A Little Of The Old In And Out



In: Mickey Rourke. WTF?! We never thought we would operate in a universe where the words "Mickey Rourke" and "Oscarworthy" could sit side by side in the same sentence. His bitchface, you see (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment); it loos like ground round has taken residence atop his already beefy neck. For that matter, we thought we had left Darren Aronofsky in the land of self-indulgent directors somewhere north of the Island of Misfit Toys (Averted Gaze). But Todd McCarthy of Variety uncharacteristically raves:

"Talk about comebacks. After many years in the wilderness and being considered MIA professionally, Mickey Rourke, just like the washed-up character he plays, attempts a return to the big show in 'The Wrestler.' Not only does he pull it off, but Rourke creates a galvanizing, humorous, deeply moving portrait that instantly takes its place among the great, iconic screen performances. An elemental story simply and brilliantly told, Darren Aronofsky's fourth feature is a winner from every possible angle, although it will require deft handling by a smart distributor to overcome public preconceptions about Rourke, the subject matter and the nature of the film."

Ah, we are a sucker for a good redemption story. And -- aww -- there is something sweet about Rourke, who because of an uruly youth, had given himself up for dead, relegating himself to "Old Man With Cautionary Tales" to up-and-comers. And then: The Toronto Film Festival. Welcome back, Mickey Rourke.



(image via horizontaldrilling)

Out: "Drill, Baby, Drill." The height of irresponsibility, coined by Republican operative Michael Steele and disseminated by Rudy "Giggliani" -- The King of all Assholes himself -- is that "Drill, Baby, Drill" chant uttered, insolently, in true smells-like-Teen-spirit by those fucking fatcats at the Republican National Convention. From Ben Smith at politico:

"Amie Parnes reports from Flint, MI, that Obama is mocking the GOP convention's favorite chant:

He laughed at the 'Drill baby drill' chants at the Republican convention.

"'What kind of slogan is that?' Obama said. 'I can see if you're cheerleaders for Exxon Mobil, but that's not a vision for the American future.'

In: Rick Rubin. We spent that latter half of the 80s on an accoustical diet consisting of Bach, Public Enemy, Marin Marais, EPMD and Metallica, not particularly in that order. Only Metallica remains, but in the last decade they have produced naught else but simple shit. Processed. Corporate. Lowest common denominator fare. Enter: Rick Rubin with a mandate to return Metallica to their previous dark grandeur. And what do you get? An incredible Metallica album, one that recalls the previous, intense incarnation of the band but with the Wisdom of having ten years round the world.

The album of the year thus far. Thanks Rick Rubin. From Indyweek:

"After playing in punk bands during the early '80s, Rick Rubin founded Def Jam with Russell Simmons and helped launch the careers of Slayer, Run DMC, Public Enemy and the Beastie Boys.

"But he's most recently made his reputation rehabilitating. Over the years, Rubin's demonstrated a predilection for breathing new life into bands, particularly those whose best days occurred in the '80s, like Red Hot Chili Peppers, AC/DC and potentially U2, who Rubin has worked with recently. He jump-started Johnny Cash's career with the stripped down sound of 1994's American Recordings. Rubin's Metallica album comes out next week, and if anyone can help them recover face after the sad pretension and unintentional hilarity of 2004's documentary Some Kind of Monster, it's Rubin."

Having heard magnificent downloads we can cosign on that.