get out-dir. jordan peele

“i didn’t want to say it, but i told you so.”

i can’t lie. when i went to check the game 3 score before leaving the house, i thought the internet was broken. first of all-how do you even score 41 in a quarter, let alone outscore your opponent (my team) 41-17? i’ve been riding with these guys for a minute, so i know we have to be extreme and extra and extremely extra, but bruv.

i was wondering if, in addition to playing the barney theme song, jason kidd was out there stirring tea (and spilling sodas-why was derozan slipping so much?!). shit, i can’t even merge the honey in my chaga without looking both ways.

i took a wrong turn this morning, into outrement, and it felt a bit like the opening scene, though i am thank-full that i was out in plain daylight, and at night, i have a rottweiler.

officially the highest grossing original screenplay, everyone’s got something to say about this movie, and people will continue to have things to say. hopefully, that will precipitate an actual conversation one day, and not just all this idle chatter.

it’s revolutionary just by being an american film about race that is set in the present, and not as another self-congratulatory “look how far we’ve come” pat on the back excuse to show black bodies brutalized in hd as a period piece. because it was made by a black director, and that director is jordan peele, it is a more nuanced look at racism than we’ve ever seen.

i am not a fan of the horror genre, i’ve never really been interested, but i do appreciate the homages to the tropes paid here. but the fact that the true horror is just lurking beneath the surface (and in gated communities) is the scariest of all. in fact, i would argue that the scariest person in the film is the young white woman, and the horror isn’t that she’s not aware of racism, the horror is that she’s complicit while masquerading as an ally.

the humour in the film comes from the conspiracy theory that these white folks are snatching black bodies to use as “sex slaves”, but the horror is when we discredit the grain of truth that lies in every conspiracy theory, and when we laugh off that feeling that “something isn’t quite right here”. even when the cops are all coloured, they’re still police. the institution is bigger than the faces. and the black people that are a bit “off” because their bodies have been snatched (and scientifically manipulated) by white people, and they are the proof that something’s up. perhaps that’s the silver lining-you can never fully hide your dirt, your deception will catch up to you.

and so there is the fear of white inferiority and the problems that exist in resource distribution that allow the imbalance of science, medicine, and legal impunity to just
“go and get” the bodies with the traits that you need for immortality. the issues of appropriation-“we want your skills but we don’t want you” as well as banking on the fact that all lives don’t matter, since nobody’s going to ask about the black ones that have been missing.

the point of technology as a weapon is an interesting one, as the phone is what keeps saving chris, and it’s what they tried to disarm while he was in the house. the recordings of recent police brutality and protests is a beginning to turning the tables on apathy and blowing the gates off our communities.

the lure of the white woman, which is driven home when he’s looking through the box of photos (of the “deer” that rosie has helped to eradicate), is one that is also laughed off, but the sociopath is real. this bitch is pure evil, as she’s able to show a human side from the beginning, and go through the motions of feeling the outrage that the cop that pulled them over was racist, or running away from the racist white people party and being the comfort to draw chris into a false sense of security, to transitioning fully into a dirty dancing watching single froot loop eating cog in the family racism wheel. and presumably, she got (and enjoyed) all that black dick (and possibly pussy) along the way. this was the white woman that people feared that hillary clinton may have been, and she may still be, but what’s the point in getting lost in coulda beens, when the reality is a whole next level of sinister?

it would seem that the raptors are emerging from the sunken place, as i’m halfway through watching game 5 (thanks mikey, for the league pass), and that the youngsters are starting to lose their grip on the ball.

also-what a difference norm powell makes in the game. it’s not a coincidence that when he’s starting, we win, and when he doesn’t play (which, WHY THE FUCK IS HE NOT PLAYING?!) we lose. i was starting to feel waves of deja vu to the past two years before this season when i was begging for james johnson to be traded so i could see him play somewhere (and now look at him in miami), but coach seems to have come to his senses, at least for the time being.

your lineups are still on scrutiny, though, dwayne.

get your exercise in.


sausage party-dir. conrad vernon and greg tiernan

“the great beyond is bullshit”

it would seem that this is still the end.

i was first shown the trailer for this movie months ago by my coworkers. i was terrified. granted, i get scared easily at the movies but this seemed to me like over the hedge meets texas chainsaw massacre.

what i wasn’t expecting was the extreme violence, the clever puns, and the constant references to cum and cumming on peoples’ faces and eyes and blinding them from the truth, and the actually disgusting personification of a used condom, replete with jizz.

and then i realized that this is a continuation of the discussions of religion and life after death that the disciples of judd apatow seem to be fixated upon. the lone woman this time is kristen wiig, and i’m not mad about that, but it did bring to attention how many overlapping names were at the marquee, and it’s clear that our global distribution problems not only apply (crucially) to food and water, but also to jobs and representations.

what does it mean when these stoners who seem to have everything, including having figured out a way to make millions sustaining their stonerisms and the stuff of their 12-year old wet dreams, seem terrified of everyone buying into the hype of heaven?

i mean, how the fuck do i know?

i just know that that animated grocery-orgy finale has just trumped the 18-minute puppet sex sequence (that may not have made it into the u$ version) of team america, and honey mustard will stay talking crazy.

also, the mural is gone at the carlton because imagine now owns rainbow cinemas, this movie was shown in theatre 9, locker number 9 gave me back my quarter at the alexandra park pool (which is much bigger than any that i’ve swam in recently), and banh mi bar makes a great iced coffee with not too much condensed milk.

and i had an eclair today, and played the piano at parkdale for a bonus hour-whut whut.

keanu-dir.peter atencio

“maybe, we weren’t trying to be seent”

hot docs is all fine and good, but there’s nothing like seeing these two on the big screen. i mean, i assumed, because i had never seen them on the big screen before (together), though theatres everywhere could make a million screening their show-(hint hint).

there isn’t much to say, other than i’m automatically in for anything they do, it’s perfectly silly and entertaining, and method man is still so freaking fine.

i will say that it was interesting to hear the cbc movie reviewer bring up “code switching” as the reason why the movie works, which is a win, but then negate that win by naming the two categories they move between as “normal people” and “straight-up gangstas”.

yup. it was as cringe-worthy as it sounds.

but this movie and its non-sensical revolution around this kitten is a great tuesday afternoon escape.

the apology-dir. tiffany hsiung

“i can’t die. it would be easier for everyone if i just died, but i can’t die.”

phew. i knew that this would be a hard one to watch. in many ways i’m great-full for the easing in, with the talk at oise last tuesday (thanks, mich) when we were in the presence of grandma gil. but 13 seconds into the trailer, the tears were flowing free.

frankly, i’m just not sure how there are people left in the world. with all the large-scale rapes/tortures/murders that happen, and i’m sure that for every one that makes it to the public eye there are at least three or four that lie just at the outskirts of our peripheral visions.

but perhaps knowing that we all exist (max) six degrees from ptsd brings some clarity to why we are as fucked up emotionally as we are, but it unfortunately also highlights how cyclical and exponential violence is.

i didn’t know until the very last minute if i could make it-but when i woke up on mother’s day, i knew that i had to make my way straight to the rush line. i arrived 45mins before and was anointed #90 in the line. but i stayed, even in the brief rain.

i made it, and because i don’t know my mother-acknowledging the legacy of tears and unnamed girl (who aged into women) victims of (militarized) sexual violence was exact way that i decided to hold space. and it was the perfect screening, as all my sisters (mich, teya, eirene, rina, heidi, sook-yin) and titas (olivia) were there, and we all showed up for the grandmas.

the most inspiring part of the story was that despite all the violence and residual ghosts, the grandmas still became mothers and found enough love to pass along to their children, some of them late in life.

the direction was perfect-funny, charming moments were inserted just when you thought your heart would break. bigups to tiffany for committing so much time, energy and life to bringing this to life. my favourite was the ongoing challenge of the infuriatingly false label of “comfort women”-this is basically the most uncomfortable situation imaginable, and if we were to truly name them as stolen 11-year-old girls who were drugged and raped constantly, that might make the case that this was a “necessary situation” a bit harder to make.

but then again, jian ghomeshi.

for the korean grandmas who have gathered every wednesday at noon since 1992 at the japanese embassy, and in the interest of believing all survivors, this blog will rededicate “hump day” to healthy and consensual relations and relationships.

hashtag, no more crushing women.

the boss-dir. ben falcone

“a do-ri-to”

so what if melissa mccarthy plays the same character over and over? that character is amazing. i mean, nobody complains that jennifer aniston does it. or that her boring plain jane face is still gracing “most beautiful people” lists. but hey-white beauty standards. who has the energy to complain about that? i’ll just re-direct my gaze.

and turn a blind ear to the ignorant bitches who say, “um-i feel like i’ve heard more prince since he died than i heard david bowie, and i don’t know if that’s fair…” first of all-you know who’s always complaining about “fairness”? people who have everything. the rest of us have to work six times as hard and actually EARN our lives. second of all, if david bowie was alive-tell me he wouldn’t be the first one to do a prince tribute. and for the hat trick-you notice it because it’s not your everyday experience that a person of colour has such influence on your influences that you never even knew, and it makes you uncomfortable because your racism is showing. like my raptors and the first fourth quarter they decided to win all season just now-get the fuck out of here.

the most important recurring theme of melissa mccarthy‘s movies is how an outsider overcomes childhood rejection to be a hilarious asshole who manages to build a family, against all odds. the insecurities, the abandonment issues, and the triumph is what keeps us coming back, and the co-sign is strong.

duolingo lately: 467 day streak, 5471 lingots
cafes lately: tokyo smoke, tuscana coffee, cygnet coffee, outpost coffee
stamps left to get on my icp: 16
libraries lately: parkdale, annette street, bloor/gladstone
first instrument to be checked out of the library: xylophone
cancon lately: celine dion, saukrates, yamantaka/sonic titan, emmanuel jal

chi-raq dir. spike lee

“all this over some unarmed women of colour?”

CHI-RAQ Trailer from 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks on Vimeo.

i suppose this is fitting, considering recent college/bay history. i waited until the last showing at the lightbox, and i’m glad that i saw it with a goddess, and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

this is the most complete spike lee movie i’ve ever seen, and it almost makes up for red hook. (almost). but seriously, maybe it’s age and reflection, or the combined effects of never giving up trying to understand, but i’m sure that i’ll be seeing this one again, in the theatre.

teyonah parris is perfect as nola darling-part past, present and future. nick cannon probably never would’ve been able to do this movie while he was married to mariah, jennifer hudson and angela bassett have flawless skin and performances, and wesley snipes‘ giggle is everything. the john cusack monologue made me a bit uncomfortable a la vintage spike, but all in all-the messages were there, the visuals were amazing, and his only cameo is his childhood picture that gets at least 6 frames of screentime (good thing i read his book all those years ago).

i’m always interested in peoples’ inspirations, and spike lee vs. the lysistrata peaked the top of my interest. i suppose sometimes it takes that absurdist escapist cinematic experience to tell a true story, especially one that people want to turn a blind eye to, so kudos for making it sexy so that people pay attention.

after the orange and purple clears-here’s something to bring it all the way back to chicago gang violence-and a woman who’s doing it on the real:

the big short-dir. adam mckay

“truth is like poetry and most people fucking hate poetry”

i knew i wanted to see this one since i saw someone get kicked in the ass at a urinal in the trailer that i saw once late last year. i was reminded of it when it was nominated for something at the oscars, but i had no idea that it was directed by adam mckay, or that he has directed so many movies, and so many movies that i like at that-we’ve already got our date planned for the boss, btw.

there was a michael lewis book at the centre of this one though, and brad pitt‘s involvement also hinted that like moneyball, it would be a home run. i love these works that draw me in when i wouldn’t necessarily have been interested in something that i knew nothing about, unlike feinstein‘s baseball book-i had to fire that, despite a great philly free library podcast about it, and his numerous amazing basketball books.

then of course, the stellar and perfectly-cast lineup, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem for the director, who has rounded up large groups of amazing actors that play so well off each other, i see you-all on your woody allen.

the quote was amazing, and all that more inspiration for the large-scale collaborative project that i’ve dreamed up to simultaneously kick my own ass (not in a urinal) to finish my solo piece. i’m glad i decided after my writing date with one of my favourite junction writers not to make a deal on a fur coat and choose this movie over zootopia.

home books left: 16
hold books left: 40
cafes lately: fantail, propeller, crema
restos lately: harlem, cafe 668
other people’s netflix lately: grace and frankie
lingots: 5204
library throwback albums lately: rhythm nation, criminal minded, billy ocean’s greatest hits
theatre lately: no strings attached at buddies in bad times
okcupid wackness lately: people confirming dates days in advance, only to text when you’re on the way there, “where is this place?”
raptors lately: losing to boston with a score of 79 on the same night that the bulls lost to the knicks with a score of 79 (coincidence, never)