Bite Me, Tony

  A few years ago--could have been 2 or 20, when you get to my age one seems much like the other--anyhow, a few years ago, there was a popular saying: shit happens, then you die . It was never particularly clear if that was meant to pass as a sage bit of wit or sardonic wisdom, and I was never amused enough to care. And, then, that phrase suddenly came rushing back to me last week--in a most literal sense--after a routine CT Scan of my abdomen unleashed an intestinal conflagration of near-biblical proportions. To be exact, it was the "shake" they made me drink 2 hours prior to the exam that opened the gates of the fiery furnace.  "Strawberry or Cappuccino-flavored?" the perky receptionist asked me when I dropped by the outpatient clinic to pick up this foul concoction earlier in the week. "I've heard the Cappuccino is better." she purred.  "Cappuccino, then," I answered blithely, not realizing that behind this woman's cheery smile lurked

A man with a purpose hurries down a street lined with crumbling workshops and warehouses. Tugging his cap low, he surreptitiously turns to see who might be watching, and then slips through a door and locks it. The man, it turns out, is a metal fetishist . Why else would he slice open his leg with a straight razor, insert a steel rod and, then, wrap it tightly with gauze? Besides, in the closing credits, he is listed as The Metal Fetishist.  Some unspecified amount of time goes by and the fetishist decides to take a peek at his handiwork. Loosening the wraps, he is greeted by the sight of writhing maggots in his leg, and it dawns on him that maybe he didn't quite think this thing through. With a shriek of pain, fear, or both, the Fetishist slaps at his leg and flees the building--directly into the path of a speeding car.  Cut to a shot of the Salaryman doing a twisty, David Byrne -type dance as the title, T etsuo: the Iron Man , rolls across the screen. At home, the Salaryman suffe

It's Oscar time again and I may actually tune in for the first time in a few years. I'm sure the ceremony hasn't suddenly become any less unbearable than it's always been but at least I've seen a few of this year's nominees. We recently watched  Tar (nominated for Best Picture), which features Cate Blanchett (with a Best Actress nod) as a world-renowned conductor who, through a combination of arrogance and hubris, manages to orchestrate her own downfall. It's an overlong, talky, fascinating film that never bored me for a moment. Blanchett rarely makes a wrong move when taking movie roles (overlooking, if you will, the dreadful Don't Look Up ) and, here, she's onscreen for the entire 157 minutes: you literally can't take your eyes off her. Tar is also nominated for Best Director and Screenplay (both Todd Field) and Best Editing. As good as she is, Blanchett already has two Oscars under her belt so I'm okay with her not winning in the Best A

When a sheltered young man from the provinces decides to attend college in Paris, his big-city cousin elects to school him in the ways of the world. The plot of Claude Chabrol's 1959 second feature, Les Cousins , is as simple as that. And, yet, not quite so simple as it seems. Our naive protagonist, Charles, appears oblivious to Cousin Paul's calculated attempts to corrupt him, while Paul, a high-living, hard-partying libertine, couldn't care less about his own studies. Along with his parasitic, mean-spirited best friend, Clovis, Paul attracts a crowd of fawning admirers who frequently gather in the tres cool apartment Paul shares with Charles. When free-spirited Florence shows up, Charles is instantly smitten and falls head-over-heels. For her part, Florence is charmed and might like to see where this leads. But, perversely, Paul and Clovis aren't having it. When Florence arrives at the apartment one day to await Charles' return home from class, the insidious pair