Léolo is a stinking gutter fuck of a good time. The worst that Internet porn has to offer, packaged in a neatly wrapped art house bow tie that actually predates the Internet, but predicts the burlesque grotesque-ity like a fortune teller dropping a massive deuce. Filled with semen, feces, bestiality, incest, fetishism, masturbation and girly men. It’s all here, and slut bag director Jean-Claude Lauzon is absolutely DGAF about it all. This film is incoherently blasé about good taste, but maybe that is it’s charm. Who is the judge of good taste anyway? Well, like all great art, it stirred an emotional response from me. The same emotional response one would get when you are offered money to have sex with a house cat in heat.
Archive for March, 2011
Alien Resurrection is a profound example of strained, nasally congested “good-enough”. They say the best movies always look as though they came together all by themselves. Effortless, and magical. Well, Alien Resurrection looks as though it was very carefully crafted from a set of logarithmic parameters, input into a Movie Calculator, and the results processed by an army of technicians, craftsmen, artists, a French director, and H.R. Giger‘s forgotten royalty checks. In short, it looks deliberate; full of effort, not magical. A formula. A formality. A filmmaking exercise in “good-enough”.