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Saw I'm Not There at the Sundance Theatres yesterday and that movie was a fucking ride, a phantasmagoric gumbo of story and aesthetic, ultimately not really about Bob Dylan but some kind of meditation on identity, on life, on carrots and wastebaskets. Ultimately, the movie is so overwhelming that I truly don't know what to make of it. Epic and unconventional and I've been thinking about all day; it cruises through all the lives and wives and wonder and horror that a person could experience in a moment or in all eternity. A great big colorful exciting dream.
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1 comment:
Dude, Sundance theater is ridiculous.
Movies where a tad overpriced and that douche bag that announces the movie before hand is a trip. Also, their artsy pop corn tasted like ass and the two middle aged madison douche bags in front of me and behind me where talking and one actually said "I just did seven weeks in "insert exotic artsy vacation location." Only to be outdone by the guy behind me who did a year in some other artsy fartsy location.
I loved it. Also, Grendel is terrifying.
-b
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