might as well back the Budweiser Clydesdales up to the Landmark
Mayan as long as they're gonna dumpthis much horseshit on the
screen. At least that would be fresher crap than The Dreamers.
Good fucking God. What a lousy, self-important, draggy, worthless
assload. The name of it name pretty much tells you the kind of
lazy, overreaching nonsense you're gonna see. It's called The
Dreamers and it's about kids who do nothing, let alone dream.
Unless I've got dreaming and spouting sophomoric movie opinions
I wanted to
take my wife to see The Dreamers for Valentine's Day, because
I heard it had lots of sex in it, and then maybe she'd get all
hot and bothered and hump me right there on the sticky floor until
the usher stopped us. No, she said, money's tight right now. So
I went by myself. Man, can naked people be any less appealing?
I didn't even want to hump myself after this mess..
And I had
to think up something else to celebrate the Day of Love. It's
so fucking romantic when it's 14 degrees outside, isn't it? When
I lived in warmer climates, I would do naked interpretive dances
for my paramours to celebrate our love. The dances never failed
to scare the holy shit out of the girls.
I tried that
once here in Arvada for my Mrs. Filthy and nearly snapped my frozen
dick off when I spun out of control and hit the doghouse. I have
to find other ways to show the Mrs. how much I love her, how much
I appreciate each and every time she saves me every time I eat
something shiny and poisonous and the way she pretends she doesn't
notice when I fall into a drunken coma just inside the front door.
she's gotten me out of more scrapes than usual, and bought us
our own home-use stomach pump, so I needed to be extra expressive.
It's hard, though, on my budget. That is, a budget of whatever
I can lift from her purse. What says "I love you" more
than getting real value for the dollars you steal?
what. But those fucking merchants really screw the romantic with
high prices on everything they paint red or pink. So, I came up
with an alternative plan. On Friday night, I drugged my lovely
lady with antihistamines. They knock out my knockout bride in
a minute flat. I think it's an allegic reaction because she turns
red, too. Anyway, whenever she takes an antihistamine, she drools
like a dog getting its teeth removed, but she looks sexier. Once
she was sort of loopy, I fed her two bottles of Nyquil and tucked
her into bed to let her sleep right through Valentine's Day.
hasn't woken yet, but when she does, she's probably gonna pass
right back out with joy. She won't know it's already the 15th,
or that all this awesome shit I got her was 50% off by the time
I bought it. And the Safeway still had a lot of good shit: two
pounds of chocolates shaped like goats, eight bags of those chalky
hearts, but with Internet emoticons on them, a silver balloon
that says "Merry Christmas" (that was 75% off!), red latex gloves
with hearts on them, and a Garfield card with some bullshit about
him loving lasagna. I mean, they had so much good shit left, that
I spent almost all her cash. She's gonna be so damn happy.
let me tell you how fucking awful The Dreamers is. I mean,
this is a movie where even the nudity will bore any horny boy
older than 14. Michael Pitt plays an American college student
in 1968 Paris. It is the height of the French cinema craze, and
according the movie, the kids pack the Cinematheque every night
to watch classic American movies. The country is on the verge
of cultural revolution, starting with the movies and ending with
communist uprising and protests of their Vietnam involvement.
Pitt is befriended and then taken in by twin brother and sister,
wannabe Bohemian Frogs played by Louis Garrel and Eva Green.
in love with the beautiful and well-endowed Green, much to the
chagrin of her brother, with whom she has an ambiguously incestuous
relationship. The twins sleep together naked, but they've never
fucked. Once befriended, the three of them mostly stay locked
in an apartment, fucking, walking around naked (Green looks fan-fucking-tastic
in gauzy robes) and talking about how much they love movies. They
constantly challenge each other over who knows the most about
old movies. Occasionally we see that there is a revolution going
on outside their windows, but the movie doesn't really give a
rat's ass. Ultimately, Pitt gives Green the ultimatum of choosing
between her brother and him.
this slight story against the background of revolution, The
Dreamers wants us to think it's profound and daring. Bullshit.
The story is just a thin, creepy love theme that exploits the
cultural and political revolutions of the time as a backdrop.
The rvolution is a disguise to fool us into thinking something
deep is at work, when there is no depth. Mostly, the movie feels
like the spooky fetishes of an old man played out as acceptably
as possible so nobody catches on that he's a pervert. The soundtrack
is heavy on Doors, and anytime the music of the world's most overrated
band is needed to add weight to a story, it's in trouble.
is brought up, hangs around the movie like a pervert at the fence
of a grade school, but never really makes much impact. It sets
up some awkward plot points, but its emotional resonance is zilch.
And the constant nudity feels more self-congratulatory than necessary.
Hell, it ain't even hot; it's just sort of depressing. Green has
nice tits, but otherwise, these kids aren't fun to look at, and
they're even less fun to listen to. Really, unless you have something
to say, I don't cae how little clothes you have on. That's what
makes Candy Bottoms' performance in Ass Tariffs so powerful;
she's naked and getting double penetration, sure, but she's also
speaks a convincing case against export taxes in the texitle industries.
are jabbering bores. They skulk around an apartment, quoting and
mimicking old movies, and having conversations that sound like
kids trying to convince each they love movies, rather than sounding
like kids who actually do love movies. A debate over who is better,
Keaton or Chaplin, is not about that tpic, it's just a director
trying to show us that he cares. He has no confidence in his ability
to show it through anything original, I guess. The movie's big
highlight is the characters imitating a run through the Louvre
from A Band Apart. That's pretty fucking sad, a movie about
kids whose lives are so empty they have to steal their highlights
from elsewhere. Who in the world thought we would rather watch
them than the originals?
As if to illustrate
that a love of movies alone doesn't make you interesting, Bertolucci
splices in clips from great old flicks that his characters are
imitating. It doesn't enhance the movie. I thought I was being
treated like a child too stupid to get the references on my own
(or that getting the reference in some way mattered), and it showed
me how far off the mark Bertolucci's imitation is. It might be
flattery, but it's also really fucking bad entertainment. Sort
of pretentious. You can love old movies, and respect old movies,
but for God's sake, don't fuck the corpses.
has nothing to say that hasn't been said already, and it admits
it. That doesn't make it any better. One Finger for The
Dreamers. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear my wife
Filthy || Want to tell Filthy