Are we good?

I saw him coming. Saw him before my dog did, in fact.

So, quickly, I followed Dodger into the backyard, hopefully allowing this guy time to stroll by without listening to the relentless barking of my forty-two pound pup. Thought I'd do each of us a solid. 

But something wasn't right. It had been more than a minute, and this guy hadn't walked passed my house yet. And it's not like I locked the front door, for f--k's sake. I honestly thought to myself, Watch this asshole be in my house. 

F--k this. F--k all of this, you know? Why do these f--king people always show up at my house? Can't they ruin someone else's night? All I want to do is go to the f--king movies with my wife, and now I gotta get murdered by some dickhole in a blue shirt.

(But more on that in a bit)

My wife, yes my wife, actually wanted to see the f--king shark movie with Mandy Moore on Saturday night, but in a shocking turn of events...it was sold out (I shit you not). Ten minutes later, and with just a few seats remaining, we trudged into an 8:10 showing of It Comes At Night. 

Bullet. Dodged.

Having not seen a trailer, nor read a synopsis, all I knew was that early word suggested this Joel Edgerton-starring flick might knock me on my ass. And while quite literally everyone else in the theater f--king detested the flick, I thought it f--king ruled.

Something terrible has happened in the world, and the population has drastically dwindled. When we meet Paul and his family (a wife and a teenage son), they are reluctantly putting ol' Grampa down, as a mysterious illness has ravaged what's left of his body. It's brutal, it's frightening, and utterly f--king horrific. But as you look into the forlorn eyes of the family patriarch, it was absolutely necessary, too. Paul isn't taking any chances to protect his family. And surviving in this f--ked up reality has become nothing short of business. And the way Paul runs things?

Business is good. Real good.

Well, it was. Until this f--king dude named Will breaks into their house one night. Will, apparently, has two mouths to feed as well, but Paul ain't having any of his sob story, and promptly knocks him the f--k out and ties him to a tree. Paul's son Travis is infinitely less hardcore, and implores his dad to help out the defeated stranger. Travis wants to give Will a hand. Paul? Shit. Paul wants to give him a bullet.

Joel Edgerton, inching his way up my personal list of People I Will Never F--k With.

While I would love to call you from a landline and twirl the cord around my fingertips as we talked till three in the morning about writer/director Trey Edward Shults' latest (nooo...you hang up, silly!), I think it's best for everyone involved if we zip our mouths shut, lock them, and gently toss the key over our f--king shoulders. 

But the Yays and Boos have no lips, real or otherwise, so those f--kers are probably going to spoil the shit out of the movie. As always with this shitshow, proceed with caution. Oh, and this time around, we've got some questions, known today as the Wait, Whats?

Minus the shotgun, this is how my wife cleans the bathroom.

Yaaaaaaaaay!

• Who opened the f--king door?
• This might be the quietest movie I have ever seen. Uh, heard. Seriously, there was so little sound, I could hear the old lady next to me dying.
• Speaking of, the style is so relentlessly minimalist and suffocating, I almost couldn't handle it. Some of those take we're so f--king long....I almost died.
• F--king goats, man. While I generally live in fear of these evil bastards, turns out when the world is about to end, these hairy shits come up super clutch.
• Man, teenage boys are some weird-ass dudes, no? What's with all the eavesdropping, Travis? And why do I support it so much? Oh, right. Because I'm a creepy pervert too.
• Ooh, Kim. Pump that water girl. Pump that water.
• So, let's just say when the wheels fall off, it's pure f--king chaos. Those last ten minutes simultaneously ripped my heart out and tore my pants off. Holy shit this is terrible. [Holy shit this is amazing!]
• That last shot was rad.
• And finally, Joel Edgerton, ladies and gentlemen. Joel 'Mess with my family and I'll f--king end you' Edgerton. I think I'm a little late to the party on Mr. Edgerton, but holy shit I'm a fan of the intensity this dude brings to everything he's in. Uh, even if I've only seen three films with him...

Ah, college. Those were the days.

Boooooooooo!

• For the first time in stadium-seating history, I sat in the wrong seats. And the people whose seats we sat in? They went and got the manager. Good thing the walk of shame was only four seats over...but still.
• And my new single-serve friend? Some old lady...drinking something...out of a can. (And she made a fart joke toward my wife's squeaky seat, too)
• I love my grandfather. But when it's his time? I don't care what my dad says, I don't want to help.
• Who the Hell would hang that painting in their house? As if this place ain't creepy enough.
• Yo, Trav. These f--king dreams are killing me, bro. Especially these cheap-ass 'dream-within-a-dream' numbers.
• The last people alive are always the hardest working people ever. What the f--k is this? I only ever bust my ass because I give a shit about what other people think? When I'm alone on the planet? The only natural resource I'll be fanatic about acquiring, cultivating and maintaining, is boners.
• Travis is kind of a weird dude, you know? Though I can excuse much of his, uh, quirkiness, who the Hell doesn't like desert? I can't relate to this madness.
• But I can relate to getting caught taking a look at Kim's boobs. Though, in my case, Kim's my wife. And she pretty much expects it.
• I repeat: Who opened the f--king door?
• And finally, how the f--k did everyone in my theater HATE this movie? Bro Montana to the right of me instantly stood up and announced that this was worst movie I've ever seen in my life. In the lobby, his buddy chimed in with I felt like something was supposed to happen...and it never did. Which is weird, because if they kept talking, the worst movie in his life was going to be his last. And that thing that was supposed to happen? Was his murder.

Some reviews (and audience members) seem to be suggesting that this movie is lacking. While I agree that there's definitely something missing, in my opinion it's totally be design. That said, I've got got some questions, dammit.

Can a gun stop hopelessness?

Wait, whaaaaaaat?

• How does Home Intruder Guy not get shot in his f--king head?
• So...he knew those two dudes, didn't he?
• Why do f--king dogs always take off into the middle of the scary woods barking like crazy...only to have the barking stop abruptly? Can't you dags chill the f--k out?
• Uh, Will was lying right? Right?
• Was the kid sick? 
• Why would Paul make that move? 
• And finally, WHO OPENED THE F--KING DOOR?

So, moments before I saw the movie about the perils of helping others in a world that's gone to shit, I was worried some unwelcome a-hole had slipped into my own house. And when I rounded the corner from my side yard to the front...the guy who was supposed to be walking by...was gone. But as I approached the front door, he suddenly appeared, from the other side of my house. The f--k is this?

He instantly launched into his own sob story about not having a car, walking for what felt like forty-eight hours, and how he desperately needed some money to get home. He even offered that he'd just walked by a large barbecue 'with a lot of black people at it' but thought they wouldn't take kindly to him if he asked for something to eat. I apologized for his situation,and told him, in all honestly, that I'd help him out...but I never ever have cash on me. 

His response? Well, you could drive to an ATM and take out some money there, right?

F--k. Uh...yeah. I guess I could do that. (That would probably be better than telling you no, then leaving you at the house I'm about to immediately vacate, yes?)[And what kind of person doesn't help someone.when they're on the way to the f--king movies?]

I actually enjoy helping people out when I can. I do.



Almost as much as I enjoy being left the f--k alone.