2000´s

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21 years ago, a shaky trip to interpersonal traumata. A sour truck-load of acting vehicles working their solid ground muddy into the death depths.

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Great it´d be if its understandably-wrapped-in-commercial-crap internal jungle-fever madness would outgrow the bills to pay for this watered down effort.

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Lucky number for derailment palming the air around the the missing family-cell walls while choking her own soul not to drown back into nothingness.

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Jacked up in fat aggressively whispering for respect as an actor while shooting the wrong Beatle played by another actor actually sharing the killer´s name.

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Unannounced musical pushing Dear Patience for the trailer-allergic expecting pure dialog. It sugar-shocks with its spiral-singing flopping in steady but annoying beauty.

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Warm-acted, well-hearted, boutique jewellery piece of naturally grown independent cinema that convincingly re-touches people´s frailty in great memorable angles of tiny actions.

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He came as a symptom of common cast-flu but left as a hilarious martyr and plot-hero who briefly but firmly reached for redemption.

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A smooth, liquid chief surgeon who’s searching for himself and other clinically dead existential answers after lowering the bar as far down as to Australia.

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Everything is hot, but-her cold soul still stinking of bad spirits that left a long time ago because they just couldn’t take her anymore.

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Single, meanest Canadian man alive known in land, space and universe that will undoubtedly kick your blistered jungle-fearing ass with disturbingly rough impersonal kindness.

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A good cook that makes one sick in the stomach by cringingly mismanaging both self-respect and culinary success into a greasy cul-de-sac.

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When good casting goes in the right direction, multiple perfection chemically compounds into an
earthquake that enables entire oceans of televised series to rise up.

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Firmly cushioned in the eye candy of the revolutionary storm—adorned with a Rock & Rococo soundtrack that invisibly frames the perfect portrait of unawareness.

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A suspenseful gatekeeper for Seoul‘s crime rabbit hole – with a dynamic that is second to none.

Unconventional and arrogant necessities clear the path to deliverance.

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Color-blinding death-toned off-spinning voice-collage artsy-metal album that relaxingly flays out in every sonic direction with labyrinth waves of distorted comfort.

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Macabre true crime mixed with hilarious character representation?
This richly detailed and beautifully crafted closer look of 20th‘s century’s korean detective work pulls it off.

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Grounded with emotional veracity in the most vocal point of feud with the Death of everything that was holy and pure to rock and roll.

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Fully charged but its progressive energy keeps getting cut off by a silver screenplay that can’t tell exposition from emotional-trigger boredom apart at all.

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Lyrical metal trip divining its way through inventive twists & shouts in the darkest of pink clouds in a self-medicated ward in the sky.

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Complex hard-watch that feels like a nightmare Sake bar-brawl-beating loop with a heart-kicking pace that punches holes into every moral direction.

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A headhunt through early 2000‘s Europe, which shines in a blue-grey velocity and shows how good a minimalistic & realistic action movie can be.

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A roman candle of crazy characters (most of which are no doubt stolen from nearby realities) in an overwrought romanticised dark comedy by bonehead Bono.

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Family values suffer
In this Passion Play
Powered by music,
Coal, OIL, & palms
Greased by multiple
Pieces of silver.
Lewis triumphs in
Self-crucifixion.

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The hard-working element of this cast, which despite her commitment had to act slutty, while being harassed by its romantic counterpart after the cut.

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The efficient guy who did what he was told, without overcomplicating things.

He was there when a thug was needed – though, actually wasn’t an actor.

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The one loosely acquaintance, who has the random honor of having sex with the hottest female role, while being a childish doofus with face acrobatics.

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The one third (wheel) party character, only around for friend talks and absolutely non-effecting shenanigans.
Even these comic relief scenes make him more uncomical.

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The tragically misunderstood man-child mascot of a movie, which had no creative solution for him.
So he became this impossible Gollum-creature, craving for security.

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For a long time, this alien-like being was driving his desperate career blindly into the wall.
But in the long run, won mastermind status.

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The ‘one that stands out’ beauty and mind who’s just there for money and fun.
With the least uncomfortable role, she fulfills her task excellently.

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First:
Watch NO SOUND
(just subtitles).

Next:
Watch w/ voices
(& excellent musical “commentary”).

This delivers Nicholson’s
“Lear/Quixote”
As SUPREME
(Max Sennett)

TRAGI-COMEDY.

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Geoffrey Rushes his
Portayal of Proteus
Both amusing
And annihilating all
Significant others
(especially mothers),
But never
Pleased!
(Based-on book)

Don’t skip
Audio Commentaries!

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Distressing sound corridors under a rainy post-rock ambience, passing gloomy funeral sirens into it’s wrinkling abyss of cold finality.

Visual dark rock, very unexpected.

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Precious stone of modern independent cinema and character study “par excellence.” Hysterical, ballistic and mordantly fulminant. A truly stimulating example for period-films to come.

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The original sparks that supernova-ed a whole industry that ludicrously although successfully reinvented both the wheel and how to become a music-free rockstar.

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Uneventful eye-thriller meant to box-office fail despite helpful bad intentions. A film about film itself that looks immaculate but does not communicate well.

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Evocative beyond repair dividing itself up with a greased-up tug-of-war between old and classic—both morbidly bound together with techno-dramatic ambiances.

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A sand-box full of metal pellets that get strained out by the end of an album which cauterises all wounds in instrumental song-form.

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Intense sounds and rhythms that are like feeling the beating pulse of several types of factory machines at work with a subwoofer-ed up stethoscope.

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Circular uphill post-amnesiac ride that prints itself out both in color and black & white while each new layer diagonally help us to remember.

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Heavenly hellish.
Hilariously british.
A comedy bit for everyone, especially when you’re british and not so religious.
Narrated by your inner little Alan Rickman voice.

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The strict beauty of synchronised flight of heart & mind held together by sound in tragic camaraderie. Picking through the riffs of death & decency.

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2000s Master Of Puppets – hate dripping riff monument and post 90s Metal anthem.
Celebrated likewise by ‚True‘ metalheads and prog snobs. All killer, no filler!

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Twist-less crowd winner that Hellraises Oliver’s lion-faced redemption out of bloodied vistas like a fat Phoenix that Reeds of condescending soundtracks and cutting.

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Get yourself kitted out proper with an invisible rope around your bird´s neck until you´re cuffed. Don’t hate the player but love the bloody game.

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A deliberately over-edited character-carousel colorfully whirling around all kinds of wild trailer-trash debauchery with the ruminating impatience of a coked-up policeman.

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Intense beauty and fear holding hands in the permanent protection of a broken family that is full of love for one another in macabre ignorance.

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“A man upon retirement, embarks on a journey to his estranged daughter’s wedding, only to discover more about himself and life than he ever expected.”

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Visionäres Liebesdrama welches sich verstärkt durch eigene Erfahrungen subjektiv dramatisiert und zuletzt dein geläutertes Ich fragend in isolierender Kälte zurücklässt; Nochmal zurück oder vergessend weiter?

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Efficiently entertaining action comedy build around Mel Gibson’s bullseye charm with which both his personal and crew effectiveness are borderline groundbreaking at a snappy pace.

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Wish good luck to those thinking themselves unbiased enough to see this ordeal through. The equivalent of the Simpsons after Season 10. Needs a Futurama.

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Fantastic rock music with ballads that remind of the “Fundamentally Loathsome” days. Subject matter goes down the shit-rabbit hole when ego takes over, though.

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The Spooky Kids reanimated and back to their cartoon-interlaced world—only this time laid, with a budget, panache and rap-defying density of words.

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Best Bass tone & sound which ever got held on a CD.
Tool-esque guitars accompanied by interleaved, pummeling drums. Uncompromising airplay allowed.
Loving also.

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Not disposable, but dispersed and gold-rushed. Has a sober motor under its political rib cage but it´s flooded with hubris and bad storms head.

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“Because of the actions of her irresponsible parents, a young girl is left alone on a decrepit country estate and survives inside her fantastic imagination.”

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A very intimate peak into the soul of a young man dealing with the disappointment of having his bliss blown out in front of everyone.

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Sometimes one needs to destruct the body to save the mind in sweet but most socially unacceptable escapism. The colorful roads away from matte black.

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The announcer vents the verdict: “ladies and gentlemen, madame et monsieur, I am proud to announce we have a unanimous all-time dream-sequence winner.”

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If William Dafoe needed an acting diploma this should be his master thesis to share with Keaton´s Beetlejuice (1988) and Gibson´s The Singing Detective (2003.)

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Highly original take on Homer’s odyssey in the rural 1930’s space, where bank robberies and racism are still a thing that could get you killed.

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Instrumental album showcasing Trent Reznor´s branchial talent for creating small pieces of stereophonic stress. Some sure came in handy for Burn´s „The Vietnam War“ (2017).

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Mr. DiCillo embarks on a moral expedition into the Johnny-depths of the collective unconsciousness to debunk derogatory assumptions short-changing the Doors/Morrison phenomenon.

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Meist überschauter Rubin im Bandkatalog mit ungewöhnlichem Songverlauf, der mittelmäßig beginnt und mit jedem Song zum 18-minütigen Finale an Magie aufbaut.
Ein Prog-Sommeralbum.

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Fiktive Epidemie einer alternativen Realität.
– Hautnahe One-Take-Szenen
– Intensiv eindringender Soundtrack
– Meisterhafte Regieleistung
Man riecht förmlich das Elend einer geplagten Menschheit, spürt Schuss-, Explosionsvibrationen.

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Where´s the horizon in a desert landscape full of the cosmic dust where both Bartok and Ligeti hide from the storm in an oil tank?

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Nichts für gewöhnliche Hörer.
Ein sich schälendes Kunstwerk, Schichten um Schichten.
Jedes Mal anders.
Immer wieder entdecke ich Neues seit erstem Durchlauf vor 10 Jahren.

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A dream-team cast presided over by Jack Nicholson in a Martin Scorsese film featuring Rollings Stones music…what could go wrong? That´s right: nothing.

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So kalt klingend wie der Staat selber zeichnet dieses dritte Album eine erste Skizze einer gehaltvoll tieferen Band mit längeren Songs und technisch versierteren Cleanparts.

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Ein gläubiges Königreich voller Naivität für eine blauäugige blonde Prinzessin, das jedoch auf’s falsche Pferd setzt.
Helden sterben, Könige sterben. Sean Bean überlebt.
Paradox, episch..

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Brutales Riffing in unkonventionellen Rhythmen und ellenlang aufbauende sowie abbauende Strukturepen, wie eine hochhausartige Lasagne, vertrösten endlos trotz Mythos eines potenziellen Nachfolgern nach 10.000 Tagen.

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…in the happiest German-expressionistic “talkie” that comes to mind. A dream-hybrid between narrating silent-era camera moves and gold-digging song and dance.

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Dieser riesige Eisberg erscheint erst nach mehrmalig wiederholtem Erkunden. Schicht um Schicht tiefer in ein Atlantis welches äußerlich in Vantablack schimmert, doch innen regenbogenartig glänzt.

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A very proud and angry turn-of-the-20th-century prospector carries inflammable cabin fever around him everywhere/everyone he choses to own and drill.

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The exquisite sense of irony of modern man’s bullshit life is never dry-cleaner than here; all been told in luminance levels imbued with Beethoven.

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Happiness is skin-drying under the molting Milky Way of Spain in a fortress carved out of distress. Unhappiness is having Mahatma Gandhi come visit.

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49% kochender Leistungsdruck,
20,5% ätzende Familienbefindlichkeiten,
6,7% kokelnde Drogenstimulierung,
4,1% Reinigungsdilemma,
17,9% einer fehlenden Tellerscherbe, welche jene Unausweichlichkeit in eine 1,7042%ige Chance zur Lösung umwandelt.

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‚Ok Computer’ 2.0.
Auch dieses dritte Bandalbum gleicht einem Eisbergkoloss der bei Erstläufen zuerst die Hits aufweist, man jedoch nach tieferem Eintauchen vor Eleganz erstarrt.

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Séance of summoning growls, loungy vibes and enough distortion to repel ghosts.
Last undisputed creation of this disputed band before entire fanbases were torn apart.

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An almost invisible Gary Oldman is betrayed only by his exuding greatness while saving a motion picture that will chapstick you in many uncomfortable places.

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Only Gibson‘s own radical passion could heal the constant wounds of a hemophiliac subject that never begins to end. Pleasure-pain for the dogma-giddy.

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Mesmerizingly aggressive pineal gland-wise with a beginning that is gradual and all-embracing — ka-blooms inventive sinewaves that increase consistently all the way through.

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Baroness: the Claude Debussy of the modern school of stoner metal proving itself once again with sub-aquatic riffs from a progressive civilization gone under.

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2000s Master Of Puppets – hasstriefendes Riffmonument und modernes Post-90s Metalanthem, was sowohl von Truemetalheads bis hin zu Progsnobs gefeiert wird.
All Killer, no Filler.

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As variedly hectic as Carmen Miranda´s head on a silver carnival-platter. Boggles the mind how he kept it all to himself under other egos.

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What started as gimmick became the sophisticated, disturbing teenage/ nerd anthem.
Captivitating Trash with masturbating Pinocchio-SM masks. Death Metal never was closer to mainstream.

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As if the Scandinavian cold, darkness and depression wasn´t enough, there had to be a goddamn vampire on top. Better lock your windows too, people!

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What happened to Macy´s character in “Fargo” (1996) during his New York trip the day before he got arrested as well as the jail aftermath.

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Never go to England, but if you do, make sure your shoes are shit-hole proof. A comedy with a primeval force that is exquisite.

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Intensely satisfying buddy-shooting/body-counting experience that rightfully compensates us for being forced to suffer a stupid plot and voice acting to get in.

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Eine der letzten Splitscreen-Spielmöglichkeiten welche ich intensiv seit Release gezockt habe.
Das Glücksgefühl eines Headshots und ständiger Zeit, -Fluchtstress wirken amphetaminär auf das Seelenwohl.

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We´re only as good as people´s memory of us. What do you give to the man who has everything and still seems sad? A ride!

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The almost insufferable high-school-play acting during the first part feels like a favor owed to someone we like. Clint sings and saves it.

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Post-Hardcore/ Emocore in their early pop-punkish „We‘re like Rise Against, but more society outsiders“ days.
Essential record for the, shortly later crumbling, scene.

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Loser, 17 years, with fitting anxious life conditions, fixed by the stereotyping evolutions and wonderful nature of this idyllic island, projects hopeful and dreamlike sanctuary.

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Versteckter Ego-Shooter Diamant anfänglicher PS2-Zeiten mit essentiell gutem 4-Spieler Splitscreen Ecstasy vergangener Tage.
Glücklicherweise unabhängig zum mittelmäßigem, gleichnamigem Film aus demselbem Jahr.

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Pleasantly paced cut-throat album with a 2010‘s djenty Deathcore time stamp.
Hooking melodies layered with majestic breakdown chugging grooves release deepest pit-summoning desires.

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Beats, Bass & Drums in rocky finesse, without obligatory hit single – but definitely one of the better works of (clean) Trent‘s recent electro-sterile discography.

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„Jump up and down“ hardcore tunes in Grindcore lengths/ feeling.
The accelerating 150-bpm + nature sounds like fun live, but bores heavily on record.

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10 Jahre später nach ‚Ok, Computer‘, andere Stimmungen, gleiches Niveau.
Dunkle Wolken weinen während darüber thronende Regenbogen wachsen und mit der Zeit mehr Farben zeigen.

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Flair and flavor remain strong in a brave new decade, only this one feels like an aggressive early-two-thousands stream-of-consciousness psilocybin trip.

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Geburt des aktivistischen Bandmaskottchens, welches seit jeher metaphorisch für den grünen Punkt der Metalszene sowie für eine kolossale Bewegung von Sound, Dichte und Qualität steht.

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Deutschland: Tiefe Gewässer, ‚Loch Ness‘-artiger Schatten…?
Laut Facebook-Definition „Metal maybe“ entweder parodistischer Natur oder es besteht „Schubladenangst“.
Brutal, symphonisch, theatralisch und unbeschreiblich mehr.

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Zurück auf dem Thron des stadionfreundlichen Electro-Rocks schweißt diese bunte Mischung aus Musik-trifft-Metamphetamin sich aggressiv in die Gehörgänge poppiger Clubgänger sowie Metalheads.

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This movie is about fear and the end of the world. Knowing how bad history went as a spectator makes it all the more brutal.

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A traveling documentary that trips itself into worlds of abrasive escapism, social warp and the terrified hope that sense can be made out of life.

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This demo/ bootleg collection scores with punky hardcore-standards and this ‚stomping feet in face‘-feeling, which takes you mentally (retarded) back into 80‘s anarchy.

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Wishing your enemies painful death is not the same as killing them. Thinking is no doing and thinking is needed to get better things done.

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Mother of daddy issues with the most engaging female vocals I‘ve ever heard.
Grungy, sludgy, noisy stew with spicy chunks of thick flesh and bones.

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Döm döm, crash, retch, crarararrrrghsh…
Crappy recorded, rumpus sounds straight from the beer consuming, low-level rehearsing underground, for smallest amounts of (trve?) individualists.

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Das Gefühl des Fremden in einem fremden Land und die Sehnsucht nach Vertrautheit/ Verbundenheit in Bild und Ton.
Filmmagie durch die Frage „Was könnte sein…?“

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This sound shaped post-industrial love letter showcases many acknowledged musicians within their strange fetishes.
Hardly accessible but rich ecstasy for open minded music geeks.

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Sells exactly what it looks like.
Real Heavy Gothic/Doom Metal perfect as cremation of anger and depressive mourning.
Makes emo-trend look like kindergarten.

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A bizarre true-story satellite parasitically surrounding the final years of reclusive director Stanley Kubrick who would no doubt get a kick out of this.

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A visually strong, practically effective piece of subjective cinema by tenderly perpetrating a set of talented men and women asking themselves what happened and why.

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A very touching account on a family’s reaction to the kind of loss that hammers a basic sense of fairness within shatter-prone human beings.

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A great amalgamation of geographically compatible musical styles and characters bolo-tied together by lust of freedom and charm. A damn shame not to continue.

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Here comes and goes the man in black; last defender of a dying pop-culture genre.
Mixed bag of cover interpretations as most complete swansong.

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Cult Death Metal supergroup with Mikael, one of the most unique voices.
3 groovy classics are signaling to move your head, feet, and bloody guts.

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The identical twin gimmick works only when there’s excellence en-caged in an actor. Nicolas shines here exemplary carrying and saving an otherwise pretentious film.

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For the closet-slacker that keeps procrastinating to procrastinate. Serendipitous read for those who’ve had enough, but keep pussyfooting around looking in the fucking mirror.

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Größerer Cast und erste Avenger-Handlungsstränge bahnen Großartiges an. Mission Impossible Charme und Inspektor Gadget Vibes erschaffen ein durchschnittliches Sequel. Lückenhaftes jedoch notwendiges MCU-Kapitel.

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Starts out with the traditionally hilarious criminal incompetence of “Dog Day Afternoon” (1975) or “Welcome to Collinwood” (2002) continuing with an embroidered “The Jerk“ (1979).

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A potent and superficially alienating Terry Gilliam gem that parallels in beauty to Igmar Bergman´s Fanny Hoch Alexander (1982) in bringing up mystic childhood voodoo.

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Gulp of joy of smoking yourself into oblivion, while building a song around a simple bassline.
2nd version serves just as an additional longer outro.

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Be guided by psyche swinging rainbows and laid-back mirages that jam. You’ll hear this island of free birds.
Mind to bring some hallucinogenic plants.

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Arguably the most fulfilling of the famously fucked up Resident Evil franchise, bringing the shotgun-jizz shooting to a whole different level of unending sociopathy.

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Ein Dschungelstamm wird von der Angst und Unterdrückung des Mayareichs heimgesucht.
Eine impressive Reise aus Bild und Ton führt durch Brutalität und Wandel dieser Epoche.

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There’s a mastodon-difference between a cam-steadied cut-constricted motion picture such as Birdman (2014) or Rope (1948) and this one which is real.

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An original motion picture with an irresistible trailer and a surefire cast. A great take on our basic humanity and treatment of one another. Outstanding.

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An instant classic for the newly interested or a permanently pleasant surprise for the directly involved. Watch with eyes and ears full of empathy only.

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Sehr realistische Comic-Verfilmung.
Was wäre wenn Superman sich seiner Kräfte unbewusst wäre?
Langsam wachsend mit Tiefgang.
Dazu noch in 2000 vor dem Comicfilm-Boom!

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The introduction alone is so consistently overpowering that it could very well serve as a standalone film and a rewatch-classic for the entire genre.

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Fincher kehrt zurück mit diesem unter die Haut gehenden, überlangem Thriller über einen Serienkiller.
Einer der längsten, spannendsten Ermittlungen der Geschichte bis zum letzten „Augenblick.“

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The terrible intrusion of war shared and explained by the time-anchored hearts & minds of interviewees who are displaying acute withdrawal symptoms on camera.

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A vividly-colored dark comedy that gets away with retrofitting collective taboos into sanguine-satire elements affecting and infecting us with massive charm and mischief.

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Wise men say only fools rush into a dating game show and fall in love with themselves on television—but the wisest run the show.

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Wo Kyuss’s „…Sky Valley“ tagsüber qualmend den Highway gen Erlösung fuhr, nimmt dieser radiofreundliche Cocktail aus Bier, Mojito, Gras, Amphetaminen die Gegenspur zur nächtlichen Apokalypse.

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Kontrovers blasses Setting macht Blut umso alarmierender. Mutationen wirken zum ersten Mal bedrohlich realistisch. Genießen Sie typisch spanisches Temperament ländlichen Zombiegehege. Und bitte keine Käferphobie.

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Careful what you audition for: it might get you in the tightest-spot of a color-blind district that is sharp with double-life contrast.

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