That’s because I now have internet access at home for the first time since the move. Finally. Now I can continue the blathering about any number of things that really don’t matter to you, and when I’m finished doing that, I’ll write about me.
Recently, I saw The Wind That Shakes the Barley, a really fine effort by Ken Loach in the story of the beginnings of the Irish rebellion of the 1920’s with Cillian Murphy proving himself once again quite the talent. Many shots in this movie have a great vibrancy to them and the devisive debate for the Irish is dealt quite well here. No easy answers are given to resolving the struggle. Definitely worth a look if it gets to your hometown soon.
As a crazy bastard who ingurgitates any and all sleazy movies he can get his mitts on, I went to see the decidedly unDisneyesque Dominatrix Without Mercy at the special midnight show playing at the Music Box Theatre. Now, I like sexploitation and debauchery as much as the next pervert, but when author Michelle Clifford called this movie “great,” I had to assume she meant the projected image was larger than any shown on a widescreen tv set, because this movie is a big steaming piece of shit, even by shitty movie standards, and if you’re the shit of shitty movies, even the maggots will reject you. This very unimaginative movie has a basic plot line: a young woman answers an help wanted ad she suspects might be from a madame and, by golly, she’s right. The movie gets as far as the interview and then gets distracted by one hardcore S&M sex scene after another until….uh, what was this movie about? Oh yes, it’s about 64 minutes of imagining the unfortunate bastards who had to pick up the sticky Kleenex left behind by your weird uncle Percy and trying to figure out how fucking low you have to set the bar to call this a great movie.