[via the inside out film festival]
this one screams paul newman.
when i was a kid, we used to go up to this cabin in utah, usually in the fall or wintertime, and we would wonder around for hours. and every time, i had this urge to just walk out and... keep walking? get lost, until someone came looking for me or until i found my way back. it was just this innocent desire to vanish for a while. cowboys captures…
hello, it’s time for logan’s semi-serious reviews
i am 1/4th armenian on my dad’s side; my great grandmother, hranoush “helen” jara-hian, who escaped the armenian genocide, died when i was seven. her father and brothers were killed by turkish soldiers, and her baby brother died of starvation during the escape. only she and her mother and sister made it to america. i’ve only read her journals once when i was younger, but i’ve been told the general story enough times…
genuinely beautiful set design, colors, and inspired vampiric visuals that get shot down by its agonizingly lame plot and intense bursts of homo/transphobia. it’s no sundown, but it’s at least a great cleavon little performance
for all the microbudget independent films i’ve seen for my raimi&co watches, i would venture to call this one the most... competent? a fun little twin peaks reunion at the very least :)
missed the brief handjob scene the first time around. glad i caught it on the rewatch with my mother.
