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  • Two-Minute Warning

    Two-Minute Warning


    Two-Minute Warning is ostensibly a 70s disaster movie, and to its credit fulfills many of the genre's cheesy tropes, but it packs a surprisingly hard punch.  It's executed with tension, rigor and a jarring indifference to audience placation, plus the mass shooter story line, relatively rare for its time, makes this an apropos horror movie for our lunatic Twenty First Century.

    I expected a fun cornball watch; instead I wound up tensely gripping my couch armrest with one hand…

  • In the Cold of the Night

    In the Cold of the Night

    Skinemax DePalma that actually name checks DePalma.

    Sax upon wailing sax, fog machines, a glowing waterbed, endless yards of billowing drapes. Foreplay with marbles. A photoshoot with a Wet Jet. Marc Singer. Laserdiscs, laser strobes. Neon lights, neon bikinis.

    Dialogue written by aliens or AI, sounding somewhere between soap opera and porn, delivered by buffed and tanned actor mannequins.

    Caviar sucked from fingers. Dress shirts tucked into acid washed jeans.

    Malibu mansions, mind control, assassins wearing shades at night. Pixellated death dreams.

    The 80s and the 90s meet with fingers interlocked.

Popular reviews

  • Jasper Mall

    Jasper Mall

    I'm a lover of modern ruins. I've watched endless videos on the ghostly wreckage of Detroit and collect books on abandoned Soviet Brutalist architecture. There's a bittersweet quality to massive structures, recently or semi-recently vibrant, that sit neglected and forgotten; they shift my brain to a strangely addicting, haunted liminal space.

    I love dead malls most of all. I will lurk any weird, empty, half-dark mall I come across.

    However, a dead mall isn't merely an avenue for oneiric bullshit…

  • Smooth Talk

    Smooth Talk

    “I look right in your eyes and all I see are a bunch of trashy daydreams”.

    Smooth Talk has great mall scenes.

    Stores like Tinder Box and Things Remembered, packs of soda-guzzling teens roaming the thoroughfares or perching like leering crows over mezzanine guardrails, incidental passing phrases like “nice buns” or “pop his bone”, the neon Penney’s logo hovering over a dark parking lot; the malls of my youth were exactly like this, and for extended moments I travelled back…