A.I., A.I., Oh

On a wall near the entrance of a medical office facility, both patients and employees have been asked to contribute to a Gratitude tree in honor of the unnamed holiday coming up this Thursday. (Any guesses?) The tree is barren as folks are encouraged to add a leaf with a message of recognition for something positive in their life. Some of the answers have been quite telling and evocative of life in the 2020s. One mentions being thankful her mother's cancer is in remission, which is wonderful, a leaf over is glad to wake up every morning while another, kind of curiously, appreciates reliable trucks. Hmm. All very sincere leaves on that tree, but one in particular stood out:

A drawing of a TV and a heart with the message :"I am grateful for A.I." 

There's no getting around it. The genie is out, proud and will never go back in the bottle because it will soon be in control. And personally, I don't believe the masses give a fig on way or the other because, in essence, they just want to be taken care of and that's exactly what the demon A.I. is doing, at least for now. We've all been warned about this since the dawning of technology and while it's all been fun and games to think about the advent of Artificial Intelligence being the Boogie Man of All Boogie Men, that's exactly what it boils down to: Fun and games and not be taken seriously. 

We've all dicked around with it. This blog is a perfect example (well, imperfect) and would n't be possible without the two letters that shall not be uttered again, at least in this paragraph. Look at your phones, as if you have to be told, or ask Siri to play you the latest Morgan Wallen tune, turn off your lights and empty your bank account. You (and me) have been lured in with Meme generators and reanimating photographs from long ago in a chance to relive a past without the consequence of memory. Great stuff to play around with and no reason to put childish things away.

There's no reason to harp on about deep fakes. We all believe how we want to anyway, so does it really matter anymore as long as you agree and the other side is a bunch of liars with their pants on fire. You're not going to change their minds any sooner than they will change yours. Right smack dab in the middle is A.I. (I'm back ! Miss me?) not playing referee, that's for sure, but the Chessmaster (or Mistress as if I give a fuck) moving all the pieces around the board. Funny how those pieces look like you and me, ain't it?

The entertainment industry, mostly the creators are all up in arms about it all, but their overlords would prefer to shut them up because they are all headed in this direction. Tilly Norwood is the first A.I. generated actress and will soon be starring in vehicles all her own. (Well, maybe not literally) In viewing her video introduction, I can't tell that she ain't real. She's pretty much a generic little nothing, one of a million other actresses out there who don't stand out from the crowd whatsoever. The clips from her reel are also indistinguishable from 99% of the crap out there, those made from honest to goodness talentless human beings who have junked up with the world with their disposable garbage in the land-fill known as modern entertainment. They (we) have done this to ourselves and there's no turning back.

So what to do? What, you think I have any answers? I'm not your chatbot. As much as this technology can be utilized as a force for good, there are enough insidious monsters out there in the world that will prey upon us, squeeze until there's nothing left and move on to the next series of victims. I can't say I won't use any of the tools available for my own purposes and actually suggest you do the same with the time we have left. Sound bleak? I would say it's more realistic, a word that's going to be offensive in the near future. 

At least, that's what Siri told me.

Scare Package

In this age of cinematic recycling via reboots, sequels and basically the same ol' thang time and time again, the horror film genre has stepped up with more originality than normal studio fare. Since this is the Halloween season, I think it's high time that throw out a few recommendations of scary movies from the recent past I've found worthy enough to recommend. 

In no particular order, here goes somethin':

LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL

A welcome spin on the found footage style popularized by THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, LATE NIGHT is appropriately set on All Hallow's Eve, a live broadcast of a young girl possessed by the Devil himself for your viewing pleasure, kind of a cross between THE EXORCIST and JIMMY KIMMEL LIVE. On HULU.

THE MONKEY

Osgood Perkins has really come into his own as an innovative filmmaker within the confines of horror, especially with the success of last year's LONGLEGS. While I found that particular film to be over-hyped, I did admire its style and unending sense of dread. He followed it up with this one, an adaptation of a Stephen King short story that takes an unexpected jump off the cliff into comedic territory, making it a slapstick gore-fest that elevated it in my eyes. This one sure earn cult status as a bona fide Halloween hoot. 

On HULU

SMILE 2

The only sequel here, a worthy follow up to the first that damn near crosses the finish line without a glitch, but, like so many films these days, fails to stick the landing. However, there is more than enough to recommend here, especially a star-making performance by Naomi Scott. She is perfection here and deserves to move up the ranks pronto. On PARAMOUNT +

STRANGE DARLING

Here's a topsy turvy mind fuck and a half of a thriller that begins as a one night stand and ends with...I ain't gonna tell you a damn thing. This is the kind of work spoilers destroy in their work and probably why it is nearly unknown. How do you sell something that if you reveal one iota of info, it ruins the entire experience? Be warned. This is rough stuff, but pays off in dividends you'll receive every time you even think of this movie. I can't wait to see what writer/director J.T. Mollner does next. And cinematography by Giovanni Ribisi? Who knew? On PARAMOUNT +

 

COMPANION

Sophie Thatcher plays the sweetest android love doll money can buy until she goes a little haywire. Also starring Jack Quaid, who looks so much like a de-aged version of his dad Dennis that I find distracting and Harvey Guillen, Guillermo himself, breaking out into familiar territory but breaking out nonetheless. On HBO MAX

THE FIRST OMEN

Busted. A reboot, reimagining, whatever you want to call this prequel, it worked for me and hopefully for you too. Oh, those crazy Catholics. On HULU                 

COLOR OUT OF SPACE 

Nicolas Cage goes full blown Nicolas Cage again in this, his 500th movie since the turn of the century, this time around in this Richard Stanley adaptation of an H.P. Lovecraft property, the first time it's been touched since DIE, MONSTER, DIE, one of Boris Karloff's last flicks in the 1960s. A comet lands on a farm and cosmic demonic hijinks ensure...or low-links as the case may be. Joely Richardson is as game as Cage (Body horror alert!) and that is a very good thing. And to top it off, Tommy Chong! On HULU

BIRTH/REBIRTH 

Yet another movie to mess with your mind. This is kind of an extension of THE MONKEY'S PAW and maybe even PET SEMATARY, but as a gripping as hell two-hander with Judy Reyes and the superb Marin Ireland. On HULU

SINNERS 

Ryan Coogler's vampire blockbuster from earlier this year did live to its hype, particularly a mid-movie sequence that was worth the price of admission alone. I didn't find it especially scary, however, but maybe in the cinema it might have played differently for me. On HBO/MAX

NOSFERATU  

I did catch Robert Eggers' remake on the big screen and was engulfed by not only overwhelming dread but a sense of fright that has since stayed with me. Such is the theater going experience. Those who took my recommendation for this film streamed it as I did SINNERS and found it lacking. I stand by my assessment, though I haven't granted it a re-watch at home. I guess I don't want to spoil my cinematic good time. Take that for what it's worth. On AMAZON PRIME

And the Grand Finale...(drumroll please)

WEAPONS

When a film in any genre lives to its potential as well as all the praise that has been foisted upon it by critics and the public alike, I'll do something I rarely do-stand with the crowd and cheer. Zach Cregger's insidious, ingenious creep-fest builds slowly, tripping over itself a couple of times until it amps up into a climax of bombastic proportions. Unlike most of what I've seen, both on and off this list, WEAPONS gains re-watchable status, a Michelin star in my book, and may very well be the best film I've seen this year. On HBO/MAX

  

So lots of non-fun-sized treats for all you ghosts, goblins and sexy nurses this Halloween. Now please don't soap my windows.

I Got Your Update Right Here, Pal

"Din't yew write a book or sumpin'? Whut the hey-ell hoppin' to it anyhoo?"

A couple of days before my birthday at the end of January, I posted that I had finally finished my novel entitled BURY ME NOT,  a major achievement in the life of me since it has taken nearly three decades to put the bloody thing together. I believe I had promised to provide updates as they presented themselves on its status to become an honest-to-Morgan Freeman book and I am long overdue to do so. So here you go.

There are no updates.

It's not for lack of trying, believe you me. It hasn't been that I've been waiting for the phone to ring because the world has been clamoring for this magnum opus, mainly because other than my previous posts concerning BMN, no one knows. If a bear shits in the woods, does anyone hear it? But this is what I can tell you:

BMN has been submitted to 5 different "traditional" publishers. A traditional publisher is defined as an established company that provides all the handiworks to get a book out on the market including editing, production, distribution etc., etc. etc. The waiting period for a traditional publisher to respond is painfully long, sometimes up to a year. I knew this going in so it's no surprise. It hasn't prevented from checking my e-mail every day for any news, anything at all. So far, one of the Big 5 has gotten back to me with a polite but emphatic NO. While disappointed, I'm actually grateful they pulled the trigger so quickly. Meanwhile, the wait continues. I do confess that I do have an inordinate fear of becoming the next John Henry Toole. 

I've also sent BURY ME NOT into a couple of contests too. Today I received word that I am not one of the finalists from Contest #1. Oh well. Number 2 will be announced at the first week of December.

So that's what's happening. Should I get a goose egg across the board with four more "No, thanks" from the pubs and not even a version of the home game as a consolation prize from the contest gods, I'll self-publish. I've done it before. I'll do it again. That's not admitting defeat. It's taking matters into my own hands. It's a struggle, but so is shopping at Costco.

Suck it up, buttercup

Life has been pretty lonely, writing-wise, since the completion of BURY ME NOT. I can't seem to finish a bloody thing with the exception of a few blog posts here, there but not everywhere. This has been a cause for concern on my part. The clock is ticking at even faster rate these days and soon, the alarm will ring with the proclamation, "Time's up, Buster! Pens down. They're not doing you any good anyway." Guess I'll have to rest on my laurels when that happens. Oh wait. I don't have any laurels. Yet. 

It's not as bleak as all that. I do have an upcoming production of my play DEAD TUESDAY slated for November with the Osage Community Players in Linn, Missouri, so there's that. And that is a very good thing indeed. Glass half-empty, my dying ass.

But book-wise, there you have it for it for now. Hopefully the next update will be a little more...up.

PREVIOUS POSTS ABOUT THIS BLEEDIN' BOOK

FIRST DRAFT DODGER

THE GRATING AMERICAN NOVEL

WHAT A NOVEL IDEA

Shorts Subject

Summertime and the living' ain't easy...

Yeah, I know. It's hot. You don't have to tell me. I don't have to tell you. Is it getting hotter? Sure seems to be. The world's on fire. I know it's summer. Don't state the obvious. It's becoming unbearable and not because I'm getting older. Everyone is, ya fool. 

Here in Oregon, we don't do heat. The temp rises to 100 and the local news announces a warning of EXTREME WEATHER CONDITIONS. But unlike other parts of the country where it maintains a constant cooking temperature, we Oregonians bitch and moan about it until it goes away in a couple of days, back to what could be considered normal for us. Then it returns and the whole process begins all over again-lather, rinse, repeat.

However, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of wearing shorts. This is abnormal behavior for me. I'm just not a short pants person. Never have been, even as a kid. In recent years, I've conceded to wearing them around the house (or apartment as my case might be), but out in public? That's where I usually draw the line, that is, until lately. My smart-ass line of defense is usually "You're going to have to pay good money to see these legs." No one has taken me up on that, not even spare change. I would have taken a check. 

So what's my hesitation? It's not my legs. They're still in pretty decent shape. A few years back, I was in the A.R. Gurney play SYLVIA where I played three roles-male, female and to be decided. (I suppose now the character could be considered non-binary.) Anyway, greeting the audience after the show one night, an older gentleman approached me with the line "Hey, you gotta nice set of legs." Even though flattered, I still called security. (My wife has made the same comment, but her opinion actually matters.) Under wraps from the sun, my stems are pretty translucent, so there's that, but that's not the issue. What is it then, you nutjob? I suppose I feel too vulnerable, as though I've afraid of losing whatever dignity I have left, such as it is. In another play, I appeared in the buff from behind when I dropped the only thing I was wearing on stage at the time, that being towel. So much for my spurious argument. 

But that was then (25 years ago) and this is now. I finally had to bow under to the pressure, the high pressure that is Since I'm still working, I reserve the 95 degree plus days for the donning of the shorts. Some wear better than others, though I'm restricted by a goddamn company dress code. (At my fucking age. Jesus Horatio Christ) So I'm stuck with khaki Cargos. One has leg holes twice the size of my thighs. I call them my fat shorts. I wisely try not to look in the mirror for fear I won't be able to leave the house so I avoid any and all if possible in this garb. Accidentally catching my reflection in a window the other day nearly gave me the cue to run into freeway traffic. Horrified, I can see myself as I truly was in my sporty ensemble that day consisting of those attractive overweight bloomers, a bright blue polo shirt w/company logo and an ID lariat around my scrawny neck. I looked like the Head Counselor at Camp Polanski. "Hey, kids! Who wants to go an overnight nature hike?"

At least I'm not wearing black socks. White crews are evidently off the menu as well, looking almost as dorky, but at least blending in with the paleness of my gams. Now, after more whining from yours truly, I've been forced to don low-cut ankle socks which I had abhorred for decades. They creeped me out over the years. I have a tendency (or nervous habit, if you will) of pulling my socks up more than the average bear. Wearing this non-footwear, I can't. They won't make it past the top of the shoe. My ankles are exposed. They are my Achilles heels. They're out there for the world to see and do their business on or with or...I have foot issues, okay? I have a lot of issues if you want to know the ugly truth. More like volumes, but that's beside the point. (Or is it?) The bottom line is what my spouse told me so. I forgot all about them after awhile. Fine. I'll admit when I'm wrong. This time. Wait. Now they're an issue with these as well? Thanks, Gen Z! Who asked you? Go stare off into space and leave me alone, you little goons.

Whatever the damn hell. I've had it with summer. Get this season over and done with already. Soon the air will turn cool and crisp, the leaves and foliage will transform into a beauteous display of autumn, my favorite time of year. 

Then I can begin my incessant bellyaching about pumpkin spice...in my long pants.

Can't wait. 

Neil and Farewell

When I learned of Neil Pollard's passing on July 28, the first thing that came to mind was it was truly the end of an era. That may seem like hyperbole to those outside the Pollardville circle of life, but for those of us who lived, loved, played and yes, even worked at either the Chicken Kitchen, Ghost Town or Palace Showboat Theatre, that phrase resonates and it's all due to this guy right here.  

I've written before about Neil as recently as last year in post about my on stage experiences with him during my first show at the Palace, not to mention my assessment that he was one of the funniest men who ever walked the earth. To avoid repeating myself yet again, something I have been able to do without effort as of late, I'll instead say something I should have said to the man in person:

Thank you.

Thank you for hiring me on as the train driver at the Ghost Town in the first place. I applied not because of the whopping dollar sixty five per hour you were offering, but because my best friend Ed Thorpe convinced me that this was going to be the best playground we could ever imagine. He wasn't wrong either.

Thank you for NOT firing me in the second, third and fourth places for train related incidents like two derailments on my first weekend, clipping Ray Rustigian's car with the cow catcher (he parked too close to the tracks!) and smashing into the side of the cab with Ed's car after we jumped started the battery yet again. (What did it take to get fired from this guy?)

Thank you for producing the very first performances of LA RUE'S RETURN, that melodrama written by a pair of pain in the ass young snot-nosed playwrights, namely Ed Thorpe and myself on the Palace stage. But you didn't want to give us any money for it, saying that the opportunity was payment enough. Because of Ed, we managed to get a couple of bucks out of you, ya tightwad.

Thank you for Pollardville itself. Sure, it was a family business started by your old man, the inimitable Ray B. Pollard, but I don't think you got enough credit for your accomplishments. With spare parts and leftovers, not to mention blood, sweat and tears, you transformed, among other things, a western movie set into the Ghost Town, a former cannery building into the Palace Showboat Theatre and the Polynesian-style Islander restaurant into the new Chicken Kitchen. The end result was the stuff of legends. Where else could someone ride a train around the entire property, take in the majestic wonders of Morada and be held up by a gang of desperadoes in the Back 40...pan for gold at the old mine in the center of town...eat fried chicken in a jail cell...Boo the villain, Cheer the hero and Aww with pathos with the helpless heroine every Friday and Saturday night? 

Moas of all, Neil, thank you for being you. I have always been a proud, card-carrying member of the Neil R. Pollard fan club. You were truly one of the most memorable characters I've met in this lifetime. I always referred to you as Uncle Neil as a term of endearment. You never knew this, but when I couldn't find a suitable candidate to vote for during any given election time, I would write in your name on the my ballot. If I got enough people to do the same, you could have been Governor of California. I grew to really respect you as a person, maybe because there were two sides to your personality that I could see, kind of a Dr. Neil and Mr. Pollard. On the one hand, Dr. Neil was a tireless worker, that private businessman who worked hard to keep it all together on a daily basis. On the other, the playful Mr. Pollard would suddenly appear, playing cowboy out in the Ghost Town or appearing on stage at the Palace Showboat, singing (sort of), dancing (kind of) and definitely showing off your excellent, natural born comedic chops. For many of us, being in the spotlight meant everything. To you, it seemed you only needed a quick shot every now and then to remind yourself what it was all about in order to get back to the business at hand and keep it going for as long as you could. 

When the time came to finally ride into the sunset for the very last time, Pollardville, that magical, mystical land that existed between Stockton and Lodi on Highway 99 and bared your family name, closed for good in 2007. And though you are no longer with us and it truly is the end of an era, the spirit of that place you kept alive and kicking all those years will long be remembered and revered, as will you, my friend.

 So long, Uncle Neil. Thank you for everything...and I do mean everything.

More about Neil: THE ADVENTURES OF CRASH POLLARD

Simply More of the Best-The Docs

 

Like I said, my list of my favorite films of the 21st century (see previous: SIMPLY THE BEST)  is incomplete, so I took another dive to round up a few worthy documentaries. Again, there are more, but this should tide you over until the cows come home. Where did they run off to anyway?

THREE IDENTICAL STRANGERS

Triplets separated at birth finally coming together made for a fascinating character study times three.

20 FEET FROM STARDOM

So many music docs to choose from, but I preferred the unsung heroes like the studio musicians of THE WRECKING CREW and MUSCLE SHOALS. This one about backup singers took the prize though.

DICK JOHNSON IS DEAD

A filmmaker puts her dying father through a series of possible death scenarios on film, helping the two of them cope with his inevitable demise. Sounds morbid? Sure. The resulting film is more of a celebration of life that you might imagine.

ROOM 237

Conspiracy theorists invade the film world, this time with Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of THE SHINING. Even the skeptical can't deny the fascination this film exudes. Maybe lil' Stevie King would actually concur if he removed the stick Stanley stuck up his ass.

CUTIE AND THE BOXER

Sweet-ass love story of a pair of artists, navigating their married life after 40 years together as she finally emerges from her husband's shadow. About time.

THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON

A manic depressive singer/songwriter, long existing in the shadows, finds his way into the sunlight at long last. SEARCHING FOR SUGAR MAN about the "lost" musician known as Rodriquez would be a great companion piece.

WINGED MIGRATION

After this hypnotizing film, I became a huge fan of Canadian geese, mainly because they flock to this area. Yeah, they're huge pains in the ass, crap everywhere and take their goddamn time to cross the road in traffic. People are worse.

CITY OF GOLD

So many food pics to choose from, I went with this about LA restaurant critic Jonathan Gold who championed many an underdog in the face of trendiness.

KING OF KONG: A FISTFUL OF QUARTERS

This rivalry of video game nerds is a whole lotta fun, especially to mock. I used to be one. Now I declare myself a geek and proud of it.

AKA MR. CHOW

Having no clue who this guy was beyond the owner of a bunch of restaurants, I came away inspired by a man who can constantly reinvent himself. Maybe it's frustrating for those who are close to him, but it makes for a great story. 

THE WOLFPACK

A great bookend to THREE IDENTICAL STRANGERS, another family saga about a group of kids who were locked away in a New York apartment, closed off from the outside world by their wacky  tyrannical father. They learn about life from the movies. Kinda like me.

There you have it. Seek these out and see if your assessments coincide with mine. If you want to compare notes, you know where to find me.  

(Sorry. POOP CRUISE didn't make the cut.)

Simply the Best

The New York Times decided to compile a list of the best films of the 2000s thus far since it's 2025 and all. The fact that the year's not over is beside their point unless they have inside info that the remaining lineup of releases are going to suck burro balls. 

I've seen quite a few myself, don'tcha know and my list, while incomplete since my movie appetite is voracious but my memory is nearly gone with the wind, follows in no particular order.

CITY OF GOD (2002) Brazilian director Fernando Meirelles' brutal look at gang violence mesmerized me.

HERO (2004) Difficult to pick a favorite between CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON, HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS and this from Zhang Yimou, but that's what I went with, mainly because it afforded one of the best nights in a cinema I had spent in a long time. All three of these offer superb, albeit tragic love stories, making the selection of a favorite even more daunting.

WES ANDERSON Fell in love with the filmography of this gentleman early on in the century with THE FANTASTIC MR. FOX,  MOONRISE KINGDOM, THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL and THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (numero uno in my book)

THE ASSASINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (2007) Sumptuous, simply sumptuous, Andrew Domink gave the world the best western of the modern era with a performance by Brad Pitt that finally made me sit up and take notice.

BEST IN SHOW (2000) The mockumentary style had been done to death by now, but ignoring that is Christopher Guest's timeless comedy with a cast made in heaven

GOSFORD PARK (2001) Robert Altman got one more classic in before he kicked. Thank you, Jesus. Julian Fellowes wrote the screenplay, so you can thank this film for DOWNTON ABBEY. You're welcome.

THE HURT LOCKER (2008) Goddamn right, Katheryn Bigelow. You deserved it.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD (2019) Quentin Tarantino's output in the 2000s contained quite a few home runs, but this was a grand slam.

PIXAR Once the gold standard, its very name was enough to put butts in seats and deliver the goods, which were great by the way. FINDING NEMO, WALL-E and RATATOUILLE all made the grade and beyond, but nothing moved me more than UP (2009). Maybe I identify with Carl too much.

LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY. For three years in a row, these served as my birthday movies and no greater presents did I give myself. Too bad Peter Jackson can't find a way to move on, but I suppose this was his STAR WARS. You get it, don't you, George?

WOLF OF WALL STREET (2013) Martin Scorsese finally won his Oscar for THE DEPARTED, but I refused to believe this sucker was the work of a filmmaker well into his seventies. 

ANIME My grandson, then about 5, introduced me to the magical world of Hayao Miyazaki by way of SPIRITED AWAY (2001) and I became instantly hooked. I have my grandson, then 6 years old, to thank since we watched it together. It also led me to the unfortunately truncated work of Satoshi Kon whose PAPRIKA (2006) prompted me to seek it out on the big screen.

SIDEWAYS (2004) Big Alexander Payne fan, especially with this one which hit me right where I live, reminding me of fine times with my best friend Max and my struggles as a budding writer. Still budding, by the way.

SKYFALL (2012) Everything I've ever wanted in a James Bond film and so much more. (See blog post: SKYFALL: THE LEGEND FINALLY CONTINUES) 

PAN'S LABYRINTH (2006) Guillermo Del Toro. Need I say more? 

LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (2008) Best vampire film of this century.

OLD BOY (2003) Twenty years hence, I'm still reeling from this one from the amazing Park          Chan-wook. NOTE: Not the Spike Lee remake. Got it?

CHRISTOPHER NOLAN- Yet another excellent reason to continue  seeing a film in an actual theater what with INCEPTION (my fave), DUNKIRK, MEMENTO and OPPENHEIMER

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE (2009) Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's children's classic has been unjustly forgotten. 

THE COEN BROTHERS- Still my go-to filmmakers, I adore O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU (2000) overall and not NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN because it threw me for such a loop with a twist I didn't expect or necessarily want that it's still hard for me to get over it. I guess I should just grow the hell up already. 

CLINT EASTWOOD- His Oscar win for MILLION DOLLAR BABY proved UNFORGIVEN wasn't a fluke, but MYSTIC RIVER (2003) the previous year was off the charts. 

BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD (2012) Another superb debut from a promising director who should be working more. Where the heck are you, Behn Zeitlin?

JUNO (2007) Big fan-yesterday, today and tomorrow. 

SIN CITY (2005) Robert Rodriquez and Frank Miller elevated the graphic novel on film to new heights.

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE (2008)  I danced out of the theater after I saw this. Someone had to post bail, but it was worth it.

TIME CRIMES (2007) One of those time travel mind-fucks that I crave. 

REQUIEM FOR A DREAM (2000) Probably the best film I will never see again. It will mess you up. You have been warned.

STEVEN SPIELBERG- Taking the reins from the deceased Stanley Kubrick, A.I. finally saw the light of day or a projection screen for that matter. I'll defend it to the death. The same with his version of  WAR OF THE WORLDS.

NIGHT WATCH/DAY WATCH (2004/2006) The only Russian films I saw were these two pieces of a bat-shit crazy fantasy/horror/action saga. How can anyone hate a moovie where a guy drivesup the side of a skyscraper?

TELL NO ONE (2006) French version of a Harlan Coben novel, brilliantly executed.  

DISTRICT NINE (2009) Neill Blomkamp's debut with the sci-fi allegory set in Johannesburg has not been equaled, especially by himself. Still rooting for you, Neill.

WATCHMEN (2009) Zack Snyder. The name conjures up ire, scorn and, from me, admiration, for giving my number one comic book series the film it deserved.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE WORLD (2010) Yes, a Michael Cera movie is on this list.  Shut up. It's Edgar Wright.

TAKE SHELTER (2011) Gloom and doom on a personal level made for a fascinatin picture from Jeff Nichols and an overlooked performance by Michael Shannon.

THE INVITATION (2015) Not the 2022 horror film , this is a masterful slow-burner from Karyn Kusama that pays off in spades. (Is that a bridge reference? I thought so. I don't play cards. I just watch movies.)

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (2011) Did this make the list because I saw it during that amazing summer I spent in Brooklyn? Partly. It's also the last Woody Allen movie I admire. So there. 

BAD SANTA (2003) A holiday favorite. Still. 

MUHOLLAND DRIVE (2001) David Lynch, one mo' time.

SINNERS (2025) This is bit of a cheat. Ryan Coogler's film is flawed and unwieldly, but contains what has to be the most amazing sequence about midway through, an incredible feat of filmmaking that will be discussed for years to come. I may come around on the movie as a whole upon a second viewing, but knowing what waits in the center will most certainly draw me back in.

As I said, an incomplete compilation. There isn't one documentary here and there have been several. If I delved deeper, I'd never get this together, so take this as it is. While I agree with many on the NYT list, but they didn't make here. Taste is subjective, especially mine. Your mileage may vary. Six months to go, people!