Last movie you watched......

Quentin Tarantino.

Over-rated?

Or most over-rated?

 

I love most of his stuff, but if you don't I can understand where there's a lot to nitpick. He's just uneven, that's the best way I can describe his work. There are elements to every one of his movies that don't seem to add anything and can easily be discarded. For instance, the whole Winston Wolf bit in Pulp Fiction. I think it slows down the movie and doesn't add much of anything. A guy gets shot accidentally so you have to get off the road and call in some cleaner? Whose grand idea it is to have them take showers and to cover the car in loud blankets? Didn't strike me as particularly brilliant. Also, if the bullet blew the back of the guy's head out and splayed blood behind him, wouldn't the bullet by necessity have gone through his skull and blown out the window?

Also, what was Mr. Wolf doing at a black tie event at like 10 a.m.? Who the hell does black tie events in the morning?

 

My take from listening to those interviews is that none of them can articulate a theme for the movie other than it was a changing time in Hollywood or that it is a look back at old Los Angeles for people who grew up there. It's all about Tarantino's and the actors' experiences in Hollywood. Who fucking cares? I will probably go see it again, but man I missed the thing that should make me give a shit.

 

Bathed in it. That's a great description. I just sat there enjoying the movie. Didn't matter if there was a point, where the story was going, who was in the scene. I just loved watched A-listers Brad Pitt and Leo ply their craft, directed by a genius. I was thinking that I was basking in their glow, but bathing in it is a vastly superior description.

Who cares if there was a point. Doesn't matter if there wasn't much of a story. It was about top-of-their-game people performing at the top of their game in what turned out to be a fairly tale.

 

What you described is people masturbating on film.

 

There's a market for that.

 

Sorry. Uh, sorry. I, I, I got a little agitated. The thought of, uh, escape had crossed my mind, and then suddenly — suddenly — suddenly I felt like bending the fucking bars back, and ripping out the goddamn window frames and eating them — yes, eating them! Leaping, leaping, leaping! Colonics for everyone! All right! You dumbasses. I'm a mental patient. I'm supposed to act out! Wait'll you morons find out who I am! My father's gonna be really upset, and when my father gets upset, the ground SHAKES! My father is God! I worship my father!

 

I always assumed Mr. Wolf had been out all night and still looked perfect. Because he's Mr. Wolf.

 

Yeah but isn’t he like hanging in a hotel room with a bunch of put together people? Not a one of them looked ragged from being up all night. I feel like there’s a whole world out there I need to tap into and haven’t yet...

 

Why does it matter about Mr. Wolf?

 

It doesn’t matter much and believe me I enjoyed the scene, especially how they are forced to dress — which is how the movie ends, too, with them looking like dorks.

I might have just talked myself into the necessary centrality of the scene after all...

Funny how writing to organize your thoughts can lead you to contradict your initial thesis.

 

I don’t remember seeing any dicks.