What starts as a film with all the intimacy, character focus and spontaneity of improvised formats such as mumblecore becomes something which is more alert and tightly scripted than anything using those techniques might allow, whilst continuing to be very funny. Resolution’s second half is akin to mystery but with none of its constraints, which is particularly impressive considering the low budget and small cast. That it makes the shift from one tone to another so gradually is both frustrating at times (the film may lull in the middle for those expecting straightforward horror) and ultimately reassuring given the vast territory covered once the characters do begin to guess at what’s happening. By then it seems that the time spent on identification enables Moorhead and Benson to take the viewer in crazy directions without distancing them from reality. It is a testament to the acting and to Benson’s script that audiences will have such fondness for and belief in Michael and Chris, yet no possibility seems out of reach when it comes to who or what is trying to manipulate them, and for what ends. When a grand machination and a new theme are eventually introduced, we affectionately watch these men evolve as people and see their individual merits develop through cooperation. Even without the thrilling twists and turns and an intelligent gasp-inducing ending, that was more than enough for me.
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Today I stumbled on the Idiot Nerd Girl meme and had a minor revelation: We are not alone.
As if to act as an infuriating musical example of these phenomena, just the other day I chatted to a girl wearing a t-shirt of a band she’d apparently never heard. I know! The audacity! Much as I’d hope we younglings judge each other on more than the external package, most people would admit that clothes have evolved from necessity to be more of an expression of probable likes, dislikes, and tribal affiliations as defined by cultural norms, i.e. This human does what it says on the tin. To put it another way, if you’re a young man in a Soundgarden hoodie, I excitedly interrogate you in public, and you actually don’t know any Soundgarden songs, I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable for you to expect a bruise even rounder and more purple than your ultra-hip eyeliner (at least in my imagination). Similarly, if you’re a woman who got an E in single award science 10 years ago, there’s just no need to purchase a skimpy Periodic Table camisole NOW to try and hide what a Barney-hugging-shite-smearer you may have been as a child. As an adult, you probably have plenty of talents and great aspects to your personality which don’t cost you 20 quid to advertise and don’t encourage the chauvinist dickwad contingent of journalism to look at your now-intelligent boobs, and more importantly, they don’t waste my visual and conversational time. Why not wear something in a nice bright colour instead? We can all enjoy that!
It’s true that with this rant I run the risk of coming over as a total snob, and it’s also true that it would be ridiculous to assume a frame of reference exists ‘proving’ the level of someone’s genuine interest in a certain kind of music or cinema and therefore implying that they might deserve related merchandise. Even the idea of ‘deserving’ something based on the intensity of your interests sounds like a pompous and hipsterish concept, but what I’m saying here is that in situations where people bond over what they love, the current culture is really confusing things and embarrassing both the initiated and the fashion-led in different ways. One is rumbling and the other is rumbled, neither of which seems like a fun place to be.
I’m relieved that some nerdy things have been popularised for a generation seriously lacking in new material, but guys, you’re taking the fun out of all the awesome. Gone are the days when I could saunter up to new people with the expectation that we’d have things in common because of their new light sabre or ever-casual chainsaw arm. It confuses me slightly that this new breed are essentially acting like my friends and I, but prettier, with less self-respect, and less respect for the media they accumulate and claim to revere. In a way, they’re missing out on part of the exclusivity and sense of family that made these fan cultures feel so warm and lovely in the first place. It’s become upsetting to realise how little they truly enjoy this stuff, and ultimately there is disinterest behind every pair of lensless glasses and every Space Invaders dress. Disinterest leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering. In conclusion, geek chic and its offshoots can kiss my shiny metal ass.