Warning: in order for this movie to make sense – and as the first person to review it on here, I feel an obligation to do the best I can in that regard - I need to give a massive info dump on the Japanese incarnation of that most embarrassing of interests: professional wrestling. This is going to take some explaining, and I have the niche interest to somewhat do the job, even if the niche within a niche that…
Am I a Deadhead? No; something I have always suspected, and something which this documentary confirms, is that the Deadhead was a cultural phenomenon inextricable from an active, touring Dead, and therefore from the life of Jerry Garcia, whose death preceded my birth by 361 days. But do I like the music? Well, I go through phases with them, but I'd say that yes, I've loved a good stretch of their music since high school. And as cliched as this…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Content warning: life on the autism spectrum, introspection, crying, foster child, instance of young boys immaturely titillated over sex scenes in a movie (purpose of storytelling), domestic tension within foster home, treatment of autism spectrum disorders in the public school system, neurodivergents in media, depression, self-loathing, suicidal thoughts
I’ve never been able to shake off that feeling of shame for crying over cinema. To be sure, there’s the expected element of disappointment in one’s bullshit filter (as is reflexive for…