“Alfred Noble invented dynamite.”
Knowledge is hunger. Knowledge is power. Knowledge is a gaping maw. Knowledge is an unquenchable thirst, an unstoppable hunger. Knowledge is a void that we are free to throw our entire beings into. Knowledge is a parasitic figure, eager for more. Knowledge is a child asking “why?” again and again and again and again and again. Knowledge is that child, decades later, screaming “why?” again and again and again and again and again. Knowledge is the…
“I’m still copying you though.”
“I know. Now copy this.”
I am standing in a room and I am looking at my dad.
It is 1996 and he is 33 years old and he is journaling hour by hour the day that I am born. He is the first person to ever put my name to paper. It is 2008 and he is 45 years old and he is gripping my arms too tight and screaming at me, so close I…
“Where… are we?”
“In the woods.”
“I mean… what are we doing out here?”
“We’re walking home!”
Where a forest is not just a forest, a walk home is not just a simple home, an ask for help can bode more harm than aid, a lantern may cast a larger shadow rather than shine a light in the dark, and where the thing that matters most in this world, and the next, is your brother.
It’s time for fall. It’s time for the yearly Over the Garden Wall rewatch. It’s time to come home.
“I’m going home TO MAKE. A PRETZEL. SANDWICH.”
Still absolutely fucking rips. Not even just in the nostalgic way I was expecting, but in an excitingly bold adventure story type of way.
A tale of growing older, growing kinder, and growing more comfortable with letting go of the past for whatever next phase comes next. Monster House’s vital use of a place as a character means that the film’s environment is so inventive and visually rich. I was amazed by…
… I am on my knees begging writers and directors to stop using female body trauma (rape/miscarriages/abuse) as brief plot devices or virtually the only exposition surrounding female characters’ backstories, its mentions featured for maybe ten minutes of screen time, only to then miraculously be completely forgotten or never properly and healthily addressed. Please. I am so tired.
Malignant is what I’d call a big ole razzle dazzle of nonsense. It has the visuals of a multi-million dollar funded project,…
“We’re suffocating.”
The way I shot this movie straight into my veins when I was 15 and suicidal and so unbelievably angry at the world... Such a bizarre sensation to return to it now, nearly a decade later, older and still angry at the world.
Adults are so quick to say teens are over dramatic, that their problems aren’t as serious as they think. But teenage girlhood really is agony incarnate. Sexualized by just about every man you pass, discredited…
