Cinecast Episode 385 – The Way of all Flesh

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There are a lot of rookies out there. The Cinecast ain’t one of them. We’ve seen this before. We’ve seen that before. And we’ve also seen this. And somehow, despite everything discussed today basically being re-hashes of things that have come before, we’re retain the capacity to be impressed, inspired, encouraged and offer kindness. Andrew and Kurt consider the immediate future of the Cinecast as well as the long term future and then in the spirit of re-hashing old things, bitch about pre-show cinema commercials for old time sake. If you put a dollar (or more) in our PayPal, we’ll send you a copy of the show sans the commercial bitching. In The Watch List this week: classic Dr. Who, children being burned alive, whistle blowers, Wes Anderson plot holes and Zach Braff screwing college girls. It’s all here glorious audio format if you only can believe… in a little magic.

As always, please join the conversation by leaving your own thoughts in the comment section below and again, thanks for listening!

 

 
 

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Cinecast Episode 382 – Warm and Foreign

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The one in which Kurt doesn’t realize he’s the winner of a (much controversial) bet. In exchange, buys Andrew a present for his sunken heart after The Oscar results. We dive headlong into The Academy Awards with all its ins and outs and what-have-yous with Neil Patrick Harris and the face touching and the boring music and the severe lack of montages and the… hey hey hey don’t hurt me. We do recognize Julianne Moore as a favorite however, and we praise her Oscar win with a heartfelt review of the quite good, Still Alice. The Watch List rattles on with pro wrestling, Cronenberg, submarine movies are always awesome and… Aeon Flux? Yeah.

As always, please join the conversation by leaving your own thoughts in the comment section below and again, thanks for listening!

 

 

 
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Mamo #396: An Easy Lay

Mamo!

Glom Gazingo, and welcome to Oscar night 2015! Jamie “The Dew Over” Dew joins us on the couch for our annual slate of mini-podcasts recorded throughout the telecast, as the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences hands out the golden trophy to the favourites among themselves. Plus, special guest stars Sasha and Max! Join us for this omnibus edition of our evening’s activities.
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Cinecast Episode 376 – 2014 in Review: Ski Lifts & Psychological Rape

 
We needed a referee. Seriously. And unless it’s Jesse “The Body” Ventura, we might as well not even bother. The rampages on 2014-in-film are epic: Battles are fought, won, lost and lines are drawn in the sand (Cross this line, you DO NOT…) Also, Jim Laczkowski from The Director’s Club Podcast is here to help us figure out Inherent Vice. Is it “pure shit” or “something that needs to be seen 18 times to enjoy”? And where does Matt Gamble come down within the argument? Shortly after tackling the critical darling that seems to be Selma, we look at all of the trends and highs and lows of 2014: from lack of strong female performances to computer desktop horror to the importance of ski lifts and dog revenge. Everything culminated in our annual top ten list and figuring out the odds (or lack thereof) of best picture winner.

As always, please join the conversation by leaving your own thoughts in the comment section below and again, thanks for listening!

 

 
 

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Mamo #345: Veronica Mamo

10 years after Serenity, what do we make of the latest fanbase-cum-motion-picture boondoggle, Veronica Mars, and its digital-download boondoggle, UltraViolet? Plus conversation about The Grand Budapest Hotel, Ghostbusters III, Star Wars VII, and more vidja game movies. Also, be careful: we speak out about Apple, which apparently carries vast cosmic karmic consequences.

To download this episode, use this URL: http://rowthree.com/audio/mamo/mamo345.mp3

Cinecast Episode 345 – One Persian Cat. Deceased.

We boys mourn the loss of True Detective, and anticipate the upcoming Game of Thrones, but in this small gap between prestige TV projects from HBO, it was a pretty damn good weekend at the multiplex. A spirited if brief discussion on the pros and cons of Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, including Ralph Fiennes’s gift for comedy, Jeff Goldblum’s facial hair, Harvey Keitel’s pectorals, F. Murray Abraham being frozen in time, and underwritten supporting roles for Tilda Swinton and Saorise Ronan. We then discus sexual assault by cunnilingus with Matt Gamble’s wife, Angela, along with other assorted Me-Decade insensitivites in the ongoing 1984 Project feature: Revenge of the Nerds.

Kurt weighs in on the strange Canadian psycho-thriller Enemy which features Toronto as a sickly concrete hellscape and two Jakes (Gyllenhaal’s that is.) He thinks it is the best thing released theatrically in 2014 so far. Our Watch List as diverse as old-timey Miramax product, Chocolat, Teller’s documentary on art and craft and forgery, Tim’s Vermeer and an early 1990s bit of hipster TV, Fishing with John. Have at it.

As always, please join the conversation by leaving your own thoughts in the comment section below and again, thanks for listening!

 


 

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Full show notes are under the seats…
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Extended Thoughts: The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Grand Budapest HotelThe highly stylized and ever whimsical Wes Anderson has struck again with his latest gem, The Grand Budapest Hotel. A delectably decadent treat, the film unfolds as a kind of matryoshka nesting doll: a story within a story within a story. Peppered with his usual array of players, the troupe is joined by newcomers Ralph Fiennes, Tony Revolori, and Saoirse Ronan to stupendous results. The film hums with zealous energy, rife with vulgarity-laced elegance. It hovers, its feet inches above the ground, the ethereal existence of a Wes Anderson creation done to perfection.

The scene opens on a young girl in present-day, a book firmly clutched in her arms, as she visits the gravesite of who we will come to know only as Author. Hotel room keys adorn a bronze bust of the man, reminiscent of the romanticism of attaching locks to bridges. Lifting another layer, we are in the office of Author (Tom Wilkinson) in 1985, as he recounts his visit to the titular hotel in 1968. You can see where this is going.

In 1968, we encounter a younger Author (now played by Jude Law) at the Grand Budapest Hotel. Shockingly reminiscent of the Overlook, it’s hard to imagine the place as a residence of glamour and class. The wallpaper peels, the orange carpets look as if they haven’t been cleaned in well over a decade, and the tiles crackle and fall from the walls. It’s a sad, desolate place, where the sparse tenants keep firmly to themselves. That is, of course, until our young Author encounters the mysterious Mr. Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), the current overseer of the Overlook Grand Budapest. With nary a cajole, Mr. Moustafa agrees to tell Author his life’s story over dinner. Would you like to know more…?

Review: The Grand Budapest Hotel

An enormous hotel perched at the top of a mountain, a grand old European country on the cusp of war, headlines sprawled across the local broadsheet, the one with the charming moniker of the Trans-Alpine Yodel: Wes Anderson’s latest is a truffle of pageantry which barters the pathos intrinsic to his previous work (Moonrise Kingdom, The Royal Tenenbaums, even Fantastic Mr. Fox which is this films closest analogue in the auteur’s growing oeuvre) for the overstuffed frippery and copious quirk that his critics tend to use as a bludgeon when fail to see the trees for the forest. Like Mendl’s chocolates so often on display in The Grand Budapest Hotel, everything is elaborately packaged and constructed out of tastefully ostentatious pastel, and contains far more empty calories than actual nourishment, but no matter, they are ‘the finest.’

The film is more ephemeral than anything the director has ever done; it is that murder-mystery party you and your pals dress up for in a suburban living room as a convoluted excuse to hang out without the bother of attempting any kind of meaningful conversation. All that being said, the The Grand Budapest Hotel is also effervescent, pitch perfect in its pacing, celebratory in its bursts of vulgarity, and hilarious with its mannered turns of phrase. It would be dishonest, and a tad uncharitable of me to deny that I had an absolute buzz on during its fleet 100 minutes and laughed out loud far more time than any comedy made in the past 15 years.

Gustav H. is said to be the most perfumed man in Europe and is gainfully employed as the fussy head concierge at the eponymous Grand Budapest – a hotel situated near the painted backdrop of Carpathian peaks in Hungary, accessible by funicular. Ralph Fiennes becomes thoroughly immersed in the comedy and pomp of this mythic character, and plays the type of control freak that director Wes Anderson has self-deprecated himself in a series of Visa advertisements from a few years ago. Gustav H. glides, perhaps even plows, through the high ceilinged lobby of the GBH making quippy criticism and snappy correction of the aesthetic choices of the staff, elaborating on proper posture and behaviour, and in confident command on how the entire hotel-machine is run; this without so much as getting winded. He is a man on a beer budget with champagne taste who has a habit of discreetly wooing the elderly rich and royal guests, perhaps as a way to ‘inherit’ his way out of his class-situation. One of these matrons, Madame D., is played by Tilda Swinton, sporting impeccable old-age make-up to bring her up to an octogenarian state, who promptly kicks the bucket and leaves a large fortune and an even larger number of heirs (and estate staff) looking for what is theirs. Madam D.’s last will and testament consist of a heaping pile of scraps of paper that is cumbersomely carted in by her lawyer (Jeff Goldblum with notable spectacles, wondrous facial hair sitting at a desk made entirely from antlers), that will take ages to disentangle, but her top priority, the last thing she wrote was to gift a priceless painting (“Boy with Apple”) to Gustav H. much to the chagrin of Madame’s eldest son, Adrien Brody; here repurposing his Salvador Dali caricature to great effect as a blustering, rather ineffectual villain.

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Friday One Sheet: All Budapest All The Time – MEET THE CAST

We simply cannot get enough of the key art from Wes Andreson’s latest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel. Here you are offered the boisterous size of the cast based on their mail slot tags in the lobby. You also get all their character names, but really the emphasis is on “LOOK AT THAT CAST!” in a big way. As for attention to detail, if you look closely (large version here) you will see that each of the reinforcement ring on each of the tag is stressed differently.

****UPDATED**** The new trailer is below, and introduces the cast analogous to the poster above – and it is marvelous, simply marvelous.

Trailer: Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel

Grand Budapest Hotel

“Take your hands off my Lobby Boy!”

In what might be the silliest looking Wes Anderson film to come along, here is the latest starring Ralph Fiennes and newcomer Tony Revolori featuring a cast of Moonrise Kingdom familiar faces (Edward Norton, Harvey Keitel, Bob Balaban, Jason Schwarzman, and Tilda Swinton in startlingly good age makeup) along with his regulars, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Jeff Goldblum and Willem DaFoe as well as Saorise Ronan, Tom Wikinson, F. Murray Abraham, Mathieu Amalric and Jude Law all caught up in a plot involving wealth, art, murder and hotel management. It looks like a lot of fun, but the trailer is emphasizing slight and silly over anything else. Enjoy the screwball comedy, we do not get too many of these.

The Grand Budapest Hotel recounts the adventures of Gustave H, a legendary concierge at a famous European hotel between the wars, and Zero Moustafa, the lobby boy who becomes his most trusted friend. The story involves the theft and recovery of a priceless Renaissance painting and the battle for an enormous family fortune, all against the back-drop of a suddenly and dramatically changing continent.