The Clovehitch Killer is the greatest movie of all time

The Clovehitch Killer. "The first murder happened before I was born. The killer called himself Clovehitch, after his favorite type of knot. Our town lived in fear. And then, ten years ago, he stopped."

Rotten Tomato Consensus: The Clovehitch Killer patiently dials up the tension with a story that makes up for a lack of surprises with strong performances and a chilling wit.

Gist of the movie is an Eagle Scout type kid named Tyler finds disturbing images depicting extreme bondage hidden in his father's shed, and he begins to suspect may be responsible for a series of unsolved, serial murders in their rural Kentucky town. Share a lot of DNA with BTK, that piece of shit. 

Film stars Dylan McDermott as the killer dad (who was great), Charlie Plummer as Tyler (whom I've never seen but was stellar, Samantha Mathis as the mom who has a face that I can't place, and Madisen Beaty as a victim's daughter who helps Tyler in his investigation who I immediately recognized as the one with the hair from Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood. MVP is a tough call. McDermott is great but is basically playing hero ball. The two kiddos were both phenomenal and more subdued. Ultimately, giving it to Plummer who has to carry a lot of the emotional weight of the film. 

I thought the movie was fine until the third act when it really stepped it up a couple of notches. Would have been a pretty forgettable disturbing movie otherwise. Type of low-budget flick that you think of as quintessential independent. One big (ish) named star. Solid upstarts. I liked it. 

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

I'm Thinking of Ending Things. "For years, my life has been flat. I’m not sure how else to describe it. I’ve never admitted it before. I’m not depressed, I don’t think. That’s not what I’m saying. Just flat, listless. So much has felt accidental, unnecessary, arbitrary. It’s been lacking a dimension. Something seems to be missing." I hear ya. 

Debut novel Canadian writer Iain Reid. Published in 2016. Of the psychological thriller and horror fiction persuasion. 

Narrated, for the most part, by this guy Jake's unnamed girlfriend whom he's been dating for a few months. They met in a bar during trivia, so far so good. Jake gave her his phone number by writing it on a piece of paper and slipping it into her bag. Unlike real life, she calls him. Most of the story takes place months later as he takes her to meet his parents on their remote farm. She has been considering "ending things," i.e. breaking up with him, but has not done the deed. It is a long drive, and they engage in lengthy philosophical discussions. Again, love this shit. 

They get to the house and the parents are as fucking weird and creepy as anyone can be, which pretty much seals the deal. Most of the book takes place at said creepy locale. Then they leave after the weirdness becomes too much for someone you're about to break up with and the guy by the guy's high school. This is when things get really cray. 

Was feeling it about this point, but then, with 10 or so pages to go, the book turns to bullshit fiction. This is one of the rare books that I hated that I finished. That is mostly because I was really digging it, and then the end, which comes as a huge reveal, I found rage worthy. 

Huge fucking pump fake, this gimmicky bullshit ending. Ruins everything that came before. Get some red herring clues, but there is nothing that would make anyone think the ending that we get was coming in any way. Extremely unsatisfying. Do not recommend. But, hey, I'm no novelist and I'm sure some people will dig it. But, yeah, fuck this book.

Was turned into a movie since I read it. Hear it's good, adapted/directed by the great Charlie Kaufman. Also has some actors I find interesting. Trailer looks great too. Never watching that shit though. Sure it's bullshit, just like the novel. 

The Lady Eve is the worst movie of all time

The Lady Eve. "There's just one thing. I feel it's only fair to tell you. It would never have happened except she looked so exactly like you." ... "They look too much alike to be the same." ... "Positively the same dame!" Fucking idiot. A woman grifts a guy multiple times, and he just thinks she's a look-alike. Insanity. 

Been on a Preston Sturges kick. Added a bunch of flicks on the Criterion Channel recently. I'm not sure if I think he is terrible or not. This movie, though. The fucking audacity of this movie. Considered a classic, both my female companion and I thought otherwise. 

Gist of the flick is that a trio of grifters go to cheat Henry Fonda's character, an adventurous heir to a brewery fortune, but the dame falls in love. So after they take him for some of his money, she decides to do it again, and this fucking dipshit falls for it because he is too dumb to live. 

Movie stars Barbara Stanwyck from the fantastic Billy Wilder flick Double Indemnity as the lady grifter, the "legendary" Fonda, Charles Coburn, Eugene Pallette, and William Demarest who is an old guy you might recognize from Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Demarest or Stanwyck win the movie. Demarest is a great hard-ass straight man, while Stanwyck more or less carries the movie. 

Not exactly the wokest movie I've ever seen. A lot of stupid women talk. Example: "A girl of sixteen's practically an idiot anyway, so I can't very well blame you for something that was practically done by somebody else." Thank you, oh wise one who can't even recognize the same woman. Of course, Fonda says this to Stanwyck's character, who is grifting the shit out of him. It is insane, really. 

While Fonda does a great Lincoln or Tom Joad or whatever, he is not good at comedy. Dude is stiff as fuck. There were times when I questioned whether his character had a traumatic brain injury or something. Again--sort of hammering this home--Stanwyck comes back into his life as another person... which he believes because he thinks if it was the same woman, she would’ve disguised herself... Are you fucking kidding me, bra? I thought he couldn't fucking believe this because it was so audacious. He had to fucking know, right? But apparently not. He's just insanely dumb. He deserves to be grifted. 

Nor did I find the movie all that funny. A lot of the humor revolves around Fonda having to change his dinner jackets like five or six times. Maybe it is a metaphor or something. Plus, I think, a lot of the humor is based on close talking and the idea that Fonda has an unseen erection (see above photo)--which might actually be kind of funny in retrospect. 

Maybe you should watch this flick just to see this for the sheer bizarreness. I mean, holy shit. I'm sort of still in disbelief. Fonda is such an amazing tool that I may never get over it. 

Memento - Christopher Nolan - 2000

★★★★★-Memento. "We all lie to ourselves to be happy." Wow. Still fucking genius. Maybe more so than I remember. Holds the fuck up, I tell you. Christopher Nolan is perhaps my third favorite living director, depending on the day. This is the film that put him on the map. Rightfully so. 

Rotten Tomato Consensus: Christopher Nolan skillfully guides the audience through Memento's fractured narrative, seeping his film in existential dread.

Memento, a neo-noir psychological thriller, released in 2000, written and directed by Christopher Nolan. Gist is a dude with anterograde amnesia (the inability to form new memories), can't remember anything short-term after 15 minutes. He got this way from an injury resulting from an attack on him/his wife, who was raped and murdered. Having developed a system where he uses Polaroids and tattoos to track information, he is tracking down his wife's killer. 

The film is told through two sequences. The ones in color tell the story backwards in little chunklets. Basically, the audience sees shit the way he does, in these short increments with no idea how we got here until we get to the next chunk of time. The black-and-white scenes show what is happening chronologically. These sequences meet at the end of the film, producing the complete narrative. It is clever as fuck. 

Stars Guy Pearce as Lenny, the guy with the condition. I bought a shit ton of Guy Pearce stock after LA Confidential. Really paid off here. Some really good that guys in this film--you get Ned Ryerson (Stephen Tobolowsky) and Lieutenant Dangle (Thomas Lennon). Plus, total that guy Mark Boone Junior (most memorable part, for me, is as the pizza stealing FBI guy in Se7en). Jorja Fox, whom you might recognize from ER or CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, plays Lenny's wife. 

The only substantive female role is that of Carrie-Anne Moss's character. A lot going on with her. For a while, I thought she was just getting revenge on the guy that killed her person. She says some genuinely awful shit to Lenny and calls him a "retard." Even steals his pens so he can't write anything down before she tells him she is going to fuck him over (and fuck him) and that she will enjoy it more knowing that he's too stupid to remember. Ouch. But she ends up helping him. She might have figured out that the death of her dude was more the result of this other guy, played by Joe Pantoliano (the true villain of the movie), which is probably somewhat accurate. Still, I think she sees Lenny as a victim too, which is why she helps him. Her whole look and vibe are exactly like this girl I dated in 2002, who I watched this with. She thought that Lenny was the real villain, which I still think is insane. 

Nolan is the obvious MVP of the movie. Pearce is perfect but goddamn. It's hard to get over how great this film is or what it was like watching it for the first time. I've seen it roughly five times and like it more after every viewing. I still don't 100% get it, but I get closer with every watch. Multiple viewings are definitely a requirement. Crazy good.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in the Castle. 1962 novel by Shirley Jackson. Last book before her death in 1965. Man, this book is dark and full of triggers. Gaslighting and family violence. Makes for a complex and sometimes unpleasant read of a total masterpiece. 

Gist of the book is that a wealthy Vermont family, devasted by the poisoning deaths of several relatives living on the estate, are more or less complete pariahs in the backwoods town they inhabit. It is to the point that only one of the three people living in the house can get food and things, and she is constantly harassed whenever she does. This is the eighteen-year-old Merricat Blackwood, the novel’s unreliable narrator. She lives with her uncle, Julian, and sister Constance, both of the Grey Gardens persuasion type shut-in. Things are going fine, I guess, until their relative Charles shows up, sort of woos/takes advantage of Constance, and looks for ways to steal the family fortune. He also maybe encourages the idiot townspeople to be cunty to the Blackwoods. This until, you know, possible poisoners get tired of his shit.
 
I’ve had a long fascination with the “other” and the way dumb fucks treat them in works of fiction and film. This is fucking dripping with that shit and is a significant theme in most of Jackson’s work.
 
Not sure I would have liked this book as much if I’d read it at another time in my life. But I am unfortunately able to identify with the agoraphobia of the main characters. Without giving too much away, it is brutal that, in the end, with the house barely livable, they choose to retreat further inward. With this time of covid coming to an end, with fear still present despite being vaccinated, I get the sentiment.