Change Your Image
WillDaBeeste
Reviews
The Wrestler (2008)
Not about a salary it's all about reality
This film has undoubted power, but one can't help feeling more than a little hoodwinked by the excellent central performances and the documentary style. Let's face it, is the script up to it, and is the scenario as "realistic" as the manner in which it is shot? Do former superstar wrestlers end up this way? I don't know, but would guess not.
What one is left with is an emotional ride (I am still sad one full day later) but a film of its time when "staged pain" is marketed for an audience which has never experienced it. Like watching wrestling, strangely enough.
Rourke is great though and I would love to see him get rewarded properly for the amazing job he does here.
Sharky's Machine (1981)
Victor's Perspective
Meester Sharky, you look so ... normal. You would never get a table in this fancy cocktail restaurant/bistro. I, on the other 'and eat grapes and pate 'ere every day. You like my fur coat with all the fine trimming? My enormous golden rings of gold? Or maybe you like these blonde, 'ow you say?, bombshells, who are all qualified in aerobics and naked petanques, who decorate my long, maroon velvety sofa like so many soft boiled larks on a plate of pan fried foie gras and figs. You like? You can't have! Zey are all mine.
You will never possess 'er as I possessed 'er. Domino was the best, apart from Maman. You do not understand the art of lovemaking. Just look at your inferior moustache. It is almost funny to me, non, to think of that ludicrous protuberance on your silly face, as you snuffle around Domino's love hillock like the piggy seeking the truffle in the forest, the forest heaving and swaying in the hot winds of desire! You lose again Sharky.
When I make love to the women zey know, Sharky, zey know. Zey learn, zey learn until zey become the teacher. Not nano-maths, the arts of love. Domino was the seedling which I watered. I watered her so very often. Everywhere Sharky. Her scented petals, her proud stalk, everywhere. She will wither under your ridiculous hose, like the soufflé removed from the oven five minute too soon.
I must go now Sharky, you bore me so with your disgraceful behaviour. It is you who will be flushed down le pissoir like the smelly thing.
Bon chance!
Road House (1989)
All my Exes live in Texas
Hurts don't it?
Well, You're lucky dude. Stomp to the knee. Not so bad as some mean hombre blindsiding your face pretty good with a bottle of Jack Daniels, while a two hundred pound gator farmer does a Mexican hat dance on your balls. Or when one helluva woman just decides she's had enough of your charms and ties them to the front end of Bigfoot before driving it over a bottle bank. Or when a guy you love like a son turns his back on you, tears of rage running down his face, collar and haircut.
You don't know pain. I live it, eat it up. No thanks, I'm not hungry right now, fella.
Sure am thirsty though. Lets go somewhere I can get me a beer.
The Warriors (1979)
20,000 hardcore members
The Warriors may be a camp conceptual ballet choreographer's vision of street life, but it still rocks the bells. The names, the music, the design, the simple story (and don't forget those jackets) are flick knife sharp. Why don't gangs this uber kuhl exist anymore? Because they never did, or can't you remember that, old maaaan?
On the train journey home, contrast the affluent optimism of the young couples, laughing with flowers after the big show, with the filthy, bedraggled and hopeless ghetto pride of Swan and his desperate squeeze. Only one side of the carriage looks embarrassed, and it ain't the Warriors, baby.
Makes me wanna rumble in slo-mo on roller skates.
Shogun Assassin (1980)
Life Begins at 40
My son and I take no pleasure in revenge. It is an unsatisfying journey along a single track. No deviation, no obstacles. Bodies drop lifeless in the ditch.
Bathe while you can, you are being watched. Women are a faded echo, love reserved for the dead. Sleep only as the blood drains from your body.
We walk. They come and fall.
When cut across the neck, a sound like wailing winter winds is heard, they say. I 've always wanted to cut someone like that, to hear that sound.
Music to my ears.
Mean Streets (1973)
You are a big man, Michael!
Michael, how could you? You're a man now, but who is still the biggest jerkoff around?
Get stiffed by the college kids, pay for the movie. Blow smoke rings while Jerry goes nuts, put all the old ones on the jukebox. Have a drink with Johnny boy, its all on the small tab. Date the schoolteacher from under the bridge in Jersey.
You don't know Tony's secret in the back room. You wouldn't be able to make it to Fat Joe's to help Joey Mook. Pick up Theresa's shopping, esconce!
You didn't need to call Shorty, Michael. He's the only guy that's a bigger jerkoff than you. Honourable men move with honourable men. Giovanni taught me that.
"Thank you and goodnight!"
Lost Highway (1997)
Sexual Jealousy,Psychosis, Murder, Reconstruction of History
Have you never wanted to kill? An intense artist, a cuckhold, an inadequate, aware of his wife's history and infidelities, and his own failings, turns the corner.
The souless apartment they inhabit is unloved. The gap between need and satisfaction is breached only by increasingly voyeuristic and violent paranoia. A videotape of the apartment exterior arrives, someone is watching. In a second tape, the observer ventures further. The camera films them sleeping. A disastrous party, wife drunk in another man's arms, an encounter with a dark force at the bar. Disturbed sleep. A third tape in the morning shows the cold, murderous fact.
Some history can't be redescribed. You can try to justify a terrible crime in fantasy if you wish, but the truth is inescapable.