is very identifiable and pinpoint-able. They are rich. They are islands on a map. The plot is paper-thin: shark attacks > go kill shark. And then when the shark appears, despite the dun-DUN of it all, it appears so casually. It is just a thing that exists beneath the waves, slicing through water. The fear of the Leviathan isn't that it is coming for us; it is that it is already here, just below us. The movie has a confidence in how big it needs to be in order to work. It doesn't need to push on the primal nature of it all, just press. And, of course, that "confidence" is just an accident, a byproduct of unpredictable machinery. That's just how it goes, you know, you know. 

And, plus, my own theory of successful horror movies is laid out in this movie — "will it make you afraid to _________ again?" Freddy Krueger > "fall asleep," Jason Voorhees > "go to summer camp." Any time I walk into the ocean, I scan the horizon. 

Hope

is a deferment of responsibility.

The back row is asleep.

Opus — 2.5/5

The 'Menu' but for music critics, I guess? Feels derivative, 'Midsommar' on down, but also has that A24 weaponized cinematography that makes you want to forgive aspects of it because it knows the language of making a movie just well enough to make you think you're watching something compelling unfold. But nah, it's just a collection of images and ideas—interesting ideas! But just the starts of somethings.

Grip it and rip it.

Happy Gilmore 2 — 1/5

In the beginning of the movie, he kills his wife by hitting his golf ball too hard. What a weird, dark way to start a comedy. Every time there's a callback, they show the clip from the original movie. What a strange, awful way to film a movie. The best thing I can say about this movie is how it simply does not matter and I will forget it exists, and that I ever watched it. 

It's okay if you don't love it anymore.

The Bear S4 — 3.5/5

Still a container for big highs, but the lows are feeling lower. Carmy has transformed into Sad Sack: The Man, while there's an increasing focus on Syd who is... I think the least compelling person in the show? Her drama is having to live with everyone else's drama; her interesting is being surrounded by everyone else's interesting. Meanwhile, Richie continues to grow as a human, to the point where the series feels like it would be better served to shift its focus more to him. As he says, very beautifully, very profoundly—he is not the large rocks that make up the architecture of existence, he is the sand that connects them. And then lol the last episode tries to center him more and it doesn't quite feel genuine, oops. I guess the point of sand is not to be the center ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Cool, lesson learned. This show, in its fourth season, starts to move away from those 'Ted Lasso' comparisons I was forcing on it in its previous seasons ("what it means to be a manager"), and moves towards "what it means to create a community," and the uncomfortable truth that lies within that: community is created within chaos, but can community survive the chaos that creates it? We become inextricably entwined, diamonds created within the pressure, while desiring to escape the vice grip hold it has over us. It has to be easier, right? Maybe. But also, then again—maybe not. 

Ambassadors for style and grace.

The Last Showgirl — 1/5

Stunt-casting at its best, and that's all. It's hard to separate whether Pamela Anderson is good in this, or just appropriate for it? Jamie Lee Curtis is really over-acting her way out of the past few years of goodwill? Dave Bautista's not bad? Sure, whatever, I don't know, man, it's just fucking boring. It's trying to be this Kodak light-leak of a movie; nothing to say, it just wants to show off how pretty it is. There was enough of a ground for this movie to have built something substantial: fading industry, the line between artistry and pornography, careers built on youth, the waylaid souls who wish to preserve time and beauty within amber. But it's just a tease of that, an hour and a half trailer for a more interesting movie. By the end, there is no growth, just the same tired delusion. I don't vibe with that shit. Eck. I'd love to have something interesting to say about this, but it did not lay anything at my feet. 

Do you still have faith in people?

Squid Game S3 — 3/5

Aw. I love the 'Squid Game' format. It, like 'Survivor,' is an infinitely repeatable format. New people, new inventive games, and a scooch closer to the truth at the heart of it. Had they just embraced this as a long-form show, I would have continued to enjoy it for years on end, and so much expectation wouldn't have been riding on it to end well. Oh well! Calling this a S3, instead of a back half to S2, does this season a disservice (while also doing that season a service) as, just a couple episodes in, the people we were left with weren't the people we had grown most attached to. The North Korean guard and the boat people were, ultimately, just stories that forked off of the story we cared about, without coming back to meet. And the story we cared about was now filled with people we barely knew. And a baby!!!! Who we have to be attached to because it's a baby, right? ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ So much of Squid Game — unlike, say, Walking Dead, and its repeating cycles of 'every good thing we do only ends up hurting us' — was this cynical world that had very deep shades of hope in it. But by the end, who grows? What changes? We're just stuck in this cynical world of repeating cycles. The only thing gained is money. I suppose, for Hwang Dong-hyuk, the only way to stop it was to stop it. But, perhaps unfortunately for him, he introduced an idea, and you can't put a cork in that bottle. 

This review was chaotic, I'm sorry. I had a lot of thoughts I couldn't thread together. Oh well!  

Rubbing is racing.

Days of Thunder — 3/5

Wildly inconsistent movie with incoherent character shifts. Feels like five hours of movie stuffed into a 1h47m runtime. But man, does this thing have a quality. A quality, and the best movie names in a 50-year radius. Russ Wheeler. Rowdy Burns. Cole Trickle. These names are not only ridiculous, but they are accurate to this silly sport. They are NASCAR drag names. Which I suppose I'll use as a lead-in to a subject I've been wanting to discuss: Tom Cruise makes male musicals. The feelings are overwrought, but they're packaged up in fashionable, costumed men. The musical set piece, of course, becomes an action set piece where the characters work through their issues by banging into each other. There's a scene where Cole is having PTSD, and the only way to get over it is to speed through some burning cars. It's beautiful and stupid, but he did it: he got over his mental block by driving really fast. Just replace that with 'singing a song about feelings' and you've got your traditional musical but, you know, this isn't as gay as that, but also, guys, it really kind of is. I know Quentin Tarantino made the point that 'Top Gun' is about a man coming to terms with his homosexuality and yes, maybe, but I think these movies are more about the inability of men to do 'gay shit' (be emotional) without explicitly doing 'male shit.' It's okay to slap asses only after they've hit a dinger, dunked a ball, and won the Daytona 500. And the backdrop of all of this is a fucking lit Hans Zimmer soundtrack, so the music's still there, honcho. I think Tom Cruise's output of the last 20 years has mostly forgotten that fucking lit music is the backbone to his male musicals. This movie ain't great but, also, I fucking love this shit. I love the hair, I love the fashion, Robert Duvall puts in an all-timer performance, and then you've got Tony Scott with a grimy fucking male aesthetic. Everything feels like a hot day after a thunderstorm. Like I say, it's got a quality.