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Feel the vibe man.......... Welcome to the deeply intellekshul blog of the Psychedelic Tourist.....
Sample post heading:
Yeah baby. Fight the power!!
....muslim internet freak Kangarooistan warns us of a neocon plot to murder camels!!!!
Of course. It's so obvious.
Instead, he's spent over three decades forging his own delightfully perverse and compelling path. His preoccupation with the body and bizarre mutations and manipulations thereof have given us exploding heads, mutant genitals and The Brundlefly, amongst many other....... things...... It's easy to be put off by the often stomach-churningly weird elements of his movies, and ignore the fact that the guy is a genuinely great storyteller. There's rarely any flab, superflous narrative in his films. You're always paying attention. Now and then though, Cronenberg drops his obsession with Body Horror and makes a "normal" movie. A History of Violence is one of these. It may not have mutant vaginas or sci-fi elements, but it's got the narrative force of a Cronenberg project. There's not an ounce of wasted energy in this movie, and it holds your attention, even when you're not sure where it's going. Viggo Mortensen plays Tom Stall, operator of a diner in Smalltown USA and happy, loving family guy. Old Tommy becomes the centre of national media attention after brutally dispatching two homicidal drifters who came to knock over his diner. Pretty soon, a bunch of creepy Philadelphia gangsters show up in town, claiming Tom is actually an ex-mafia soldier named Joey. Unpleasantness begins to accumulate in Tom's little world. This aint no cheeseball Bruce Willis action flick. It's a small, tense and intelligent tale of a happy family life meeting the brutal ugliness of mob violence. The script is concise, clever and effective. The acting is top-shelf, especially from the four leads: Viggo Mortensen, Maria Bello, a wonderfully creepy Ed Harris and a brief but memorable appearance by William Hurt. The violence scenes are short, unpleasant and devoid of any action-movie choreography. The production values, as can be expected from any Cronenberg movie, are excellent without any big movie "epic" phony-baloney. Highly recommended.
The phrase "great guitarist" is too often used in the context of stadium rock hairball poodles like Eddie Van Halen, Yngwie Malsteen, Steve Vai and all that lot. I'd rather listen to paint dry. These clowns don't play music, they are high-speed masturbators. High-speed soloing is boring as batshit. Her are two guitarists who, as far as I'm concerned, shit on the hair-metal clowns from a great height: Leo Kottke and Andy McKee.
You see, there's this "singer" named Amy Winehouse. If you want to see just how incredibly awful she is, listen to her trying to sing Michael Jackson's "Beat it". Bwahaha. Dear God.
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If he'd spent his life using his talents for commercial projects, or devoted to grand epics of faux-ernestness, he'd be insanely rich and/or need a room for his truckload of Oscars.
