Films you've seen recently and would unreservedly recommend:

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version

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The empty grave is a stark, nine-foot-tall stone pyramid that stands in obvious contrast to the blockier, above-ground burial sites that have been crumbling away in the cemetery for over two centuries. There is no name on the pyramid yet, but it is emblazoned with the Latin maxim, “Omnia Ab Uno,” which translates to “Everything From One.”
 
version

version

Well-known member
suspended said:
And this to me is the big switch in the film: he starts out in the beginning peering out towards the world. He has plenty of problems at home—dysfunctional family relationships, missing rent, unemployment—but he seems more interested in finding something Out There that catches his interest. His own personal dramas are too boring to even be perceived as dramas.
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He actually starts to enjoy himself and comes across better when he stops thinking about the conspiracy and just lives, e.g. when he's dancing to R.E.M. with the balloon girl and watching her performance earlier in the film.
 
sus

sus

Moderator
version said:
He actually starts to enjoy himself and comes across better when he stops thinking about the conspiracy and just lives, e.g. when he's dancing to R.E.M. with the balloon girl and watching her performance earlier in the film.
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Yes

This is maybe all related to look up vs look down, right? Where up/down map roughly onto "from the outside looking in," "from the inside looking out"
 
sus

sus

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When we finished Nico wanted to play "assemble the puzzle pieces" and I said, NICO, the movie's explicit moral is not to try putting the puzzle pieces together. But here I am the next day 12 pages into Siver Lake talk, so who's the real sucker
 
sus

sus

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As other people have pointed out, the physical environment almost seems responsive to his thoughts and paranoia. What he thinks materializes.
 
version

version

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I'm just reading that article @suspended posted in the Brooklyn Culture Mafia thread re: the "True Crime Zine Queen" and this is how it starts...
“You know what rich people love? Fucking Egypt,” says Alissa Bennett, director at Gladstone Gallery, zine queen, Lena Dunham’s newly minted podcasting partner, serial muse to artists like Alex Bag, ex-model, and ex-ex-wife of Banks Violette, the bad boy breakout artist of the early aughts. (They married and divorced, twice.)

Gesturing at the majestically tacky granite sculptures of sphinxes flanking the entrance, Bennett murmurs in her wry deadpan, “I can't believe no one leaves this bitch any flowers.” We’re marveling at the hulking Egyptian revival mausoleum of Barbara Hutton, famously dubbed “Poor Little Rich Girl” by the press for throwing a deb ball at the Ritz during the Depression that would have cost $842,000 today. (Within a few years, Woolworth Girls—the little-appreciated cogs in the machine that was Hutton’s father’s well oiled fortune—would lie in wait outside hotels to throw eggs at her.)
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