Leslie Jones – Behind the Proscenium

The Master

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

I was audited.

Not by the sucking of blood monsters – the IRS assholes.

That is numbers.

Easy are the numbers. No.

They tried to audit my brain stem.

Walking down Hollywood Boulevard see the hotness. She stands, nearly perfect, handing out a tiny paper for the handing out.

“Free auditing” it says.

“Go further into the Hollywood heart” or something like that. I cannot resist her boobishness (they were magnificent).

So I go. Free audit is cool!

They give me a “Test of Your Personality” instead.

I hold “the cans.”

My mind cries “what the fuck?” but it is too late.

I can be a better man, if only I have the money.

I will never get near perfect handing out of paper girl. She was the meat to attract this Finnish bear-man (not gay bear, you may understand my mouth from brain thoughts, or not).

I become aware of the thought that I’m surrounded by Scientologists.

Son of a bitch.

To them I lived 75 million years ago (thank you, internet research! You saved me millions of dollars!).

Xenu – the asshole of the story brings me to Earth flying on a 1950s Earth plane.

OK.

Then into a volcano, like a virgin whose meat curtains are intact, I am flung.

Then the bombing of the nuclear stuff. Boom!

We are all dead and floaty in space. Ghosts of space. Until onto bodies we cling, like ticks, or whores in Vegas with the money to make.

If I give up Kossu and the sweet weed my life will expand into others and money, greatness, and the ability to live in a closet (with Top Gun) will be mine.

Why this sharing of intimate and things that are close to my mind?

I just saw “The Master” and it is almost documentary in its truth.

The Cause is a front – cult to those who know what is a cult. No cans to hold on with hands, but Amy Adams… that is a rocker!

Plot? Totally in the face it comes!

First, Paul Thomas Anderson leads us in charming expressive fragments of the history of his protagonist Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) in mind.

Bird’s-eye view we see him on a warship with the noise and tries last night sleep high above the deck on a platform, from below him a bunch of sailors who party like sailors keep his awake.

The Second World War is over, Freddie is an alcoholic. Who isn’t?

A psychiatric admission and several jobs later, he is to have a drunk Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman) encounter, again on a boat.

Freddie follows, Lancaster is the leader.

Freddie has problems with Lancaster.

Lancaster has problems with Freddie.

There are motorcycles and a cool big boat on the floating of water.

And again, Amy Adams (yee haw!).

Much is happening.

Then it all arrives at basically “what the hell did my eyeballs just let enter my head?” And yet, awesome.

It has the look of well lit candy. Beautiful.

I need no sense to enter my mind parts. It is just good and cool.

So, two thumbs up, though slightly confused… the thumbs. Like the rest of my body parts.

Except for another part that is always up for Amy Adams. Heh.

Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium

P.S. Americahas gone to the dogs (this will be every headline, but I am always first)! At least on “America’s Got Talent.” Go, go you Olate Dogs! They know more tricks than a Kardashian whore with Ray J pretending that the camera was less than on. Again – go, go you dogs. Kardashians? Kiss my ass.

The Words

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

For the critic of the film there is always the hope, “please Odin, let this be the one.

The great film of the year!”

Then the thoughts crawl into the reality space and think “at least be the one that entertains my brain and makes me think of the movie and not running with the screams out of the theater.”

Then the thoughts go to “please don’t let this movie be a fart in my mouth hole – I hope I put another bottle of Kossu in the freezer, just in case.”

Finally the thoughts are “Odin, if you end my life now at least the pain won’t last like that of “Transformers 3” – do I need sweet smoke from the dispensary to dull the horror ache and so I can also soothe my hurt with Cheetos?”

Crappy honest truth: 1^st thoughts happen 2% of time, 2^nd thoughts 10%, 3^rd thoughts 65%, and 4^th thoughts 23% (Intern – add up the numbers. I’m so high). The ratio is never to be betted on, yet I still take this paycheck.

I am a reviewer.

Today’s film? “The Words.”

“The Word” would have been better because it is shorter. But know, we are to suffer on “The Words.”

Plot? Too much. But like a Ukrainian nesting doll in the backwards. And not interesting, but not so bad for a fart in the mouth hole (my new ratings system!).

Spoiler Alerts!

We make start with the inside doll. An American soldier (Ben Barnes) who falls in love with a French barmaid (Nora Arnezeder) after one of the World Wars.

But this story is contained in doll #2 (number two – this is related to the fart) which is about Rory Jansen (Bradley Cooper – douche, but not like Shia) who writes a book that an award is put on, “The Window Tears.” Then another doll! The outside-est of the dolls.

This story is in the story of Clay Hammond (Dennis Quaid) and his book “The Words” (so clever!).

Olivia Wilde is involved, and doesn’t get naked. This made me sad.

BUT, in the #2 fart doll, Rory didn’t the writing of the book! Holy shit! Here comes Jeremy Irons!

Rory is in the big trouble.

End spoilers!

Go ahead and follow through on the spoiler reading. Then when the girlfriend makes you with eyes open watch this you can still sleep with your brain off.

Or think of the nakedness of Olivia Wilde that is not seen.

Whatever is for the floating of your boat.

For me, two thumbs just sitting like thumbs… thumbs staring at each other thinking “what the hell, thumb?”

Luckily for Kimmo, I found a Kossu flask in my jacket while this inside doll took up the screen. It was mostly full for 45 seconds, then mostly empty.

“The Words” was better for about 20 minutes.

Better yet? 3 hits of the sweet, sweet “Blue Dream” smoke.

And popcorn.

With that, one more brain attack by “Transformers 3′ can be handled.

Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium

P.S. Finally, that little mariachi elf from “America’s Got Talent” is gone. My hatred for him burned like white hot steel inside the Finnish sun on fire. It defined my existence. Without the elf and the hate my life is nothing. Until “The Voice.” Christina has the big ones. Two of them. Kimmo like.

Tag: Leslie Jones

The Master [REVIEW]

The Words [REVIEW]