“Thump Milton!” Ree yowls at the figure weaving away amongst the cattle below. It’s a funny name but this isn’t a time for laughing. Ree needs to find her Daddy or at least his remains before the cold comes and the bondsman kicks her family from the house. The trees tower over her, the keepers of Ozark secrets. A table in the woods is smeared with squirrel guts. “Goddamn you Thump.” Ree says and travels home to a silence as wide as a reservoir. For a moment she finds solace in the strings of an old banjo, in her kid sisters jubilant trampoline hops, then she bends over the leaking sink and spits her teeth out.
Reflections in the river, giant ships coursing to new land. A wonderous, arty Pocahontas movie. More sci-fi in it’s lyricism than that other Pocahontas movie Avatar.
The hungry city, puking eyeballs. Sweet, secret-witch artsploitation. Baroque, stylish and the best kind of dumb. Sad and vicious. The neon demon lives in electrical currants coursing through toys for young girls. The neon demon hangs out by the sea, walks around the salt flats, writes letters home. Here’s the neon demon, his mouth on her mouth, her mouth on hers.
A street dancer spins to soft beats while cold earth crystalizes the hearts of the vampire lovers. A tepid, mumblecore Ganga & Hess remake. It starts strong, remain political, exudes malaise & solemnity, moves glacially. Jesus saves and kills in equal measure.