Wish Cumberbatch and Freeman actually attended the Emmys at which they were honored? Ray Donovan would totally have been on that.
Culture Diet: Book — Life After Life by Kate Atkinson
Grade: B+ for Book Club didn’t let me down. It took until about at third of the way through until I finally “got” what the book is about. Time travel? Reincarnation? Multiverses? It doesn’t really matter (although I wish it mattered a little more).
What’s so wonderful about this book is the relationships of the characters, the emphasis on how the choices we make affects the person we become, and the randomness of life.
"That’s because I’m a Sugar Daddy."- Abuelo explaining to his doctor why his sugar levels are so high.
Ridley Scott’s Exodus: Gods And Kings movie is racist as shit. And it’s disgusting, lazy and a movie that people shouldn’t still be making in 2014.
Joel Edgerton responds: Well a job is a job and this is the opportunity to star in a Ridley Scott movie which did so well for Noomi Rapace and Logan Marshall-Green and it’s not like I’m already on the rise as a A-list actor who could be in practically anything else because this is totally my Gladiator and I’m gonna get a Supporting Actor Oscar nom at the very least just like Joaquin Phoenix and money. Lots of money. Oh yeah but I empathize that sucks but as a white guy this doesn’t really affect me sooooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Culture Diet: TV — The Killing Season 4
Grade: C for Can’t it just be Holder and Linden riding around, smoking cigarettes together in that stupid car? The Killing is a bizarre show in that it would be better if it was more generic. Is that bad? It’s a crime drama trying to be modern and familiar at the same time. Instead, its ambitions are often thwarted with twists anyone can see a mile away and following arcs that no one cares to watch. Despite this, Mireille Enos and Joel Kinnanman are electrifying, especially together.
I almost described them as quiet fire but that sounds so lame now that I type it out.
Culture Diet: Movie — Les Miserables
Grade: C+ for Claustrophobic, unintentionally silly, and yet ultimately effective given the impassioned performances of the cast. Yes Russell Crowe was miscast. Yes he can’t sing, at least, not as the role requires. Yes I still feel for him when he goes mad and kills himself.
The camera and the performances feel so at odds with one another I can’t help but to wonder how it would look if Hooper didn’t direct. His role is more than just demanding extreme close-ups of everything at all times, and yet, given the same mise-en-scene, I wonder what another director would’ve captured.
I still cried. Even seeing it about three more times after its theatrical run two years ago. So there you go.