Thursday, July 07, 2005

The periphery of normal, but not even

It is good to know that there are people out there (full-roaming vapors, really) who have chosen long ago to walk a course of solidarity, far away from the mainstream. I'm talking about people who believe that making art about killing, molesting, raping, maiming, et all is actually not tasteless, rather, it's curious intellectual exploration. Or maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe these creepish mutantes just find depravity amusing. Whatever.

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The point is that, on a website that I've included below, I recently read a collection of film reviews that include some rank, disturbing and insanely riotous descriptions. Choosing pretty much at random, I've reproduced the following (very fucking excellent) visual hair curlers. Keep in mind that these are one man's opinions of actual films. (I'm heading to the rental shop tonight, by the way.)

  • The red-wigged working girl drags her blonde companion to a deserted barn, and instead of administering first aid decides instead to strip her down, tie her up, and maul her breasts.

  • As Rudy and Gloria head out to try their luck on their own they're visited with the curse of the rotting papaya (no kidding); and with that the tribe's warriors return to the village, and the Americans watch in horror as Joe's body is promptly torn apart and devoured.

  • What drew my attention were two photographs accompanying the essay: one featured a Marie-Antoinette-looking fox running through the forest in only a corset and blonde wig. The other depicted a naked woman straddling an ape-like animal, milking its sizeable dong. How could one help but be intrigued?

  • He takes her home so she can do the Linda Blair thing, puking up pea soup and speaking of forthcoming doom, but his declaration of love drives the demons right out of her and sappy music begins to swell. Just as it looks like we're in for some hardcore post-exorcism fucking, there's a cheap message about love being as strong as death and the scene comes to an end.

  • Her cries echo throughout the caves along with the sounds of the flagellants’ whips, but her body is left unattended to bleed down a waterfall that washes over the life-size crucifix where it came to land twenty years ago.

  • When she finally passes out from the pain, Red unties her and hacks into her groin, disemboweling her with the detached bliss of a Manson girl.

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    The critic who wrote these, Tom Crites, is a fucking sick genius. Where does he come up with this shit, you ask? I'm not sure yet, but I think if you enjoy the snippets above, you should read more of his grisly, multi-colored reviews at this fucked up website:

    He also has his own bizarro-whack, anti-everything puddle of neo-artsy "I don't know what the fuck is going on here" website called the Paniscus Revue. I really like this guy.

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