Sunday, December 22, 2024

Whiskey Fist

"You Know, a Companion Piece. Throw Me the Title."

"That would be Whiskey Fist." — "What's the angle?" — "Late night, house party, more twentysomethings and shit when our lead decides to rawdog this chick from the rear." "Can we work in some placement?" — "I know a guy at J.D. who's shitting to get eyes on this treatment." — "So 'day after'..." — "'Day after' he's full of regret as the movie gets on, it's a vice-versa premise: the dude gets pregnant, lots of second-thoughts." — "So this one more ambiguous." — "More ambiguous, yeah..."



Kiss Kiss Fingerbang

"So Gimme the Title of The Picture..."

"Well it's 'bout a dame can't help it" — "Thinking Roger Avary, eh?" — "Nah, this Horvat character. Gillian Wallace Horvat." "Sounds a Wiltshire heiress." "Aaron knows her through Eliza." "Who's the playbill?" "Kate Lyn Sheil female lead, Anton Yelchin co-pilots." "What's the big idea?" "Sheil and Yelchin meet up at one of their places, cozy, brings Lynch to mind or some radio hour." "And they go at it?" "Oh baby, not just at it, but turns out anytime Sheil gets vaginally stimulated she's completely under her schmuck's control, and she will do anything for him." "Like what?" "Take out all her balance from an ATM, violent robbery, eventual murder...." "I like it. Got anything we can play alongside?"

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Saturday, December 21, 2024

What Doesn't Float

Water Everywhere


You couldn't quite call What Doesn't Float [Luca Balser, produced by Pauline Chalamet] an aquatic odyssey through the plunge of the New York City waterworks — there's bongwater on the carpet and it's ruined the collectible Ayoades.

What Doesn't Float suggests not so much the end or beginning of a certain era in independent American filmmaking,— Balser seeks neither plaudit nor demerit. But something has been happening within the last two or so years — some luminary names have tried series (Swanberg's great Easy and Love) —others have bided and risen to the forefront, starting as termites and running over the house, at least in the general/near approach of full realization: Tim Sutton, the return of Whit Horn and Lev Kelman. Some jottings now might seem limited as I'm just out of the hospital (liver issues) so bear for a bit with the unflush segues and crazy planking.

Poulson on the top of a shipping container in an early vignette where he's trying to seduce Chalamet. Easy metaphor, and so one of the more interesting films of last year. Pretty harmless till the final excellent episode.






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