It’s October 21, 2015, and It’s Back to the Future all over again in Canada, Nicaragua, Russia . . . but not for the Cubs. As of the writing of this post, they’re losing 1-6 to the Mets.
— LosAbandonados Movie (@AbandonadosFilm) October 1, 2015
Website: Los Abandonados Movie
Frances Martel writes about a new documentary, Los Abandonados (The Abandoned),
As Americans reflect on months at the negotiating table with Ali Khamenei, the new filmLos Abandonados (“The Abandoned”) demands a deeper look at another Iran deal: the one Argentina made to absolve the perpetrators of the largest terrorist attack in their history.
Part historical account and part spy novel, Los Abandonados tells the story of the death of Alberto Nisman, an Argentine prosecutor who was found dead of a gunshot to the head the day before he was to testify to Congress. He was to accuse President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner of making a secret deal with the Iranian government to protect Hezbollah-linked terrorists. The terrorists in question are the orchestrators of the 1994 bombing of the Argentine-Israeli Mutual Association (AMIA), the worst terror attack in Argentina’s history and the worst attack on the Western Hemisphere prior to the September 11, 2001 attacks.
Readers of this blog know that I’ve been following the Nisman story, so I’m keenly interested in seeing the film.
However, it has no IMDB listing, movie times, or official website that I could find. It does have a YouTube channel.
Any information on where it’s playing will be greatly appreciated.
Funny, astonishing, suspenseful. . . Wild Tales.
No sooner is Run All Night opening, that the posters are turning up:
Rather than a flight of imagination, a philosophical and magical-realism clunker big enough to fuel dozens of film studies thesis for years to come.
Read my review at Da Tech Guy Blog.
Back in my much younger and stupider days, I had to finish every book I started. Then I wised up and realized life’s too short to waste on crap. All along, I’ve been a compulsive omnivorous reader.
So when my sister came to visit raving about 50 Shades (which she picked up at the airport, after realizing she hadn’t packed her Kindle), I thought I should take a look.
Opening sentence: “I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror.”
50(!) pages later, when pervy Mr. Grey hands the idiot girl a binding contract (all puns intended), I had enough of the crappy plot – if you want to call that a plot – and the execrable writing and returned the book to my sister, who by then was working her way through the second volume.
OF COURSE, 50 Shades is a huge hit and they made a movie out of it. The previews hit theaters six months ago.
The movie opens on Valentine’s Day. I truly can not understand why anyone would want to watch that on Valentine’s Day, of all times, but then bondage’s not my idea of a good time, let alone romance.
Last week I was feeding my addiction to British murder mysteries as I watched The Fall, wondering where I had seen the guy before, something that happens often since British actors constantly pop up on murder mysteries: IMDB,
So he’s Mr. Grey.
I wonder if he got that part from having played the creep in The Fall.
To get an whiff of the full 50 Shades aroma you must read Katrina Passick‘s review:
Now I’ll be totally honest, the biggest issue I have with Fifty Shades of Shit is neither the sex nor the horrible writing. It’s the plot. Thin as it is, it’s still there, its core message being that, given enough time, you can change someone. While I don’t have any problem with this if all you’re trying to do is help them to lose weight or quit smoking, when you’re talking about an emotionally and (dangerously close to) physically abusive relationship, sending that kind of message is ridiculous and irresponsible. Christian is controlling, possessive, condescending, and cruel. He doesn’t allow Ana to behave as she normally would, and Ana just puts up with it, insistent that if she can give him what he wants, when he wants, as often as he wants, she can eventually begin to pull his strings. Will it work? In the books, probably. In real life? No. Almost never. How many misguided women are going to waste their lives on some emotionally retarded prick because they’ve read shit like this and think this kind of fucked-up fairytale will come true for them? I’ve known women with this mentality. “Oh, he’s so dark and dangerous and threatening, but he’s got a sad, lonely side, and if I could just figure out what’s wrong, I could change him!”
Two restraining orders later, the lucky ones may figure out guys like that will never change – the others get a nice funeral, if any. My initial reaction from the book was, “Grey gets carried away, the girl’s dead, he dumps her on Puget Sound from his helicopter, end of story.”
As you can see from the links above, I’m not above making a buck, so if you still want to join the buyers of the 100 million copies, knock yourself out and please buy through my links.
Blogging on more serious matters shall continue shortly.
Oh! And I almost forgot –
Since I didn’t read the book I didn’t know that E.L. James crapped all over Tallis by using his masterpiece Spem In Alium (THE masterpiece of choral music) as Grey’s background music of choice for inflicting pain on sick idiots.
**ck James and the beaten-up horse she rode in on.
The Showtime Family cable channel is playing Schultze gets the blues, a delightful movie I reviewed nearly nine years ago>. Here’s my review,
Minimalism comes to life in Schultze gets the blues.
The story starts when Schultze and his two friends Manfred and Jürgen are pushed into early retirement from the salt mines and receive salt lamps as retirement gifts. Schultze spends his retirement days playing the polka on his accordion, gardening (and polishing his garden gnomes), watching his friends fight over chess, riding his bicycle to get around, visiting his mother at the nursing home, and enjoying a beer or two. At the nursing home he meets whiskey-drinking Frau Lorant, who wants him to take her to the casino.
Then he listens to a Zydeco tune on the radio and his life changes completely.
Schultze’s played by Horst Krause, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Curly Howard, if Curly wore eyeglasses and a fedora, and had a deep voice. Not that Shultze is a man of many words.
Director Michael Schorr’s touch is light, slow — and I mean slow –, and makes for a very very funny movie. Schultze is a lucky everyman (I was told once that Schultze is a way to refer to a “generic German” guy, and probably not very complimentary, but have never wanted to find out on my own) who manages to break away from his everyday rutine, and, as Amazon reviewer Donald Liebenson said, “While Schultze’s journey comes to a downbeat conclusion, the film manages to end on a lovely grace note”. That note will make you laugh, too.
I recently watched the 2002 version of The Count of Monte Cristo through Amazon Instant Video.
I read Alexandre Dumas Sr.’s novels and all of Arthur Conan Doyle’s books at the age girls read Nancy Drew’s mysteries (which never really caught my imagination), and have, over the years, watched many of the film and TV interpretations of their works. I’ve watched the 1934 Robert Donat, the 1975 Richard Chamberlain, and the 1999 Gerard Depardieu in the title role as the Count of Monte Cristo (or, as Prince would put it, the sailor formerly known as Edmond Dantes). All were different and good (as long as you suspend belief enough to think 13 years at the Chateau D’If could not decrease Depardieu’s avoirdupois), so Jim Caviezel’s Dantes would complete the set.
I loved the enjoyable, fresh, luscious production, and the very moving performances by Caviezel and Richard Harris. Don’t miss the Count’s grand entrance,