So Much Goes On, So Much To Say

While I'm at it I'd like to jabber about a few things.

Last few films I've seen have been a mixed bag, a Santa Claus class oversized burlap sack of jumbled selection and psylocibin fueled inner feeling.

Saw No Country For Old Men in Oregon its first week of release after having consumed at least an eighth of fungus mushed into one and a half chocolate, coconut, and almond goo balls. Fucking delicious. The balls and the balls-out film based on the epically exceptional novel, which I'd previously devoured, by Cormac McCarthy, one of our best American writers. Fucking Josh Brolin as cowboy boy scout Llewellyn Moss, Woody-Wood Harrelson as the doomed schmuck freelancer, Javier Bardem as a clammy-skinned existential nightmare personified...well god damn! Got there late and stumbled in to the front section of the theatre as above our heads Mr. Bardem used gravity and hand cuffs to open up a deputies throat. Amazing.
As the movie progressed I kept thinking it should have been called "Tommy Lee Jones Face." But maybe that was just the everlovin' shrooms had me goin'. How can a 61 year old man carry so much life in his face? He must be a reincarnated slave.

Saw The Mist and Fred Claus yesterday. Someone else's birthday wish. Don't ask why.

Love the story of The Mist. One of my favorite King novellas. Liked the treatment. The cheesy effects made me push it off until later, but I had to see it. Well played. Darabont made another well-crafted film. The human drama upon which the story hinges is classic and chillingly realistic. The differing ending from the novella is definitely more visceral and filmic, but felt a little rushed. Overall a fucking upward thumb, Ebert.
Fred Claus, on the other hand, sent my mind spiralling off into all manner of miffed postmodern queries. This whole perennial christmas myth just digs beneath my skin like a toucan sam-nose chigger. Why oh Why must It endure, must we endure It? I'm not jaded, I'm just stupid tired of the same old rusty saw, the recurring bland and unimaginative caucasian classicals. I would question the sanity of all participants involved if I were less savvy to the economic draw, and less aware of our status as a stubbornly veiled and bleary-eyed Christian Nation. I'm just complaining aloud, upholding my right to bemoan the boredom engine-- now fueled with ethanol!
That said Paul Giamatti was great as St. Nick, Vince Vaughn was Vince Vaughn, and Kevin Spacey is Lex Luthor and Superman.
Ponderous.

p.s. check out FunnyOrDie.com There be funny shit in them thar pages.