PROLOGUE
To start things off in a professional albeit indistinctive manner, the writer includes a quote from one of the characters in the story; one which he or she feels accurately encapsulates the themes or overall emotional content of the film. For example:
"Sometimes I feel like I feel more at home outside Earth's atmosphere."
Progressing from there, he or she will make a confident, if not cocky generalisation about one scene or character, setting a somewhat idiosyncratic tone for…
I honestly don't know where to start with this one.
I've never written a review for Under the Silver Lake on Letterboxd. I've started one a few times, but they usually turn into endless, deranged, word salad daymares in my inability to accurately encapsulate my laudation and appreciation. That's not to say the same thing won't happen here, but I'll try my best to keep it coherent.
In my adult life, there is one film I've watched the most. It…
A warm blanket, made of irony, barbed wire and rusty, bent nails. I can tell you wholeheartedly that forty years later, This is still England.
Though it does partake in its fair share of eye-watering cringe (seriously, those opening lines are Steven Seagal embarrassing), Dead Man's Shoes manages to transcend the flaws of its screenplay with a dedication to that special countryside unease. The same kind Public Image Ltd. referred to in Poptones. It feels about as safe as drinking peroxide, or staring into Paddy Considine's wide, troubled eyes.
