richardrushfield:

WES ANDERSONITES SCORNED: THE SPRITES STRIKE BACK

Last night, I posted a complete list of all the annoying things in the trailer for Wes Anderson’s new film.  Since posting it, I have rewatched the trailer and realized, I had failed my readers badly. There were about 40 annoying things that I missed and the list is woefully incomplete.

Since posting however, I have received, in comments, emails, twitters and angry reblogs - the greatest outpouring of scorn I’ve ever enjoyed in my long career, outpacing even the wrath of the Adam Lambertites when I suggested that Kris Allen was good too.   On some hand, it is somewhat impressive to know that the tribe of little wood nymph children who call Wes Anderson their leader have some violence in their blood still.  On the other hand, isn’t a decade plus of putting on skits and wearing velvet blazers and making life long doll houses supposed to calm those fragile nerves?  If you still have this much anger in you, isn’t it a sign that your leader has failed to turn you into eternal seven year old French schoolchildren as he promised?  

Here are some excerpts from my various in baskets:

 Punching in the nuts is in order, methinks.

(I guess the methinks makes it safely precious enough to still be Andersonian. Certainly people do not speak of punching in the nuts in the Aquatic world!)

 this cast is amazing also really this guy hated the word moonrise? you’re that butthurt about fucking moonrise? fuck…

(I am not actually familiar with the term “butthurt” so I am not certain whether it is actually an obscenity…or whether it is precious.  I think it is both though.) 

 The guy who wrote this is a jackass.

 Not a single word or sentence resembles anything ever seen in nature, outside of a writer who is pathetically obsessed with American Idol’s mind

(actually that one’s fair enough.  But I’ve moved on to X Factor. Get your facts straight sprites!)

Whenever I see someone complain like this I think, “I’m sorry mommy and daddy wouldn’t let you be a film major but your business degree doesn’t mean you can critique a movie.” 

(That one is actually so on the money I feel like they have cameras hidden in my house. Denied the opportunity to study film, I was forced against my will into a MBA, so I could one day make a fortune as the editor of my personal tumblr. )

wow fuck that guy

 Another “fuck that guy” This looks awesome.

 Gonna throw in a fifth “fuck that guy”. Wes Anderson has been one of my favorite directors for the majority my life

 Aaaaaannnnddd fuck that guy.

all that buttmad also, fuck yea wes anderson mmmm

(Again with the unorthodox “Butt” constructions. Is this a trend in spriteville?)

Actually  much much scarier than all the invective which at least shows some backbone are all the defenses of Anderson and all the people who think this looks cool.  I am convinced that all these Gen Y’s or Milleniers or whatever you call them who have ssuppressed their basic human instincts so deep that they happily think of themselves as eternal children romping through this precious little kingdom and destined to see all those buried instincts explode some day at which point they will become serial killers and murder us all in their sleep.  So let it out at me if you must Andersonites.  I’m happy to absorb your scorn if it will save millions of lives one day.

Beautiful work.

“Marco Polo” is Fusco’s fantastical martial arts epic, chronicling the famous adventurer’s early years in the court of Kublai Khan.  Acting as the ruler’s spy, ambassador and explorer, Marco treks across the Far East and returns with tales of his journeys.  In a court filled with political betrayal and forbidden relationships, Marco must use his martial arts training to survive, but it is his ability to enchant Khan with imaginative tales of his kingdom that is often his best tool to stay alive.

So… it’s not a Calvino adaptation?

I’m trying real hard to get less repulsed by and/or indifferent to sexy time and like, butts and weiners and stuff, and listening to you watch bad porn and masturbate furiously through the very thin walls is not helping me out.

1. I’m at Harry Potter’s Wizarding World on a rainy day. I find a cave and duck into it for shelter. I walk down a long tunnel until I get to what can only be the Chamber of Secrets. There is a snack stand there with an old man in one of those old-timey stripey barbershop hats. The soda fountain has something called “Dr. Tanaka” instead of Dr. Pepper.
2. I’m at a craft fair on a rainy day in the San Juan Islands. Spoon is playing in a tent. In this dream my name is Emily Conde Nast Yoshida. After they play Britt Daniel takes me and some girl in a red dress to the mall and we go shoe shopping at a really fancy Bruno Magli store. I keep trying to tweet that I’m shoe shopping with Britt Daniel which is a major deal, but it keeps coming out as gobbledygook or just “hahahahahahaha.” Britt gives the red dress girl a ring made of leather that has the word “Tenacious” on the box, and he gives me some sparkly pink lip gloss in a box that says “Infallible.”

Made this last night. Wish I could claim writing credit.

I know, I know, it’s officially the new year and we’re supposed to have moved on and everything, but I just wanted to make sure everyone knew about my New Years Eve outfit/accidental Beyonce costume.

It would be nice to compulsively write anymore; but I guess over time even our most primary instincts eventually get weighed down with pessimism and contextual baggage, making them too heavy and toxic to be primary anymore. In 2010 I wrote all the time and furiously, because I had spent so long thinking nobody heard me, and even the twinkling of a promise that somebody did was enough to wake me up every morning. In 2011 I knew people heard me, and writing became more about career than about catharsis. I think that’s a good development; I’d be more worried if I still approached my keyboard hyperventilating with narcissistic panic every time I sat down to type. Clearing the fog of emotion out of the mix helps a lot of other more lasting ideas come through, the kind you hope they will pay you money for someday.

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Symmetry - Themes For An Imaginary Film

Here’s to white knuckle rides, pretty sunsets, the wind in your hair, and mad productivity in 2012.

My mom bought a brand-new MacBook Pro today for $800 through a few shifty tricks and credit card bonuses. We just watched some more Game Of Thrones and now she’s sitting here watching some 2011 photo slideshows that her friends made that she hadn’t been able to access before because her computer was too old, and I’m having to admit what a beautiful fucking machine this is. I usually pooh-pooh the whole cult of Apple because it’s so ridiculously out of my league and always has been, kind of like a acne-plagued nerd who just has to make himself forget the cheerleading squad exists. But now it’s like the cheerleader came over to my house to help my mom bake cookies for the PTA fundraiser and I’m standing across the room biting my knuckles and sweating bullets and wondering if mom would mind if I downloaded Adobe CS4 onto her.

Sorry, that was gross.

Well, there’s no better note to end on than this. I found this box (inside the box) that one of my multi-mix-packages came in, and I thought, “Oh, I used to hide cigarettes in that box,” and I opened it up to see if anything was inside and AWWWW. I think I’m gonna cry.