Oh man, I am in a low spot. I had one of those ‘the girl who I like likes someone else’ moments the other day. Thankfully she’s ‘not an Internet person’ like ‘I am’ which is probably why I ‘like her’. I have a general rule that I shouldn’t write really negatively because nobody wants to listen to some sad bastard they’ve never met whine online. Well if hearts can be shit on then so can rules so get ready. Everything screening this week is hopeless bullshit.
Inglourious Basterds – Century Centre 9, AMC Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki (thanks Greg)
It’s a bloody mess of a film that’ll rip your fucking heart out and make out with some other dude while you’re getting it drinks. Sure, the opening scene is great, about my favorite 25 minutes of movie this year, but then just when you think it’s going to turn into a meaningful and loving relationship, someone gets brained with a Louisville slugger. My full review should go up tomorrow, any earlier and they pull the plug on me. Website.
The English Surgeon – The Roxie
I don’t know what this is but it’s about a heart surgeon. Always good to have one of those around. Like for when yours feels like Tony Stark’s after Jeff Bridges put the big silver suit on and stepped on his chest while Gwenyth Paltrow stood in the parking lot. Stepping on someone’s chest is such a kick in the fucking balls. On a related note, Gwenyth Paltrow standing in the parking lot is the perfect male fantasy. You could hope for rain to ruin her perfect outfit, you could stand her up, you could kill her. The possibilities are endless.
The English Surgeon is a documentary about an English doctor who goes to the Ukraine to treat patients in dire need. Oh, great. The Ukraine. How about a little love States-side? Asshole. Info.
Dead Man – The Red Vic
Hey man, do you want to watch Johnny Depp wander around to a Neil Young soundtrack and witness weird Native American shit? Why not? Oh, what’s that? Oh you have a date tonight? With the woman you love? You guys are going to see Paper Heart? That’s nice of you but no, actually, I don’t want to come. That’s like inviting the obese diabetic to a donut eating contest. You know, to watch. No I’ll be in the back of the Red Vic watching Dead Man, thanks. Do you still have those horse tranquilizers? Tonight, info.
What a way to end a post, right? Pill popping. Very mature. Well, it’s either that or two-fisting Ice Cream Twix bars, renewing my World of Warcraft Account, and putting every Radiohead track on shuffle. Both make my legs go numb but at least on tranquilizers I seem mysterious.
