criterionforum.org

Glenn Kenny wrote:I don’t know why, exactly, I was the World’s Worst Telemarketer; even in my early twenties I had a relatively pleasant, resonant speaking voice, and I could read from a script like nobody’s business, way better than the other doofuses who would start off on the wrongest foot, ending their intros with a question mark. But I couldn’t sell worth shit. I don’t know if my delivery lacked the requisite sincerity; maybe I read from the script too well.

warren oates wrote:There's a particularly fun thread right now about your most uncomfortable or inappropriate viewing experience with any given combination of sexy/violent film + disapproving friends/relatives.

warren oates wrote:That quote you cherry picked from GK was meant to illustrate what exactly? That he can be self-indulgent? Too personal? Too not remotely about movies? Just boring?

matrixschmatrix wrote:My god, that's sociopathic. Is there anyone actually paying this dude, or is he just some idiot with a website at this point?

Jeffrey Wells wrote:Since my mid teens I've always carried at least two combs and occasionally three. I never want to walk around with just one comb because if I lose that I'm fresh out, hence the two-comb rule. But I don't even want to be faced with a two comb situation because if I lose one then I'm down to one so it's better, really, to have three. Then if I lose one I at least have two left.

Grampa Simpson wrote:We can't bust heads like we used to. But we have our ways. One trick is to tell stories that don't go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for m'shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt. Which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. Gimme five bees for a quarter, you'd say. Now where was I... oh yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion tied to my belt, which was the style at the time. You couldn't get white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...

matrixschmatrix wrote:What on earth? Is there a context for that? Is he OCD?

CSM126 wrote:It ain't easy maintaining that Honky Tonk Man hair-do.

jonah.77 wrote:I'd always assumed, based on a few excerpts of Wells's ::ahem:: prose than was quoted here and elsewhere (I've never felt the need to actually visit his website), that he was a callow young man whose cockiness and ignorance would perhaps subside with time. That picture really changes things.

Jeffrey Wells wrote:People with a little class and breeding and a college degree don't tend to be as noisy or boisterous or loutish as the commoners, cretins, galumphs, bad dressers, etc. The lower end of the gene pool. T'was ever thus.

Why the hell was the victim, Trisha Meili, jogging in the vicinity of 102nd street on a dark road inside the park around 10:30 pm? I know New York City and that is flat-out insane. A sensible single woman shouldn't jog in Central Park after dusk, period, much less above 96th street, much less above friggin' 100th street. The only thing she didn't do was drape a sign over her jogging outfit that said "attack me." Everybody knows you don't tempt fate like that. And no one in the film, not a single soul, even mentions this.

To The Wonder doesn’t precisely fart in your face. It leads you rather to wonder what the air might be like if you’ve just cut one in a shopping mall and there’s someone right behind you, downwind.