If you tell anyone, this empire collapses.

What you're reading right now - this is me. More than anything else, Two Dollar Cinema best represents who I am as a person. I'm no artist, not by any stretch, but sadly, this site distinctly expresses who I am. And as the hours add up (and the pageviews trend down), I find myself thinking more more about I much time I spend here, toiling away in obscurity.

Wouldn't it be great if the whole world could see my work? Of course it would. I would do anything for that kind of exposure. Even take your name off of it? Give the credit entirely to someone else?

Bullshit. Sure. I could live with that. The Hell I could. I just want to share what I do with the world. And bask in their adoration, you sonuvabitch.

Big Eyes, from director Tim Burton, recounts the tumultuous life of painter of Margaret Keane, who for years sat idly by as her husband took the credit for her work. Though the story is compelling and (quietly) infuriating, the film itself seems to be oddly similar to the children Keane so often painted: eerily lifeless.

Playing the aforementioned plaintiff and defendant husband and wife, is the capable duo of Amy Adams and Christoph Waltz. Clearly the strained chemistry is the point, but as the focal point of the film it can be a tough watch when the couple has this little on-screen chemistry. Have you ever seen your grandparents kiss? Well, that shit is about 900% hotter than any moment between these two passionate artists.

If you can get beyond the somehow lifeless pairing of two of the best actors working today, you may have an alright time. I think my wife enjoyed it much more than I did, but in an insane reversal of fortunes, I was the one falling asleep. Sad, I know.

We begin with Margaret getting the Hell out of Dodge, or wherever she was from, and heading to North Beach, California. Margaret is divorcing her husband, and in the process committing the ultimate sin of entering the workforce with a vagina. Potential employers look at her like a freak, as if a woman could actually have a job. Obviously, even after she meets and falls for Walter (Waltz), and he takes credit for her work, this trend of narrow-minded men expecting zero from a mere woman continues.

I like Adams, I do, but sometimes she looks as if she's playing dress up.

This systemic subjugation of women is powerful stuff, I'm quite positive, but these interesting themes never seem to really amount to much. It feels as if Burton and Co. are playing it impossibly safe. Sure, the story may not lend itself to any kind of grandstanding (as everyone involved appear fairly timid), but I find it hard to believe that there was any awards buzz around Big Eyes at all. It's all rather unoffensive, but it's hardly anything noteworthy either.

Speaking of a distinct lack of note, here are the Yays and Boos. They too long for the proper amount of credit for their life's work, but when they really don't contribute anything...but it's kind of hard to put a value on both jack and shit.

Terrifying? Without a doubt. Awesome? Yep. It's that too.

Yaaaaaay!

• Early gigs. I'm pretty sure they don't make baby cribs like they used to. 
• My homeland. Hawai'i kind of, well, always looks beautiful, but somehow they make it look even better (Hell, even the Jehovah's Witnesses are better there).
• Put your hands together for that loveable gent, Jason Schwartzman, Here, he's playing the snarky gallery owner, Ruben.
• Walter may have been a first-class dickhole, but I admire his ingenuity. Renting the walls in a club was a pretty bad ass idea, even for a guy routinely dressed as a homosexual Hamburgular.
• Dan Cooke! Dan has been a local news reporter in Hawai'i for probably twenty years. And here? Well, he nails the role of Reporter #1 with Kamehameha-sized cajones. Bravo!
• And finally, even though I thought it lacked the right amount of courtroom drama, I love the way this (mostly true?) story plays out. The judge is like f--k this. Let's paint.

Did you ever see that 'ghost' in Three Men and a Lady?

Boooooo!

• I've been showing Big Fish in class. When Tim Burton's name comes on screen, the kids shout (excitedly): that's the guy who made Alice in Wonderland. That's also the moment when my soul falls out of my ass.
• You know that game at camp, the one where you spin around on a bat ten times and then try to run back to your teammates? Well, if you happened to that in the vicinity of this film, you would 100% believe that Kristen Wiig was the lead actress. No, really. Try it.
• Wait, terrif was a word in the 50's? Really?
• Were we really supposed to believe that Margaret's daughter didn't know what was going on the whole time? I mean, she kind of posed FOR ALL OF THESE.
• I don't recall the scene, but I wrote that someone was an 'art critic/fork-stopping ninja'. Sounds like a Boo, right? Right?
• And finally, I'm a Waltz fan, your a Waltz fan, Hell we all love this guy. That said, I'm pretty sure this is as close as I've ever seen him veering into the land of the unintentional comedy. Yikes.

When I wrote the rough draft of this post on paper, I wasn't concerned with getting credit for its creation. Then, when I typed it up, the last thing on my mind was endless praise and confirmation of a job well done. And as I compose these last few lines, I realize that I do this for one reason.

Because I love it.