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  • The Boxer's Omen

    The Boxer's Omen



    haha well alright ok mmhmm yes that'll do yep yes indeed.

  • Thunderball




    I loved Thunderball as a kid, so it's disappointing to say that I fell out of sync with this about fifteen minutes in, only to regain interest towards the tail-end. Some stellar underwater photography that is unfortunately padded out and lost to its own amusement.

  • You Only Live Twice

    You Only Live Twice



    The Temple of Doom of Bond ventures - cluelessly seeped in exoticism and otherization, with its hero rampaging through the proceedings on autopilot, yet deeply silly and wonderful to sit back and bask in. Moves at a steady clip, never fails to entertain in spite of itself, and the production design is a forever stunner. Bonus points for the volcano lair.

  • I Don't Want to Talk About It

    I Don't Want to Talk About It




  • Return of the Jedi

    Return of the Jedi



    Grindhouse Edition

    Pop-Culture Opera. Seamless, mythical grandeur. World-building on a colossal scale, and effortless too. Basically everything you could want in one of these. That shot of the light in Yoda's hut fading out. That Vader/Luke 1-on-1. The production design and the Skywalker Sounds and the Ewoks and the matte paintings. God-level.

  • Help!




    So fucking gorgeous, and full of indelible gags, but this spins in circles and tires you out by the midway point. Worth it for that bedroom set, which is utterly charming.

  • Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island

    Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island



    "We've been around for 200 years!"

    A reclamation of the past, and the pain it wrought. Pretty much a miracle movie on all counts. Acts as a summation and a subversion of Scooby-Doo before James Gunn tried his hand at it, prodding at the details of their many ventures, each ending in rationality. But what if it's just evil? What if the villain is simply an embodiment of a perpetual cycle of historical trauma, cast into another realm due…

  • Camila




    God loved her.

  • Aloha




    Lost in Translation, or should I say Communication? Cameron Crowe's filmography is so frequently tossed in the ring with filmmakers who started with canonical masterpieces and slowly declined off the deep end, but maybe it isn't that he's lost his touch, instead not really knowing how to speak his mind, for fear of the current response. Aloha is an oddity in that it freely, openly commands a space in your heart even if your logical synapses reject it. Amy…

  • Conquest




    A prehistoric sonic bath. Both queasy and comfy in equal measure. Peak Fulci - whatever the fuck that means.

  • The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course

    The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course



    A parody of Brosnan Bond and a delirious mix of slapstick and genuine documentary footage. Rest in peace to the legend, who taught me more about the natural world as a kid than anyone else by simply (and literally) wrestling with its extremity.

  • Climax




    I've always loved Gaspar Noe as a woozy, sleazy provocateur - someone who usually gets off on the same images he's dissecting. Enter the Void and Irreversible confronted similar passageways of experience and finality, each within the realms of exploitation and absurdity. So his recent dabbles in shock exercises and perversions, whether with his hardcore excesses in Love or the vicious, bubbling toxicity in his recent Climax, have left a lukewarm response in comparison. His latest is stripped down,…