This review was originally written for Blueprint: Review.
In 1981 time travel was created, allowing specially recruited agents to travel up to 53 years into the past. One such agent, known as The Barkeep (Ethan Hawke), is trying to catch a terrorist, “The Fizzle Bomber”, and is sent to recruit a newcomer to the ranks to assist, but they turn out to have a very unique story to tell. 
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This week has basically been a write-off, and spoiler alert, but next week will be too. The reason being is that I’m currently on holiday. Or at least, I will be when this gets posted, because I’m writing this in the past, like usual, but this week even more so. Right now I’m probably flailing wildly as I fall down a mountain backwards in Switzerland attempting what I think is known as skiing, but which will be more readily identified as some kind of downhill breakdancing with planks tied to my feet. Basically, there’s a strong chance this post could be the last I ever do, and my quest through the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die will be cut short, and I’ll have failed. Let’s hope not, ey? Either way, here’s potentially the last things I ever saw:
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This has been a really unproductive week in terms of me watching and writing about movies. As in, I only saw three, and wrote about a different three. Needless to say, my weekly tally is not going well. I have, however, been watching a lot of 30 Rock, so there’s that. I’d seen seasons 1 and 2 before, loved them, but never watched any further for reasons, presumably, but I got the 7-season boxset for Christmas and have been working my way slowly through. How slowly? Well this past week I finally reached series 2. Yep. So I’ve yet to break new ground (I’m up to the episode where Tracey Morgan says something loud and stupid), but I’m still really enjoying it. What I hadn’t noticed before, however, was just how heavily scored the whole thing is. As in, there are times when I can’t hear the dialogue because the music is just too damn loud. It’s like Interstellar in there.
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Mason Jr. (Ellar Coltrane) is six years old. Then he’s seven years old. A little later, he becomes eight years old, then nine, ten and eventually eleven years old. Soon, in a dramatic twist, he becomes twelve years old, then thirteen and, completely unexpectedly, fourteen years old. Some time later he grows to be fifteen, then sixteen. He spends a little time – around about a year – aged seventeen years old, before finally discovering he’s only gone and become an eighteen year old.
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The self-styled Goonies are a group of kids – Mikey, Mouth, Chunk and Data – who find their childhoods in jeopardy when a golf course is scheduled to be built in place of their homes. Days before the final contracts are to be signed by their parents, the kids find a treasure map in Mikey’s attic and, accompanied by Mikey’s older brother Brand and girls Andy and Stef, the kids set out in search of the treasure that could save their homes. However, the villainous Fratelli family have just busted one of their number out of prison, and they stand in the kids’ way.
If Spielberg’s vision for War of the Worlds ever comes true, I know what my role would be. I don’t think I’d be amongst the masses incinerated in the early onslaught (chances are I’d be inside, not knowing what was going on until at least days later), but I’d probably get caught in one of those big cage things on the tripods. Don’t worry though, because I’d be the guy who first infects the aliens with the common cold. Consider me the sacrifice that saves humanity. I’m fine with that. You see, somehow, we’re only 7 weeks into the year and I’m already on my third cold. Third! What the heck happened to my immune system? Also, Aisha watched War of the Worlds last night (I only caught glimpses, so it doesn’t feature in this post as an official watch), and bloody hell is Tim Robbins creepy in that film. Here’s what I watched this week.
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Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) is a drug addled private investigator in 1970s L.A. His ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston) comes to him with a case involving the disappearance of her new lover, Mickey Wolfmann (Eric Roberts), whom Shasta believes has been committed to an insane asylum by his wife. Doc heads out on the case, but ends up collecting a couple more along the way, both also involving missing people, and eventually becomes embroiled with the police, a brothel, a manic dentist and something known as The Golden Fang.
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Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix)is a former U.S. seaman, suffering from some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that leaves him unable to function in civil society, and sees him perpetually fleeing the situations he finds himself in. One such escape attempt sees him stow away on a party boat that is commandeered by Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a visionary, philosophical leader, who takes a shine to Freddie and invites him to join their program, along with Lancaster’s wife Peggy (Amy Adams) and the rest of their family (Jesse Plemons, Ambyr Childers and Rami Malek). However, the program’s gruelling processing scheme may be too much for Freddie to take, and he must decide for what benefit is it all for, anyway?
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Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) is something of an oil man. At least, he will be eventually. He starts out as a silver prospector in New Mexico, uncovering a seam and gradually building himself a small company. One day, he is approached by Paul Sunday (Paul Dano) who believes there is oil on his family’s land. Plainview, now with his adoptive son H.W. (Dillon Freasier) and his crew, including right-hand man Fletcher (Ciarin Hinds) head to the Sunday ranch, where Daniel plans to make his fortune.
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I feel like this has been a wasted week. You see, like a lot of my fellow movie bloggers, I have a partner who doesn’t quite share my affinity for cinema. She likes films, sure, but not necessarily the same ones I do, so whenever she goes away for a few days I like to catch up on some foreign, old, horror or just plain weird movies that she might not necessarily appreciate. This past week Aisha went away for a couple of nights, and I most certainly did not make good use of these days of freedom this time alone. One night was spent editing a particularly long episode of the Lambcast, devoted to the work of Paul Thomas Anderson (link below, it clocked in at a little over two hours despite no Rants/Raves/game) and Thursday was a particularly stressful day at work, so I needed a decompression evening, which was spent in the kitchen making cannelloni and marshmallows (not mixed together, that sounds vile). Both dishes turned out quite well (I’m told, I don’t actually like marshmallows myself, they were for the aforementioned departed partner), but it meant a whole two evenings were spent without watching any films or writing any reviews. So damn. Also, I flat out failed my solid week of Paul Thomas Anderson reviews, only managing to write three, and with three more still to go. Damn again. If it helps at all, I’ve got posts for There Will Be Blood, The Master and Inherent Vice saved in draft, with all the images, I’ve just not written more than a sentence between them. Maybe this week, ey?
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Life Vs Film 