Acrostic Poem for a Caustic Film
Mobsters on the move
A camera creating continuous takes
Feeling embedded in the warfare
Iconic showcase of ignoble humans
A one and done, 'cause reasons
Acrostic Poem for a Caustic Film
Mobsters on the move
A camera creating continuous takes
Feeling embedded in the warfare
Iconic showcase of ignoble humans
A one and done, 'cause reasons
Weird dialogue and weird wounds. Non sequiturs accompany both at times. Conversations go from the mundane to mini monologues waxing eloquent and overt observations are shoe horned in, because they need to go somewhere. As for the wounds, mosquito bites come and go as do bullet holes, and Barnes' scars are rather confusing. Are they war wounds? Did he get them early in the war, for them to be so healed, or was this a farming accident? Sometimes his shoulder…
I hate this movie. It's going directly into my top 100.
I hate that it makes my heart hurt so much and how the camera work makes me dizzy and nauseous at the horrors of war.
I hate that the sharpness of some of the images stings my eyes, especially those of her eyes and in hearing the word Nyet, over and over to no avail.
I hate the condemnation and perpetual self hatred and to what depths and lengths…
The need for human touch is so imprinted in our DNA, that no matter how far it's pushed down, or dismissed, the need will find a way, forcing a path through the depths of denial, twisting through self made barriers and those others have constructed, until it sees the light of day. Upon viewing, the need may resemble something not very comprehensible, but it's understandable, since it traveled such a tortured journey. The darkness and contortions exact a fee. That…