yeah i'm pretty dumb
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The Rocky Horror Picture Show 1975
I remember being very young, maybe nine or so, and being allured by the concept of womanhood. Thoughts along the lines of "I wish I were a girl" and the like roamed freely throughout my mind, but this desire was just that -- a desire. To my eyes, sex and gender were inextricably shackled to one another, and in fact, I don't think I had any remote distinction between the two; in my mind, they were one and the same.…
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Wings of Desire 1987
a reverent re-realization of universal privileges largely and falsely recognized as montonous commonalities; imbued with the most soulful of esotericisms and a pure, unfettered love of life. almost carnal in its burning (com)passion for mortality which seamlessly intermingles and benefits from an off-the-wall metatextual premise
as i stare down the daunting barrel of the prospect of yet another year gone by (and yet another anew), i'm reminded of my immense fortune of various measures, those which i've glossed over in the past. i have only this film to thank.
happy new year's, all. i hope 2022 brings the best to you. <3
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Days of Heaven 1978
Malick watch-through #2
Laboring onwards into oblivion: yearning for an immortalization of your blood, sweat and tears. The gratification of your tireless production eludes you - you are made to stew in a purgatorial hellscape, longing for greatness, only to be met with fleeting joys at most.
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Badlands 1973
Malick watch-through #1
imbued with a righteous hatred for americana and its jingoistic tenets. the next time you decide to scream at someone for lacking patriotism, consider the fact that at this very second, much of america's press is devoted to whining about the fact that they can no longer get off to the sight of an anthropomorphized green m&m wearing go-go boots
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Wild Strawberries 1957
Bergman watch-through #4
Temporal melancholy, that which is immovable; inescapable // The sands of time reimagined as entirely tangible: they are made scarily real, suffocatingly so.
Wild Strawberries details the relatively innocuous existence and demeanor of one Isak Borg, a notably bitter seventy-eight year old man whose every utterance is that of ennui-driven ignorance. He does not care for kindness, nor others, nor himself, for that matter - he is but a vehicle for the splenetic; a harbinger of anger…
