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lolainblue · 6 years

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Thunderbirds -- Chapter 40

T/W: Impllied abuse

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious@meghan12151977@mustlove6277 @fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @lady-grinning-soul-k @snewsome756

As I held Roger and waited for him to calm down, a thousand memories flooded through my head in bits and pieces, like flashes from a movie.

In the first one, it's 1985, I'm ten and back at Sugarbush Elementary. I'm hiding in the girls bathroom, the one by the art room in the basement; the one with no windows and the fluorescent light that is about to burn out that keeps buzzing and flickering. I've been crying and I'm hiding in the last stall, my feet drawn up on the toilet seat so no one can see by my shoes that I'm there. I've listened while Abby Norris has said more mean things about me in two minutes than I have ever even thought about anyone else altogether in my entire life, listened while she called me horrible things and her friends laughed and I wished I could become invisible, or die, or at least move back to Greenwood where I didn't have a lot of friends but at least no one called me names or pushed me down on the pea gravel by the swings and tore a hole in my favorite pair of jeans, the Zena ones that didn't come from the Sears catalog or have stupid rainbows or teddy bears on the pockets. I wait until after the bell has rung before I finally get up enough courage to come out, and as soon as I am back in the hallway, there he is, one of the popular boys, the one who eats lunch at Abby's table and is always staring out the window, probably the cutest boy in the entire school. I'm ten but I already learned long ago that the prettier they are the meaner they are. I freeze as he takes in my swollen eyes and blotchy red face and I wait for him to say something ugly, or sneer and run away and tell everyone the new girl was crying in the downstairs bathroom but he just smiles and tosses his sandy bangs back out of his eyes. Hey you're that new girl from Greenwood, right? Your name is Jane isn't it? he is saying, blue eyes crinkling up as he grins at me, and I don't understand why he is being nice, everyone here has been so awful, but he reaches into the pocket of his neatly pressed khakis and pulls out a pack of Juicy Fruit gum and offers me a piece. I take it like a feral deer accepting corn from someone's hand, and as I unwrap it – I can still smell it, that distinctive tutti-frutti scent that still makes me smile eighteen years later – he is talking to me like we have been best friends from birth I'm Roger Harrington, I'm in Miss Kovacs's class too, No one new ever moves here, this town is so boring, bet you didn't want to come here and I have no idea how much my life has just changed but it's the most important thing that has ever happened to me and I want to live in that moment just for a bit but too soon the memory has slipped away, and I am back to rocking Roger in his bedroom in our oh-so modern NYC apartment but I might as well be back in that green institutional bathroom as helpless his tears have made me feel.

“What happened, Roger?” I asked him once he stopped crying enough that I thought he could form words again. “Before your mom, I mean. We both know that's not where this started.”

“It started with Daphne,” Roger admitted. “She wanted us to move in together, wanted a ring. I told her I wasn't ready, that I didn't even know what the hell I was doing with the rest of my life. She started in on wanting kids again, I told her I didn't. I reminded her that I had been clear about that from the beginning. She said she didn't think I was serious, didn't everyone say they didn't want kids when they were younger. But she knew, Jane, I told her how I grew up, that I didn't want that...”

It's still 1985 in the background movie in my memory but it's a few weeks later, and Roger is coming over to my house after school for the first time. My mother greets us in her apron, offering fruit punch and bologna sandwiches cut into little triangles, and I am waiting for Roger to comment on in it all. My mother was 44 when I was born and she is an anachronism, proud to be June Cleaver in a world of career minded Maggie Seavers and Claire Huxtables. People ask if she is my grandmother sometimes and I know it bothers her, but it makes me furious because I adore her, she is the best mom I can possibly imagine, but Roger, of course, makes no such gaffe, he is charming as always. He sits politely with me at the kitchen table while we are supposed to be doing homework, making small talk with my mother while she offers him cookies Harrington? Are you related to Alderman John Harrington? she asks him and of course he tells her he is, yes, John Harrington's son, the Alderman, the Deacon over at the Sacred Day church, those Harringtons, and I see how his voice clips a bit and his eyes change even though he keeps right on smiling. I don't know anything about Aldermen, or that church, we're Presbyterians, but Roger and my mom exchange a look and I realize an entire conversation has been had that I probably wouldn't understand if they explained it to me. They get on famously, Roger Harrington and Marybeth Sewell, and Roger comes home with me after school from that day forward almost every day until we finally walk through the door in our caps and gowns, to a fancier punch and finger sandwiches that all of my family and none of Roger's shows up for.

“It doesn't have to be like that, you know,” I said, taking his hands in mine. “It's okay to want whatever you want but it doesn't have to be like it was in your family. You would never be like that, Roger.”

He shook his head, jaws tight, and I could see another tear escape and roll down his cheek. It made me so angry even all these years later, the things he went through, the things we were powerless to stop because of who his father was, the things I tried to so hard to protect him from. He always seemed so strong then, like he was made of Teflon, like none of it ever stuck. I never even understood that he needed me at all, I thought it could have been any friend who would have taken him in. I was so naive. It took me years and a lot of life experience to really understand how much damage was done, and the more I sat here and looked at him the more the memories kept flooding in.

It's 1990 and we're in high school finally, underclassmen but we don't care, we're happy to have left middle school behind. The spring dance is coming up but Roger won't be going, he isn't allowed to go to school dances, he isn't allowed to dance at all or listen to popular music even though we dance in my family's den to New Kids On The Block and he has a secret collection of mixtapes in a box underneath my bed. I know I won't get asked. I'm skinny and awkward and I've gone back to being invisible, which isn't great but at least Abby Norris doesn't bother me much anymore. We are our own private club anyway, we plan the parties we will have when we are grown andoff to film school and living in LA, with all the fabulous connections we will make, and that's what we're doing now, gigging over imaginary menus and star-studded guests lists as we help my mother make meatloaf in the warm kitchen on Calavera Street. My father comes home from work early, he will retire in a few years from the accounting position at the supply company he loves so much, but for now, he is still working, shuffling through the door at the end of his day with a Where's my Janey? and I am still enough of a daddy's girl to throw myself into his arms and take his hat from him. He starts telling jokes, those terrible ubiquitous dad jokes, while he looks over our shoulders, Roger peeling potatoes while I chop them What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire? Frostbite! and when he chortles out the punchline he claps Roger on the back. Roger is already taller than my dad but still thin from the growth spurt, and though I expect him to collapse a bit under the force of the blow I am not prepared when he bleats like a frightened lamb, dropping the potato peeler and falling forward onto the counter, covering his head. Everything stops and I swear I can hear the big Westminster clock on the dining room wall ticking away the seconds before my father moves carefully, oh so carefully to Roger, placing his hand reassuringly on his shoulder as they make weighty eye contact. Roger's hand is shaking as he moves my father's aside and turns around, shoulders hunched forward, gripping the counter as he gives my father permission to do something he cannot do himself. They are both facing me, and I can see Roger's eyes, wet and gray, staring straight into my own, unwavering, and behind him my father's eyes as he lifts Roger's neat plaid shirt, eyes that go round as his face pales. He never says a word, just takes his jacket and hat off the hook by the door and walks out, not returning again until eleven o'clock that night, after my mother has made us Rice Krispie treats and let us watch TV while she did all the washing up and made up the trundle bed before sending us upstairs for the night. It's not the first time that this has happened, but it is the worst. I don't know what is said when he comes back, we can hear my parents speaking in hushed tones in the kitchen while Roger and I lie awake in my room, staring at the glow in the dark plastic stars on my ceiling. I know that my father has made many phone calls about Roger by this point in our lives, but it never changes anything. After this night, however, Roger is with us more than ever, and even though he only stays over a few nights a week at first my mother converts Mitch's old room into one for Roger, and he decorates it with all the things he isn't allowed to like at home.

“It's okay, Jane. She wasn't the one for me, she was never going to be. But the things she said... I know she was angry. But she said I was exhausting. That all I did was take from the people around me.”

“That's not true at all!” I protested. Roger was one the kindest and most generous people I had ever known. If Daphne had said that to him it had to have been done purposely just to upset him. “You know she was just saying that, right?”

Roger shook his head. “I am too dependent on other people for my happiness, Jane. She's right.”

“Fuck that heinous cow, she was not right. We're not meant to be islands, Roger. It's okay to need people.”

“I'm too dependent on you. In eighteen years I don't think I've made a move without you, certainly not any important one. It doesn't matter what is going on, in the back of my mind it's always “Wait and see what Jane thinks” or “You should ask Jane first” before I can do anything. And I am not sure anymore if that's the best thing for us but the biggest part of me doesn't care. I don't want to do anything if it's not with you.”

“I understand, Roger. I have these thoughts too sometimes, but I'm with you. I don't care. You're my person.”

“How are we ever going to find someone else then? If I'm devoted to you and you're devoted to me, where does that leave room in our lives for anyone else?”

“The right person will fit in, Roger. You're like a sibling I'm close to. No one would demand I ditch you if you were my brother. Shannon doesn't expect me to ditch you. Someone will come along for you that understands our bond too.”

Roger got a look on his face like I had tried to feed him broccoli sauteed in earwax. “Fuck you and Shannon. That is not the relationship you think it is Jane.”

“What the hell, Roger? Again? Could you maybe give it a chance?”

Roger let out a loud growl before picking up one of his pillows and hurling it to the floor. “That's not what the fuck I mean! Shannon isn't the problem, Janey. You are!”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded.

“You planned it all out. You were the one that gave us direction, you were the one with the goals that knew how to get there. I just wanted out. So I held on to you as tight as I could and off we went. And we did it, Jane. You've been published, I've made my career. So now what? We didn't plan past this. We're just 28. We can't be done.”

“We aren't done, Rog.”

“Then what? Because all you've done since you got that book contract is the same thing you've done in your love life. You just ricochet around like a pinball, bouncing off whatever you bump into, whatever guy you bump into. You're with Shannon because you bumped into him again. You keep typing on the laptop but you don't know what you're writing anymore. You don't have a plan. I don't have a plan. I don't even know what I want. I never expected to get this far.”

“It's not like that. I've been going full speed since I was a kid. I'm just catching my breath.”

“And what happens to me when your next plan doesn't include me?”

“I would never not include you.”

“It's funny. I never worried about us when you were with Angus. I knew he would never be there for you like I was. But with Shannon, I don't know Jane. You're all over the place with him but you get so obsessed. He's the only guy that's ever made me scared you'd leave me.”

“Roger I could never leave you.”

“Of course you could. You could throw me aside the same as anyone. My family did. You're not even related to me.”

“Fuck them, every last fucking one of them. They are horrible excuses for human beings and I am so sorry you had to be born into that family but FUCK THEM. You're a Sewell, Roger. Ask my mom. Ask my dad. Hell, ask Mitch. I will never ever ever let you go. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. If it means I never find another boyfriend then so be it. I choose you.”

We didn't say anything else. I had more questions, I wanted to know what he had done the previous night, but instead I held Roger until he cried himself out and finally fell asleep out of exhaustion. I got Shannon to come help me tuck him into bed and then afterward I poured us both a drink and sat up until three in the morning alternating between explaining to Shannon what was going on, what Roger's childhood had been like, and checking on Roger. Shannon seemed to understand, but I knew he'd had a rough childhood as well, with troubled relationships with the various father figures in his life, so I figured if anyone was going to get it was going to be Shannon.

If he minded that his visit had been filled with dealing with Roger and his issues Shannon never said so. I apologized about not getting to go out but he just shushed me and took me to bed, holding me tightly as our bodies moved together, letting me grip him like an anchor in a rough sea. Maybe I didn't have a plan, maybe I had bounced into Shannon and lost what little focus I had left. That didn't mean I couldn't get a new one. Being without a plan for a while didn't sound like the worst thing in the world. I had always been wound a little too tightly anyway. Maybe it was time to take a step back, relax, go with the flow. As long as I could hold onto Shannon and Roger I thought everything would be fine.

When I got up late the next morning Roger was already up, hunched over a mug of coffee at the kitchen island. I poured myself a mug and sat down next to him, feeling as exhausted and hungover as if I had partied all night. We didn't talk, just periodically leaned into each other for a nuzzle, and when he got up for a refill he topped me off too. Shannon eventually joined us, pouring a mug and sitting down on the other side of me, sensing the mood enough to leave the silence unbroken. Eventually we began discussing food, and we were halfway through our late breakfast when the doorbell rang.

Jared was supposed to be picking up Shannon on his way through the city to their next stop. He wasn't supposed to be showing up until that afternoon, however. We had planned to have Shannon packed and ready to go, to minimize any contact between Jared and Roger if necessary but when the person on the other side of the door turned out to be Jared hours ahead of schedule that plan went out the window. Hoping for the best I gave him a big hug and invited him in.

“Nice place,” Jared said as he peeked around, avoiding looking directly at Roger. Roger scooped up his plate and mug and put them in the sink before heading back to his bedroom without a word.

“Sorry man, I'm not ready to go. Wasn't expecting you til later,” Shannon apologized as he wolfed down the rest of his eggs. “Give me just a minute and I'll gather things up.”

“No hurry,” Jared said, turning over a small pewter sculpture that sat on the long shelf by the door and glancing in the direction Roger had disappeared to. “Finished up early and thought I'd come by and see how everyone was.”

Shannon nodded and walked back toward the bedroom and I led Jared over to the newly vacated kitchen island, offering him some tea. As I put the kettle on I kept catching him looking down the hallway, biting at his cuticles and generally paying no attention to the small talk I was trying to make. I sat his mug and the tea bags down in front of him with a sigh. “You came here early on purpose, didn't you,” I accused. Jared shrugged. “It's really not the best time,” I explained.

“Look, I know he's pissed at me. I kind of made an ass of myself the last time I saw him. I just want to apologize, that's all.”

“No offense, Jared, but he has bigger problems right now.”

“Do you think he'll talk to me? Would you ask him? I swear I just want to make sure we're good.”

I sighed again. I wanted to protect Roger, but honestly, I didn't know what was going on between the two of them, and if Shannon had a rough enough childhood to understand where Roger was coming from, well I figured Jared shared that childhood too. Maybe they could do each other some good. “I'll ask,” I agreed, but then Roger came back out of his room, fully dressed, and he grabbed Jared by the hand and led him back with him. With one more sigh, I poured the hot water down the sink and went to help Shannon pack.

#jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 Seconds To Mars #30stm #thunderbirds

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brianjaeger · 4 years

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2020 Academy Award Best Picture Nominees Guide For Those Who Haven’t Actually Watched Them

The 92nd Oscars are here and it’s time yet again for all of us to lord over one year’s worth of millions of people’s passions with the certainty of a judge at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show (which ironically takes places one day later) and say aloud, “This art is and forever shall be known as better than that other art!”

Throw the notion that expression through the medium of film can exist simply to reflect a myriad of emotions and varied experiences right into the wind. We gotta know what that BEST art is, son!

So with mere hours left before Sunday’s spectacle, you’re probably asking yourself one question. “Brian, why do you keep doing this?” No, not that one. “Brian, Tumblr? Really? Does that still exist? Why don’t you spend the slightest amount of time to find a better medium for this?” No, not that one either. “But Brian, I haven’t actually watched any of these films. What am I going to do?!” Ah, now that’s the one. But fear not. I’ve got you covered. For the 6th time, I’m here to give you a rundown of what I think all of these movies are about without actually seeing them, along with some pithy little talking points to take into your Oscar parties to sound like a goddamn genius.

Ford V Ferrari

In this epic clash of man vs. nature set in the den of Harrison Ford’s summer home in Plano, Texas, the extremely hungry aging star has just had a large pie from Ferrari’s Pizzeria, located at 3949 Legacy Drive, delivered…and now it is time for battle. On the About Us section of their website, Ferrari’s Pizzeria makes a “promise to our customers to provide the best Italian food using recipes handed down from our Italian grandmothers.” Hold on to your Italian grandmothers, kids - that promise is about to be put to the test. (Yeah, it’s real.)

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

That cameo by Mater from Cars is really what pushed this film into Oscar contention.

Christian Bale's car in Ford V Ferrari is also an unwavering method actor and remained in character as a car for the entirety of production.

Who won? I'll give you a hint, in the long run, it was not the quality of life for the American working class!

The Irishman

In this gritty thriller, Lucky the Leprechaun’s father, Frank Leprechaun, an immigrant who worked as a farrier making horseshoes in Ireland before coming to America, wishes on a shooting star for a way to make a better life for his family. He finds that chance by doing hits for the mob and we see his first job take place under a pale moon, when he shoots a diamond store clerk in the heart, blood red ballooning out onto the green grass, like crimson and clover. Later, an aging Frank Leprechaun kills union leader Jimmy Hoffa and as he dies, he divulges the secret that Hoffa’s body is buried on a plantation in Lexington to Lucky. The young boy looks back and makes a firm promise to his dying father. “They’ll never get Kentucky farm.”

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

The de-aging technology used in The Irishman was so advanced that, while you can’t see it, De Niro's testicles are actually two inches higher in the first half of the movie.

The run time of the movie is 3 hours and 30 minutes which is also the average amount of time Netflix users scroll through options before deciding to just watch the same episode of The Office again.

In Ireland, this movie is known as The Man.

JoJo Rabbit

From M. Night Shyamalan comes the story of a scared young boy who claims to see Jewish people. While adults around him are trying very hard to see them too, it’s Adolf Hitler who helps the boy to overcome his fear and actually communicate with the Jews to understand them and realize that the reason that he can see them is because he can help them. And then at the end we realize that Hitler was actually a Jew himself THE WHOLE TIME!

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

I thought it was just a bit on the nose that Taika Waititi chose to have JoJo sing her hit “Leave (Get Out)” at all the Nazis during the Allied occupation of Germany.

While juggling roles in Marriage Story and JoJo Rabbit, Scarlett Johansson would often get confused resulting in one day on set when she tried to cut Sam Rockwell’s hair in a bathtub.

Of all the nominated films, when it comes to winning Best Picture, this is…Nazi one! (Cough. Look around. Place your drink on the table. Slowly collect your coat, walk to the door, pause as if to turn, sigh, leave.)

Joker

It’s 1964 and Cesar Romero has established himself as a force in Hollywood. A multi-talented performer and veteran of WWII, Romero has amassed an impressive body of work playing roles as a versatile character actor, when he gets a call from his agent.

Agent: Cesar, I’ve got something that I think you’d be perfect for.

Cesar Romero: Is it a complex villain in a new Western? A dark turn as a gangster in a noir? A comedic foil in a Sinatra vehicle?

Agent: No. Better.

Cesar Romero: What is it?

Agent: Get this. An evil clown Batman nemesis…on TV!

(Silence.)

Cesar Romero: Um.

Agent: You’ll be kind of like a sidekick to Burgess Meredith! And guess what he is?

Cesar Romero: (Deep breath.) What is he?

Agent: Like a half-man, half-penguin sort of thing…I think. But he’s also evil! Oh, and you’ll also get to star alongside Julie Newmar!

Cesar Romero: Oh, well that may have legs. So, do we have a “will they, won’t they” dynamic?

Agent: Not at all! But she is evil too. And also part cat!

Cesar Romero: I do not understand any of what you are saying.

Agent: And it’s got Frank Gorshin!

Cesar Romero: And what is he? Let me guess. Like an evil frog person?

Agent: No, no! He’s The Riddler. It’s sort of the same exact deal as your character, only he doesn’t wear any makeup. Isn’t this wonderful?!

Cesar Romero: (Pause.) You have to be joking.

Agent: No, Cesar. YOU have…to be joking.

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

We still have a little bit of time for Joaquin Phoenix to die and win a posthumous Oscar for this role and keep with tradition. Then in 11 more years, a woman will win Best Supporting Actress for playing the Joker role and then in another 11 years the actual Joker will direct Joe Kerr in a reboot co-starring the Impractical Jokers…and win an Oscar.

I found the end scene touching when Arthur’s wife delivers his child and asks, “Arthur, what do you want to name your son?” And he replies, “Béla.”

Todd Phillips only made this big flashy blockbuster for the studio so that they’d let him do his deeply personal, intimate art house project, The Hangover IV.

Little Women

In a fresh take on a movie that I think is about some nuns living in a cottage during, fuck, I dunno like 1845? 1912? Aught 5? but there’s like a mean one, and a smart-and-sort-of-pretty-but-not-too-pretty one, and they probably have a dog, oh and a horse, and they have fights about vying for the love of the same boy they grew up with who is now some hot stud with poofy hair and poofy shirts and a nasally British accent, oh and there’s 2-3 other sisters that really just serve to further the main sister’s plot, and there is like fucking grass everywhere and how is all that grass not staining the shit out of those long flowy dresses that they always wear on their farm – or is it a glen? can you live ON a glen? – but later the guy marries the right one and he’s a strong man but is totally cool with her writing about some bullshit about being like a female doctor pioneer or something – oh and she’s wearing a straw hat with like a ribbon that’s always flapping the fuck around behind her – I forgot also that they only have one parent, the other is definitely dead and that comes up a little too often, and my mom and two sisters have to have tissues near the goddamn couch while they watch this seemingly 14 hour fucking miniseries or movie or Hallmark marathon because even though each of them could goddamn recite the dialogue from memory they still cry every…single…time…and OH MY GOD, CAN THIS ANNE OF GREEN GABLES, SOUND OF MUSIC, LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE OR WHATEVER THIS GIRL STUFF IS PLEASE BE OVER SO I CAN HAVE THE LIVING ROOM TV BACK TO WATCH BOY STUFF!

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

Not many people know this fact but on her death bed, Louisa May Alcott’s final request was that if a woman ever directed a film adaptation of Little Women they would absolutely under no circumstances be nominated for a Best Director Oscar. So, really, that’s on her.

To ants, these are very big women.

Alan Dershowitz and Prince Andrew's favorite film.

Marriage Story

Dr. Ellie Sattler has established her second career as a divorce attorney after years as a paleobotanist and now fights so that “woman inherits the earth”...or at least gets primary custody and more than half of the assets.

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

The roommates of Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig have become increasingly annoyed listening to several minutes of the two repeating, “No I hope YOU are recognized by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with the Academy Award for Best Picture…and hang up first,” before ending their long phone calls every night.

While juggling roles in Marriage Story and JoJo Rabbit, Scarlett Johansson would often get confused resulting in one day on set when she tried to hide Robert Smigel in the attic.

Variety reports that a remake of Marriage Story is now slated for fall of 2026 with Colin Jost in the role originated by Adam Driver in a version of the story that will be produced by real life.

1917

The seventh and final installment of the 1910's saga follows the previous successful box office hits 1911: The First One, 1912: Now There's Two, 1913: Why Not Three, 1914: Get It? Years Are Sequential. That’s Really All This Joke Is, 1915: This Is The Fifth One (But Fourth Sequel), and 1916: 19 Fast 16 Furious.

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

Originally, the movie was supposed to have a ton of cuts between scenes but after saying, “Action,” a producer whispered to Sam Mendes that they only had budget left for one single take after hiring every single recognizable British actor still alive – so Mendes started screaming, “Run! You there, start shooting at them. Keep rolling! Keep running! Jump down that waterfall! Let’s go, people, keep up! Hide in those trees now! Oh look, more bad guys! Pew pew! Duck! Run over that way! Do not…stop…shooting!”

If this movie was called 2017, Colin Firth would have just pulled out his Samsung Galaxy Note 8 and texted, “Call off attack,” with a GIF of Admiral Ackbar saying, “It’s A Trap!” Then, mere seconds later he would have received, “lol k thx”.

1917 earned Benedict Cumberbatch a nomination for “Most Distressingly Off-putting Mustache”.

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood harkens back to a time long, long, long ago in Hollywood's history when the majority of top actors were white, the majority of directors were old men and individual parts of women's bodies were oddly objectified and sexualized. We’ve come so far since then!

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

Please don’t ruin the fun and let Brad Pitt know that a movie was actually being filmed around him from June to November 2018.

I didn’t think the film was particularly that great but every single person I know who lives in L.A. and is either in or adjacent to the entertainment industry corrected me that it actually is.

Oh, I’m sorry – I think you’re in the wrong place. This is the once upon a time where a man is burned alive with a blowtorch. If you’re looking for the once upon a time where a man’s eyes are drilled out of his face, well then, pal, you’re gonna want to go to Mexico.

Parasite

Oh. I’m sorry. I accidentally put a Best For'n Language Film here at the end of this list of the best ‘Murican films.

3 Things To Casually Inject Into Conversation To Prove You Saw The Movie And Sound Like An Expert:

Parasite was, by far, the best movie I read this year!

나는 기생충을 진심으로 감사 할 수 있도록 한국어를 배웠습니다.

Bong Joon-ho's Parasite might leave you asking who are the real bottom feeders in the black comedy about social structures. There's plenty of food for thought as this picture is deeper than than what it may seem like on the surface…is the word-for-word review from Rotten Tomatoes Super Reviewer Aldo G that I just read to you out loud after pulling it up on my phone here.

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