Tag: Film

How Terrible Cinema Can Save The World Or Maybe Not

snowden poster

Finally broke down, dear worst-reader. I splurged the 4,99-€ to rent Snowden last night. Do I regret it? In German the answer is: Jein. It’s a cross between ja (yes) and nein (no). I suppose the more significant question is: would I do it again–as in maybe even buy this movie so that I can play it when I want, how I want, if I want? F’n no! Luckily there’s not much to say about the movie other than… Well, it sucked. In that vein…

During the movie my better half was sick of me turning to her and sticking a finger down my throat. Barf! Especially the various lovey-dovey scenes between Snowden and his pole dancing girlfriend. My guess is Oliver Stone doesn’t really care at this point if his dialogue sucks. He obviously thinks there is a bigger story to be told. Yes, indeed, he thinks that.

I did perk up a few times, though. The scene where the NSA guy lies in front of Congress was pretty good. I even cracked a joke about how the NSA can lie to Congress and get away with it but when Clinton lied about a White House back room blowjob… Then there was the scene where Glenn Greenwald gets pissed at The Guardian and he threatens to go rogue. In fact, during this scene I paused the movie to explain to those watching what really happened–which is a mystery to me why Stone didn’t put this in the movie.

Glenn Greenwald did leave The Guardian and with the help of a mega-rich dotcom funder started the most expensive blog in history: The Intercept. As I’ve posted here, my biggest gripe with the whole Snowden ordeal is the fact that people like Greenwald, to this day, are sitting on all the data. It’s fine if Snowden thinks he was being strategic by giving his data to “responsible” journalists and that they should decide what/when to publish. I just disagree with having to leave it up to profiteering journalists to make that judgement. But I digress.

All in all, this film is horrible. The cinematography sucks. The editing sucks. The screenplay sucks. Etc., etc. Also. I learned nothing new about Snowden–which is the main reason I decided to watch it. Questions are still un-answered and/or un-addressed that I think are important and would have helped people better understand what is really going on with not only Edward Snowden but the entire US government apparatus that reared him. For example:

  • How did Snowden get on that flight to Moscow from Hong Kong? I mean, who let him on that flight? If THEY wouldn’t let him board a plane to South American, how was he able to get to Russia? If the people that were with him in Hong Kong arranged his flight, why wasn’t that in the film?
  • Why is it that The Guardian no longer publishes any of the material that it shared wth Greenwald and Ewen MacAskill?  Is The Intercept the sole publisher of the Snowden material now? Where is the rest of that material?
  • Where does Snowden come from? What are his beliefs? Considering the batshittery of #americant politics these days, I think it’s very important to know what these batshitters think, how they were raised, where they come from. For instance. Who is Edward Snowden’s father? I recall a few times in the news, early on, Snowden’s father was featured in reports with words like “libertarianism” and “freedom”. These words are thrown around like badmintion birdies at a drunk family picnic–especially when used by tea-party families. Again: Batshit radical right wing #americant is what got us into the mess we’re in. The scariest thing about Snowden is NOT is data-dump but how he thinks. The way he throws around the word Constitution, as though it’s a veil of sorts, is also a redflag. Indeed. The country is in quagmire of irrational exuberant misplaced patriotism, rightousness and all that jazz. A Mess. Mess. Mess.
  • The demonising of the CIA and the NSA, as Stone does it, is probably warranted but unnecessary for this story. I’m a big fan of Oliver Stone. I consider him a teacher. The way Stone portrays them here, though, is nothing more than opening a can of worms and then leaving the rest of us to sort it out. What a drag.

I could go on but I’ll leave it at that.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.

-t

No Wag To Tail

no tail to wag.jpgBeckett the killer pug was taking me for a walk the other day while I listened to a podcast or three. After a few hours of peeing on trees and licking the dew from morning grass and counting the barges that traverse the Rhein, I decided enough was enough and told the old mutt to take me home. He did. He then fed me a late morning breakfast and proceeded to find a place on the couch to take a late morning nap. Motivated from a podcast and after consuming too much post nap coffee I decided to re-watch the movie Wag The Dog. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw it. But I’ve seen it at least once before going back to the early 2000s. I think I might have tried to watch it a second time after that but gave up on the film. I remember when the movie came out around 1997/8. It was somewhat of a hit within the stretched minds of German intellectuals–who always get a kick out of laughing at my beloved #americant. For the life of me, though, I couldn’t remember what the film was about. But I vividly remember that other 90s political film Primary Colors. Um.

Something obviously motivated me to re-watch Wag The Dog. Damn podcasts! So I purchased a rental verison of it via Apple’s krappy streaming system and by 5pm had consumed it. Then I realised something.

Say, this would be a good movie to watch with my über intellectual better-half.

I was sure she hadn’t seen it and since we’ve been going back and forth about Trump and #americant politics lately, this would be a good show starter for an evening of dilemma or love. Indeed. Since I was late at preparing dinner, I jumped to the task and whipped up something delicious (as usual). After feeding my better-half, I surprised her with…

Hey, baby. How ’bout a film?

Being the stoic German female she’s always been, I had to first inform her a bit about the movie, which I proceeded to do. Her skepticism aside, I poured her a glass of Spanish red wine, put the cheese and cracker plate on the table next to her couch and then hit the play button on the really, really stupid little aluminium Apple remote control device. Within the first twenty minutes she was bitten. By the time it was over she had loved both my cheese plate, the wine and was asking:

  1. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
  2. Why hadn’t I told her about it?

Short story long. It was a nice marital bonding evening. I guess. And so…

By the next morning the movie had triggered something in my mind. It took me back to the 90s when the world had learned the specificities of things like blowjobs and protein stains on blue dresses. In the film the president allegedly had an affaire with an underage girl. Technology in the form of network connected gadgets was gonna take us into the future. At the beginning of the movie there is a Palm Pilot device. And in order to be famous you should make a sextape with your gadgets that features blowjobs because in the future those sextapes, morally and ethically, will pale in comparison to what a broken society can be made to do after it’s been so thoroughly manipulated. Even though the sextapes have nothing to do with Wag The Dog, thinking of the 90s just brought that out of me. Indeed. While watching a film I was re-living a past worth forgetting and there were these titillating images of Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian and a few stupid white people haunting humanity.

Why does the dog wag its tail?
Because a dog is smarter than its tail.
If the tail were smarter, it would wag the dog. (-BS from the beginning of the movie)

Back to the present.

How is it that a movie like Wag The Dog can be so misinterpreted so many years after its inception? Easy. It’s the same as with The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Comedy is ok as long as it stays funny. Go beyond funny…. That show was about one thing and one thing only. Make fun of politics. I’m sure its audience thought it was funny, too. You know, people thought that the show was actually political–or about politics and those stupid white men who are in it. But consider this, dear worst-reader. Making fun of something is no different than dismissing it. Dismissing something also means that you run from it. The grave error of Wag The Dog–or the error of people putting such a film on any kind of pedestal–is that in the end all one does is avoid reality. Another by-product of reality avoidance, btw, is conspiracy theorising.

In the podcast that motivated me to re-watch Wag The Dog, the film is lauded as a work of genius that fortold the future about how the #americant public can be easily manipulated. This fortelling, of course, is embodied in Robert DeNiro’s character who plays a kind of political spin-doctor for the president but actually looks like a professor that lost tenor. The podcast also mentioned how DeNiro & Co, in order to manipulate further, come up with things like The B-3 Bomber and a military special unit called The 303. The podcast was comparing all the krapp from the movie with what Trump is doing and, of course, how conspiratorial it all is. Oh my. This use of the number three, btw, is supposed to have some kind of conspiracy theory significance about the fate of the world–and more importantly the fate of #americants that both can’t pay their mortgage because they can’t afford the rest of their gluttonous credit card consumption or their God fearing sex practices that linger in their minds while being sexually repressed to the hilt. Oh my.

But before I get too off subject. The movie Primary Colors left a bit more of an impression on me because it didn’t have to use so much innuendo and conspiracy theorising to tell its story. It was basically the same movie but it got a bit closer to the self inflicted misery of a greed society run amok and how that society elects its politicians. It’s also a bit clearer about how those politicians actually behave in a game facilitated by an inept and ignorant society. Indeed. John Travolta deserved more recognition as President than Dustin Hoffman got as Producer. But then again, what do I know about movies?

And here’s the catcher that worst-writer should have been worst-writing about the whole time in this post.

David Mamet was in a bit of a feud over who should get screen writing credits for Wag The Dog. That about says everything about this film. Well, that and the fact that Primary Colors was pretty much being made at the same time says something, too. Mamet is without a doubt a brilliant writer but he also a money grubbing shitbag that thinks just like a faux newz old white man that never really found a place to put his cock or his misery so he puts it on others in the name of some kind of political ideology that, according to California, treads on me. Or maybe not.

Nomatter. I think I’m gonna re-watch Primary Colors in the hope that it will purge the nonsense of Wag The Dog from my system.

Rant on.

-t

Humiliation, Glorification And The Magic Of Butter On Your Conscience

father-superman-brando

You are not a victim of Bertolucci’s film making. Or are you? Wait! Let me put that another way: When will the left learn? When will liberal thinking people grasp reality? The pathway to right above wrong is not traversed through political-correctness but through those who don’t give a fcuk. But there is a way to get to the ice-cream truck where butter flavoured joy awaits us all and the one who will serve you should be Marlon Brando.

Warning: minor spoiler alerts to a film I highly recommend even though it’s not Bertolucci’s best.

Bernardo Bertolluci is a brilliant film maker. Even though it’s not one of my favourite films, Last Tango In Paris is a really cool movie. In fact, I used to own the novel version of it. That little paperback has since become one of those rare books I lent to someone and never got back. Gee, I wonder why. Could it be because I highlighted the butter scene in it? No. That can’t be why Giuseppe never gave it back to me. Remember when they wrote novel versions of movies, dear worst-reader? Oh, they only do that these days with Star Wars because there really is no place for a butter scene in such a story. Or?

The thing about Last Tango In Paris is that I always compared it to Hitchcock’s Psycho. I saw both movies in the early 80s. Hitchcock desperately needed one thing in all his movies: sex; more scary sex. Bertolucci needed one thing in his movies: less scary, a lot less scary. And so, we have one of the scariest characters ever filmed and guess who gets to play him? Mr. Scary himself, hence take note of the letter on his shirt in the pic above. No. Wait. What should the world do with bored, confused, middle-aged white men who get a kick out of objectifying objects and who are scary, really scary? Indeed. Make movies about them. But I digress.

The moment in Last Tango In Paris where Paul’s wife is revealed in a state of decomposition really through me for a loop. Like I said, having seen Psycho only a few weeks prior, the imagery was uncanny. Nothing else in the film really got to me. The sex was kinda titallating and the actress was hot, even if she did have a jungle-forest “down there”. And the moment with the butter? My first thought was: is butter the best choice for what’s about to happen? But all kidding aside. Let’s quote Marlon:

It’s just a movie.

And you know who else pulled off scenes that were just as fcuking great! For all you believers in purple unicorns and tasty rainbows–for all you who can’t face reality and hide behind your false sense of righteousness and shiny über-glorified pussies (i.e. grabbed vaginas)–just check out the brilliant sex in The Dreamers or Stealing Beauty. For those of you don’t know, Bertolucci is obsessed with sex in his movies. It is inevitable that such an obsession deal with rape as much as deflowering. Indeed. A rape scene in a work of fiction, as traumatic as it was for the actress to portray, means that it’s now time to ridicule the story teller? Or will Maria Schneider finally press charges? Cause I’m about fed-up with all this talk without the walk. Anywho.

Now that the world must face the consequence(s) of political correctness in the form of sexually degenerate American presidents and a renewal of anti-feminism, what’s left? Are we gonna now dismantle one of the greatest film makers of all time? Bertolucci’s depiction of sex, especially in Tango, is innocent by today’s Internet standards. Not to mention the fact that we now live in a world where one president makes blow-jobs with White House interns dinner table fanfare and another president makes… Well, you get the grabbing picture.

A rape scene in a piece of fiction from forty years ago is NOT the same as the abuse you experienced while living among the broken-ness of #americant or getting caught up in a no-means-yes frat-party or worrying about your pussy being grabbed–by your fcuking presidential imagination.

Oh well. The good thing is, at least all this uproar will mean that a few politically-correct-obsessed young people might see a great movie that they otherwise wouldn’t have seen. Either that or Bertolucci needs some money from DVD or iTunes sales of Last Tango. Go get’em politically correct nut-bags. Go grab something.

Link that motivated this post:

Rant on.

-t

Chasing Meaninglessness Beyond The Pale Of Wishing Your Bubbles Are Bigger Than Mine

http://www.chasingbubblesmovie.com/

Warning: major spoiler alert.

This is a really cool little documentary. If you can call it a documentary. If you don’t call it a documentary then what do you call it? A movie? A film? A TV show? A theatrical trailer for a film that is actually a warning to future generations about the pitfalls of…

  1. Not being able to chose your parents
  2. It’s not worth it anymore to actually work for a living (and for that you can thank your parents).

But I digress. And here comes the spoiler. Would you believe that some schmuck from a rich family who had everything paid for him from birth to his education and then even provided him a van to live in while he sought the meaning of life struggling to work for the only industry left in #americant–the financial sector–and then, out of life-frustration bagged it all so he could sail around the world in a f’n boat? That’s right, dear worst-reader. The star of this film is a kid who was born with PTSD or became so confused with his rearing that in order to cope with the pitfalls of having to work among other greed-mongers and automatons he lost his sh*t and decided to prove to the ocean that things float. When he finally realised that all his floating was done, guess what happens? He docks his boat and continues his travels on land and finds the trash-heap of the earth, India. While in India he catches typhoid fever and f’n dies.

Let me repeat that because Stupid needs to be repeated about as much as Stupid needs to have documentary films made.

This kid takes something like a three year journey around the world on a (relatively) cheap, used sailboat, partying the whole time with his friends, alluding to the trauma of his family, and when he’s done he realises that all he’s achieved is the humdrum of his birth. And because that’s not enough he continues his pseudo-thrill-seeker bullsh*t life and goes off to India without getting any immunisations–because he so smart from the first world!–and catches typhoid fever and dies.

Now let’s make a documentary film TV movie about this kid.

Oh. And here’s another spoiler . I guess you could also call it the catcher of this film. Right at the end the film maker(s) throw in the thought that maybe this whacked-out rich kid ain’t dead after all. Really? How original. I mean (sarcasm on)… the world really is gonna miss this kid (sarcasm off).

Still. Since I love sailing, it is a movie worth seeing. Hence my worstwriter recommendation. And so. May stupid white people that have created this f-upped world find their cheap thrills and then catch some fever and go, finally, away.

Prosit stupid people and be careful when you drink India’s grey water.

Rant on.

-t

Tale Of Two Killers Or Movies To Kill Time, Tears and Flugangst

whitey bulger and blofeld

The only thing I could think about during recent FRA > BLR flight was my little dog in his crate attached to a palette. I could see him from the lounge where I tried to drink my sorrows away with free bier, wine and nuts. Just before we boarded I could also see the ground crew shoving my dear little friend into the rear fuselage of our B747-8. Pronounced: seven four seven dash eight. The tears started brewing that moment while walking down the gangway into the opposite end of the fuselage. I tried to gather my thoughts while boarding, refocus on what’s at hand. Not even the cute, slit-skirt stewardess could take my thoughts away. I walked down the aisle looking for 11D. What a fancy plane, I thought. I then adjusted my stuff, putting carry-on in the upper bin, loosening my belt for the long haul, catching my breath. But the angst for my dog started to set in even deeper than before. Luckily take-off was a blast. I think the pilot was in a hurry because we were at cruising altitude in no-time. Did my dog feel the powerful ascension? All the emotion made my already hyper bladder want to do some business. Or was it because I had too many drinks in the lounge and had to get to the loo to wipe my eyes which were soaked during taxi and take-off–and missing my little friend. Besides, I didn’t want anyone seeing me balling my eyes out because I was worried sick about my dog–who had never been stuffed into a fuselage before. Thank goodness for all the room in business-class where I could hide my tears. Or? In fact, since we were at the end of the business-class section, there was this huge space between the back of our comfortable seats and the bulkhead that separated us from coach. Actually, let me put that another way since LH has changed seating configurations in coach over the years in the name of profits, profits and more profits, I guess. Directly behind the bulkhead was LH’s new premium economy class. It’s the class I’ll probably be flying from here on out. The only time I get business-class is when I fly officially with better-half and her company pays for it or I upgrade using her miles. I think LH premium economy is only a few hundred bucks more than regular economy and the seats look as big as upright business-class seats. The difference is that you can’t recline as far back and all the other amenities aren’t available. After flying business class a few times the past few years, I would gladly give up on “amenities” for roomier, more comfortable seating. As I was saying. Behind our business-class seats was a space big enough to accommodate my best friend in the world. Although our crate wouldn’t fit there, he certainly would have. On the other hand, even though it rips me apart thinking about him stuffed in the fuselage, I know LH took care of him and that if we were safe, he was safe. Besides, I’m sure once the hectic of take-off and ascension was over, he would just buckle down in his blanket in the crate, drink from the supplied water as he needed, and sleep till landing woke him–in eight hours. And that’s pretty much how it worked out. Except for my weeping like bitch worried sick about him. And speaking of bitches. To help cope with worrying tears, which also meant I was too preoccupied to read anything, I decided to watch a movie. Of the numerous films to choose from, I picked Black Mass. Upfront? I thought it was a pretty good movie. It was so good I don’t understand why it wasn’t up for Oscars. Or maybe it wasn’t that good. Hold a sec. (Pause.) §I love it when Johnny Depp acts and doesn’t entertain. You know, he’s done some serious big screen thuds recently. I guess that’s the byproduct of being so successful (financially) with those pirate movies. Just afford to make another movie–even if it sucks. I guess he can make any movie he wants after that. I’m always interested when I hear he’s doing a real film–as opposed to some big screen, kill two hours entertainment orgy. But don’t get wrong. I enjoyed the pirate movies Depp made. They are perfect for getting rid of two hours. Black Mass, on the other hand, is a serious film and a pretty serious story. I entered adulthood in the 1980s and I vividly remember hearing the name Whitey Bulger in the news. I especially remember, by the late 80s, when I was clearly on my way to becoming an expat, hearing about the (love) triangle Bulger had between his brother and his former boyhood friend turned FBI agent. Even then I thought the whole thing to be an unbelievable #americant entertainment story. I’m amazed that it’s not being written about more–especially the part about Bulger’s state senator brother. Does that mean worst-writer should have a go at such a story? Nomatter. §Black Mass is worth seeing and I’m planning on seeing it again on account I think I missed a few things. With that in mind, it’s no grand film-making effort and I don’t quite know why I’m thinking that way about it. As a film, it simply gets the job done. Although it won’t go down as one of my fav Depp (acting) movies, after watching it I’ve concluded it probably doesn’t deserve the accolades that my initial instincts conjured. Or? I was seriously hoping, when I saw the initial trailers for it, that this would be Depp’s time. But allow me digress on that note. Writing my thoughts about Depp only serves as filler at this point. Moving on. §Like I worst-said, I was hoping that the/a movie would take my mind off my dog being stuffed into a cargo hole–but it didn’t. Both during Black Mass and after I was still thinking about my dog. Maybe that’s why Black Mass came across as mediocre or why I found it to be unfocused. Yeah. Unfocused. That’s the ticket. Was Black Mass about Depp/Bulger or one of the other two in the (love) triangle? I hope a second viewing will change how I feel about this movie–because I’m rooting for Depp. I’m certainly not rooting for Leo who just won the friggin’ Oscar. I want Depp to win an Oscar. Why isn’t Depp winning Oscars? Oh, yeah. The movies he makes. Anywho. §After Black Mass I was still needing to get my mind off things so I scanned through other movies on the LH inflight entertainment system. Could I get through another movie–at my age? Boy, does LH have a lot of movies to choose from. And some pretty new ones, too. I considered watching a few of the ’15 Oscar nominated films but quickly gave up–nothing interesting there. Luckily, getting toward the end of the movie list, Spectre popped up. So let’s bring that one behind us, shall we? I still had six hours of flight time. §My mind was occupied with tears and thoughts of cute little dogs that grow on ya and a bit here and there about moving to India for up to three years while my wife tries to expand her career in an ever-shrinking globalised world. With that in mind, why not hit the play button. §There were two interesting things about this new Bond film. One: Monica Bellucci. She didn’t get enough screen time. Two: the regurgitation of Blofeld and how he got that scare is a grand idear. And that’s it. That’s the whole movie. I don’t know if it’s because Craig is struggling with his characterisation of the great killer-spy or if the producers are running out of writers. Heck, all the desert scenes looked like they were shot at the same time as Quantum of Solace. The explosion of Blofeld’s facility looked cheap and underfunded. And the big goon that almost kills Craig on the train? I found myself rooting for him for a sec or three. But let me leave my worst-criticisms at that. I’m just not a big fan of Craig’s blue-eyed, tough guy 007. I prefer elegance, grace, wit and hidden manliness. That the producers are able to get all these actors to play him differently is worth praise, but at some time, I think, these nuanced differences get old fast. Yeah, bring back the British navy commander who doesn’t act like he’s feeding a pack of millennial spoiled rotten babies. But then again, even if a Bond movie is bad (Brosnan), they’re still good (Dalton). §Bye-the-by, after a second film on the flight, I still had four and half hours to go. I de
cided to give in to some tears and went to the loo to have them. Rant on. -tommi

Find The Question In The Answer Of The Message

AlphaHouse

The task of American TV binge-watching is not a small one, especially when competing with one’s better-half who is usually at least two shows ahead of me. The reality is, I’m losing the challenge of who can get through the shows the quickest. Lost big-time, in fact, with recent binge-watching of The King of Queens. It took my better-half less than a month to get through all nine seasons of that show. Lots of free time during Eurowasteland’s xmas vacation helped a bit, too. I know, I know. I know what you’re saying dear worst-reader. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do than watch mindless American TV?” Well, to be honest, as the minions and automatons of Germania and the western-world remain preoccupied with consuming-to-survive and/or procreating and/or subjecting themselves to hapless subjugation, my better-half and I live a life of semi forced and unforced early retirement. Put another way: once we’ve gotten through most of the daylight hours, completed most of our chores, popped open a bottle Tuscany joy after tee-time–where we plan our next vacation–there really isn’t much left to do. Ok. We could sex things up a bit more but to be honest, at my age, it’s a good thing that the storm & drang of gettin’ my nuts off is waning. But I’m off subject again. §I was trying to explain the pseudo-detriment of binge-watching American TV. Which brings me to the show Alpha House. I finished the second season last night–again losing to my better half who finished watching three nights before. And it is a pretty good show. I guess. But one thing stuck out after only watching the first few episodes. Are you ready for this? Alpha House is the best show yet where #americant conservatives and republicans might finally get the last laugh. Wait. What? Ok. Get this. Ever noticed how on #americant TV, of all the shows that make you laugh about politics and society, almost all the jokes are made at the cost of conservatives. Conservatives themselves, of course, are not funny. But making fun of them is hi-larry-us! Hence, #americant has shows like The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, etc. Pretty funny shows–if you like that sort of thing. My problem with those shows is that once you’ve seen one of them you’ve seen them all. That’s the price of comedy that ONLY makes fun of someone. Since Jon Stewart and Colbert have quit–because I’m sure they were madly bored of making fun of stupid people–it’s time to rethink political comedy. But what’s still funny? What is there left to make fun of? Liberals have been laughing there asses off because conservatives make the better joke. Yet isn’t it time for conservatives to start making fun of liberals? Enter Alpha House. This has got to be the funniest conservative take on liberals–ever! Seriously. As I watched the show I couldn’t help but feel that conservatives wrote it, produced it, and even starred in it. The fact that Bezos owns it, and he also owns the Washington Post, well, I guess that can’t have anything to do with anything. Or? Then again, Alpha House might just be the first TV series with a particular political party being a native ad. But I digress. §Another subject itching me since I’m dealing with “streaming”. Would you believe that I’ve been an Amazon prime user for years but only recently started using it for movies and TV streaming? And now that I’ve (finally) discovered it, I’m kicking myself in the ass having used iTunes for all our digital media all this time? I can’t tell you how much iTunes sucks. In fact, the whole Apple echo system is starting to suck. And to think I wasted all those hours curating my iTunes library only to realise that it sucks! Ripping CDs or DVDs here and there, then buying superfluous software to expedite getting it all into iTunes… And for what? I bought a Raspberry Pi last fall in order to finally rip and watch Blurays. Plex media server along with Rasplex on the Raspberry Pi opened my eyes to a whole new world. No more meta-data-BS or mp4 codec krapp so that something would play in iTunes or on my friggin’ iPad. Heck, even my limited bandwidth at home works great with Prime. But get this. I gave up on German streaming years ago. Germans (distributors) are assholes about dubbing all their movies–unlike the Dutch or Scandinavians who all offer movies in OV (original version). But when you dub a film and then use that as a profit centre when selling movies on DVD or Bluray… that’s when you can kiss my ass. For you see, dear worst-reader, I have learned that not every DVD or Bluray is worth the money you pay for it. Indeed. And so. Before purchasing a disc that I will rip for my home media library, I always check the back of it for specs. Does the disc contain all applicable audio tracks? Does it have the worthwhile audio encoding, aka DTS, HD Audio, etc.? Some do, some don’t. This is where German distributors get in the way of progress. They will actually remove language and audio tracks from DVDs in order to save costs on dubbing and audio codec rights. A good source of DVD movies for the past year as been the German mega retailer Aldi. They sell DVDs of varying movies for around 8€–which is usally always a few buck cheaper than an iTunes download. But you have to look on the back of the DVD covers to make sure the OV is available. Can you believe that these jerk-offs will sell a US movie without the English version included. They’ll also sell one with the English version but they will not include high-end audio with it. Of course, Blurays are even worse because they are capable of having even more audio capability. I don’t know about you, but audio is really the only turn-on for me when it comes to home movies–as I have the audio equipment to play it. Aldi just started selling Bluray discs for about 10€. And, true to movie distributor greed-form, if you read the back of the disc covers, you’ll notice that only the German track includes the best audio codec. Which means, I won’t be buying Blurays from Aldi unless the proper codec is offered. Oh well. No fear. Back to buying my digital media from used sources or trading with friends. Because digital distributors are assholes. And they wonder why file sharing is so popular! §Btw, for those interested in whether or not I infringe on copyrights, I have a documented list of where all my digital media comes from. I also have the original physical discs stored away that I have ripped. §Ok. Wait. What was I worst-writing about? Oh yeah. Alpha House. Alpha House is an Amazon exclusive comedy but it is also much more. It is a propaganda show about #americant conservatism. Yeah, right. Rant on. -Tommi

May The Blank Be With You

In a galaxy far far away the corporate automatons wear helmets that all look the same.
In a galaxy far far away corporate automatons wear helmets that all look the same.

Disclaimer: some small spoilers but no big spoilers. And so it is done. And now that it’s done, I’ve been thinking about how to worst-write about it. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far: 

  • It was good but…
  • Liked it except for…
  • Getting too old, seen too many movies, been there done that (in 70s!)…
  • Guess it was good–I guess…, etc., etc.

Yeah, worst-reader. I saw Star Wars last night and I’m still not sure about my expectations. Obviously my expectations were high–or were they? Or maybe my expectations are a bit out of the norm. Nomatter. Forget expectations. What is clear is that I feel comfortable saying this: If Hollywood wants to save itself, it better start hiring some writers. The most shocking thing about the new Star Wars reboot was the writing. It sucked. Having said that, two things saved the movie. The cinematography and the acting. With that in mind, allow me to worst-say this: bad writing can, in very rare instances, be saved by actors. There were moments, especially with Carrie Fisher, where I thought: Oh boy, this is embarrassing. But, in Carrie’s defense, she did the best she could with what she had–and I’ll always just dig her! As far as the cinematography goes, the movie felt just like the original movie from the 70s with the added bonus that the CGI finally worked. The daylight dogfight scenes are stunning. The big lightsaber fight in the forest, though, wasn’t as good. On the other hand, the crashed Star Fighter did look a bit out of place compared to the real sand that actor was walking on. Ok. I’m nitpicking. At least the forest lightsaber fight was über-cool because a new badass Jedi is born. But that’s not much of a surprise, or? New characters become old heros. Old (original) heros fade in front of you like a sunset–until they start speaking poorly written lines. Yet something holds this film together. I think that something is due to the Star Wars myth, the legacy, the history. With that in mind, JJ Abram’s (work) doesn’t stand out. I expected the director to give us something like what he gave us with his Star Trek reboot–where I found myself on the verge of tears because of the beautiful relationship between new-Spock and new-Kirk. But there is no new-Luke or new-Leia. Which is probably ok–depending on your expectations. So what does this film and its hot director deliver? Ok. I’ll just say it. This is the dullest multibillion dollar movie everyone on the planet should see–and not because of who directed it or wrote it. People should see this movie because of one thing and one thing only: George Lucas.

Rant on, baby.

-Tommi

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