Bad Words is a surprisingly good little film. It’s chock full of off-color humor, and I do mean off-color. Ok, filthy. The language is colorful like an acid rainbow.
I have decided that Wes Anderson is now on my list of favorite directors. I liken him to the Coen Brothers; even their bad films are better than most people’s good ones, though there’s nothing bad about this one.
By the time Corey Feldman writes, in chapter 14 of his memoir Coreyography, “He was the only person in my immediate circle who wasn’t molesting me,” he’s already dished enough tawdry shenanigans among the young Hollywood set, and those who exploited them, to gain your trust. He’s telling the truth and he’s not holding back. Eminently, incessantly readable – indeed, compulsively readable, and digestible in one sitting if you’ve got the stomach – Feldman’s memoir has enough drug abuse, child molestation, and general sleaze for a month of miniseries.
Enemy begins with Jake Gyllenhaal’s heavily bearded character entering a room where a group of men surround some sort of sex show. A scantily clad woman cries out in what could be either pleasure or pain. The camera pans across the faces of the men. Some seem fascinated, some seem uncomfortable, some, almost weary. Two women wearing sheer robes and high heels walk out. One woman places a Sterling silver serving tray on the floor and removes the cover to reveal a giant spider. The other goes to step on it with her high heel, and the camera cuts away. Then, things get weird…
Although it was released throughout much of the rest of the world mid-2013, and won’t be released in the US until April 4th, Time Warner Cable is currently offering – and promoting heavily – Steve Coogan’s Alan Partridge (re-named from Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa) on VOD, presumably to cash in on Philomena’s massive surprise sweep at the Oscars. Alan Partridge is nothing like Philomena.
It may not be non-stop awesome, but it’s non-stop popcorn fun.