Genius. Pure, sleight-of-hand-animated, single cel by single celled organ... genius. If only more people could refer to their movies as "labors of love" and truly mean LABOR as in... giving birth. The blood couldn't be more ever-present.
Five things for me: the themes of government over individuality (that is to say that money and might makes right), the theory of what I REALLY want to do to my in laws (if I had them), how to hum a happy little tune of some random order all the while, what's really going through a guy's head during sex, and how DID you get to be so cute?
Please note that the complexity and intellectuality of the most important things were presented in a descending order. The movie moves a bit more erratically, though with a lot more color and sound.
Watch it. If only to say you did. If only to turn to someone else the previous day and say, "I watched this flick last night. I don't know if I'll sleep properly for a week but I've got to own it."
It's like being the guy who drinks something out of a cup that's been sitting out for three days, gagging furiously and then looking to your roommate and saying, "Man, this stuff tastes like s#!t. You've got to try it!"
Only in a good way.
The movie looks gorgeous, is captivating as only lovingly tendered sick humor (with a certain political morality) could be, and is easily one of the most originally sketched visions in motion picture history.
Enjoy. Bill Plympton is the man.
Five things for me: the themes of government over individuality (that is to say that money and might makes right), the theory of what I REALLY want to do to my in laws (if I had them), how to hum a happy little tune of some random order all the while, what's really going through a guy's head during sex, and how DID you get to be so cute?
Please note that the complexity and intellectuality of the most important things were presented in a descending order. The movie moves a bit more erratically, though with a lot more color and sound.
Watch it. If only to say you did. If only to turn to someone else the previous day and say, "I watched this flick last night. I don't know if I'll sleep properly for a week but I've got to own it."
It's like being the guy who drinks something out of a cup that's been sitting out for three days, gagging furiously and then looking to your roommate and saying, "Man, this stuff tastes like s#!t. You've got to try it!"
Only in a good way.
The movie looks gorgeous, is captivating as only lovingly tendered sick humor (with a certain political morality) could be, and is easily one of the most originally sketched visions in motion picture history.
Enjoy. Bill Plympton is the man.