The Queen of the Screen

I’ve been pretty busy lately, so in lieu of the standard movie-mash up, you get my reviews in the format of an overworked absolute monarch on grievance day.


Southland Tales: If ever a movie embodied the fall of a noble ideal into debauchery, ill-will, and squandering of thespian capital, it is Southland Tales. If the Queen can’t figure out what the hell is even going on in the movie, how may we expect our common people to cope?

Judgment: Strip Kelly of title, deport to Australia for hard labor. You want to tell south land tales, sir? Time for your own.


Paranoid Park: A spare story padded by means of a scrambled timeline and skate footage that looks like it was stolen from Thrasher’s video archives. I will concede, however, that Sir Van Sant did nimbly avoid a conclusion that would have led to his immediate execution.

Judgment: The petitioner’s life shall be spared, but be warned that future exploits of this nature will not be indulged so generously.


In Bruges: Although the plotline is threadbare, the actors’ interpretation -- and the backdrop of the city of Bruges --pulls this film above the sludge that so many movies are content to wallow in, heedless of how they shall be judged by God and man. Also, mad points for including Danse Macabre references in a modern piece.

Judgment: Grant with lands, and appoint to Council of Nonsucky Films, currently short of members.


Sweeney Todd: I had hopes, sir. You, sir, too, sir, should have been a piece after my own blackened heart. A goddamn musical about goths taking murderous revenge while wearing Victorian-by-way-of-Burton outfits? Where did it go wrong? The problem, I think, is that the movie not only doesn’t go anywhere, but it doesn’t even have that much fun staying in one place. Meh.

Judgment: Spare life, but cancel invitation to my next birthday ball.

My enlightened majesty of course welcomes insight from my people.