Showing posts tagged movies

Dude, the ’80s were so dope. I love that someone went to Warner Bros. and was like, “We should do an action-drama movie about a truck-driving arm wrestler, and we should get Sylvester Stallone to star in it, and we should give him $12 million to do so,” and then someone at Warner Bros. was like, “Oh my god, that is EXACTLY what we should do,” AND THEN THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT SHIT.

If we figure for inflation, $12 million in 1987 comes out to more than $25.1 million today. TWENTY-FIVE MILLION ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND. For a movie about arm wrestling. For a bit of context: Matt Damon gets about $18 million per movie today; Brad Pitt gets about $20 million per; Tom Cruise gets $22 million per. What a truly spectacular time period to have been a movie star the ’80s were. We’re never going to see an era like that in Hollywood again. R.I.P. to big-budget arm-wrestling movies.

Shea Serrano, on Over the Top (which I’m proud to say I’ve never seen, even at 2 a.m. on USA), in Grantland.

This piece is hilarious top to bottom. So many choice lines. Absolutely perfect example of hi-lo web content (high quality writing about low-brow shit).



The Bridge, 2006 (dir. Eric Steel)

Those are real shots of people leaping off the Golden Gate Bridge to their deaths. Needless to say, the images stick with you long after the movie ends.

Definitely one of the more disturbing, moving films I’ve seen, fiction or nonfiction.

(Reblogged from moviesinframes)
I lost count of the scenes in which Gwen and Peter thrash out the question of whether they should be a couple, and there is a sigh of relief in the cinema when she, deploying what philosophers would call a performative utterance, says simply, ‘I break up with you,’ leaving us to wonder if she pulls the same trick in bed: ‘And now we approach the orgasm.’
Anthony Lane, on The Amazing Spider-Man 2, in this week’s New Yorker



Nuovo Cinema Paradiso, 1988 (dir. Giuseppe Tornatore)

By SolidAir

One of my all-time faves.

(Reblogged from moviesinframes)
For Bale, finding the Patrick Bateman within him meant venturing into the darkest, vilest pits of human pain and suffering: Tom Cruise’s eyes. Bale and the director of ‘American Psycho,’ Mary Harron, discussed “how Martian-like Patrick Bateman was,” and how he was always “watching what people did and trying to work out the right way to behave.” Eventually, Bale found exactly that while watching David Letterman when Tom Cruise happened to be the guest. A strange thing Bale noticed about Cruise was his “intense friendliness” that had “nothing behind the eyes.” Which is the nice way of saying, “Look at that creepy motherfucker.”
From “5 Bizarre Inspirations Behind Famous Movie Scenes,” on Cracked


I can’t drink because I just get tired. I go to sleep. I don’t know how people drink and then do shit. Like in movies or TV shows, when there’s people in an office having a power meeting, and they’re ‘clink, clink’ — they’re making a drink! — in the daylight, with a tie on.

"Well, Senator, hope you’ll play ball with us on this construction deal, if you know what I’m sayin’."

"Yeah, well, I’ll see what’s in it for me. Heh heh heh."

How is the next scene just not all those people lying on the floor going, “Fuck, I can’t believe I drank whiskey at noon”?

Louis C.K.
Women are afraid of meeting a serial killer. Men are afraid of meeting someone fat.
When Strangers Click, a 2011 documentary about online dating (via rawfuel)

(Source: tealeafprincess)

(Reblogged from burningwithboredom)

The movie is exhaustingly bad, but bad in ways you can’t imagine in advance….

Depp acts in the show-biz ethnic tradition of Brando’s Japanese interpreter in the appalling ‘Teahouse of the August Moon,’ and he sounds to me like a turn-of-the-last-century Yiddish actor doing Shakespeare….

'The Lone Ranger' combines Depp's shallow, liberal seriousness with 'Pirates of the Caribbean' slapstick spectacle, and the upshot is horrible. It's like 'Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee,' adapted into a Disney theme park ride.

David Edelstein, on The Lone Ranger. Ouch.

(Source: NPR)

Inception Supercut : Every Ellen Page Question - watch more funny videos


Inception Supercut: Every Ellen Page Question

Her script must have had a lot of question marks.

You could do a similar mashup of Lawrence Fishburne cliches from The Matrix.

(Reblogged from funnyordie)
Once you have created ‘The Avengers,’ in which you lassoed a gang of Marvel characters, including Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, and would up with the third-highest-grossing film in history, what next? Easy: you make a black-and-white film of ‘Much Ado About Nothing,’ shooting over 12 days, in the safety of your own home. The project is kept secret, there are no big stars, and the budget is probably less than what you spent on Thor’s hammer.
Anthony Lane, on Joss Whedon


The third [inspiration] was a Saturday Night Live sketch, featuring Chris Farley as the motivational speaker Matt Foley who lives “in a van down by the river.”

“It’s the way that Chris Farley stood,” Mr. Nierva said. “He would spread his legs wide and put his arms between his legs as he’s making his point. And we loved how that look felt.”

(Source: The New York Times)

A sentient tire rolls through the desert, dispatching victims with the power of its mind.

Actual summary (courtesy of DIRECTV) of Rubber, an actual movie playing right now on Showtime Beyond.

IMDB’s description (which I read only because I linked to it just now) is even awesomer: “When Robert, a tire, discovers his destructive telepathic powers, he soon sets his sights on a desert town; in particular, a mysterious woman becomes his obsession.”  And first in the acting credits? Goodyear, as Robert the Tire.

The best way to enjoy Baz Luhrmann’s big and noisy new version of “The Great Gatsby” — and despite what you may have heard, it is an eminently enjoyable movie — is to put aside whatever literary agenda you are tempted to bring with you. I grant that this is not so easily done. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s slender, charming third novel has accumulated a heavier burden of cultural significance than it can easily bear. Short and accessible enough to be consumed in a sitting, the book has become, in the 88 years since its publication, a schoolroom staple and a pop-cultural totem. It shapes our increasingly fuzzy image of the jazz age and fuels endless term papers on the American dream and related topics.

Through this fog of glib allusion and secondhand thinking, the wistful glimmer of Fitzgerald’s prose shines like the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan’s dock. If “The Great Gatsby” can’t quite sustain the Big Ideas that are routinely attached to it — a fact that periodically inspires showboating critical contrarians to proclaim that it’s not such a big deal after all — it nonetheless remains a lively, imaginative presence.

A.O. Scott is the second-best film critic writing today.

(Source: The New York Times)

When the Lord God forbade his worshippers to bow down before any graven image, Rosario Dawson’s face was exactly the kind of thing He had in mind. No other star can boast such sculptured features—except Vincent Cassel, who is pretty damn graven himself. When the two of them make love, in ‘Trance,’ one strong bone structure pressed against another, it’s like a clash of major religions. What if they had a family? The kids would be practically Cubist.
Anthony Lane, in this week’s New Yorker