Jeffrey Wells

Down here on earth, the RT consensus is that David Gordon Green‘s The Exorcist: Believer is a stinker.

I love Lily Gladstone’s Montana shitkicker accent, and especially the way she pronounces the last name of her Osage Nation character (“BURRKhahrt”) and the word “murders” (“merrduhhrrrs“). Born in ’86 and raised on the Blackfeet Nation reservation in Browning, Montana, Gladstone is an authentic country gal…talks it, owns it…forget the coasts.

From yesterday’s “I’m Not Kidding About Barbie vs. Poor Things” thread:

Friendo notes similarities between Barbie (as played by Margot Robbie) and Bella (i.e., Emma Stone’s character in Poor Things):

1. Both are manufactured creations — Barbie built by Mattel, Bella built Mary Shelley-style by Willem “Scarface” Dafoe. And as such, both are wholly innocent as they begin their journeys.
2. Both are abused by men — Bella blatantly by her cruel, misogynist Londön husband during her first life, Barbie by being infantilized and otherwise diminished or pigeonholed by her Mattel creators.,
3. Both learn hard lessons about the real world.
4. Both acquire social justice awareness during film (awakening/awokening)
5. Both are vag-centric, vag-obsessed — “What’s this thing between my legs”?
6. Both female leads are pretty.
7. Both films feature terrific dance sequences.
8. Both films feature brilliant sets, costumes, makeup,
9. Both films diminish masculinity, reward wimpy background males.
10. Both have fun with meta humor.
11. Both Barbie and Bella trick & transform stupid male characters into falling for this or that.
12. At the end Barbie and Bella choose to live and thrive in the real world, empowered & surrounded by women.

All hail Marty’s St. Crispin’s Day clarion call, but in terms of mainstream theatrical venues the game hasn’t just been lost but forfeited, starting around the dawn of the Obama era.

I’m hugely grateful that elite cinema havens (Metrograph, Film Forum, Jacob Burns in Pleasantville, New Plaza, Elinor Bunin Monroe, Netflix Plaza, BAM, Alamo, Angelika) are part of our NYC-area culture, and that elevated film festivals (NYFF, Tribeca, Montclair, Woodstock) are still going concerns. But over the last 15 years or so the moronic masses have made their position clear.

As far as the megaplex gladiator arenas are concerned (excluding the odd-but-welcome Nolan-brand detour that was Oppenheimer), your average Millennial or Zoomer schlubbo is averse to paying through the nose for “cinema” in a theatre. I wish it were otherwise but apps and streaming are carrying the ball these days.

This isn’t to say that classic Marty-style cinema shouldn’t be “fought” for but…

Since she began talking a few months ago and using this and that nickname, 22-month-old Sutton has referred to Joey as “Jo-Jo.”’ Yesterday morning, only a few hours after Joey’s sudden passing, she asked the above.

I was three when the reality of pet death sank in. Here’s what happened.

From The Sun‘s Joe Morgan, four highly persuasive simulations of four dead super-celebs — 88 year-old Elvis Presley (born on 1.8.35), 62 year-old Diana Spencer, 77 year-old Freddie Mercury and 87 year-old Marilyn Monroe.

Micah Daigle is the AI designer. Excellent work.

No sociopaths allowed. George was warned to leave Kristi Coulter alone. He went right ahead and slagged her anyway. That’s it — game over.

Here’s what did it:

Joey, Jett’s 13 year-old pit bull, died late last night. Heart attack, gasping for air, agonizing. But he didn’t die alone. Jett and Cait sat close and let him know he was loved…”with” him to the end.

Posted several weeks ago:

Since Thursday I’ve been dog-sitting in West Orange while Jett, Cait and Sutton are in Massachusetts for a weekend funeral. Joey, a pit bull with a bum hind leg, and Luna, a sausage beagle, are both older but they love me and I them.

But they insist on fairly close proximity and almost constant affection at all times, and after three days and nights I’m exhausted from lack of sleep due to sharing the guest room bed with these guys as they take up most of the mattress space. Three nights of bad sleep, mainly due to Joey.

Right now I’m trying to get a little extra shut-eye (I was up half the night from the sprawling bodies and dog farts, plus we just lost an hour to daylight savings) by locking Joey downstairs behind the plastic staircase gate.

And of course, Joey is whining and moaning and banging against the gate as we speak.

Update: Joey has somehow crashed or squeezed through the gate. He’s up here now with us, and of course he’s back on the bed. I love these guys but I’m getting sick of this — I’d like a little peace.

New update: Lying on the couch and of course they have to sleep either right next to me or on top of my legs.

Jett scolding: “U trained them, dad. U give Joey too much love and attention and let him walk all over u. My [disciplined] way may seem cruel but it’s the only way to have any sanity.”

I liked Nikki Haley (fast on her feet, razor-sharp comebacks) and Chris Christie (stood his ground, told it straight) in Wednesday night’s Republican debate -— definitely my top two.