What the f--k are we doing?

It's been a busy summer.

In addition to moving from my old house to my new house, we've also moved my dad from Hawai'i...to our old house, my sister from Seattle to my mom's house, and my mom, who's currently in Hawai'i...to our old house. Where my dad now lives. 

Right?

And now that that's (mostly) done, I have to start/finish a class I signed up for in May, and all the coursework is due in nine days. Nine.

Luckily, it's interesting, as the course is all about learning how to more effectively reach students who have experienced great trauma in their lives. Obviously, it's very difficult to learn when your brain has been subjected to traumatic experiences, and the authors provide many different strategies to create an environment where they can thrive. I haven't finished the book yet, but I can't wait to get to the chapter where...

...you give the kid a hammer and tell him to make it hurt.

I've finished exactly one entire movie in the last five weeks, and it took my four nights to do it. While I thought the title was fitting for my current blogging situation, there wasn't much else I got out of You Were Never Really Here. The triple AAA call up version of Joker [review], this Joaquin Phoenix-led flick is like Ferris Bueller's economics teacher telling you about a nightmare he once had. Pedophiles. Pedophiles. Butchering pedophiles, anyone? Anyone? It's unsettling for sure, but dry as f--k and in no particular hurry, either.

As far as I can tell, Phoenix plays Joe, a tormented veteran who has seen/done some bad shit in the desert. At this point, Joe's carved out a career as a fixer of some sort, getting results for whoever hires him. What he lacks in emotion he makes up for in effectiveness, as his blunt-force tactics get the job done. And despite bashing f--kers with a hammer, we root for him, because it appears he's doing the right thing. I mean, I think he is, because we're given very little concrete information to go on (which is cool, except when you can't keep both eyes open). Word? Word.

If unblinking sadness is your jam....

Eventually Joe gets a gig from a senator, and the job is to find and rescue his teenage daughter. She's been kidnapped and forced into prostitution, and I'm fairly certain the sex traffic ring goes all the way to the top...but the whole conspiracy angle takes a backseat to Joe's fragmented reality and a desire to hurt bad people good. Maybe there's more to it, and I'm sure there is, but even after nights (with an s) watching it, Lynne Ramsay's flick felt like the last page you read before falling asleep. Like, I read it, so I'm going to count it...but, uh...don't necessarily ask me what the Hell happened, mkay?

Speaking of not really having any answers, here are the Yays and Boos. Is there any genre more oddly prolific than the quiet old guy murdering goons to save young women section? And to think I spent all my Blockbuster nights in Romance and Horror (best minute-to-boob ratio, those) instead...

Mom, pictured on the right, is, uh... a bit of a handful, no?

Yaaaaay!

• The score is phenomenal. It's very ominous and alarming...and well, perfect.
• While it's not quite Snatch-esque, the CCTV footage of Joe hammering everyone was fairly rad.
• That guy (dealer?) that made Joe? Pretty sure that one punch actually killed him. Like, the actor.
• I know I'm supposed to be sad, but holy shit that burial scene was so...enchanting? It was so poignant and so surreal, I actually immediately watched it again.
• And finally, even though I didn't really dig this movie all that much, at times it felt a bit like Drive's edgy, older brother. While Drive was the dreamy high school junior staring you down in a neon parking lot, You Were Never Really Here is the weird college sophomore who hasn't been to class since September and films garbage bags blowing in the wind for fun.

My face, when the movie ended.

Booooooo!

• A friend of mine texted me a few months back saying that I had to see this. The Boo is not only that he loved this movie, but that Margaret's gonna be pissed. Well, extra pissed.
• Jesus, everyone looks so f--king strung out in this movie, what the Hell? It was made in 2017, for f--k's sake. Imagine what they all look like now...
• Is he always trying to kill himself, or just always thinking about killing himself? Cause either way, not great.
• Was that a bath house? Because unless you want to see Aragorn's sword swinging willy-nilly, why would anyone, at any time, be in a bathhouse?
• There were some pretty long stretches of silence, which as a dad in quarantine with my kids since March, you'd think I'd appreciate, right? Not so much. When my two demons finally scurry off to bed, if there's no noise, I'll make it. By snoring.
• And finally, I kind of liked the ending more when it happened, versus abruptly realizing that it didn't. It probably doesn't make sense to do that in a diner, but as we were moments away from the credits, I'm not sure anything made sense anymore at all. Or ever will again.

Well, I've got some rare bit of good news to announce. First, my dad has settled in, and so far, not managed to destroy our old house (just my wife's heart, as he remodels all of it), and he's shockingly healthy, which is equally impressive. Secondly, and perhaps more important, is all that coursework that was due in nine days? Well, at this point, that was yesterday, and I got it all in and (presumably) kicked that courses ass upside down and sideways.

So maybe I can finish my next movie in less than five nights, and the ensuing post in less than ten days. Or else...

...it's going to be a busy fall.