Christen Stewart

You ain’t a real man unless you’re cutting off a third of your pinky while trash-talking one of them snowflake doctors who believes in anesthesia and sanitized equipment! I don’t know what’s worse - the long form country music video that was the previous season of Yellowstone that lingered on cowboy lovin’ in the sunset instead of actual substance or this wreck of a show. Billy Bob was once a great actor and not just good for crude one-liners. It’s the same part he’s played in the last 3 things he’s done, except he’ll say “honey” instead of “darlin’” to switch it up when talking to women. Same issue with Jon Hamm. He’s been typecast so long. Also, why is the kid in her underwear? Did the costume department have a skimpy budget or was it supposed to be relatable for old dudes who creep on young girls? Going with the latter. Landman fails at being edgy on the machismo oil industry stuff, while being a one dimensional bore that harkens back to Y2K era misogyny. Paramount + thinks it has its golden boy in Taylor Sheridan, but he better start churning out some quality content or even the most braindead viewer is going to start noticing.

Interpret at your own risk... There is great reason for all the controversy surrounding Joker: this movie does not TELL us what to think. We are faced with our own interpretations, our own moral concepts. It’s not a comfortable situation to be in. One opinion that I absolutely disagree with is that the movie is dishonest. Exaggerated, yes, but the spotlight on the failure of early intervention to those struggling with obvious mental health decline, the brutal ignorance of blatant signs that an individual is dangerously close to the edge, is not that far off from the bullseye. The director does not necessarily ask for sympathy for Arthur Fleck a.k.a. Joker. It’s the cringing feeling that you do sort of pity him out of your own obligation that causes the moral dilemma. Sure, we see Arthur’s hopeless life, ceaseless tormenting, and pathetic inner turmoil unfold before our eyes (Joaquin Phoenix is stripped of ALL decency), but the entire film is left to individual introspection, which is a lost concept to a culture who turn to any form of media for direction on what to feel or think. Joker doesn’t do that. A jarring volt of violence happens with no resolution. Senseless acts occur out of pure psychosis. No one there to tell us it’s going to be ok. No Batman to fight for justice. This movie views more like a dramatized depiction of “inside the mind of a serial killer,” complete with an uncensored story of childhood abuse. Joker definitely gives off Scorcese-Tarantino-Lynch vibes without apology. Reminders of gritty NYC circa late 70s/80s are everywhere, and I could imagine David Berkowitz planning his own victim list in a near-by apartment. Joker is jarring and disparate, no one is there to wrap things up in a pretty package. It’s bleakness leaves you reeling. And in a superficially obsessed society, it almost feels like piece of high art.