Baby Don't Get Lost in that Evil World

Am watching Ocean's 11.

Have re-named friend's page accordingly.*



And, honestly, I could just watch Clooney and Pitt forever. The timing, and the suave, and the banter - oh the banter! And look, I'll just say it, the voices and the hot. I mean it's Brad freaking PITT for god's sake. Why are they not in every movie. There should be a law. I mean god.

With extra points given for including Casey Affleck and that other guy in comedic support. Because lol Mexico.




*srsly, check it out.

 

Nah, stuff answering the questions. I just wanna write about The Boys, forever.

This movie, this fucking movie.

So intense, and amazing and, fucking

David Wenham, jesus, his eyes don't change, the whole way, he's so, removed, but he's running everything, and.  But his voice, he knows how he's using his voice. He sounds like a normal person, nags and frets and jokes, but his face, his eyes, they never change, never show you anything. He's terrifying. And you can see it, the other characters, they all know, they're all frightened of him, but no one will ever say.

The rage, and the tension, and the silence, it's terrifying - you know, and the characters know, something's going to happen. You oughta chain them up, Michelle says. And the whole way, you can see them busting out. Getting worse, stewing. Then exploding. They fucking, they want to attack everything, tear something apart.

And the camera, and the angles. When Brett hugs Nola - that's not a normal place for the camera to sit, cutting their heads out like that. Because there's something else going on here, Brett's doing something here. And around corners and through doorways, handheld, shaking and sneaking and peaking up and capturing things that you're not supposed to see. You're not supposed to see into a household like this, into these dynamics, not supposed to see into a mind like Brett's - not that he ever really lets you, those dead eyes, you never see anything past those dead eyes. But you see how he's working, how he's manipularting . Psychpath, and all this anger he has, all this resentment. Why didn't ya's come to visit me? - he hates threm all, drags them all down with him.

We're all gods in our own world. And these are the worlds that we've made. - not that the world's made him, not that he's a product of his society, but he's done this, he wants it, he's making control. You fuckin' do it to them, he says, Only one way out.

Jesus, this movie. Australian film is capable of such awesome things. Because of that voice, this accent we have, there's so much you can put into that voice, so much rage, so much humour, so much, fucking, anything, because that accent is so unadorned, can be so terrifying because there's nothing romantic about it in this setting. Poetic sometimes, but not romantic. It's a voice that knows things, that grits down deep and drags things up. We don't talk about things in words, we show them through image and sounds and look. We stealth around the issue, reveal it and revel in it but never talk about it. That's for wusses and Americans, talking about things. We fucking do it. Fucking feelings, no fucking way. We'll fester and joke and mull, and tear things apart, and we and you'll never quite know why.

Because there's so much going on under the surface, always unarticulated, but acted upon, both subtley and explosively. And always that voice, that accent, rough as guts.

Jesus, this movie.

So you know what's apparently a really amazingly effective way to put me in a really really really good mood and bursting with energy and love for life and stuff?

Listening to All I Need by Louden Swain really really loud, like, seven times in a row.

It's such a fucking awesome song. Look:



I just, I seriously, I fucking love this song. I love this song, I love this band, I fucking love Rob Benedict.

And not, like, for the whole, Real Ghostbusters, Chuck is suddenly a total badarse hitting ghosts with a mike stand thing that had the entire SPN audience and Becky like "Well helloooo", but like, seriously legitimately. I love this guy's voice. I love how he looks and the little grins and stuff too (rather a lot, to be honest), and love Chuck, but I really really dig Rob Benedict's voice. It's got all the little inflections and catches and textures that I really appreciate in a singer. I have total voice crush on this guy.

I miss my voice crushes, man. Life is better with voice crushes.

Anyway. The reason I needed to be put in a really really good mood: my Digital Video class. My group. Their ideas on what we should make our movie on.

Pretentious, wanky fucking student art film.

I don't like student art films, and I hate pretentious films. Fucking Michael Hanke can fucking suck it, the tosser.

So, tonight, out of pure spite and because I have to take the disc back tomorrow, I'm watching the new Fast and Furious movie, on blu-ray, on my brand new giant flat screen digital TV.

Hollywood trash with fast cars and guns and Vin muthafucking Diesel, bitches. Take that, "we want ambiguity and no dialogue or humour or character of any description" Digital Video group!


(FastandFuriousFastandFuriousFastandFuriousonblurayonareallybigscreenYAYyayyayI'msoexcitedFfffffffffffffffffI I love these movies they are terrible)

I am considering changing my name. MacGuffin I'll be, Stella MacGuffin.

It'll be great. Everyone will think I'm so important. Like, "Fantastic, Stella MacGuffin's here! Now this thing's really rolling." There will be a big fuss and everyone will get all excited, and it'll only be when the whole thing's over in a big mess that some particularly astute and sensitive observer will begin to suspect that in fact throughout the whole thing I was not, at any point, any help at all. That in fact I may actually have vanished completely some time in the middle there when everyone else was distracted, on a train headed for Monaco. But no one will care about that, because I'm Stella MacGuffin, and before the nice casino people can question where the money went, I'll have already moved on to my next amazing, talk-of-the-season, no-one-can-lose project.

Yeah, that's the way to be. Become a MacGuffin.

You'll be loved and admired, the centre of attention always and the inspiration and motivation of all you encounter. An eternal mystery, always desirable, allusive by definition. No one ever remembering you long enough to catch on to the reality of how incompetent and insignificant you really are.

Yeah, man, the ultimate free ride.

I need to start using "Yippee-ki-yay, muthafucka" in conversation.



And, you know the whole "Alan Rickman is hot" thing? I mean, I love the joke and have always supported the sentiment, because he kicks arse and has a fantastic voice and is a bloody legend and all, but I personally have never found Alan Rickman all that physically attractive, really.

However. Twenty years ago and German? Dude, Alan Rickman was friggin hot.

As was Bruce Willis (minus the German), but I already knew that.


Also? Best. Movie. Ever. The construction of awesome, man; spectacle cinema at its best.

Really puts me in the mood to watch Hot Fuzz.

I will never understand why the ABC keeps slotting in this Star Stories crap between series of the good shows on Wednesdays. Seriously, it's mindblowingly terrible. And it makes me sad to know that the kid from Muppet Treasure Island has become so... skeevy. Know what, bugger this. I'm gonna run up to the street and get some chewy (it's an addiction, you guys, seriously) before Tara starts. brb. *leaves*

*returns*
*turns on TV*
Perfect timing!
*blows bubble*

So hi. Got the Abnormal Psych essay in today, ON TIME. It wasn't actually finished, but I've been having so much despair with this thing hanging over my head I was not going to spend another day with the damn thing, so printed it at 4:52 and ran - actually ran, which I'm technically not supposed to do because I could, like, lose the feeling in my legs or something - it to the psych building. When I got there they'd pulled the roller door down already, and I almost freaking SOBBED. Went around the corner to the staff entrance and caught them leaving, because damn it, my phone said it was 4:57 and I fecking ran for this freaking essay. They were very nice, and accepted it. Thank god.

( This was going to be a big entry about a lot of random little things, but turned into bitching about Sydney Uni Psych, loving Sydney Uni Art History & Film, comparing the three, and talking about my academic and career plans )

The plan, such as it stands at the moment, is to spread the remaining four units of study I have left on my degree over two semesters next year, while hopefully getting a job vaguely related to film in some way (or getting an unrelated job and volunteering at film festivals), and doing short courses at AFTRS (the Australian Fillm, TV, and Radio School) to build a portfolio and study cinematography/ directing/ art direction there properly the year after I do honours here. Which means three more years in Sydney, which is bad, but there isn't a lot of choice when it comes to learning film making - it's pretty much a capital cities thing, I think. Although I may take a year off after honours, stay in the Central West working some little retail job, or working at one of the ABC's regional offices. A foot in the door is a foot in the door in the Australian film industry, no matter how small the door, or which side of the house it's on.

Blades of Glory is on the telly.

I honestly don't see how this movie can end in any other way than Will Ferrell and Napoleon Dynamite sleeping together.

And not just because of the whole "the worlds first male/male figure skating team" thing. Or even the Aerosmith.

Also, I appear to now find Will Ferrell funy.

Am hugely confused by this.

There are an awful lot of breathtakingly beautiful things in the world, some of which even appear on the internet. I've followed a few links to some utterly wonderful things recently, so I thought I'd collect and share.



This was originally linked by... colour_me_troll, I think, (it was during a period where I was mostly only glancing at my flist), and should be just sat and watched, in full screen, because honestly it's just -- breathtaking. Beautiful, amazing. I'd never heard of this type of art before. It's like instant animation. You watch a million pieces of art being made one after the other slowly revealing a narrative, piece by piece. Like a place located somewhere between traditional art and the new and always in motion form of film.






And glitterfairy25  linked this short film today. According to this site, it's all hand drawn, only planned on a computer, all on the same spot of concrete. I can't even imagine how much work it must have taken, given the extreme precision of the detail. It's quirky and creative and colourful, and completely incredible.





That post prompted irishmagik7  to reply with this. A very similar concept to the Coldplay video - both are stop motion - but executed quite differently (and I'm a little in love with this song). According to this site, 3225 stills were used to make up the clip. It's gentle, and whimsical, and sort of timeless. It's elegant and clean, and the actions it imitates are so simple, so basic, and the girl, with that hair and that costume - like she's walked straight out of a Renaissance painting, is as much a part if the art as the composition itself - it's all so beautiful and sort of otherworldly in its simplicity. And the little details that jump out, like how her hair moves over her face when she's underwater, but not when she's in the wind. And it fits the song perfectly.

First of all, context: I can't stop watching Nostalgia Critic and Nostalgia Chick. Very funny, very well observed, occasionally fantastically brutal reviews of old(ish - from the eighties and nineties, mostly) kids tv shows and movies. Most of the texts they look at are legitimately terrible - though often in profoundly creative ways - but some are still quite lovable; especially if, like me, you were just slightly too young to tell the difference between shite and awesome when they first came out.

I'm particularly fond of the Chick's look at Bowie's amazing package Labyrinth, the joint review of Fern Gully (I still love the movie, though, nonsensical environmentalist propaganda that it may be), and That Guy's inquisition into Titanic - an animated musical (which should be watched even if you, like pretty much everyone in the world, have never heard of the movie. Which is... terrible. Beyond all reason. So bad it's somehow sort of beautiful). In fact, anything that has That Guy gaping in disbelief or exploding into a frothing rage (ie., most things he reviews) is pretty ace.

80s/90s kid's entertainment with yelling, sarcasm, criticism, liberal use of intertextuality, and cameos from guns and puppies. Essentially, I'm in love.


There are two things that have appeared in my watchings that I particularly want to share. One of which induced epic squee and will probably only be understood by me, and the other... is... well.


1)( Concerning Star Trek: Next Gen, and Gargoyles (the best show ever) )


1.5 - AKA, the seque) The dude who played Geordi La Forge on Next Gen did the voice over for the intro to Captain Planet.


2) Captain Planet did an AIDS episode. (8:45 mins in)

( Yes, that's right: AIDS.  )

"Ah, this stick is on fire!"


"Well, I'm sorry Wendy, but I just don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die. "


"Fucking Windows 98!"


"Sing the fucking song!!"


"Horrific, deplorable violence is okay, so long as people don't say any naughty words."


"I've never seen a man eat so many chicken wings
I've never seen a man eat so many chicken wings
I'VE NEVER SEEN A MAN EAT SO MANY CHICKEN WINGS
I'VE NEVER SEEN A MAN EAT SO MANY CHICKEN WINGS
Waaaaaa-ooooooooooh
Waaaaaa-ooooooooooh
HEY"



Goddammit I love this movie.