Experiential Paper: "I Spilled My Drink"

Fuck. I spilled my drink.

            If this were an average, earthly liquid in the vein of a beer or some pedestrian mixed drink at a shitty bar in Athens, this occurrence would be a minor annoyance; a slight hiccup in the night’s chain of events. This, however, was no mortal beverage.

            The Bombay Gin Fizz that is currently soaking up my friend Krystle’s skirt was a work of art during its very brief lifetime. Created with extreme care by the able hands of the bartender at The Majestic, my drink and I only just got to know each other before its unfortunate demise.

            Let’s start from the start. After yet another night of unsuccessful begging for a premiere at The Palais, I was rescued from my misery by way of a ticket to Lawless from my aforementioned friend, Krystle. Filled with “Ticket Euphoria” – a feeling that all of my fellow premiere beggars can relate to – I thanked Krystle endlessly and promised her the world; or, at the very least, a drink at The Majestic after the film.

            Lawless rocked. Perfect combo of violence, sentiment, humor and Tom Hardy: but I already told you that. I was in quite high spirits as I was perusing the excessively expensive cocktail menu at The Majestic. Should I get an old-fashioned? Nope, this ain’t Manhattan and, though I like to pretend, I am not Don Draper. Should I go “full douche” and get a Red Bull and vodka? Shenanigans; The “Maj” is way too classy for that. Gin always seemed to be a drink of refinement, a drink of prestige. A drink that said, “I am not a student. I work for a fake company called Grady College Productions, and I deserve to be here.” The choice was simple: Bombay Gin Fizz. I placed together the precise French wording in my head, as I always must do before speaking in French, and placed my order for a Bombay Gin Fizz priced at 23 euros.

            I made good on my word and bought Krystle the drink of her choosing. She ended up going with an Irish coffee for the low, low price of 20 euros. It paled in comparison to my drink, but not a bad choice. For those of you who aren’t mathematicians, that is a three euro difference from my drink of choice: three less units of refinement.

            As myself and the rest of my Lawless compatriots eagerly waited for our drinks, I began to imagine the grandeur of a 23 euro cocktail. Surely it must be on fire, or served in a gold chalice. Maybe it’ll be brought to me by a virgin dressed in white, or, at the very least, a velvet pillow. Nope: none of the above.

            What was presented to me was a very plain, slender glass of a carbonated concoction with a single lemon wedge resting on the rim. No fire; no virgin. Though there was a basic sophistication surrounding the beverage, the size of the glass was quite disheartening. As the waiter unceremoniously called out drinks to us like we were children in an elementary school cafeteria, I was beyond underwhelmed.

            Ah well, the show must go on. I feigned excitement as I took my first sip. When I say “sip,” I mean going through the motion of bringing the glass up to my face, but barely opening my mouth so as to allow the least amount of liquid possible to escape the glass. When you’re dropping 23 large, and by large I mean euros, you need to savor the flavor.

            Speaking of flavor, the drink was delicious. What it lacked in bells and whistles it made up for in taste and drinkability. The lemon, carbonation and top shelf gin all coexisted in perfect harmony. A harmony that was tragically cut short in one terrible staccato note as my oafish, Cro-Magnon hands swept across the table in one ogre-like motion, colliding with the drink and sending the rest of my precious Gin Fizz all over Krystle’s lap.

Motherfucker.

The initial disappointment I felt when seeing my former plain beauty was nothing compared to the sheer devastation that overtook my tuxedo-clad body as I realized what I had done. I immediately went on a self-loathing binge, critiquing myself far beyond the accident at hand. How could I have been so foolish? Why haven’t I worked out in two weeks? Why don’t I pay more attention, and why is my hair so damn curly?

After berating myself for what seemed like an hour, I began apologizing profusely to Krystle for spilling my liquid gold all over her skirt. I contemplated multiple ways to attempt to salvage the twenty-two and a half Euros worth of drink from its current resting place, but to no avail. As the waiter came over to wipe up the scene of the crime, I went from bad to worse. I had nothing left; my life was over.

As the rest of my fellow Cannes-ers sat there drinking their nearly-full glasses, I held back my tears and tried not to be envious of them as they sat there gulping down their delicious beverages like gluttons. They are animals. They are the devil. I hate them.

No. No I don’t. I love them…kind of. 

Don't Stop Believin': Everyman's Journey

A local cover band singer from the Phillipines becomes a rock star overnight thanks to youtube and a little band called Journey. Don’t Stop Believin’: Everyman’s Journey tells the awesome story of Arnel Pineda getting plucked from obscurity and chosen to be the new frontman for Journey after a youtube video of him singing one of their songs caught their attention. The film captures Arnel as a shy person who is still trying to get his head around his new job. Every element of a good rock n’ roll documentary is here: crazy fans, behind-the-scenes footage, a little bit of drama and plenty of rocking.

Lawless

The Bondurant name is infamous in the town of Franklin County, VA.  “My daddy says you boys are the worst thing ever to hit Franklin,” says the preacher’s daughter, Bertha Minnix (Mia Wasikowska).

            After John Hillcoat’s Lawless hits theaters in the U.S. on August 31, the Bondurant name will surely become infamous around the country, as well. Whether you like the film or not, it has blockbuster written all over it thanks to the perfect combination of humor, violence, sentiment and Tom Hardy.

            Based on Matt Bondurant’s novel, The Wettest County In The World, Lawless tells the story of three brothers who dominate the liquor trade in prohibition-era Virginia. Other than alcohol, brothers Forrest (Tom Hardy), Howard (Jason Clarke) and Jack (Shia LaBoeuf) Bondurant are local legends and are believed to be immortal by many of the people of Franklin.

            If Hardy’s badass status isn’t solidified after his portrayal of Bane in the upcoming film, The Dark Knight Rises, his time spent in Forrest Bondurant’s skin surely will do the trick. Though he is not as strong as his brother Howard and about the same height as his brother Jack, Forrest is the most respected and feared among the three and Tom Hardy lives up to the character’s billing.

            Hardy’s southern growl is consistent and impressive for any actor, let alone a Londoner. His stern facial expressions and general masculine aura create a character that is as intimidating as the town believes him to be. About a half hour into the film even I began to question his mortality...and had an urge to grow out some facial stubble.

            Even if you are not a fan of Hardy’s performance, his rising star quality is undeniable. Granted, other than gaining a few female admirers, making This Means War with Reese Witherspoon was a misstep. However, all will be forgiven as soon as he is immortalized as Bane in the new Batman movie. That being said, Hardy shines, but Forrest wouldn’t be anything without his brothers.

As Jack, Shia LaBoeuf does his usual goofy, every guy routine that we have seen before in that little flick he did with the transforming robots. There are also a few scenes outside of his normal range that he handles quite well. His southern accent isn’t half bad, either. Aussie Jason Clarke does a solid job as the strong and silent Howard, but his character lives up to the aforementioned description and is a minor point in the plot.

            All three actors do a good job creating and supporting a strong brotherhood between them throughout the entire movie. That bond as well as the moral and chivalrous way in which they handle themselves ensure that the audience will stay on their side regardless of how many illegal bottles of liquor they bootleg or people they maim/murder.

            It is easy to see the moonshining Bondurant brothers as protagonists after about five minute with Guy Pearce’s character, Agent Charlie Rakes. Rakes works for a corrupt district attorney intent on getting a piece of the blossoming liquor trade in Franklin. Almost every bootlegger in the town caved, but in the words of Forrest: “I’m a Bondurant. We don’t lay down for nobody.”

            After the Bondurant’s refusal to play ball, Rakes makes it his personal business to bring them down and disprove the myth of their immortality. From his sinister center-parted hair to his almost unbearable Chicagoan accent, he is an ideal villain. Like any bad guy worth his weight, his evil ways don’t begin and end with the Bondurants.  He also has a taste for hookers, treats women poorly and even picks on Jack’s crippled sidekick, Cricket (Dane DeHaan). Poor Cricket.

            After seeing a lot of him in the trailer, I had hopes of seeing some action from Gary Oldman’s character, Floyd Banner, but no dice. He’s in the movie, but not really. His screen time is limited and the biggest effect he has on the plot is that he instills a newfound arrogance in Jack, which eventually leads the young Bondurant into some sticky situations.

            Lawless manages to be quite violent as well as light-hearted. The Bondurants seemingly can do it all. While Jack is trying to court the preacher’s daughter, Forrest is bloodying up someone’s face with his brass knuckles. While Howard is getting drunk with “the boys,” Jack is taking a beating, himself. The movie maintains a nice balance between feel-good and shoot-em-up while keeping the audience engaged. Not to keep dwelling on Mr. Hardy, but the side plot of tough-guy Forrest slowly softening to the touch of Maggie (Jessica Chastain) is the icing on this bittersweet cake.

Dunn Dunn

Well, that's it; its all over folks. As the festival came to an end yesterday evening my nostalgia was curbed by complete exhaustion and a general frustration with the trains being on strike. The post-festival depression that everyone has warned me about has not set in yet, but I could really go without having the Nespresso withdrawals. I need to stay strong and fight this cold turkey, like the addict that I am. Headaches aside, that was one of the best week and a half stretches I have had in my entire life and I look forward to the rest of my time here in the South of France. I'll post my complete viewing schedule on the morrow. Much love,
- Cory

Moonrise Kingdom

Equal parts quirk, storyboard cinematography, witty lines and many of his signature cast of players; hardcore Wes Anderson fans will eat up Moonrise Kingdom like vegan carrot cake.

Anderson cute-ifies the concept of a soldier lusting after a showgirl and tells a tale of forbidden love between a boy scout and a girl who plays “a raven” in her church’s play.

Khaki Scout Sam Shakusky (played by) and the rest of his troop are privied to some of the best lines and awkward humor in the film. A few new faces in Anderson’s vintage world, including Bruce Willis and Edward Norton, are a welcome touch to a prime addition to the director’s catalog.

Electrick Children

Rock n’ Roll’s supernatural powers are taken to extreme heights in Electrick Children. The concept of immaculate conception via a mixtape sounds laughable on paper, but director/writer Rebecca Thomas finds a way to make it work thanks in part to endearingly witty dialogue and a stellar cast.

            Rachel, a 15 year-old Mormon girl who is supposedly with child, is played with the perfect combination of naivete and charm by Julia Garner. Her cuteness peaks during the night of her fifteenth birthday when she sings and dances along to The Nerves’ “Hangin’ On The Telephone,” which she believes got her pregnant. Aw…

            With the face and wardrobe of a China doll, Rachel is a literal personification of innocence. Her quest to find “the man who sings on the tape” leads her to Las Vegas; a setting that provides a sharp contrast to everything that her character embodies. Among her many sinful discoveries, her first attempt at using a cellular phone is definitely a highlight.

            Garner’s comedic timing and steady delivery of lines like “Cool. That’s what you say right? Cool?” come with surprising ease for an inexperienced actress who was almost totally unknown before Children.

The local band of misfits that she and her brother, Mr. Will (Liam Aiken), end up befriending help to create endless amounts of humorous interactions as both parties discover how the other half lives. Needless to say, Rachel and Mr. Will didn’t last too long in their first game of “Never Have I Ever.”

Speaking of Mr. Will, Rachel’s brother is “the voice of reason” throughout the film as Rachel begins to “rebel.” I use that term in the lightest way possible. Think of rebellion in the vein of listening to music, talking to boys and almost anything that seems normal for a teenage girl.

Mr. Will was forced to leave home because wrongful accusations were made that he was the father of his sister’s child, so he has no real desire to conspire with her on her journey except to get her to confess her sins on the tape recorder. Just in case you forget their strict Mormon background, he reminds you every step of the way through constant disapproval.

Though he is the epitome of Mormon discipline, Mr. Will allows himself a vice in the form of skateboarding. Aiken’s best performance comes when Mr. Will has to take painkillers after breaking his arm in a skateboarding accident. Accurately playing someone who is drunk or high is one of the harder elements of the acting game, but Aiken had no problem handling it.

Rachel thinks she has found the father of her child in one of the locals they befriend named Johnny, but soon realizes after hearing his band play - “I don’t even know if you can call it music” – that he is not the one. As a character, he is a non-event, but her temporary interest in him leads her to Clyde, a snarky member of the group who is played without fault by Rory Culkin.

            Culkin brings a nice warmth to a character that could have been very easy to hate. He got kicked out of his house for shooting his stepmom’s dog; though he said it didn’t die…bro.

Even after he reveals that little gem, Clyde’s consistent kindness towards Rachel and hidden charm gradually grow on you; which is a testament to Culkin’s performance. Creating a redeeming character from tales of animal abuse and lines like “She wants to have my babies” is no small feat.

The relationship between Culkin’s Clyde and Garner’s Rachel evolves and develops quite quickly and brings out the best in both characters. Clyde softens up and Rachel gets a small dose of reality. The two even agree to get married in case things don’t work out with “the man that sings on the tape.”

Here’s a shocker; things don’t pan out as planned. The man on the tape ends up being her actual father, not the father of her child or the preacher in her strict Mormon community whom she believed was her father. With this disappointment, however, Rachel realizes that she needs to stop looking for the father. The kid grows up…a little.

After it becomes clear there is probably no earthly father, Clyde rescues a very willing Rachel from an arranged shotgun wedding in the Mormon community and the two sail off into paradise. And by paradise I mean living in a tent by the ocean.

In one fell swoop she committed the ultimate form of rebellion by leaving her own wedding and he committed the ultimate form of genuine devotion by agreeing to marry her without any prospect of a future other than a mixtape baby on the way. A baby that, much to my dismay, the audience never even gets to see.

Killing Them Softly

Killing Them Softly is cool; yet unoriginal. Written and directed by Andrew Dominik, Softly chronicles the life and times of a group of criminals affected by both sides of a robbery.

Mark “Markie” Trattman (Ray Liotta) runs an illegal gambling house. It gets robbed and then mob affiliates go looking for “the kids” that did it. There’s nothing new here, but the cinematography and individual actors’ performances make this film better than it could have been.

Oh yeah, there’s also a lot of political undertones laced throughout the movie, but it doesn’t resolve until the end, so we won’t address it until it is fitting.

Let’s get one thing straight: not unlike this film, Brad Pitt is cool. He’s always going to be cool. Even when he’s on his deathbed, he will look like he’s in his early forties and his hair will perfectly adapt to any style he chooses.

Pitt’s character, Jackie Coogan, has many similar traits to the many Brads we have seen on the silver screen (most notably, Dusty from the Ocean’s series). He dresses well, is sarcastically clever and always seems to be eating, smoking or drinking.

Coogan serves as a liaison between the suits and the guys that get their hands dirty in an effort to make sure that appearances are kept up and the right blood is spilled in the aftermath of the poker game robbery. His constant determination to kill people in the most humane way possible is inkeeping with the movie’s title. Lots of witty lines from Coogan as well as very graphic depictions of the murders ensue.

The first job that must be handled is the “questioning” of Liotta’s character Marky Trattman to ensure that he didn’t set up his own game. Though he doesn’t get killed (yet), the audience sees every element of the beating, including both the frustration of the thugs not getting the answer they want as well as Trattman suffering, bleeding and vomiting.  Though they are a bit over the top, Dominik’s style of capturing all of the violence in the film were impressively done and were definitely some of the highlights. You could feel every punch delivered to Trattman’s body, which is also a testament to Liotta’s performance.

The two aforementioned “kids” were both played exceptionally well by somewhat lesser-known actors. Ben Mendelsohn is awesomely disgusting as the dog-stealing, non-bathing lowlife that serves as Scott McNairy’s sidekick. Aussie native Mendelsohn is perpetually sweaty and almost always on the verge of passing out due to drug use and literally no sleep – “I’ve been up for a week!”

I was unable to pinpoint exactly where McNairy’s accent was from, but it became a little obnoxious about an hour into the film. His performance was strong, but paled in comparison to Mendelsohn’s. Because the two were often together onscreen, McNairy seemed less genuine in his performance by default of being in the same frame as Mendelsohn.

Though he does no actual killing, James Gandolfini’s character isn’t at all outside of his comfort zone. He plays an alcoholic version of Tony Soprano, and he does it well. Though initially hired to kill Trattman, he gets fired from the job for being drunk all the time, forcing Coogan to have to step up and do the hit himself; softly, of course.

Trattman’s death is by far the standout scene of Softly. Done in slow motion, the visual of the glass car window shattering as the first bullet penetrates the surface is beautiful. The amount of blood that erupts from his skull is a little campy, but all of that red serves an aesthetic purpose in the overall image.

Mendelsohn’s character gets arrested, so only two murders are left on Coogan’s hands. In a swoop of Pitt’s signature charisma, Coogan plays “good cop” and gets his final hit (McNairy’s character) to serve as the driver for his second-to-last kill. After the puts two shotgun shells into a man named Squirrel who set up the robbery, Coogan kills McNairy unceremoniously in the driver’s seat of his car. No dramatic slow-mo’s here.

Throughout the entire film, televisions are conveniently on in almost every scene broadcasting various speeches and debates from both Barack Obama and George W. Bush. The clips serve as political punctuations. It isn’t until the very end that Coogan addresses one of Obama’s speeches and criticizes the concept of considering America a “community of united people.”  His cynicism climaxes after a money dispute with his high-level mob contact.

The final line of “Now give me my fucking money!” echoed throughout the Lumiere as the credits began to roll.

Writer: Andrew Dominik (Screenplay), George V. Higgins (Novel)

Director: Andrew Dominik

Producer: Plan B Entertainment

Main Cast: Brad Pitt, Ray Liotta, James Gandolfini

Running Time: 100 min.

Holy Motors

I am at a loss.  Leo Carax’ Holy Motors left me in a state of utter bewilderment.

 Frenchman Denis Lavant, who is a charmless troll, serves as the main character in a world of video game sex, old lady beggars, hermits, concerned fathers and countless other disconnected scenarios.

            The only consistency in the plot is Lavant riding around in a limo and attending to “appointments” in which he takes on a new identity for each and seems to live multiple lives.

            Cinematography is the singular redeeming element of this film other than featuring Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” in the soundtrack.

Writer: Leos Carax

Director: Leos Carax

Producer: CNC

Main Cast: Denis Lavant, Eva Mendes, Kylie Minogue

Running Time: 110 min.

7th Inning Stretch

The Cannes FIlm Festival is equal parts awesome and exhausting. Multiple nights of no sleep and going out have finally caught up with me. I also would like to take back my comments about the American in my earlier blog post. My feeling went from "love" to "like" in the past few days. I also have finally introduced a little variation in my diet thanks to inspiration from Jiro (from the sushi doc Jiro Dreams of Sushi). After eating bread, cheese and hamburgers day in and day out, eating Japanese food feels like a trip to the spa for the digestive system. There is a place in Cannes called O'Sushi that is not too expensive and pretty dadgum good that I have gotten for lunch the past few days. As far as movies are concerned, I have seen some good flicks and a lot of bad ones. Here they are:

Friday, May 18:

Cherry: It was garbage, see blog for details.

Cheerful Weather For The Wedding: I have a problem with choosing films based solely on my attraction to the actress involved and this film was no exception. I saw it because Felicity Jones is in it. It wasn't phenomenal, but it was pretty good.

Saturday, May 19:
Dollhouse: Six kids trash a house, have a party and make you hate them, especially Gina. Garbage.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi: Documentary about a master sushi chef behind the best sushi in Tokyo. It came highly recommended by my brother and I was not disappointed. Awesome.

Lawless: Bootlegger's tale with Shia LaBeouf and Tom Hardy. It was the red carpet premiere and a friend of mine hooked it up with a ticket. It was awesome and Tom Hardy is a total badass. So far, it is my favorite film I have seen.

More soon.
- Cory

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Jiro Dreams of Sushi is beautiful. The music, the cinematography, the editing, the man himself and, of course, his infamous sushi are all aesthetically wonderful.

            As virtuosic piano concertos play in the background, the audience is introduced to Jiro Ono, an 85-year-old sushi master who has perfected the art in his small restaurant nestled in a Tokyo subway station.

            Ono lets the cameras into his back kitchens and provides insight to the rigorous training process that is required of all of his cooking staff, who are humble, charming gentlemen themselves. They truly love what they do, and I love this film.

Cherry

As a result of speed-reading the synopsis in our film guide, I walked into Stephen Elliot’s Cherry thinking that the movie was both a quirky indie film as well as set in the 70s. Both of these elements could have served this film well; but, unfortunately neither had anything to do with what I saw on the screen.

The main character, Angelina (played by Ashley Hinshaw and later to be known as Cherry) has a very predictable, very unoriginal story. Ange has a bad home life – alcoholic Mom, asshole stepdad - a shitty job, a platonic male friend who’s hopelessly in love with her and a douchebag older boyfriend who plays guitar in a band.

One morning, after a night of sex, stupidity and rock n’ roll with her beau, Angie Pie decides to go and take naked pictures with a local photographer in the San Fernando Valley for a whopping $300. Hinshaw does a respectable job creating a slight air of discomfort during most of the early porn-esque scenes. However, she needs to learn how to smoke cigarettes like a rebellious teen, or at least like someone who isn’t a first-time smoker.

All the obvious plotlines end up being too much for young Angelina, so she and her whipping boy/male friend Andrew (played by former “Slumdog” Dev Patel) head out to San Francisco to pursue their dreams. This is where, I would say, the movie went from below average to really bad.

To further his dorkiness and lower his chances of ever being more than Angelina’s friend, Andrew finds work at a bookstore. To further her sluttiness, Angie finds work serving drinks at a strip club. They both find a gay roommate named Paolo, but he adds nothing to the story. In order to keep things in scale, he will only be a blurb in my review.

Her new job provides ol’ Angelface with two things one shouldn’t obtain from a strip club: career advice and a cokehead boyfriend named Francis. I don’t know who convinced James Franco to play said boyfriend, but that person should reap whatever slim benefits result from this film.

Franco does a good job of his usual squinty-eyed charmer routine, but adds a dark edge to it, both when Francis is sober and high on coke. There is even one shot where Francis drinks a whiskey that Angelina has just spit in. Unless some serious camera tricks were used, I’ll be damned if Franco doesn’t actually drink that saliva cocktail.

The second benefit was, what else, a connection into the porn world from one of her “co-workers.” She then becomes “Cherry” and is welcomed with open legs into the adult film world by unlikeable porn director Margaret, played flatly by Heather Graham. The character Margaret is the biggest misfire of the film. Graham’s performance is mediocre at best, and Margaret is intended to be someone you eventually learn not to hate, though she has quite the opposite effect.

Graham’s Margaret begins obsessing over her new 18-year-old hire like an undersexed pervert and eventually loses her long-term girlfriend because of it. Yep, still hate her.  Angelina is totally indifferent towards Margaret until things go stereotypically wrong with both her cokehead boyfriend and her platonic sidekick. One gets in a serious car crash; the other is caught masturbating to one of her films. Who did what, you ask? Who cares?

Both incidents instantly cut off the two main plot lines that have been developing during the entire movie with no resolution. Apparently those involved with the making of this film don’t care, either. After all elements of her non-porn life are severed, the ending that is created to wrap everything up offers no satisfaction whatsoever. Let it be known that at this time I still hate Margaret, and you should too.

After Cherr-gelina ditches both men in her life, she miraculously runs into Margaret at some shitty dive bar. Cherry Baby makes a comment about needing a place to stay before giving Mags “the eye” and making out with her. No surprise, the old perv is ecstatic and gladly offers the barely legal runaway a room for the night in exchange for some girl-on-girl action not unlike the kind found at their day job.

As a last ditch effort to reduce Margaret-related hatred, director Stephen Elliott tries a “clever” fast-forward to another “morning after” a few months down the road to a future where they are in a relationship, have an endearing life together and Cherry is now a porn director as opposed to an “actor.”

What about her cokehead boyfriend who was in a major car accident? We’ll never know. What about her lifelong best friend who moved out to San Francisco with her? Nothing. What about Margaret? Still hate her.

          

Hamburgers, Nespresso, Liquor and Paninis.

Bonjour,
After a few days at Cannes I have realized that the variation in my diet has become nonexistent. I eat the same cheap food, don't sleep and watch films, but I couldn't be happier. Let me elaborate a little more about the essential ingredients and the role they play in the day-to-day here.

Hamburgers:
There is a stand in Juan Les Pins very close to where I am staying that sells a sandwich called "The Americain." It is a french baguette stuffed with three hamburgers, American Cheese, French Fries, ketchup and the awesome mayo the have here. All of the former Cannes attendees rave about how it is the best sandwich ever. It is not. Don't get me wrong, its very enjoyable, filling and cheap (5 Euro), but I don't believe anything tastes as good as the way it was first described to me. I have been here for a week exactly, and I believe I have had this sandwich for five of those days. The other two,  have satisfied my cheap food craving with a McBaguette, which is McDonald's version that is not too similar.

Nespresso:
Nespresso is a sponsor of the festival and has a huge booth filled with free espresso made by - you guessed it - Nestle. You can get as many as you want, and some of the "Nespresso Girls" are really hot, so I frequent said booth. With my ongoing sleep deprivation, they also are essential to ensure that I don't fall asleep during any films. I learned this lesson the hard way after falling asleep for 20 minutes in "Jiro Dreams of Sushi." It was so great and I was ashamed of myself for falling asleep and disrespecting Jiro like that. Never again. That's why I rip a Nespresso shot before almost every film I see here.

Liquor:
Alcohol and no sleep aren't the best combo, but that's how I roll.

Paninis:
The other key element of my diet is something I am already sick of: Paninis. They are very easily found during the day in Cannes and are pretty filling for 5 euro, but damn am I sick of Paninis. No more; I'm done. They're bland and other than the fact that there is also a hot Panini Stand girl, they don't bring much to the table.

Obviously, there are some other elements of my diet tha have helped to balance out all the carbs, but these are the main ingredients for Cannes survival on the cheap.

Au Revoir,
Cory
P.S. I caved and bought myself a 23 Euro drink last night at the Majestic Hotel and spilled it all over a friend of mine after just three sips - I estimated that the spill cost me around 20 euro. Sweet.
P.P.S. Blogging is kind of douchey, sorry if this comes across that way.

Retard (Late)

Sorry about the delay...Cassie Stone and probably my direct family,
Things have been a whirlwind, but in the best kind of way. After getting settled into Juan Les Pins, or as I like to call it, the Gulf Shores of South France, the film festival just kind of took over. I call it Gulf Shores, because of it's Spring Break-esque qualities. It's not near as bad as Panama City, but it's no Sanibel. That being said, JLP is great, everything is close and convenient, and except for the anti-Christ bitch who cashiers at the local grocery store, this town is great.

Cannes is unbelievable. The city, itself, is beautiful and the festival is out of this world. Marilyn Monroe's image is plastered all over the town alongside the Cannes 65th logo. It took a few days, but I finally got the hang of scheduling my time appropriately and rolling with the punches. Here is what my schedule has been like so far.

Wednesday, May 16:
Detachment (Adrien Brody, Christina Hendricks): Awesome. A very good way to start my trip. Tony Kaye (American History X) directed it and it was intense in all the right ways.

Something From Nothing: The History of Rap (Documentary): Directed by Ice-T, it digs into the art of rapping itself. Eminem's portion is, by far, the best. My big issue is that he didn't talk to any southern rappers at all. No respect for the ATL.

I would love to give you review of Moonrise Kingdom,  but I was unable to beg for tickets for the premier, nor see it the next day because it filled up so quick. Dammit. My friend, Alison Bridges, met and talked to Wes Anderson that night, so she was stoked. I also saw Marion Cotillard in The Majestic Hotel yesterday, so my night was made.

Thursday, May 17:
After not making it into the second screening of Moonrise Kingdom, I thought I found a quick fix in a nearby theater by seeing Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie in a nearby theater. Wrong. It fucking blew. Next.

I went on to see the French film Farewell My Queen with Diane Kruger later that afternoon. Pretty average, but Lea Seydoux is a total babe and gave me something to look as the film drudged on.

I am proud to say that my ticket-begging crew and I all managed to procure tickets for Rust and Bones last night.

Jeff, Who Lives at Home (Rolling Stone)

            Jeff, Who Lives at Home follows a similar format that is found in Jay and Mark Duplass’s first foray into the mainstream, Cyrus. Not unlike Cyrus, Jeff is a quirky comedy that features A-list comedic actors playing characters that are in-keeping with what they are known for. Jason Segel plays Jeff, a stoner with a heart of gold and Ed Helms plays his uptight, corporate brother Pat, who is in the midst of a mid-life crisis. Spoiler: he buys a Porsche. Thanks to the dialogue from the Duplass brothers, both actors have a lot to work with and bring their own element to the characters. Helms provides the right amount of brash douchiness (“This Porsche is normal-sized, you’re a sasquatch.”) and Segel brings the warmth.

The movie opens with the audience being introduced to Jeff through his endearing obsession with the movie Signs and his search for a deeper purpose in life ("I can't help but wonder about my fate, my destiny.”). After receiving a wrong-number phone call intended for someone named Kevin, Jeff thinks he may have found his true calling.  A trip to the store to fetch some wood glue turns into an adventure following omens of “Kevin.”

            One such omen leads him to a restaurant where Pat (Helms) is eating with a co-worker and reeling from a fight he just had with his wife about the aforementioned Porsche.  Pat gets inadvertently mixed-in with Jeff’s wanderings on a separate quest to discover if his angry wife is mad enough at him to cheat. Second spoiler: she is. The two brothers gallivant all across the city together and the various roadblocks and hindrances they come across bring out the best in each character. Pat (Helms) grows slowly more infuriated and on the verge of an ulcer while Jeff (Segel) is in a state of elation because he thinks he’s finally found his calling, thanks to “Kevin.”

            Susan Sarandon, who plays Jeff and Pat’s mother Sharon, provides a nice intermediary between the two throughout the movie. Though she is lonely, she is the most grounded character in the book, until her world is also turned upside down. Spoiler: a co-worker falls in love with her. Between the three of these characters, there is enough witty dialogue and plot twists to keep audiences more than content.