W. Earl Brown – Behind the Proscenium

Draft Day

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

It is almost the time when fretting must be done.

Worry.

Fret.

The time of “cinema suck.” Summer movie blitz.

Damn… but what is to happen must be happening – it is the way of the world.

But now is Draft Day.

The sport called by some in Europe as “hand egg” but in America is “Football” and done in the fall has a time (in the spring) that comes for American college graduates with giant muscle bodies to be drafted for the game – from crappiest of teams to the best.

Like in junior high, where my brother Olli was always picked last for “Pin The Fish on the Retard” (number one game in Finland!).

Plot? Yes!

Sonny Weaver, Jr. (Kevin Costner), the General Manager of the first picking Cleveland Browns. The National Footballer draft is coming and Sonny needs to fix his draft place and pick the best swollen muscle runner for the footballing.

It is not easy.

There is wheeling, then the dealing, then the pregnant girlfriend (Jennifer Garner). The main coach-man (Denis Leary) is an asshole. The owner (Frank Langella) is a bigger of asshole.

So, if this movie is for believing, they should call themselves the National Asshole League.

There is lots of time for the worrying with grumpy faces on everyone.

There are several thousand phones calling other phones.

And then there is the yelling.

And new things are learned – most important of all is that the game of footballing is much more for excitement than watching how the game of footballing gets made.

Moneyball for baseball is like this movie.

Someday will be the making of a good film about sports building because that movie will be about the greatest game of all – hockey.

Until that joyous of all days we must have Draft Day.

Verdict: One thumb sideways, the other also asleep. There no Transformers (thank Odin!) and no explosions (also good). And no car chases.

Wait until is it Netflix time to see this thing. Then send the money you saved to me. I deserve it.

Remember… summer is coming.

Damn.

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

P.S. Ice Hockey Play for Marbles (All of Them) and The Cup Time is now almost with us. My love for Teemu Selänne is growing even bigger if that is a possibility. I have no love for Ducks, yet Teemu makes my non-Duck love disappear. That is what a Finnish Superman does to us. And me.

P.P.S. Game of Thrones. Damn. Arya is in my night time nightmares now. Creepy kid. Watch it instead of Draft Day. You will thank me again.

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.

Tag: W. Earl Brown

Draft Day [REVIEW]

The Master [REVIEW]