With further adieu, I’m compelled to share some of what I’ve experienced recently before getting the countdown underway…so enjoy my story if you might or pull out your- tl don’t read- and skip to the next post tomorrow.


Last Tuesday my wife took me to the ER after a week of feeling lightheaded escalated to symptoms of dizziness and shortness of breath. A few hours and a Cat Scan later, I was admitted to the hospital after it was discovered that I had a pulmonary embolism- a blood clot in my lung. That first night at the hospital was uneasy…seeing the worried faces of my children and wife and not knowing the cause of the clot. When everyone had left the hospital , I laid back in the dark room, alone with my thoughts. Just as the pangs of anxiety began to ride the momentum of a more uncertain future, I was brought back to the present with the amusing recognition that my pulmonary specialist, who had just entered the room, bore a striking resemblance to Roger Ebert. A calm washed over me…and it wasn’t from the Heparin drip.


I first became aware of Roger Ebert, whom my brother and I would always refer to as ‘Rog’, as a 9-year-old when, after moving from Chicago to Boise Idaho, I found comfort in the familiarity of WGN. The cable channel became the most consistent connection to the only place I had ever called home. At ages 11-12, I recall many weekend afternoons playing basketball at my friend Jesse’s house…but he always insisted we stop everything when At The Movies came on. Jesse was as much a film geek as a 7th grader could be. He was an only child and his parents lavished many gifts on him…but instead of the latest video game system or sporting goods, Jesse had the most elaborate film equipment I could imagine for a 12-year-old in 1983.

Jesse and I made many home movies that year…including our own version of our favorite movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark (years later some other suburban kids got their own version noticed by Hollywood and Spielberg, himself)…as well as numerous short skits where we took to the balcony- he as Ebert and I as Gene Siskel- featuring such stellar films as “Julie on the Street”, in which we cut to a ‘film clip’ of my sister, Julie, simply smiling while sitting on the street…then we’d cut back to our critical hero’s outraged and overjoyed reactions before another friend pressed pause and laughter ensued.

Jesse moved to California after 7th grade and we soon lost touch. Last Spring, Jesse, as old friends do, facebooked me out of the blue. It had been over 25 years since we last connected, but it didn’t take long to recall all the good times we had. Most heartwarming to me was the revelation that the fire that fueled Jesse’s childhood passion had never faded. He now owns a small post-production/editing company in Hollywood and had recently completed editing on his own feature film directorial debut. Despite some modest success with his company, Jesse was having difficulty getting his film accepted at any festivals so I suggested that he submit to the Naperville Independent Film Festival, in my home town. The festival is small and only in its second year, but Jesse was interested and, sure enough, his film was accepted.

Jesse and his parents and one of the stars of the film flew in to Chicago and we met for the premiere in Naperville this past September. As if sitting in a movie theater with your childhood buddy watching a film he directed wasn’t cool enough, we learned the next day that he had been nominated for Best Director, which elevated our enthusiasm for the Awards dinner and ceremony.

Though the bulk of the presenting features and shorts were made by amateurs, it still felt sublime to dress up in black tie and sip on martinis as we waited for the awards to begin. We had learned a few weeks before the festival that the honored film star was Karen Allen….but we had no idea that, as a result of his directorial nod, she’d be seated with us.
Jesse was cooly subdued in meeting one of his childhood idols, perhaps because he was used to meeting famous people…but I could barely contain myself and had to make a conscious effort not to sound like Chris Farley in that old SNL skit…(remember when Indiana Jones asks you to shut your eyes…don’t look at it, whatever you do…remember that?...did you look at it?). We shared with her our story and how we loved Raiders and Ms. Allen was lovely and listened generously, making us feel like pubescent kids all over again….yet, amazingly, our dinner with Karen Allen was trumped by what happened later. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Roger Ebert was to be the other guest of honor.

(Continued)

I had not yet seen Roger since he had a significant portion of his jaw removed, so I admit to being taken aback as he walked with his wife up to the podium, about 15 feet away from our table. Rog spent the next 15 minutes speaking about the importance of independent filmmaking and then answering questions, all in his computerized voice transmitted through his laptop. My initial shock very quickly turned to admiration and feelings of gratitude that this media figure who had stimulated my brain growing up as much as my best teachers, was, despite his medical condition, obviously very happy…in fact, happier then I’d ever perceived him to be as the man in the balcony. His always intellectual insights into independent film made up the bulk of his speech…but these were bookended by graceful thoughts from a man who was clearly experiencing in his life a new level of peace and contentment, manifested most in his contagious body language…constant taps of his palm to his heart…slapping both palms to his knee in expressions of joy and laughter…and his arms repeatedly extended, palms up, as if embracing all the warm thoughts being sent his way and sending those same thoughts right back to all of us.

I didn’t think it could get any better than getting to ask Roger Ebert about one of my favorite movies, his cult classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and to have five minutes or so of conversation with the man as if it was only he and I sitting in that balcony….but after he wrapped up the Q&A, he walked back to the podium and proceeded to open the envelope on the award he was asked to present.

“In the category of Best Feature Film Director, the NIFTY (Naperville Independent Film) goes to …Jesse Pomeroy for World Full of Nothing.”

My heart swelled as Jesse walked up to the podium , shook Rog’s hand and accepted his award from a man who had inspired him to follow his dream…a dream that dated as far back as that summer of 1983.




After the pulmonary specialist, Rog look-alike left my hospital room I thought of that glorious September night…of my friend Jesse and his charming family and friend…of my giddy crush on Karen Allen…most of all, I thought of Roger Ebert and the permanent grin he will wear for the rest of his life…and I was reminded of something the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh said that has always stuck with me:

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”

Any worrisome thoughts drifted away as I pressed the button on the armrest and my bed inclined back. I reached for the remote and clicked on the TV to find a menu screen, much like you’d find in a hotel room. I pressed #2, the prompt for Entertainment, and quickly took in the choices.

Wow, I thought, they have like five movies on here I’d still like to see before the deadline. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad that I’d be here for four days. Actually, it felt more like the beginning of a vacation.

Glad you're ok, dude.

Yeah.

WOW!! Great story and really happy that you're okay. My god man.

Totally agree, and looking forward to part two of the story!

What an awesome start to the countdown. Cool story, I'm anxious for part two. Glad you're OK.

Glad to hear you're okay, PT!

I'm ashiver with anticipation for the rest of this story, moreso than our crappy little movie countdown.

I was thinking heavily about Rog this past week, in no small part due to his appearance on WGN-TV News. To hear him "talk" with his new (old) "voice" is astounding.

I get butterflies in my stomach every time I read "Ebert has left the building". Really bad title for that thread.

Glad things worked out for you PT. As always, terrific intro to what will undoubtedly be a thread that will consume me for the next couple weeks.

Story updated...countdown soon...way busier than usual this week but should mellow enough in the next few days to really get rolling. I'll have at least 3 or 4 movies up today.

Considering the medical nature of the story that followed, this typo was almost as scary:

And yet, another joy of the SOMB is underway (even tough i don't vote. Just don't see enough first run movies in the year of release). This time with some great storytelling. Thanks for making my day and good to see you in the pink.

Great story and good to hear you are well. Looking forward to the countdown, as ever. What's the deal with blurbs this time out (or have I missed that?)

Was wondering the same thing, actually.

since the music side of this board has become overwrought with turbo fags this is really the only SOMB countdown I have any real investment in.

Why do you have to be such a jerk about your language? I don't mean to be over sensitive, but that term is just really offensive.

"Turbo Fags"?

:

Yeah, I wish he either would say "overrun with turbo fags" or "overwrought due to turbo fags." I suppose the sentence is fair as written, but it leaves unnecessary ambiguity as to the relationship between the overwrought board and the turbo fags. :viv:

oh heavens how offensive! and on a message board of all places! i never!

can't tell if that post after mine by the no-name boarder is for real or not

probably for real.

Yeah, its for real. And it was posted by me... so I'm not sure why you say 'no name.'

You guys can make fun of me or respond 'that its a message board' or whatever, but the point is that using that term that way is really fucked up. The highest rate of suicides among teens is the gay and lesbian sub-group. And a ton of that has to do with the degrading way gays are talked about. I don't give shit if its on a message board or not, I'm going to call out people who are acting like bigot assholes.

I don't like homophobia either, but let's not derail this particular thread.

PT--glad you're stayin' alive. Great intro.

Agreed. Done and done.

You don't meant to be overly sensitive, fwiw.



It's arguably demeaning to refer to the LGBT community as a "sub-group."



I think you mean "bigoted assholes", or perhaps "bigots and assholes", though simply using "bigots", who are inherently assholes, would pretty much cover it.

Here we go...ooohhhhhhh....
....Oscar...Oscar, Oscar...Oscar Schindler, you've got nothing...on the Bastards....

(to the tune of Lady Gaga- Papparazzi)
We are the Bastards
we're cuh-coming out
Got my bat it's true
I'm called the Bear Jew
Nazi killing's my business
Business is a booming, oh

Watching Donny beat
to death every Nazi
the closest we get to
going out to the movies
Pop-a-Pop-a-Nazi

Col. Hans seems kind
with his pipe and cream so fine
Col. you'll be famous cuz we'll
chase you down until we scalp thee
Pop-a- Pop-a-Nazi


(to the tune of Ida Maria- I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked)

What the hell are
these Iguanas doing here
on the cofee table
There ain't no iguanas there

Yeah there are
and I fucking hate Medicare
and I'm nervous...I don't know what to do
light a joint
then I'll kill all of you

But I won't miiiiiinndd
if you sprout like a gazelle
and score a touchdown
I won't miiiiiiiiinnnd
if your soul is still dancing
I'll still shoot you down

Cuz I like you so much better when your Nic Cage
I hate me so much better when I'm Nic Cage
I like you so much better when your Nic Cage
I hate me so much better when I'm Nic Cage


(to the tune of Animal Collective- Lion In A Coma)

When all this mess will ever get away apart from Pandora
Weaving in and out of consciousness the Sky People full of merchandise
Everything is backwards now, out there the true world, in here is the dream
Col says this low gravity will make you soft, shit you out dead with no warning
there not going to give up their home, for what light beer and blue jeans
A story Shack and Montana can get behind
while Mitch and n.k. might prefer a lobotomy

This wilderness in Sully's head
We'll cure your insanity is what they said
This wilderness needs 3d in homes to get into our bedrooms...



...162 films were voted on by 50 SOMBIES, and the envelope please....

...the 60 Best Films of 2009:












"Mass destruction mass confusion
What's the difference to the orphan
Orphans of the dead
When no more machine guns strike and there's silence instead"








60. Munyurangabo

Directed By, Lee Isaac Chung

Roger Ebert's 4-star Review:

Perhaps the best way to approach a subject of bewildering complexity is with simplicity. “Munyurangabo” considers the genocide in Rwanda entirely through the lives of two adolescent boys. They are not symbols. They are simply boys who have been surviving on their own in a big city but are not toughened and essentially good. That's all.

Its story involves one of those miracles that can illuminate the cinema. It was directed by Lee Isaac Chung, 30, a first-generation Korean-American who grew up on a small farm in rural Arkansas. It was shot on location in Rwanda in two weeks. It involved only local actors. It is the first film in the Kinyarwanda language (with few, excellent and easy-to-read subtitles). It is in every frame a beautiful and powerful film — a masterpiece.

An opening shot shows Sangwa and Munyurangabo, called Ngabo, as friends embarking on a cross-country journey. They trek through a pastoral landscape, stricken by drought. There are no dangers along the way. They have been in Kigali, the capital city. They will stop at Sangwa's family farm. He hasn't seen his mother for three years. All seems well, although weighing in our mind is the machete Ngabo carries in his knapsack. Sangwa's mother is joyful to see him, his father reserved and stern: What kind of a boy runs away from home for three years? Why did he not stay to help his family raise his younger siblings? What kind of a thing is that? Who is this boy he is traveling with?

The answers to those questions comes in the unfolding of the story, an experience you should have without viewing the trailer, which provides an item of information you don't require. I will discuss instead the rural society Sangwa (Eric Ndorunkundiye) rejoins, and the city boy, Ngabo (Jeff Rutagengwa), sees for the first time. These people are poor. They catch water in plastic jugs from a trickle on the hillside. They till the soil by hand. They live in a house made from mud bricks. But this is not the wretched poverty you imagine. These people possess dignity and have a life they accept on its own terms, which is all they have known. Children run and laugh. Everything is done in its own time.

Sangwa's mother (Narcicia Nyirabucyeye) cherishes her boy and finds food for him when there is none. His father (Jean Marie Nkurikiyinka) is stern and not quick to forgive, but speaks to his son in reasoned words that obviously sink in. He knows what life is likely to bring Sangwa.

Chung, who also co-wrote with Samuel Gray Anderson, is a born filmmaker. You see that in his eye, his cinematography and his editing. He avoids pointless reaction shots and obvious payoffs; his strategy is to view a scene, give it weight and let it stand. Everything is perfectly clear, but nothing is hammered home. We get the point. He knows we do.

The timing and precision of the way Chung explains the boys' journey and the way he spaces out the information is so much more effective than crude narrative storytelling. Since all is known between the boys, they never have to tell each other anything simply so we can listen. All dialogue is to the moment, and therefore we understand everything. The playing out of Ngabo's big decision is handled with a perfect sense of the time he takes to arrive at it, and the way it was prepared for and comes about.

There is an extraordinary passage outside a little roadside restaurant. When Ngabo approaches it, an older boy is sitting outside in the shade. He sees the machete in the knapsack. He takes a swig from his beer and observes that tomorrow is National Independence Day. He has been asked to recite a poem he wrote. “Would you like to hear me say it?”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He begins with confidence and pride. It is all there, the whole canvas, Rwanda, its past, its future. The poet is played by Edouard B. Uwayo, and this is his own poem. Chung's decision to use it as he does is the right one, and the young poet's face evokes depths of wisdom.

“Munyurangabo” played in the Un Certain Regard section of Cannes 2007, where Variety's Robert Koehler called it, “flat-out, the discovery of this year's batch.” It won the grand jury prize at the AFI Film Festival. The Tomatometer stands at 100. If it seems like I'm trying to persuade you about this film, I am. It is rolling out across country in those few places where a film like this is welcomed. You can find it on DVD, and it went to Film Movement subscribers, who receive and can keep a film a month. They certainly got their money's worth.


Helmet52's Best Film of 2009

By far the single greatest movie Ricky Gervais will ever make










59. The Invention of Lying

Directed By, Ricky Gervais & Matthew Robinson




Roger Ebert's 3 1/2 star Review:

In its amiable, quiet, PG-13 way, "The Invention of Lying" is a remarkably radical comedy. It opens with a series of funny, relentlessly logical episodes in a world where everyone always tells the truth, and then slips in the implication that religion is possible only in a world that has the ability to lie. Then it wraps all of this into a sweet love story.

Ricky Gervais plays a pudgy everyman named Mark, who's a writer for a company that produces movies of stunning tedium. There's no comedy or drama in its productions, because of course fiction requires lies. Mark fails to turn the Black Plague into box office, and is fired, but not before his secretary (Tina Fey) tells him she has loathed every day she worked for him. Mark takes this agreeably enough; one is not easily insulted when everyone tells the truth all the time.

What would such a world be like? In "The Invention of Lying," a retirement home is called "A Sad Place Where Homeless Old People Come to Die." Pepsi ads say: "For when they don't have Coke." When Mark goes on a blind date with Anna (Jennifer Garner), she opens the door and starts right off with a hilarious line that Garner reportedly improvised on the spot. Then she says she finds him unattractive, there will never be any possibility of sex, and he is too short and fat to make a good genetic sperm source. At a restaurant, the waiter tells them he hates working there, and that Anna is out of Mark's league. Mark and Anna agree.

You see how it goes. Mark lives in a typical little city with bland people and no anger. Everyone always believes everyone else. I wonder if politics are even possible. We see this isn't an ideal situation. There are no consolations. Nothing eases the way.

Mark is a nice man, in that sneaky-smooth Gervais way, and would like to console his mother (Fionnula Flanagan), who is dying in a Sad Place Where Old People, etc. One day he undergoes an astonishing revelation. He knows his bank balance is $300. The camera zooms into his brain to show mental lightning bolts, and he tells the teller he has $800. She hands him the money and apologizes for the bank's computer.

He can lie! His world lacks even a word for this. Nor does it have the word truth. Something is either "so," or "not so." With his new power Mark is able to tell his mother that death does not lead to oblivion, but to a wonderful afterlife. Of course she, and everyone else, believes him. The word races around the world, and people beg for more details. Anna tells him how happy he could make everyone.

Then, in one of the funniest satirical scenes I can remember, Mark stands on his front steps and informs the world there is a Man in the Sky, and they will be happy up there with him after death. The world is ecstatic. This Man, Mark explains, is responsible for everything. "Even my cancer?" a woman asks. Yes, that too, but Mark asks his audience not to get bogged down in the details.

What we have here, in microcosm, is the paradox of a benevolent god creating a world of evil. Mark is hard-pressed to explain it, but greater men than he have tried. Think of the power you'd possess if everything you said was believed without question. Mark, under the circumstances, behaves reasonably well.

I saw the movie with a large audience, which laughed a lot. I have no idea what they thought of its implications. "The Invention of Lying" isn't strident, ideological or argumentative; it's simply the story of a guy trying to comfort his mother and perhaps win the woman he loves. Gervais, who co-directed and co-wrote with Matthew Robinson, walks a delicate tightrope above hazardous chasms.

He's helped greatly in his balancing act by Jennifer Garner's inspired, seemingly effortless, performance as a great beauty who isn't conceited or cruel but simply thinks Mark, with his pug nose, is the wrong genetic match for her children. She plans to marry Brad (Rob Lowe), who is as conventionally handsome (and boring) as Clark Kent. The film has one of those scenes at the altar ("Do you, Brad, agree to stay with Anna as long as you can?") that avoids obvious cliches by involving profound philosophical conclusions.

I saw the trailer for "The Invention of Lying" and expected to dislike it. It's a much better movie than the trailer dares to admit. Today's trailers would make "Sophie's Choice" into a feel-good story. Watching the movie, I thought -- oh, yeah, that's right: It's October. Good movies are allowed again.


Ranked Highest By,
Undo- #5

^^^
I felt like this movie was only good for about 50 minutes. Then it goes downhill quick. Didn't make my list.

Jennifer Garner is fantastic in The Invention of Lying. Too bad the awards show eschew comedies.

"Ga-ga-ooh-la-la"












58. Sita Sings The Blues


Directed By, Nina Paley


Roger Ebert's 4-star Review:

I got a DVD in the mail, an animated film titled "Sita Sings the Blues." It was an version of the epic Indian tale of Ramayana set to the 1920's jazz vocals of Annette Hanshaw. Uh, huh. I carefully filed it with other movies I will watch when they introduce the 8-day week. Then I was told I must see it.

I began. I was enchanted. I was swept away. I was smiling from one end of the film to the other. It is astonishingly original. It brings together four entirely separate elements and combines them into a great whimsical chord. How did Paley's mind work?

She begins with the story of Ramayana, which is known to every school child in India but not to me. It tells of a brave, noble woman who was made to suffer because of the foibles of an impetuous husband and his mother. Paley depicts this story with exuberant drawings in bright colors. It is about a prince named Rama who treated Sita unfairly, although she loved him and was faithful to him. There is more to it than that, involving a monkey army, a lustful king who occasionally grows 10 heads, synchronized birds, a chorus line of gurus, and a tap-dancing moon.

It coils around and around, as Indian epic tales are known to do. Even the Indians can't always figure them out. In addition to her characters talking, Paley adds a hilarious level of narration: Three voice-over modern Indians, Desis, ad-libbing as they try to get the story straight. Was Sita wearing jewelry or not? How long was she a prisoner in exile? How did the rescue monkey come into the picture? These voices are as funny as an SNL skit, and the Indian accent gives them charm: "What a challenge, these stories!"

Sita, the heroine, reminds me a little of the immortal Betty Boop, but her singing voice is sexier. Paley synchs her life story and singing and dancing with recordings of the American jazz singer Annette Hanshaw (1901-1985), a big star in the 1920s and 1930s who was known as "The Personality Girl." Sita lived around 1000 BCE, a date which inspires lively debate among the three Indians discussing her. When her husband outrageously accuses her of adultery and kicks her on top of a flaming pyre, we know exactly how she feels when Annette Hanshaw sings her big hit, "Mean to Me."

There is a parallel story. In San Francisco, we meet an American couple, young and in love, named Dave and Nina, and their cat, named Lexi. Oh, they are in love. But Dave flies off to take a "temporary" job in India, Nina pines for him, she flies to join him in India but he is cold to her, and when she returns home she receives a cruel message: "Don't come back. Love, Dave." Nina despairs. Lexi despairs. Cockroaches fill her apartment but she hardly notices. One day in her deepest gloom she picks up the book Ramayana and starts to read. Inspiration begins to warm the cold embers of her heart.

There are uncanny parallels between her life and Sita's. Both were betrayed by the men they loved. Both were separated by long journeys. Both died (Sita really, Nina symbolically) and were reborn--Sita in the form of a lotus flower, Nina in the form of an outraged woman who moves to Brooklyn, sits down at her home computer for five years and creates this film. Yes, she reveals in her bio that her then-husband "terminated" their marriage while he was in India. No ex-husband has inspired a greater cultural contribution since Michael Huffington.

One remarkable thing about "Sita Sings the Blues" is how versatile the animation is. Consider Sita's curvaceous Southern hemisphere. When she sings an upbeat or sexy song, it rotates like a seductive pendulum. Look at those synchronized birds overhead. When they return they have a surprise, and they get a surprise. Regard the marching greybeards. Watch Hanuman's dragging tail set a palace on fire.

The animation style of the scenes set in San Francisco and Brooklyn is completely different, essentially simple line drawings alive with personality. See how Paley needs only a few lines to create a convincing cat. Paley works entirely in 2-D with strict rules, so that characters remain within their own plane, which overlaps with others. This sounds like a limitation. Actually, it becomes the source of much amusement. Comedy often depends on the device of establishing unbreakable rules and then finding ways to break them. The laughs Paley gets here with 2-D would be the envy of an animator in 3-D. She discovers dimensions where none exist. This is one of the year's best films.



Ranked Highest By:
Undo- #6

Don't know if we're still guessing the clues/quotes


First movie's a Rancid Song called Rwanda

Second movie quote is a lie?

Third movie "Bad Romance"?

If more people had seen Munyurangabo, it no doubt would've placed way higher. I only saw it at the zero hour, and that was because of helmet52's list. Great film. Everyone should seek it out.

I'm surprised Ebert highlighted the front steps Pizza Hut commandments scene in Invention of Lying as one of the funniest. That shit was dreary and just went on and on and on with nary a laugh in sight.

I really enjoyed Sita, but I thought it started to drag near the end with far too many songs that sounded similar and seemed to blend together. Delightful picture for the most part, though, and damn funny at times. The three storytellers in particular were great.

Right on both accounts, Gooch.

I'm not going to be keeping exact track of points this year- rather will give subjective updates on who's bringing the most and best responses...think of it as like the Olympics with only one judge. Winner gets a gift card to AMC.

Also- if you haven't already mentioned that you want to blurb, let me know. I'll have assignments out early next week.

I'd like to blurb, as would Mitch and Caley.

I'm happy to blurb.

I know we're not supposed to quote whole entires, but those pics are so damn spectacular that I'm doing it anyways.

Was a big fan of Sita (Though not the biggest, apparently), a movie from which I expected nothing (I've long since taken Ebert reviews with a grain of salt, not because I don't think he knows what he's talking about, but because he often lets weird feelings/emotions cloud his viewpoints and I've been let down by his recommendations as often as I've enjoyed films he hates), but downloaded anyway, and asked my mom if she wanted to watch it (I believe I prefaced it with "It's some animated thing, and it's Indian, and independent so possibly/probably annoying...") and we had a tremendous time watching it, laughing at the three storytellers describing Indian mythology in a casual way, making jokes, it was like sitting in on another family's reunion, everything was completely foreign to me, but felt somehow oh-so familiar. I loved the Anette Henshaw songs, and the sight of the great big goofy moon dancing along the top of the wall was one of my favourite moments in film of the entire year. The modern autobiographical part of the film was unquestionably the weakest, but the rest of it was so good, I hardly noticed.

Didn't see either of the other two movies. When my friend (who LOVES everything Gervais does) couldn't give me an overwhelmingly positive review of Lying I had a funny feeling it would be disappointing. I still plan on watching it when it hits cable, just don't feel like paying for it.

And just to support what Slackmo said, I will surely blurb, pretty much anything off my list (Though I think many people would do a better job of Bad Lt., Where the Wild Things Are, and Anvil! than I would).

Damn, The Invention of Lying sure is polarizing for a comedy. Seems like a few people enjoyed it and a lot found it dreadful. Kind of would like to give it a chance.

I saw Helmet mention that he saw the Ebert four star rated Munyurangabo months and months ago and was the only guy in the theater and I've been meaning to check it out ever since, but I dunno. It's technically two and a half years old at this point. Probably why you're not seeing it on many critics' lists.

im sorry if i offended any of the faggots, niggers, spics, dagos, sand niggers, or jew-faggots reading this thread, it was a harmless comment that no one on the board four or five years ago would've glanced twice over and certainly wasn't trying to turn this thread into sum bullshit.

but no seriously, sorry n.k but you can ask anyone on the board, im about as queer as they come myself, been with my newest boyfriend for about eight months and we're very much in love, so lay off.

wont derail the thread any further, if you want pm me.

man i couldn't make it through sita sings the blues. maybe it was cause i was watching it on my laptop, but that shit got boring really fast.

also that nk post is really something else.

This year I hooked up my pc to my tv and downloaded and watched movies while laying in my bed with the lights off.

i even downloaded a blu ray rip of antichrist so i could watch charlotte gainsborough rip her clit off in high def

EPT, great opening to this year's countdown (I can't wait for the pre-broadcast short film to air on Sunday night), and I am thrilled you're OK. And please keep writing. Lovely style, there.

I didn't vote because I only saw two movies this year (Star Trek, The Informant, both of which I liked, but hardly list-worthy). Please carry on.

Yeah sure, but give me a big window, my SOMBIE time is limited...and let someone else do UP.

From the bittersweet prologue, to silly Billy Crystalish opening number, to the sweet photo stills, to words and wisdom from Uncle Rog...this is setting out to be another classic in SOMB history. El, muchos gracias already.

Muranyangabo (geez Louise, no wonder I never heard of it) is gonna be on my mind if I get the chance to rent an "off the beaten path" flick. Thanks Helmet etal.

please ban. this is just absurd, way too far. what a vile human being.

Have you guys been introduced?

On with the countdown please.

Elemeno PT, I like your style by the way.

Shackleton, you've been here since '07, and THIS has been the height of offensiveness for you?

OTM

oh come on stallone got away with swearing at that machine in demolition man

Let's all agree to table the considerations of what makes for a politically correct message board, plz. (And maybe table the baiting, even if it's OTM.)