Watched Woody Allen's "Magic In the Moonlight" a couple nights ago on my big motherfucking television. (I still cannot believe, much less get used to, how big televisions have become.) Word of the movie had not reached me until then. I could not be more out of touch if I lived in Alberta. I would surely be more out of it but that is quite another story.
It looked like a magnificently shot movie. Effortlessly magnificent. That's Woody for you. Wished I had seen it in a theater right away. Both Sonja and I lacked the clear-headedness to appreciate the movie that night however. So much dialogue! Woody's films mirror what real life used to be - before our smartphones turned us all into fucking zombies. People never used shut the fuck up. We used to yack-yack-yack. Now we click-click-click. The human race's potential to become bigger and bigger assholes is fucking limitless.
So I watched the movie again this morning aided by the clarity a pot of sweet black speed brings. It is the usual, by now well worn, metaphor for Woody's life. The man is such a magnificent fucking pig.
You simply must watch it. Maybe not tonight - you will be too shitfaced - but soon. It is worth watching for the observatory scene alone.
2 comments:
Beer: just a quick thank you for a fine year's worth of commentaire hors pair.
Happy new year, beer! I've enjoyed this year of your posts, the only honesty on the internet. I hope you continue to post in 2015
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