Southland Tales

Southland Tales ★★★★

Some nights, it's 3:30 AM and you find yourself unable to fall asleep but you have to get up at 6 anyways and you figure you'll just stay up at this point and tough it out later but mostly because you've just snapped out of an almost-dream-like state in which a horrible, distorted scream gets increasingly more unnerving as the POV gets closer to the back of the public library. Nights like these, who needs friends. All you need is a cup of ginger tea as well as an open heart and an open mind. Then, everything will be fine and you will forget about the horrible scream because Christopher Lambert just called Cheri Oteri a "cro-magnon bitch" and that (on top of everything else) is enough to make up for a dead dream-boner. Moby's lovely score takes you through the motions of the ocean. That's what this film is. An ocean. A sea of deception and laughter and impeccable attention to detail and scary prophetic social satire and most importantly, an endless supply of Fluid Ambition. There's just something so relaxing and wholesome about the experience, for all its little imperfections, and I absolutely cherish every last moment of it.

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