Sand swipes my eye
I cannot see
the fisherman’s trail
Boats wobble
till my eyes steady
Elephants of the sea
call out to giraffes of the sky
they are all grey
In mental combat
I drink hard glasses of wine
The road rips the field
the rain, the road
They are all mine
The food grows alive
in me
dawn arrives
as the first thought
on a second morning
A city confused,
a cousin of the village
- a disqualified town
Bartholomew James Jude
Sinners in ripe youth
Dance in music and
mandos
(c) Rochelle Potkar
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Phook
Phoonk – the apparently best surprise comedy I have ever seen in years.
And they didn’t even tout it as a spoof-of-sorts.
It starts out all fine with the director believing in telling us right from the start who the perpetrators were going to be and by the interval what they were going to do. So all we are left with is to add up the trailer and the hype and there: you have just the execution and “the how” left to see.
So when it disappoints, making you chuckle instead of jitter you don’t even think ‘why’. Because everything has been already told!
I won’t go into the bickering. I am done. I ‘used’ few friends over a cuppa for that. All I really want to say is about the structure, maybe plead: Couldn’t they play with it? Like not telling us who the perpetrators would be.
Right. It would then become a thriller-horror or some ill-fitting genre but hic “Who cares?”
At least it would have entertained.
And they didn’t even tout it as a spoof-of-sorts.
It starts out all fine with the director believing in telling us right from the start who the perpetrators were going to be and by the interval what they were going to do. So all we are left with is to add up the trailer and the hype and there: you have just the execution and “the how” left to see.
So when it disappoints, making you chuckle instead of jitter you don’t even think ‘why’. Because everything has been already told!
I won’t go into the bickering. I am done. I ‘used’ few friends over a cuppa for that. All I really want to say is about the structure, maybe plead: Couldn’t they play with it? Like not telling us who the perpetrators would be.
Right. It would then become a thriller-horror or some ill-fitting genre but hic “Who cares?”
At least it would have entertained.
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