...I looked at the clock; 6:32 PM. For the past few years, I was used to the companionship of a cheap whore, during my descent into Morpheus’ embrace. That day, however, was different. It marked thirty-three years since my father’s brutal rape and murder. I decided to lull myself asleep…
Mount Kokkygios; I was naked and fettered with a pair of rusty chains, just like Prometheus. The vultures flew around me, leering at my inflated Penis, with great desire. Suddenly, a proud griffon vulture landed on my Sack and grabbed my tumor-filled, right Ball. I was watching the magnificent fowl taking off with great strain, due to the weight of my sick Testicle, while the rest of the vultures were getting prepared to claim the remaining prey…
I was strolling alone around the scenic alleys of Bălți. I had applied some of nana’s herbs on my – already botched – scrotum, but the wounds, left by the ravenous vultures, were still wide open. My gaze stumbled upon a group of breezy children; I was taken by their graceful games. I was trying to isolate this beautiful image of blissful carelessness and the sound of the children’s laughter, which helped me forget my pain. I fumed when I realized that the little cocksuckers were laughing at me. Blinded by rage and ego, I whipped out my colossal Penis and used it to smack little Bogdan’s face. “Îmi pare rău, domnule Cornelius! Ajutor!” cried, until his little heart stopped beating. Days later, I discovered some fragments of the unfortunate child’s skull, inside my healed Sack. God damn you, Bogdan!...
2:28 AM. “Time for milk” I whispered to my granddaughter. She felt her breasts; “I don’t have any”, she replied. I wore a white robe, a pair of plastic gloves and grabbed the iron bucket we used to defecate. I walked St. Nicholas Avenue, up and down three times, amongst the various junkies and immigrants, looking desperately for a lymphogranuloma venereum-infested whore to milk. My odyssey, however, did not successfully conclude. I was forced, compromisingly, to identify my Ithaca with a random, HIV-positive, Moldovan prostitute. Despite the fact that my thirst was overwhelming, I couldn’t resist, thus I tapped that ass. After the three-minute pleasure, I placed a couple of bronze coins in her coffer, as a fee and focused on my initial goal. With great patience and care, I started milking her uneven breasts. Suddenly, the whore became white as a sheet and instantly stopped the milk flow. “What is that?” she stuttered in broken English. I couldn’t understand was going on, until I saw the prostitute raising her right index finger and using it to point at my Glans. I grabbed my Penis to examine it and I was shocked by the find; a tiny piece of little Bogdan’s skull, was stuck in my urethra, hidden, just like a weak sparrow roosted in the warmth and snugness of its nest. “YOU!” shouted the whore, “You kill my son!?”. “Wait, let me explain”, I mumbled, realizing the tragic irony. She pounced on me like a tomcat and neutralized me with a skillfully executed Pak Sao. I didn’t resist; I left my Cock at the mercy of the three Fates. The poor mother, took out a golden, shiny sickle and without hesitation, she castrated me, just like ruthless Saturn mutilated Uranus. The only difference, my friends, was that through the trickles of my blood Sex was born and through my sperm, Cinema…
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 9:37 AM. Damn it; I was late for work. But that’s ok, I thought; the FOMC could wait. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. An unprecedented burden nailed me on my bed. I reluctantly placed my hand under my boxers and grabbed my Balls. Hosanna, I exclaimed with devoutness. You won’t believe this, my trusted readers, but, after all these years, my experiments had been successful: my Testicles had tripled! I now had four (4), one for each Season. Unfortunately, though, all good things come to an end. Neither me, nor you, had the chance to enjoy this divine gift, since I was diagnosed with cancer. My beautiful and proud Balls…
This picture was introduced to me by my late son, circa 1975. You'd wonder why I wasn't there in the opening night to support my old friend Luis; then you'd realize that this was the time of my self-exile in the Cave of Ashaab e Kahf.
I recently decided to engage once again in this cinematic adventure, this time with the company of a cheap whore, as one would assume. The woman could not keep up with the demanding cinematic pacing, thus she lied down on my crotch to rest her intellect. My Scrotum worked as an incubator and, as a result, after the second act, I used my state-of-the-art Penis to transfer innovation and know-how to the woman of the night, through her experienced Anus.
The Ross–Littlewood paradox; it was my mentor's goal to haunt my mind with this mathematical monstrosity. As I was writing one of the countless tests I had to endure during my nightmarish childhood, my mind dozed off only to find myself groping off my Balls, trying to estimate their volume, just how Bernard Bolzano used to when he was coming up with his twisted mathematical expressions.
I hadn't felt this way for decades, up until yesterday, while watching this picture. It reminded me of my childish researches; trying to figure out the correlation between Sex and Art (!), only to end up in the cul-de-sac of the system of linear equations with two variables. And yes, my friends, as you guessed, it was only a few years later when I realized that the two variables are my Balls, the same way Ariane Labed realized that her ribbon is a mere tool of the Hénon map...
Dear friend, I wouldn't call myself a 'fan' of my fellow David's work, truth be told, after so many years, my divine body is unable to feel any pleasures, let alone comprehend the notion of being a 'hard-core fan' of anything.
But, as a humble and patient observer, I take your glorious comment into account and maybe my gaze will be able to offer something better to you and the rest of my viewers.
Thank you, from the depths of my human soul... our crosstalk will haunt my mind.
Please accept this short poem that I've just written, as a token of my eternal gratitude:
"black hydrogen swishes the doors...
cadges Spanish candle bread tornesel
suckling on Sun's hoof...
that so fine my desired"
Goodbye forever my beloved companion and may God be with you.
Fifteen years ago, I was location-scouting for my, then, upcoming picture (which shall remain nameless for obvious reasons). One night, while my raft was dancing on the rhythms of the Mediterranean Sea and the water was whipping my naked body, Franco Piavoli's masterpiece came immediately to my mind.
I then wept and two hours later I made wild love to a gypsy whore. While our hectic bodies were pulsating like two proud stallions, all those different images from this film suddenly emerged.
Nostos: Il ritorno truly is a landmark in, as I call it, 'economic cinema'. Piavoli is the dexterous puppetmaster and time and space his loyal puppets. The gorgeous imagery and the magnificent landscapes were skillfully used to represent the protagonist's inner struggle.
All in all, a great cinematic achievement that will stay with you and chase you just as a rabid dog chases a negro that has broken in the house of the wild beast's beloved master.
But I think the following words, written by an old friend, sum up this film better:
"Break away neologisms squawk my cerebral protoplasm, without the dipterous insect that would ideally inflect it..."
While watching this film I felt a peculiar emotion; after a while, I realized that it was simply nostalgia and I knew that Costas Ferris had succeeded in his depiction of the 1920s and 1930s rembetiko scene. The images he captured brought so many childhood memories to me.
Personal factors aside, this was a quite good picture, that can be recommended for the wonderful rembetiko music alone.
After a series of superficially 'complex' movies (i.e. Eraserhead, Lost Highway, Mulholland Dr., etc.), David gives us his truly profound and specifically abstract film.
While I wasn't overly impressed, I respect the director's extremely subtle work (particularly the use of symbolism) that apparently went over the common cinephile's head. I recommend to all, especially David's fans, to watch this film at least seven (7) times to fully appreciate it.
Open your mind, free your soul and don't be afraid to let the passion of the protagonist conquer your body and mind.
To this day I wonder what a masterpiece this film could have been, had Michael followed my advice. Still, no hard feelings; the picture turned out just fine nonetheless.
Despite the fact that even a complete ignorant on cinema and filmic sensibilities could decrypt Mr. Polanski's intentions, I'm still wowed by how masterfully crafted this picture is.
A truly hilarious film; I had a great time laughing at the amateur (yet cute) attempts on symbolism and cinematic metaphors. However, the fine performances from the main cast and Dušan Kovačević's excellent satire-filled screenplay, transformed Mr. Šijan's work into a great movie.
Pretty good little movie, although I was somewhat disappointed with the simplistic ending that apparently amazed several cinephiles I've discussed with; I guess I expected a more conscious approach from my fellow colleague Michelangelo.
A fair piece of cinema with decent direction from Mr. Jodorowsky, who generally seems to be in control of his vision. Regardless of the weak ending (too sappy for my tastes), this picture was one of the director's strongest works.
One of the finest Greek films, this under-seen masterwork truly is a divine gift. My major issue was the non-accurate depiction of the Koemtzis story (which I know first-handedly). Other than that, I would like to congratulate the whole crew, particularly my friend Katerina Gogou (R.I.P.) for her beautiful and haunting poetry which added a whole new dimension to the film.
I appreciate the decent effort given by my fellow director Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Miller, however, being thoroughly disappointed from their previous amateurish work, I didn't have high expectations for this picture.
My ideals command me to tell the truth, however harsh it may be (even for my old friend Quentin, who apparently, directed some scenes for this "film"): I'd rather stick a bronze dagger in my vermilion and truculent flesh, than watch this piece of trash again.
I would like to congratulate Mr. Spielberg and the rest of the crew for this timeless brilliant and terrifying masterpiece. I know from personal experience that the lads gave their souls (so to speak) to bring this fine piece of cinema alive.
Thank you.
P.S.: With all due respect, Mr. "mikhaelmt" and Mr. "Alias" are unacceptable and they should try to voice their ignorant and immature opinions decorously and more eloquently. Cheers.
Masterfully shot and composed by Mr. De Palma. Excellent performances by the entire cast (especially the wonderful Mr. Pacino). A script that leaves you shocked, makes you laugh, cry...
The film kept me at the edge of my seat during its entire running time and gave me a smile of optimism at the end (despite its underwhelming finale).
Comments 1 - 24 of 24
Movie comment on Lost Highway
Cornelius P.
...I looked at the clock; 6:32 PM. For the past few years, I was used to the companionship of a cheap whore, during my descent into Morpheus’ embrace. That day, however, was different. It marked thirty-three years since my father’s brutal rape and murder. I decided to lull myself asleep…Mount Kokkygios; I was naked and fettered with a pair of rusty chains, just like Prometheus. The vultures flew around me, leering at my inflated Penis, with great desire. Suddenly, a proud griffon vulture landed on my Sack and grabbed my tumor-filled, right Ball. I was watching the magnificent fowl taking off with great strain, due to the weight of my sick Testicle, while the rest of the vultures were getting prepared to claim the remaining prey…
I was strolling alone around the scenic alleys of Bălți. I had applied some of nana’s herbs on my – already botched – scrotum, but the wounds, left by the ravenous vultures, were still wide open. My gaze stumbled upon a group of breezy children; I was taken by their graceful games. I was trying to isolate this beautiful image of blissful carelessness and the sound of the children’s laughter, which helped me forget my pain. I fumed when I realized that the little cocksuckers were laughing at me. Blinded by rage and ego, I whipped out my colossal Penis and used it to smack little Bogdan’s face. “Îmi pare rău, domnule Cornelius! Ajutor!” cried, until his little heart stopped beating. Days later, I discovered some fragments of the unfortunate child’s skull, inside my healed Sack. God damn you, Bogdan!...
2:28 AM. “Time for milk” I whispered to my granddaughter. She felt her breasts; “I don’t have any”, she replied. I wore a white robe, a pair of plastic gloves and grabbed the iron bucket we used to defecate. I walked St. Nicholas Avenue, up and down three times, amongst the various junkies and immigrants, looking desperately for a lymphogranuloma venereum-infested whore to milk. My odyssey, however, did not successfully conclude. I was forced, compromisingly, to identify my Ithaca with a random, HIV-positive, Moldovan prostitute. Despite the fact that my thirst was overwhelming, I couldn’t resist, thus I tapped that ass. After the three-minute pleasure, I placed a couple of bronze coins in her coffer, as a fee and focused on my initial goal. With great patience and care, I started milking her uneven breasts. Suddenly, the whore became white as a sheet and instantly stopped the milk flow. “What is that?” she stuttered in broken English. I couldn’t understand was going on, until I saw the prostitute raising her right index finger and using it to point at my Glans. I grabbed my Penis to examine it and I was shocked by the find; a tiny piece of little Bogdan’s skull, was stuck in my urethra, hidden, just like a weak sparrow roosted in the warmth and snugness of its nest. “YOU!” shouted the whore, “You kill my son!?”. “Wait, let me explain”, I mumbled, realizing the tragic irony. She pounced on me like a tomcat and neutralized me with a skillfully executed Pak Sao. I didn’t resist; I left my Cock at the mercy of the three Fates. The poor mother, took out a golden, shiny sickle and without hesitation, she castrated me, just like ruthless Saturn mutilated Uranus. The only difference, my friends, was that through the trickles of my blood Sex was born and through my sperm, Cinema…
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 9:37 AM. Damn it; I was late for work. But that’s ok, I thought; the FOMC could wait. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. An unprecedented burden nailed me on my bed. I reluctantly placed my hand under my boxers and grabbed my Balls. Hosanna, I exclaimed with devoutness. You won’t believe this, my trusted readers, but, after all these years, my experiments had been successful: my Testicles had tripled! I now had four (4), one for each Season. Unfortunately, though, all good things come to an end. Neither me, nor you, had the chance to enjoy this divine gift, since I was diagnosed with cancer. My beautiful and proud Balls…
Movie comment on Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie
Cornelius P.
This picture was introduced to me by my late son, circa 1975. You'd wonder why I wasn't there in the opening night to support my old friend Luis; then you'd realize that this was the time of my self-exile in the Cave of Ashaab e Kahf.I recently decided to engage once again in this cinematic adventure, this time with the company of a cheap whore, as one would assume. The woman could not keep up with the demanding cinematic pacing, thus she lied down on my crotch to rest her intellect. My Scrotum worked as an incubator and, as a result, after the second act, I used my state-of-the-art Penis to transfer innovation and know-how to the woman of the night, through her experienced Anus.
Thank you.
Movie comment on Alpeis
Cornelius P.
The Ross–Littlewood paradox; it was my mentor's goal to haunt my mind with this mathematical monstrosity. As I was writing one of the countless tests I had to endure during my nightmarish childhood, my mind dozed off only to find myself groping off my Balls, trying to estimate their volume, just how Bernard Bolzano used to when he was coming up with his twisted mathematical expressions.I hadn't felt this way for decades, up until yesterday, while watching this picture. It reminded me of my childish researches; trying to figure out the correlation between Sex and Art (!), only to end up in the cul-de-sac of the system of linear equations with two variables. And yes, my friends, as you guessed, it was only a few years later when I realized that the two variables are my Balls, the same way Ariane Labed realized that her ribbon is a mere tool of the Hénon map...
Thank you.
Movie comment on The Straight Story
Cornelius P.
@WoliverDear friend, I wouldn't call myself a 'fan' of my fellow David's work, truth be told, after so many years, my divine body is unable to feel any pleasures, let alone comprehend the notion of being a 'hard-core fan' of anything.
But, as a humble and patient observer, I take your glorious comment into account and maybe my gaze will be able to offer something better to you and the rest of my viewers.
Thank you, from the depths of my human soul... our crosstalk will haunt my mind.
Please accept this short poem that I've just written, as a token of my eternal gratitude:
"black hydrogen swishes the doors...
cadges Spanish candle bread tornesel
suckling on Sun's hoof...
that so fine my desired"
Goodbye forever my beloved companion and may God be with you.
Thank you.
Movie comment on Nostos: Il ritorno
Cornelius P.
Fifteen years ago, I was location-scouting for my, then, upcoming picture (which shall remain nameless for obvious reasons). One night, while my raft was dancing on the rhythms of the Mediterranean Sea and the water was whipping my naked body, Franco Piavoli's masterpiece came immediately to my mind.I then wept and two hours later I made wild love to a gypsy whore. While our hectic bodies were pulsating like two proud stallions, all those different images from this film suddenly emerged.
Nostos: Il ritorno truly is a landmark in, as I call it, 'economic cinema'. Piavoli is the dexterous puppetmaster and time and space his loyal puppets. The gorgeous imagery and the magnificent landscapes were skillfully used to represent the protagonist's inner struggle.
All in all, a great cinematic achievement that will stay with you and chase you just as a rabid dog chases a negro that has broken in the house of the wild beast's beloved master.
But I think the following words, written by an old friend, sum up this film better:
"Break away neologisms squawk my cerebral protoplasm, without the dipterous insect that would ideally inflect it..."
Thank you.
Movie comment on Rembetiko
Cornelius P.
While watching this film I felt a peculiar emotion; after a while, I realized that it was simply nostalgia and I knew that Costas Ferris had succeeded in his depiction of the 1920s and 1930s rembetiko scene. The images he captured brought so many childhood memories to me.Personal factors aside, this was a quite good picture, that can be recommended for the wonderful rembetiko music alone.
Thank you.
Movie comment on The Straight Story
Cornelius P.
After a series of superficially 'complex' movies (i.e. Eraserhead, Lost Highway, Mulholland Dr., etc.), David gives us his truly profound and specifically abstract film.While I wasn't overly impressed, I respect the director's extremely subtle work (particularly the use of symbolism) that apparently went over the common cinephile's head. I recommend to all, especially David's fans, to watch this film at least seven (7) times to fully appreciate it.
Open your mind, free your soul and don't be afraid to let the passion of the protagonist conquer your body and mind.
Thank you.
Movie comment on Funny Games
Cornelius P.
To this day I wonder what a masterpiece this film could have been, had Michael followed my advice. Still, no hard feelings; the picture turned out just fine nonetheless.Thank you.
Movie comment on Le locataire
Cornelius P.
Despite the fact that even a complete ignorant on cinema and filmic sensibilities could decrypt Mr. Polanski's intentions, I'm still wowed by how masterfully crafted this picture is.Thank you.
Movie comment on Ko to tamo peva
Cornelius P.
A truly hilarious film; I had a great time laughing at the amateur (yet cute) attempts on symbolism and cinematic metaphors. However, the fine performances from the main cast and Dušan Kovačević's excellent satire-filled screenplay, transformed Mr. Šijan's work into a great movie.Thank you.
Movie comment on Blow-Up
Cornelius P.
Pretty good little movie, although I was somewhat disappointed with the simplistic ending that apparently amazed several cinephiles I've discussed with; I guess I expected a more conscious approach from my fellow colleague Michelangelo.Thank you.
Movie comment on Santa Sangre
Cornelius P.
A fair piece of cinema with decent direction from Mr. Jodorowsky, who generally seems to be in control of his vision. Regardless of the weak ending (too sappy for my tastes), this picture was one of the director's strongest works.Thank you.
Movie comment on The Lost Boys
Cornelius P.
Okay...Movie comment on Parangelia!
Cornelius P.
One of the finest Greek films, this under-seen masterwork truly is a divine gift. My major issue was the non-accurate depiction of the Koemtzis story (which I know first-handedly). Other than that, I would like to congratulate the whole crew, particularly my friend Katerina Gogou (R.I.P.) for her beautiful and haunting poetry which added a whole new dimension to the film.Thank you.
Movie comment on Sin City
Cornelius P.
I appreciate the decent effort given by my fellow director Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Miller, however, being thoroughly disappointed from their previous amateurish work, I didn't have high expectations for this picture.My ideals command me to tell the truth, however harsh it may be (even for my old friend Quentin, who apparently, directed some scenes for this "film"): I'd rather stick a bronze dagger in my vermilion and truculent flesh, than watch this piece of trash again.
Thank you.
Movie comment on Un prophète
Cornelius P.
Painfully overrated!Movie comment on Jaws
Cornelius P.
I would like to congratulate Mr. Spielberg and the rest of the crew for this timeless brilliant and terrifying masterpiece. I know from personal experience that the lads gave their souls (so to speak) to bring this fine piece of cinema alive.Thank you.
P.S.: With all due respect, Mr. "mikhaelmt" and Mr. "Alias" are unacceptable and they should try to voice their ignorant and immature opinions decorously and more eloquently. Cheers.
Movie comment on The Simpsons Movie
Cornelius P.
Furthermore, the film was exquisitely animated. In my humble opinion, its revolutionary animation techniques will be used A LOT in the future.Thank you.
Movie comment on Carlito's Way
Cornelius P.
A bona fide cinematic masterpiece.Masterfully shot and composed by Mr. De Palma. Excellent performances by the entire cast (especially the wonderful Mr. Pacino). A script that leaves you shocked, makes you laugh, cry...
The film kept me at the edge of my seat during its entire running time and gave me a smile of optimism at the end (despite its underwhelming finale).
Thank you.
Movie comment on Le fantôme de la liberté
Cornelius P.
Fun movie even though it left me thoroughly unimpressed.Movie comment on Un chien andalou
Cornelius P.
I expected something more complex from the masters of surrealism; a near masterpiece nonetheless.Movie comment on Full Metal Jacket
Cornelius P.
Overrated garbage!Movie comment on The Simpsons Movie
Cornelius P.
A deep and profound cinematic masterpiece.Movie comment on Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo
Cornelius P.
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