the things I do for you Gaspar

Man, what the fuck…I was never anti-Reloaded, but nothing could have prepared me for how well this would line up with my current-day tastes. This is a huge movie, a story so sprawling that it makes the original seem walled-off and intimate by comparison—come to think of it, there’s a pertinent metaphor somewhere in there, but I can’t engage Critic Brain with The Matrix Reloaded. It’s too cool for that. It’s Spider-Man 3 with the thematic cohesion of Spider-Man 2. It’s structured like three consecutive TV episodes in the middle of a final season. It’s messy in all the most interesting ways. It’s ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᶦʳˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ
Something about Pasolini's sensibilities rubbed me the wrong way throughout most of his Trilogy of Life, so I'm happy to report that Salò is, in my highly subjective opinion, a massive improvement on the directorial front. But then again, I don't need to tell you that, do I? Salò is Salò is Salò. You're not here to read about shot compositions and narrative pacing. You're definitely not here to read about ideology (good thing, too—I wouldn't know where to start).…
Pretty much the exact same reservations as last time, but boy oh boy, when this is good, it’s the best movies have ever been. Downright depressing that nothing else has ever looked or moved like this. Closest reference point is The Cat in the Fucking Hat—depressing, I tell you!
I came around. The one holdover critique from my first watch is that I was once again thoroughly desensitized to female nudity by the end, and I don’t think that was the point [reading this back two years later: maybe it was?], but I can only commend Paul on his stamina in response. Otherwise: perfectly structured, directed/acted to a mesmerizing fever pitch, and frequently insane-looking. This must be heaven on 35mm. Simply too good to be a bad movie.
The Nostromo is governed by procedures, not principles; likewise, its crew treat each other as coworkers, not friends. In a text conversation mid-movie, Evan described Alien as “the most bureaucratic horror movie ever made”, and he’s absolutely right—the first remotely diegetic words in this movie are a clinical description of the ship’s specs (“crew: seven”. No names, just “seven”), and the last ones are a routine report from Ripley, evenly and laconically relaying the worst experience of her life. The first…
Hits and misses all around; broadly, the horror is better than the comedy, but now and again a joke’ll land (the “DO NOT SIT NEXT TO DENNIS!” prop callback nearly overshadowed the whole “Pancakes!” scene), and equally often a scare will fall flat, often due to Roth’s mishandling of horror film language (mystified as to why the camera lingers on the kitchen knife before Karen picks it up, only for her to never actually use it in the ensuing fight). Mostly, though, Cabin Fever is acceptable pastiche, with enough moments of inspiration to balance out its more groanworthy elements. Some of these gags have not aged well.
Mostly great concept, mostly great performances, mostly great visuals, mostly great visceral scares; I wish the overall impression was of the positives adding up instead of the negatives. If it weren’t for a series of phenomenally weird/weirdly phenomenal images toward the end (in a scene most consider to be the film’s biggest misstep, funnily enough), I might have outright disliked this? (Oh, I guess the score’s good. Extra points for the score. The score brings up the score.) More than…