Right Turn Clyde
Volume 1 Issue 6- Your Poetic Epiphany Of Self-Resignation

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The Lip's Flame

It's the girl from Little Rhody with more life-changing and deeply insightful commentary on the cinema.


Wait, as some kind of explanation for this, these are the movies I have seen since the last issue [that I made it in under the brutal deadlines handed down by the iron-fisted editor of this mess]. That's not an explanation, is it? Anyway...

A Rhode Islander's Random and Terrible Review of the Cinema

Loved it, loved it, loved it. Why don't they make movies like this anymore? Here's the strange thing: the plot is weak; Cary Grant is not looking his best – he clearly fell asleep in the tanning booth and/or he has developed a serious case of jaundice; the climactic capture scene is cheesy (Cary's disguise consists of a black button-down polo shirt); the lines are cheesier (Grace Kelly's mother says "Sit down and let me tell you about men and the world before I KNOCK you down!!" or something like that); and the car chase scene is cheesiest of all (the evil pursuers are foiled by a CHICKEN IN THE ROAD). But I find myself in love with Cary and Grace, all starry-eyed and crap.

Question: why is it so difficult to watch movies from the 80s? Answer: the hair is so distracting. I mean, it really is distracting.

Nicole Kidman is hot. And yes, the computer generated images did ruin my ability to be FAR too creeped out by the porn suddenly on the screen in front of me.

Like so many movies where the city plays a role in the movie, this one is cinematographic masturbation for residents of Boston. Oh look! The Green Line! Look! Southie! Look! The Aquarium. Whatever. We all live somewhere. Cute movie though. Another tragically romantic plug for the sentiment that "the One is out there, just find him/her and it will hit you like a ton of proverbial bricks and you'll just sense his/her presense on the T and just faint right there" or something like that. Of course, being female, I got weepy. I don't want to talk about it.

Whut the? Come on. I know this guy makes movies for $10.50 and the movies make 3 trillion dollars and everybody is ecstatic and the execs can buy their third vacation home, but Adam Sandler is funny and this movie may be funny if you're stoned. Only and maybe then.

Some ding dong sitting at a table next to me at a restaurant ruined the movie for me by screaming out the ending. Fortunately, my date was devastatingly handsome and hopelessly charming and I quickly forgot how pissed off I was. Anyway, scared the freaking pants off of me nonetheless. The kid with the gun?????? The girl with the oatmeal?????? I was doing that thing where you make a little circle with your hand and peek through the little hole. I mean, no I wasn't.

Do not get me wrong. Both of these movies merit their own little paragraph. And I have many good things to say about both. However, I'll leave it up to the rest of these self-proclaimed "Hollywood types" to critique them at length. What I do want to say is that these movies shared a plot line, namely pedophilia, which kind of gives me the willies. It seems like the collective creative subconscious of this country is indicating that men cannot relate to or be sexually attracted to women their own age. These men aren't falling for the hot older woman (The Graduate), they're not falling for that Pantene model (Weird Science, of course), they're not falling for the beautiful popular unattainable girl (any movie with John Cusack in the 80s). No, they're falling for (and either attempting to or succeeding in sleeping with) little girls. Little girls. Anybody else finding this even mildly alarming?

That's it for now.


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