Alternate programming for today's inaugeration.
You already know what that dipshit is gonna say, anyway.
He's gonna say:
Consume.
Don't think.
Sleep.
Buy.
Reproduce.
He's gonna say:
Obey.
Exceptional, quite possibly perfect. No notes.
It is, however, worth quoting Lana Wachowski at length about her impetus to create Bound (as relayed in the book "Corpses, Fools, and Monsters: The History and Future of Transness in Cinema" by Willow Maclay and Caden Gardner):
"The relationship that I have with the story [of Bound] really begins with me struggling with the depiction of people like me in media. I watched Psycho. I watched Dressed to Kill..., Sleepaway Camp, and just…
Ferociously original, retina shattering body horror from Coralie Fargeat, perhaps the most exciting voice in genre film at this exact moment, featuring impossibly brave performances from both Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley.
It is Demi Moore’s sensuous backside that graces the iconic 80s VHS art for Meir Zarchi’s 1978 I Spit On Your Grave, an image that in some ways feels like the scandalous soil where Carolie Fargeat's filmography takes root. It is an alluring, sexually provocative image, following Jean…
If it can't quite stick the landing of its mounting menace and dread, Longlegs is genuinely effective for the majority of its run time. Large swaths exist in curdled, panicked, nicotine stained patinas, where you can't quite see what you need to see, or hear what you need to hear. Its frames are disorienting, nauseous, and untrustworthy windows of information that somewhat resemble sleep paralysis, where the invisible beast at the margins is as threatening, growling, and terrible as it…