Nicolas Cage: Is he a bad actor or just money hungry?
Nicolas Cage. Yes, that Nicolas Cage. We all know him, or of him, though to some he’s more of a living meme than an actual person or actor.
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Nicolas Cage. Yes, that Nicolas Cage. We all know him, or of him, though to some he’s more of a living meme than an actual person or actor.
As my girlfriend has so kindly reminded me, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Or is. Or was. It’s around here somewhere is the point.
So last week I started into my (very one-sided) discussion of this year’s Oscar field, and I spent most of that time looking at Tom Hooper’s adaptation of “Les Misérables” and little of that time talking about Quentin Tarantino’s “Django Unchained” and Steven Spielberg’s “Lincoln.”
Ah, award season, that magical time of year when the film industry gets together to congratulate itself for how great it is while the rest of the country sits around and watches. And sometimes people sing. It’s a special time.
All movies are, basically, a form of animation. They’re a series of images played one after the other so quickly that our mind sees them as one continuous piece rather than the thousands of individual parts they are.
So I was sitting at home over Thanksgiving break, and I gradually came to the realization that college students simply live on a different level of the space time continuum than the rest of the population. As a result, I found myself sitting up into the wee hours of the morning as the only conscious being in my house and did what any highly motivated student would do: spend time watching and rewatching old movies.
So, every week this semester I’ve used this column to write about movies and I’m going to do the same thing this week. If that surprises you, you’re reading the wrong column.
Who doesn’t love a good bad guy? Well that sounds weird, but you get what I mean. Or maybe you don’t.
There’s nothing more American than the Western. Well, other than apple pie. And baseball. And eagles. And democracy. And the Statue of Liberty. And more eagles.
Don’t you hate when writers or columnists will, like, take advantage of a conveniently placed holiday or celebration in order to get an easy column written? Like, say, if a film columnist were to write about scary movies close to Halloween? Isn’t that the worst?
Throughout Hollywood’s history, there have been men who stood head and shoulders above the rest, who towered over other men as giants of their industry and others in general. These men were called freaks, usually typecast as brute enforcers and used like the strongman in a circus. It was pretty awful.
I think we can all agree that, for the most part, movies are primarily a visual medium, right? Wrong!
America has a thing about war movies. Specifically, World War II movies.
I’ve got this theory about trilogies. Let’s call it a theorogy…a trilory…ok those both suck, but people I’ve tried to explain it to have dubbed it the Second Act Theory of Trilogies, so we’ll go with that because it sounds official and science-y and stuff.
I never got around to formally introducing myself last week, so belatedly—hi, my name is Austin and I will be your film columnist this evening/morning/afternoon/week/semester/however long they let me write it. Alright, cool, moving on.
Let’s face it. Everybody loves bad movies. But I don’t mean in a “guilty pleasure, you secretly really, truly enjoyed ‘Jack and Jill,’” type of way. I mean it in a goofy, campy, “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” type of way.