Static from the Mojave Desert. Yes, I am still watching.
"You're looking at the future: people translated as data."
Max Headroom holds up far too well thirty-eight years later. Every few years, I think about the 1987 signal hijacking at a Chicago television station when an unknown man wearing a Max Headroom mask took over the airwaves to mutter nonsense. (The Wikipedia entry includes this delightful sentence: "The video ended with a pair of exposed buttocks being spanked with a flyswatter before normal programming resumed.")
Max Headroom occupies an odd…
"I'm an influencer, a wielder of opinion, a force!"
If America had heeded this movie's warning back in '57, we could have saved ourselves so much trouble. Sixty-five years later, A Face in the Crowd remains a grim prophecy that lays bare the howling, bug-eyed psychopathology that animates social media, cable news, and a vicious game show host who became president. It presumes that people will care once the truth is exposed, which feels heartbreakingly quaint. But the Vitajex advertising montage only improves with age.
It's always a rush to encounter a movie that requires you to tune into its wavelength. RRR is a glorious middle finger to all those sad-sack films with characters who spend two hours figuring out their feelings, not to mention the unfortunate Hollywood trend of making ponderous superhero movies that have forgotten how to entertain. I'm sure there were loads of reference points I couldn't grasp, so I could only enjoy this as sheer spectacle. And I did, even though my mushy American mind thought the last few minutes felt like an NRA-adjacent fever dream with a beat you can dance to.