Postal director Uwe Boll, angry at journalists for not paying attention to the fact that his film Postal is opening on very few screens as well as Boll’s suggested reason for this (i.e., political censorship), has written the following:
“You are all not getting that I’m the guy who made it against the big Hollywood system and you are all busy trying to destroy me and finish me up, and [from this] you’ve won what? The attention of the studios, Michael Bay…?? If you damage me you feel closer to Hollywood? What is your game plan?
“If you want [to see] only movies like Jumper, Speed Racer, What Happens in Vegas, then keep going and your dreams will be fullfilled. Postal makes some very important points, but you don’t wanna see that. That Bush used 9.11 to start a war against a country what had nothing to do with Bin Laden, etc., but none of this matters because you’re all busy thinking that Indiana Jones or Narnia are important movies.
“In reality real they are empty shells of an industry what wants to make money and what wants to keep you looking “escape movies” with nothing in it. in between they are putting some controversial movies to show that they can do also important movies, but ones that are not really critica. They only supporting the system and not showing the “big picture,” which Postal does. It nails the absurd situation with all the stupid religions, races and nations we are living [among].
“Postal is not accepting bullshit politics. Postal has not the opinion that Bush made mistakes — it has the opinion that it is a scandal that Bush is not in jail. What’s happened in America over the last seven years is the biggest joke since Columbus stepped on that land.”
I was invited to last night’s party for James Toback‘s Tyson doc. This morning’s, I should say, as it wasn’t expected to begin until after midnight. “Everyone will be there by 12:30,” a publicist told me. The event was at the Palm Beach Casino, which is way out on the eastern side of the bay. I arrived a few minutes after midnight and stayed until just before 1 am. I saw no Tyson people, no friendly faces…nothing.
All I did was talk fruitlessly to four or five door apes who didn’t give a damn about my printed invitation. They waved in their friends (lizardy Euro-clubber types) and gave me the old “if you want to get in, wait patiently and bow down to our gangster power and we might show benevolence” routine. Sure thing. The night air was cool and invigorating as I walked home. I had a nice warm Panini sandwich and a bottle of water, and got to bed just before 2 am.
