Rubber
I haven't decided if I should look at Rubber as proof that filmmakers have run out of good ideas or as evidence that some still exist. Either way, it is one of the most oddly fascinating and original films I have seen in a long time.
The film centers on Robert, a demented tire with psychokinetic powers. When he falls in love with a beautiful woman, he explodes the heads of anyone in his path. As Lieutenant Chad explains in the film's prologue, Rubber "is an homage to the 'no reason' — that most important element of style." It's completely ridiculous and inexplicable, but a hell of a lot of fun.
Rubber is now available On Demand. So grab a case of beer, round up some buddies and split the $9.99 movie rental. I can't see how that wouldn't result in a good time.
Heartbeats
Heartbeats is the second film from 21-year-old Canadian auteur Xavier Dolan. It follows a pair of friends one male (Dolan himself) and one female, competing for the attention of a guy resembling a curly haired Rob Pattinson. The film brilliantly covers the evolution of a crush, mixing in pseudo-documentary testimonials a la When Harry Met Sally.
An absolute feast for the eyes and ears, Heartbeats is an "art film" of the purest regard — meaning that it's better viewed as an artistic venture than as a piece of entertainment (though there is some good humor involved in the desperation of these characters). It's probably the most "artistic" film I've seen since A Single Man. Whatever that means.
Dolan's vibrant palette of primary colors is reminiscent to that of Spanish director Pedro Almodovar, while his extensive use of colored filters and slow motion gives the film an intimate, voyeuristic feel. Dolan has also drawn comparisons to the likes of Godard and Kar Wai Wong (In the Mood for Love), but he reveals in this interview with Speakeasy that he isn't even familiar with the work of many of the directors he's compared to. Check it out if you're interested in learning more about the up-and-comer.
Heartbeats is now playing On Demand and in L.A. and N.Y. theaters. I can only imagine how great this thing would look on the big screen.
Cool Hand Luke
I'm picking Cool Hand Luke this week because it's one of my favorite movies of all time and TCM airs it at 8:00 ET Saturday night. Remember when this used to play on AMC damn near every day? Those were the days.
Cool Hand Luke was one of the movies that first got me interested in classic film. So many memorable lines and classic scenes that you can watch over and over again. I'd call this a must-see for anyone interested in film.
As the clock ticked down, I remember my Dad ceremoniously handing me the Green and Gold helmet that was signed by my childhood idol, Brett Favre.
"It's time," he said. "We're the World Champions."
I placed the helmet on top of the mantle, making it the centerpiece. It was worthy.
I didn't grasp how much it meant at that point. I didn't realize that it had been nearly 30 years since the place they call Titletown had a title. Thirty agonizing years.
The next year, the Packers were back in the Super Bowl, and I thought it was going to be a yearly occurrence.
I was wrong.
I've never felt worse than I did when the Broncos took the Lombardi trophy away. I cried, I felt sick for a week, I was depressed — and I was 11 years old.
That feeling stuck with me for 13 years. I will never forget the empty feeling of being on the losing side of the biggest event in sports.
But that feeling is gone now, completely replaced by euphoria.
It's time.
I mirrored the jubilation of Saints fans last year with my own rather spasmodic celebrations.
After the first Aaron Rodgers touchdown pass to the incredibly savvy Jordy Nelson, I unleashed a flurry of Rodgers' title belts in the general direction of some sullen Steeler fans on the TV.
The surround sound was turned all the way up to drown out the 20-some people I had in my living room, most of whom were forced to wear some sort of Green Bay clothing.
I had it so loud because my favorite thing to do when watching a Packer game is to listen to Joe Buck make some sort of reference to Nelson's craftiness or knowledge of the game.
Maybe he would make a comparison between Nelson and former NFL greats Wayne Chrebet or Ed McCaffrey, you know, because Nelson's a white wide receiver. Don't call him athletic, he's just real savvy.
During the Nick Collins pick-six of Ben Roethlisberger, my screaming celebration was so intense I literally made a baby cry. A baby who was wearing a title-belt t-shirt (I couldn't make that up).
If you would have videotaped my reactions during the first half, it would've almost exclusively featured me vigorously doing the title belt celebration to innocent bystanders.
But it wouldn't have been a 2010-11 Green Bay Packers game if it wasn't close at some point in the second half.
My fingernails were chewed to the limit. My hat was thrown into some dark corner of my room. I even had to go put on a hoodie for good luck purposes when the Steelers looked like they were going to steal the game away.
Obviously, that was an excellent decision.
Roethlisberger, the man who supposedly has ice running through his veins, fired an incompletion to seal the game. The title-belts started flying.
Everybody in the house was watching me with morbid curiosity as I started running around the house screaming about being the Super Bowl champ.
I calmed down enough to watch Air Rodgers snap the ball out of the victory formation and take the knee to end the game. Mike McCarthy got showered with orange Gatorade, and I watched the seconds tick.
It's time. We're the World Champions.
The film centers on Robert, a demented tire with psychokinetic powers. When he falls in love with a beautiful woman, he explodes the heads of anyone in his path. As Lieutenant Chad explains in the film's prologue, Rubber "is an homage to the 'no reason' — that most important element of style." It's completely ridiculous and inexplicable, but a hell of a lot of fun.
Rubber is now available On Demand. So grab a case of beer, round up some buddies and split the $9.99 movie rental. I can't see how that wouldn't result in a good time.
Heartbeats
An absolute feast for the eyes and ears, Heartbeats is an "art film" of the purest regard — meaning that it's better viewed as an artistic venture than as a piece of entertainment (though there is some good humor involved in the desperation of these characters). It's probably the most "artistic" film I've seen since A Single Man. Whatever that means.
Dolan's vibrant palette of primary colors is reminiscent to that of Spanish director Pedro Almodovar, while his extensive use of colored filters and slow motion gives the film an intimate, voyeuristic feel. Dolan has also drawn comparisons to the likes of Godard and Kar Wai Wong (In the Mood for Love), but he reveals in this interview with Speakeasy that he isn't even familiar with the work of many of the directors he's compared to. Check it out if you're interested in learning more about the up-and-comer.
Heartbeats is now playing On Demand and in L.A. and N.Y. theaters. I can only imagine how great this thing would look on the big screen.
Cool Hand Luke
Cool Hand Luke was one of the movies that first got me interested in classic film. So many memorable lines and classic scenes that you can watch over and over again. I'd call this a must-see for anyone interested in film.
Title Belts for Titletown
I was ten years old the last time the Packers won the Super Bowl.As the clock ticked down, I remember my Dad ceremoniously handing me the Green and Gold helmet that was signed by my childhood idol, Brett Favre.
"It's time," he said. "We're the World Champions."
I placed the helmet on top of the mantle, making it the centerpiece. It was worthy.
I didn't grasp how much it meant at that point. I didn't realize that it had been nearly 30 years since the place they call Titletown had a title. Thirty agonizing years.
The next year, the Packers were back in the Super Bowl, and I thought it was going to be a yearly occurrence.
I was wrong.
I've never felt worse than I did when the Broncos took the Lombardi trophy away. I cried, I felt sick for a week, I was depressed — and I was 11 years old.
That feeling stuck with me for 13 years. I will never forget the empty feeling of being on the losing side of the biggest event in sports.
But that feeling is gone now, completely replaced by euphoria.
It's time.
I mirrored the jubilation of Saints fans last year with my own rather spasmodic celebrations.
After the first Aaron Rodgers touchdown pass to the incredibly savvy Jordy Nelson, I unleashed a flurry of Rodgers' title belts in the general direction of some sullen Steeler fans on the TV.
The surround sound was turned all the way up to drown out the 20-some people I had in my living room, most of whom were forced to wear some sort of Green Bay clothing.
I had it so loud because my favorite thing to do when watching a Packer game is to listen to Joe Buck make some sort of reference to Nelson's craftiness or knowledge of the game.
Maybe he would make a comparison between Nelson and former NFL greats Wayne Chrebet or Ed McCaffrey, you know, because Nelson's a white wide receiver. Don't call him athletic, he's just real savvy.
During the Nick Collins pick-six of Ben Roethlisberger, my screaming celebration was so intense I literally made a baby cry. A baby who was wearing a title-belt t-shirt (I couldn't make that up).
If you would have videotaped my reactions during the first half, it would've almost exclusively featured me vigorously doing the title belt celebration to innocent bystanders.
But it wouldn't have been a 2010-11 Green Bay Packers game if it wasn't close at some point in the second half.
My fingernails were chewed to the limit. My hat was thrown into some dark corner of my room. I even had to go put on a hoodie for good luck purposes when the Steelers looked like they were going to steal the game away.
Obviously, that was an excellent decision.
Roethlisberger, the man who supposedly has ice running through his veins, fired an incompletion to seal the game. The title-belts started flying.
Everybody in the house was watching me with morbid curiosity as I started running around the house screaming about being the Super Bowl champ.
I calmed down enough to watch Air Rodgers snap the ball out of the victory formation and take the knee to end the game. Mike McCarthy got showered with orange Gatorade, and I watched the seconds tick.
It's time. We're the World Champions.
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