#insidious superfluous memory

[yabutsuba]

Tag masterpost, part 2

[riviae]

I love Regis' and Geralt's friendship with all my heart, but then I remember that Regis will outlive him and most of his other friends. Is anyone else thinking about this or is it just me?

oh anon, you’ve got a storm coming because i am /always/ thinking about this: 

—

Mourning does not come naturally to their species, that much Regis knows. Nothing is lost forever. Only the truly ancient vampires, the ones old enough to recall a time before the Conjunction of Spheres, know what loss is. 

Or so it goes for most higher vampires. But Regis has never quite been an ordinary higher vampire. 

As a youth, he chose to ignore the parts of himself that yearned for genuine connection. He made a reputation as a rabble-rouser, someone good at creating superficial ties between vampires who didn’t quite fit in–they were the lonely ones, the wild ones, the ones who took to drinking in excess, pouring drinks in favor of talking about anything important at all. The superfluous charm he had as a storyteller, a vampire whose drunken escapades were revered and shunned in equal measure, made it so he always had someone, some company to entertain. He was never alone with his thoughts so he never had to face the consequences of his actions, the families he destroyed, the ugly addiction that made him irritable and callous when sober. 

And then he died–or came as close as he could to death. Dismembered and buried under layers upon layer of dirt, all he had to pass the decades of slow healing was his mind. His memories repeated over and over behind his eyes an innumerable amount of times. Burned villages. Empty bassinets covered in blood. Laughter–his own, he knew it had to be his own, but it sounded unfamiliar. Foreign. As if his sense of self had been neatly cleaved in half. There was the monster that he was before his regeneration, and then there was the monstrous man who took its place. Not a monster–not anymore, but perhaps still the relic of one. A relic of monstrosity learning to be a person, something not quite human, but as close as his distinct biological structure allowed.

In the years that followed he felt the burden of his prior choices, allowed them to age him, to steal the dark from his hair, to mark his face with lines and age-spots. The first step to being something human, he surmised, was to age. So he did. It suited him, Regis thought, to wear a different appearance after his regeneration. One that more easily brought to mind that of a kindly barber-surgeon. 

He traveled the continent for centuries, acting as a barber-surgeon on the battlefield (because there was always a war somewhere, wasn’t there? bloodshed somewhere. a constant reminder of what he denied himself floating through the air, as sweet as honeysuckle, as pungent as copper.) and a door-to-door physician at whatever village he chose to settle down in as winter took hold once more. Regis preferred to travel the human way, using a donkey that he always gave a rather obvious name to, and he would not lose a good animal because of frozen roads and waist-deep snow. 

It was during the particularly long and chilling winters that Regis felt the cold sting of loss. Humans could die in so many horrifically tragic ways. He had helped bury babies and mothers and young children and young couples and elderly widows and everything in between. But in the winter, it was as if Death walked amongst them, pacing the doors of the young and old with equal ferocity. First, the livestock died. Then, as the snow continued to fall, as the ice grew more solid and insidious, the weeks turning into months, food storages dwindled. People grew hungry. Disease spread. And Regis could do nothing but act as a comforting hand, a gentle voice in the dark once the tallow ran out, nothing to make candles from. There was no cure for hunger or cold in those days, not when there weren’t any animals around for miles, when Regis spent most of his waking hours at dying people’s bedsides, watching as the life trickled out of them, heard their heartbeats slow and slow until everything grew silent. He thought he might grow mad–so many deaths in so little time, people he had joked and played cards with in the fall, whose homes he had been invited into with the promise of a hot meal and stimulating conversation, were now cold and dead, gone to a place he could not follow. 

And then, just when he thought he had enough of it all–humans die so quickly; why did he think it was worth it? this pain? this bone-deep ache when they inevitably took their last shuddering breath? his penance was never abstaining from blood; it was this wellspring of grief he felt at every severed connection, every life cut short in a world that damn well seemed devoted to inflicting as much agony as it could before finally pulling them into a shallow grave–he met Geralt and his company. 

He knew he shouldn’t get close. He could taste their deaths in the air–knew that they would likely be gruesome, drawn-out events. Deaths that would never leave him, not entirely. He knew that if he lingered, allowed himself and his damnable curiosity to take hold, he would never be able to leave. A logical vampire, one that traipsed through society in the shadows, who only formed bonds with other vampires, would have let Geralt and his company get drunk on mandrake moonshine and leave them there in his home amongst the ruins of the elven graveyard. He had thought about doing that. Saw their pink, dozing faces, saw how easy it would be to lull Geralt into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

(He also saw how easy it was to love them. Geralt and the brilliant mind he hid underneath a facade of indifference and stoicism. Milva and her golden heart–so strong, so lovely, so dedicated to living life as free as a red kite, a bird of prey. Dandelion’s passion for art, for music, for all the beautiful things that humans could make–a scholar, a romantic, and a loyal friend, this much was obvious to Regis.) 

That was why he left Dillingen, wasn’t it? Not because of the encroaching war (though the thick scent of blood nowadays only made his spine curl in revulsion as he associated the scent with loss, his days of playing the demon long behind him). But because he was tired. He wanted solitude. Peace. A time to heal. A time to devote to his studies. A silence not gifted by death. 

But if Regis had what would eventually be called a fatal flaw, it was this: from the beginning he had been drawn to humans in a way most vampires were not. He hadn’t known it in his youth, so blood-drunk and warm, so far gone out of his faculties, that he would have been just as satisfied with a night-long conversation with any of the charming humans he encountered then a goblet of their blood, or their body sprawled in his lap, drinking his fill and more. 

He hadn’t really ever seen humans as beneath him–even when he killed them. Their deaths were just an unfortunate price to pay for their sweet, addicting blood. Something he had not been able to stop drinking until his head was severed from his neck. 

Now, knowing that he would likely lose his new company much too soon, Regis joined in their journey to rescue Geralt’s daughter. He wanted to do something good. He wanted to make friends, to have people to share stories with, to eat with, to doze with in front of a small campfire. A sense of belonging, even if brief, was better than centuries of living in the dark, cold and alone. He’d brave anything for that warmth. 

Or so he thought.

—

He had survived the hansa’s death at Stygga–it had taken blood and time and the hope that, at the very least, Geralt and Yennefer had survived, had saved Cirilla, and made a home for themselves somewhere. And for once, fate was kind to him. He reunited happily with Geralt and Yennefer, and Cirilla, now a young witcheress, no longer bound by the destiny in her blood. He had even gotten to see Dandelion and Zoltan again, his visits to the Chameleon his favorite holidays away from Beauclair. 

In fact, the years after the events in Beauclair, after tempering Dettlaff’s fragile state into something that could, one day, trust humanity again, were the most peaceful years of Regis’ life. Beauclair was a warm, wine-drunk place, almost as if out of a fairytale. It made him complacent. Lax. Lulled into a sweet daydream.

Regis had forgotten that he wasn’t living in a fairytale. It was what made the tragedy all the more painful. 

He was here now, in front of a single gravestone. 

There were a string of lilacs surrounding the grave, as well as a wooden sword, the size a small child might wield. Regis placed his own offering: the last bottle of moonshine they had shared together. 

The vampire surveyed the graveyard, looked at the cloud of ravens that had flocked to him in his grief, their dark, questioning eyes boring into his prone figure as they perched in the pines above. Regis waved them away with a hand. He did not want the company. Not now. Perhaps never again. 

He felt his bones creak as he moved to sit behind the gravestone, leaning his back against it. If he focused hard enough, he could almost pretend that it was him, not a cold slab of rock. 

“Hello, Geralt,” Regis says, knees curled up against his chest, fingers toying with the strap of his satchel. 

He was met with silence–not that he expected anything else. 

“I’m… I’m not sure if I believe in an afterlife,” he starts, because what else was there to say? Geralt was dead–it would always be a one-sided conversation now. For eternity. “But I hope there is one. Wouldn’t that be grand? You could see everyone again. Milva, Cahir… even dear Angouleme.” 

The last name drove another achingly sharp stake into his heart. “So young, they were all so young. I failed you all then. At Stygga. I couldn’t keep them safe. I’m immortal and I can’t even keep one human safe.” A weak chuckle escapes him. 

What was the point of power if you couldn’t use it to protect those you cared for? It was a sad thought–how they should have all been at their safest with him beside them; but they had died as he flew across the battlefield, their deaths part of what sent him into a whirlwind of rage when he spotted Vilgefortz. Why he had gone for the mage’s eyes instead of his throat–he had wanted Vilgefortz to suffer. To feel even a passing inkling of the pain Regis had felt as he flew to protect Geralt and Yennefer from the mage’s wrath. 

The memory only increased the pain. “Wherever you are–or aren’t–know this, my dearest friend: you are so deeply loved. You thought yourself a monster, well, here is the truth. You had a monster weep for you. I miss you, already. It’s only been a few days, but time moves so slowly. I sometimes think of coming to Corvo Bianco, to sit out on the porch with you and Yennefer like before. She’d be pretending to read a book, you would be sharpening a blade–or perhaps attempting to write a letter to Cirilla. I would be regaling you both with some tale or another. You’d sigh that familiar sort of fond sigh that means ‘Regis, I wish you’d shut up already,’ while Yennefer would try to hide her smile behind the pages of her book. And then, just as it started to grow dark, the sun making its slow descent below the horizon, Marlene would call us all inside for dinner. I wish I hadn’t taken those days for granted. If only I had known just how little time we’d get. Years, yes, may seem long to some–but for me, it was like the blink of an eye.” 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the approaching hooves. Didn’t hear as the rider swung off their horse, their footfalls growing louder and louder as they drew closer to him.

“Regis…” a voice called to him sweetly, their tone achingly gentle. It reminded him of how he spoke to patients on their deathbed, when they had but only a few moments and he comforted them as best as he could. 

(”It’s safe now. You can rest. That’s it, I’ll be right beside you. Close your eyes, my dear. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”) 

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Regis replies, hollow. He would cry, if he had the strength to. If it were possible to cry anymore than he did after seeing Geralt’s lifeless body at his crypt door. Still, it was almost a selfish thing to say; no one important to Geralt got to say goodbye. He regretted saying the words immediately. 

“I know.” Cirilla crouches down beside him, their knees knocking together as she mimics his position. If she is offended, she doesn’t show it. Her green eyes are lidded with grief, their usual bright spark dulled by a death none of them expected. But when was death every expected, really? Even the old expected to wake the next morning from their sleep. 

“I wish I had. If I could go back in time–if I could have stopped him from taking that contract…” he trails, biting at his lip. 

Ciri shakes her head sadly. “There’s no point in thinking like that, Regis. You couldn’t have known what would happen. You can’t blame yourself.” 

“But I can. Did you know that when I woke up that morning, I had the oddest sense of dread? I couldn’t shake it at all. And then the sun was setting and I was feeling relieved because nothing bad had happened. Then, just as I smiled to myself, I heard the thud outside. The sound of Geralt falling in front of my door.” 

“That still doesn’t change the truth. You are not to blame. No one is,” she paused, voice going soft again. “Regis, I know what you did. I saw his body before it was burned.” 

The vampire’s gaze fell to the ground. “Then you know that I failed him–both as a friend and as a barber-surgeon. He could have survived if I had been just a few moments earlier. He was still warm. If I had gotten a raven to alert Yennefer faster, if I hadn’t spent precious moments in a state of panic over the sight of him, then… then perhaps… perhaps he’d be here. Sitting with us. Not laying in the dirt below us.” 

(Ciri had seen it–the extent at which Regis had tried to bring Geralt back to life. The way he had performed chest compressions again and again, creating a series of post-mortem bruises across the man’s otherwise pale skin. How he had then tried to massage the heart into beating, to coax out a rhythm as he reached into the exposed chest cavity. How he had no human blood on hand to replace the blood Geralt had lost so he ripped open his own veins, pouring his own blood into the witcher’s mouth from his wrist.) 

Regis startles at her touch, at the gentle hand covering his own. This was the first time he could ever recall being comforted. His occupation as barber-surgeon usually had him taking on the role–but here Cirilla was, mourning her father, and she had chosen to carve out her time into comforting a centuries-old vampire. 

“Regis, it’s alright. We know you did all you could. We’re not upset with you. And I know Geralt isn’t upset with you either. Although, he’d probably be upset to see you moping by his grave so much.” 

Regis laughs and it almost sounds happy. “You are certainly right about that.” 

They are silent, for awhile. Regis listens to the sound of the leaves skirting over the ground, he listens to Cirilla’s heartbeat, its steady rhythm a balm of sorts. Geralt was gone. He wasn’t going to come back. But he still lived on, in a way. In the bonds he forged. The family he chose. In the way Cirilla stood up abruptly, dusting off dirt from her trousers, sporting a familiar grin, one hand offered to him.

“Now, come on. I came to invite you to dinner at Corvo Bianco. Yennefer will be upset if I come back empty-handed. And, Regis… you’re allowed to grieve with us. We’re a family. It wouldn’t be right for you to grieve alone. Not when we’re all still here.”

Regis, smiling, takes her hand and lets himself be lead back home. The ache in his heart is dulled, somewhat, and for now, it is enough. It has to be. 

[samwpmarleau]

Prompt; elia having a flashback of time when rhaegar used to be nice and write and perform songs for her before anyone else but is distracted when Arthur brings a big teddy bear for her. Sorry if i am being too demanding and flooding your inbox.

She still finds it hard to believe it’s come to this. Today would have been their eleventh anniversary, and now she’s boxing up what’s left of his belongings, the white line around her finger not yet faded from where her ring had been for so long, the ring itself in a box ready to return to him with various other valuable knick-knacks she’d gotten over the years.

She’d thought for a while about keeping it, perhaps to sell, perhaps to melt down the setting but keep the diamond to put in a necklace or bracelet, perhaps simply to retain as an heirloom. Ultimately, she’d decided against it. While it brings her simple regret now to think of how happy it had once made her, she knows the regret could easily become insidious bitterness.

Most of the other stuff is just superfluous crap: forgotten button-downs; a broken watch that neither of them had remembered to take to the jeweler’s; a few of his nice fountain pens. Yet she hesitates when she scrounges through the attic and comes across the keyboard she’d once bought him.

It’s dusty now from disuse, and had been sentimental more than anything else, since he was plenty rich enough to buy himself a grand piano ten times over. But she remembers the times he did use it, and the memories tug unpleasantly at her heart.

He still writes and performs songs so far as she knows, but it’s been years since he did so just for her. He used to do it all the time, for birthdays or anniversaries or when she was sick, or just because. Oh, how spellbinding and soothing his voice had been, how soulful his lyrics. He never declared a song finished until she had offered her thoughts, had heard its tune. Some songs he never performed, even for his own family; the songs were simply theirs. Hers.

They had loved each other once. Maybe it hadn’t been the love that’s in all the fairy tales they told the kids at bedtime, but a love made of respect and friendship and perseverance.

Feeling not quite herself, she plugs in the instrument and begins to play one of her favorites of his, woven to her fingers in muscle memory. Her mother had taught her piano when she was little, but she hadn’t truly taken to it until Rhaegar’s passion for music had encouraged her to try again.

It’s bittersweet, dancing through the familiar chords. He had hummed it when she needed it most, during her difficult labor with Rhaenys and her agonizing one with Aegon and the postpartum depression that had ensnared her for six weeks after them both. During her father’s funeral, when she had to maintain her composure. It had not been the only thing that helped her pull through those trials, but it had calmed her.

The song isn’t particularly long, having been composed early on before he’d perfected his methods, and the final note reverberates around the room like a dirge. She shuts her eyes, trying to keep any further memories of the good days at bay. It’s no use reflecting on those, not when their divorce has been newly finalized and she’s shed god only knows how many tears.

“You play beautifully.”

She doesn’t startle; Arthur had mentioned he would be coming over this afternoon to pick up the boxes and bring them to Rhaegar’s apartment for her. She’s grateful that he had volunteered for the task, for she wouldn’t be able to guarantee her actions or emotions if she were to see Rhaegar face-to-face right now. Even mediation, in which they were reminded in endless detail of the terms of their prenup, had been an utter slog to get through.

“It’s one of Rhaegar’s old tunes,” she answers. “I found the keyboard and got hit by nostalgia.”

Arthur climbs up the rest of the ladder and sits beside her on the floor. “As it happens, I found something, too.”

He holds out a stuffed bear with a polka-dot bowtie. Touched, she asks, “You got this for me?”

“Yeah, I was picking up a couple things for my nephew’s birthday and I saw that,” he explains. “I know the past few months haven’t been easy, so I thought this might cheer you up.”

Elia smiles at his sweetness. “It does. Thank you.”

She hadn’t been certain whose side Arthur would take once she and Rhaegar set their divorce in motion. He had been Rhaegar’s friend first, after all, and some of their other mutual friends had sided with Rhaegar or tried to be moderate, giving a myriad of worthless explanations that in some cases made her wonder if they chose him because they too had those skeletons in the closet.

But Arthur had chosen her, principally citing her own argument–if Rhaegar’s eye was caught by another woman, then he should have ended the marriage then and there, not carried on the deception–and summarily cut ties.

However, that also left the two of them in a weird place. He’d never been just her friend before, and she’d never known him especially well. Sure, they’d had plenty of conversations and had similarities Rhaegar couldn’t properly relate to, like coincidentally having grown up in the same area and thus sharing turns of phrase he didn’t understand and cuisine he couldn’t handle, but they hadn’t really had reason to spend a wealth of time together.

Arthur has helped, though. Not just with his support, but with trying to piece together why Rhaegar may have done what he did, and that it had nothing to do with her. Her pride and self-esteem are nowhere near restored yet, but it’s a start.

“Is this going, too?” Arthur asks, gesturing towards the keyboard.

She ponders that. It had been a gift, an expensive one at that, and she does enjoy playing. Plus, Aegon has already shown a keen interest in music despite being only seven, and she could save this for him one day.

But that would mean that even in such a small way, she would be sharing something with Rhaegar that had been given out of intimacy, and she doesn’t want that. Their children are both of theirs; the keyboard had been for him.

“Yes, please. I’m moving forward.”

“You deserve to,” he says. “Well, I’d better start getting everything loaded. Is the rest all packed up?”

She takes one last look around the room, as she had methodically done previously for everywhere else in the house. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Sounds good. I won’t be long.”

He goes to pick up the first box, when she finds herself suggesting, “Hey, um…I was thinking of making a celebratory dinner tonight. You know, in honor of de-Rhaegaring the place. I’m not really in the mood yet to hear Oberyn eviscerating Rhaegar or anything, and the kids are still at their grandmother’s, so it’s just me at the moment. You’re welcome to join. If you want. It’s the least I can do.”

Arthur looks apprehensive, and she’s not entirely sure why. It’s just dinner, isn’t it?

But the expression is gone in short order. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll swing by once I drop these off.”

She smiles, feeling her mood lift. “I’ll hold you to that.”

[nastyangel]

Hello, wish you're doing not so bad today ^^/ creepy girl ask meme: taxidermy, eyeball, porcelain, blood, teacup, corpse, knife, lollipop, monster, mantis, teeth, witch, chainsaw, ribbon, pigtails, succubus, lullaby?

hello again and thank you ♡♡

taxidermy: your favorite animal(s) →    I love all animals, really. My favorites are dogs, cats and rabits (i have 3 puppies and one bunny rn)

eyeball: some of your favorite films →    really hard, my memory is shit. Ok, so I love Lucy, The East, Point Break, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, The 5th Wave, Insidious… I really should start writing them down bc I really cant remember. I am more into terror movies but I always think theyre bad

porcelain: your favorite article of clothing →     shoes?

blood: some of your favorite foods →     ice cream, chocolate, I almost only eat sweets

teacup: some of your favorite beverages →     mango juice, passion fruit juice, vodka

corpse: something you would love to do but can’t →      hmmm… im trying to avoid negative answers so… sleep a month straight or travel or draw or buy many clothes and shoes (im poor) (dont think im superfluous lol its one of the few things that make me feel good)

knife: something you’re good at cooking or baking →     cakes and ”brigadeiro” (It’s a brazilian candy made from chocolate)

lollipop: some of your favorite candy →     BRIGADEIRO!! mousse, brownie… there are several others that dont know the name and I find it difficult to explain :/ I literally love all candies

monster: your worst habits →     I tend to constantly sabotage myself, talk too much and OVERSHARING!!!! i cant help it I just keep talking

mantis: your sexual orientation →     im straight

teeth: something that makes you laugh →     puns, nonsense jokes, memes

witch: a power you wish you had →     stop time or control people… NOT really like control ppl but… I dont know if you watched/read The Dark Tower but theres the Man in Black and he looks at people and say something like ”stop breathing” or ”buy me an ice cream” and ppl have to do it I think its amazing??? I would never do something bad bc I just cant but I think its awesome. Is that something bad to say? (edit: I just had an amazing idea. I would be like ”stop being racist/homophobic/misogynist)

chainsaw: your favorite sound →     the sea, the waves. The beach is the only place I want to be

ribbon: your favorite color combinations →     black & white/pink/yellow ; white & pink/blue

pigtails: how affectionate you are →     i… dont know? I think im very affectionate most of the time. im never rude (or try to never be). But I interact very little with people

succubus: your weirdest kinks  →      the violent ones………. (nothing like extreme bdsm)

lullaby: songs you love to sing  →      Numb, Love The Way You Lie, Oh No, Make Me Wanna Die, Freaks, Carmen, Just Tonight, Fear Of The Dark, It Will Rain, Sippy Cup…

tysm and feel free to ask me what u want

it took me a while and was rlly good

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Lock and Key

I have a clear and aggressive love for cyberpunk. It started, way back when i was an impressionable youth, as i watched Akira for the first time. Oh my god, i had never seen anything so goddamn brutal. So goddamn tragic. So goddamn beautiful.  It scratch the itch i began to have for existentialism and fueled my burgeoning apathy. That whole nihilistic take on society is how i was starting to see the world and it stuck. My love for this genre began to grow and embellish, as my palette for cinema and literature matured. By the late 90s, i was introduced to Ghost in the Shell and, oh my god, it was like watching Akira again for the first time. My almost-teenage rebellion acclimated to the Major’s staunch rebellion of self. Her search for what it meant to be alive, what it meant for her to BE, mirrored my own wayward path toward adulthood and i dug every minute of it. I began to search out more and more of this genre and found that post apocalyptic world of data enslavement and social dissonance lends itself to the larger human questions. The hard ones we have no answer for. I saw Akira when i was, like, 6 or 7. I’m 33 now. I still love Cyberpunk. So imagine my utter fan-boying when i found out that a sequel to one of the quintessential cyberpunk worlds ever created, Blade Runner 29, was coming out this year. My hype was real and, oh boy, did this flick f*cking deliver!

Now, before i get into my review of one of my most anticipated films of the year, i just want to take a minute and acknowledge Ana De Armas. Yo, this woman is crazy beautiful and mad talented. I saw her in Knock, Knock a while back an though she was a flash in the pan but, nah. Ol’ girl has some real potential. Here’s hoping she keeps growing in her craft. Also, my god, is she beautiful!

The Best

F*ck this movie is beautiful, like, goddamn, man. And it’s not style or substance! each frame is painstakingly framed. Each scene is lovingly cradled from one to the next. There is never a detail out of place or superfluous addition. This movie knew what it needed to be and it deftly executed as needed. Goddam the efficiency of it’s aesthetic was incredible! Roger Deakins deserves the highest of praise, yo. Bravo, sir. Bra-f*cking-o!

There is a distinct, feminine, energy running through this film. It makes sense to me that the natural pregnancy and birth of a Replicant child, one that happens to be a girl, would legitimize an entire race of artificial people. All things begin and end with women and this flick really drives that home.

But that 1980s Sean Young, tho!

I also like how the majority of the male energy is inflated, abusive, and egotistical. It’s crazy how blind men can be at times and this flick conveys that with adept subtlety.

For all of that female energy, this movie is very much Ryan Gosling’s vehicle. His K/Joe makes this film. We spend the most time with him. We learn the most about him. We see this world, this story, through his eyes. And he does a wonderful job conveying the reality of someone who c literally cannot say “no”. Who knows all of his memories are fakes. Who knows he is little more than a slave. There are some hard to watch scenes where he’s realizing certain aspects of his life and it breaks him. Not the revelations themselves but the futility to change any of them. Sh*t’s wild to see and crazy devastating to bare. Ryan Gosling is an outstanding actor and his skill, though wildly understated here, is put on showcase and this film is better for it.

But seriously tho, f*ck is this movie is beautiful!!

Sylvia Hoeks as Luv was a fantastic foil to K, in all of the ways. Her fiery temper and violent passion was in stark contrast to the distant, reserved impersonal K/Joe portrayed by Gosling. I find the best villains, the best foils to protagonists, are often the opposite because they represent who they can be if they made that left instead of right. And Luv is definitely the wrong turn. She is a real psychopath, through and through, and relishes in her acts of pure malevolence. i adored her character very much and thought it fitting she clocked out the way she did.

But that score, tho!

The Better

Of all the supporting character, Ford included, (It’s weird to call Ford a supporting character in a franchise he started but he really is) i found myself drawn to Ana De Armas. Playing a Replicant for a Replicant pretty much, her struggle to exist as a real person, as someone who could actually, physically, support her “Joe” was heartbreaking. I wanted Joi to find some joy so badly and Ana did an outstanding job conveying that yearning and futility.

The special effects are breathtaking in this movie. There was a scene where a massive, pink tinged, Joi hologram pointed at K/Joe and it was awesome. The thing is, all of that was practical! I mean, there were some color adjustments in post but that was physical. They projected Ana over a bunch of rain and had her interact with Gosling in real time and it was the most dazzling sh*t i had seen in a flick all year. And that was just ONE f*cking effect!

Harrison Ford was outstanding as his usual curmudgeon self he has, more or less, settled into playing in the autumn years of a career triumphant. It’s hard for me to separate him from Han Solo but he does a fine job reminding me that Rick Deckard is still that asshole with a heart of gold, even 30 years later.

Jared Leto also turns in another unique performance, per usual. This cat is becoming a very real actor and it’s refreshing to see. After watching him muddle through as best he could with that sh*tty Joker, it was refreshing to see him be able to make a distinct impact on a film. We definitely haven’t seen the end of his Niander Wallace and i look forward to what’s next for the character.

The rest of the supporting cast, Dave Bautista in particular, did a great job. Bautista turned in another surprisingly deep performance. Someone needs to get that guy a vehicle, fast. He deserves a goddamn marquee already! Also, someone give Carla Juri a role where she is an actual presence. I loved her in Wetlands and the little bit she has to do here, she does expertly. the fact she isn’t in more stuff is wildly disappointing!

The direction here is superb. Denis Villeneuve is fast becoming one of my all time favorite directors. He knows how to tell a great f*cking story. Sicaro was an inspired film but it was Arrival that really put ol’ boy on my radar solid. Sh*t was so goddamn emotional, it crippled me. I literally couldn’t deal with all of the questions and realities that thing kicked forth about reality, love, parenting, and relationships. I cried in my car, man. Seriously, broke down and sobbed. it was too much. That never happens. I never feel that much for a film. For his vision, his skill, to solicit such a overt emotional response out of me? brilliant. just brilliant. He’s pulled back on the emotional revelation for a more existential one in 2049 but the expert craftsmanship is still very apparent. We are watching the birth of a master right now and i am loving every minute of it.

The overall story is on point. It perfectly picks up where the Final Cut of the original Blade Runner left off. The story itself is a little concise and to the point, but it’s also the only logical evolution if you paid attention to the end of the original film. I like the hints left toward the end and look forward to another sequel, if we’re lucky enough to get a trilogy because, goddamn, i love this world!

The Good

It was fun to see Edward James Olmos and Barkhad Abdi make cameos. I kind of wanted more from those guys but i understood there was a place for them and that place was fleeting. Still, great spots.

I found the plot a little derivative. I wouldn’t say this was bad or disappointing and, indeed, the choice was made in an effort to make this flick more accessible since it deals with such heavy subject matter, but it was still a driving narrative we’ve seen before. But, goddamn, was it one helluva take on it to watch!

There was a scene at the beginning of the third act that kind of came out of nowhere. It hints at something greater on the horizon but it feels like that was an unnecessary reveal right now. Like, it was something that one would assume with everything that transpired in the film. It didn’t need to be visually quantified for the audience, i don’t think. It was all a little hand-holdy for me.

There isn’t a real villain in this film. Like, not even a little. I mean, there are insidious motivations all around but overall, it feels l like society, human society, like, WE are the real villains here and the people where’s suppose to think are the monsters, simply want what’s best for the Replicants. I like that twist, personally, but i ca see how someone new to the franchise or unfamiliar with the actual world would be put off by all of the grey.

The Verdict

This movie was so good, man. It’s everything you want in a cyber punk film. It’s everything you want in a post apocalyptic noir. It’s everything you want and need in a sequel. It expands the world, builds the lore, and gives you brand new revelations. It sets up future events but still respects the canon. The performances were inspired, if a little muted, and, goddamn is it beautiful. It never really dragged for me, even though the thing is 2 hours and 45 minutes long, which, in itself, is a goddamn miracle. This is easily the most beautiful film i’ve seen all year, i think i mentioned that before, and it was a legitimately compelling tale. Go see Blade Runner 2049. I cannot impress upon you how much you’ll be missing if you don’t. It is the closest thing to a perfect film i have ever seen, no exaggeration. Go see that sh*t!

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Lock and Key

I have a clear and aggressive love for cyberpunk. It started, way back when i was an impressionable youth, as i watched Akira for the first time. Oh my god, i had never seen anything so goddamn brutal. So goddamn tragic. So goddamn beautiful.  It scratch the itch i began to have for existentialism and fueled my burgeoning apathy. That whole nihilistic take on society is how i was starting to see the world and it stuck. My love for this genre began to grow and embellish, as my palette for cinema and literature matured. By the late 90s, i was introduced to Ghost in the Shell and, oh my god, it was like watching Akira again for the first time. My almost-teenage rebellion acclimated to the Major’s staunch rebellion of self. Her search for what it meant to be alive, what it meant for her to BE, mirrored my own wayward path toward adulthood and i dug every minute of it. I began to search out more and more of this genre and found that post apocalyptic world of data enslavement and social dissonance lends itself to the larger human questions. The hard ones we have no answer for. I saw Akira when i was, like, 6 or 7. I’m 33 now. I still love Cyberpunk. So imagine my utter fan-boying when i found out that a sequel to one of the quintessential cyberpunk worlds ever created, Blade Runner 29, was coming out this year. My hype was real and, oh boy, did this flick f*cking deliver!

Now, before i get into my review of one of my most anticipated films of the year, i just want to take a minute and acknowledge Ana De Armas. Yo, this woman is crazy beautiful and mad talented. I saw her in Knock, Knock a while back an though she was a flash in the pan but, nah. Ol’ girl has some real potential. Here’s hoping she keeps growing in her craft. Also, my god, is she beautiful!

The Best

F*ck this movie is beautiful, like, goddamn, man. And it’s not style or substance! each frame is painstakingly framed. Each scene is lovingly cradled from one to the next. There is never a detail out of place or superfluous addition. This movie knew what it needed to be and it deftly executed as needed. Goddam the efficiency of it’s aesthetic was incredible! Roger Deakins deserves the highest of praise, yo. Bravo, sir. Bra-f*cking-o!

There is a distinct, feminine, energy running through this film. It makes sense to me that the natural pregnancy and birth of a Replicant child, one that happens to be a girl, would legitimize an entire race of artificial people. All things begin and end with women and this flick really drives that home.

But that 1980s Sean Young, tho!

I also like how the majority of the male energy is inflated, abusive, and egotistical. It’s crazy how blind men can be at times and this flick conveys that with adept subtlety.

For all of that female energy, this movie is very much Ryan Gosling’s vehicle. His K/Joe makes this film. We spend the most time with him. We learn the most about him. We see this world, this story, through his eyes. And he does a wonderful job conveying the reality of someone who c literally cannot say “no”. Who knows all of his memories are fakes. Who knows he is little more than a slave. There are some hard to watch scenes where he’s realizing certain aspects of his life and it breaks him. Not the revelations themselves but the futility to change any of them. Sh*t’s wild to see and crazy devastating to bare. Ryan Gosling is an outstanding actor and his skill, though wildly understated here, is put on showcase and this film is better for it.

But seriously tho, f*ck is this movie is beautiful!!

Sylvia Hoeks as Luv was a fantastic foil to K, in all of the ways. Her fiery temper and violent passion was in stark contrast to the distant, reserved impersonal K/Joe portrayed by Gosling. I find the best villains, the best foils to protagonists, are often the opposite because they represent who they can be if they made that left instead of right. And Luv is definitely the wrong turn. She is a real psychopath, through and through, and relishes in her acts of pure malevolence. i adored her character very much and thought it fitting she clocked out the way she did.

But that score, tho!

The Better

Of all the supporting character, Ford included, (It’s weird to call Ford a supporting character in a franchise he started but he really is) i found myself drawn to Ana De Armas. Playing a Replicant for a Replicant pretty much, her struggle to exist as a real person, as someone who could actually, physically, support her “Joe” was heartbreaking. I wanted Joi to find some joy so badly and Ana did an outstanding job conveying that yearning and futility.

The special effects are breathtaking in this movie. There was a scene where a massive, pink tinged, Joi hologram pointed at K/Joe and it was awesome. The thing is, all of that was practical! I mean, there were some color adjustments in post but that was physical. They projected Ana over a bunch of rain and had her interact with Gosling in real time and it was the most dazzling sh*t i had seen in a flick all year. And that was just ONE f*cking effect!

Harrison Ford was outstanding as his usual curmudgeon self he has, more or less, settled into playing in the autumn years of a career triumphant. It’s hard for me to separate him from Han Solo but he does a fine job reminding me that Rick Deckard is still that asshole with a heart of gold, even 30 years later.

Jared Leto also turns in another unique performance, per usual. This cat is becoming a very real actor and it’s refreshing to see. After watching him muddle through as best he could with that sh*tty Joker, it was refreshing to see him be able to make a distinct impact on a film. We definitely haven’t seen the end of his Niander Wallace and i look forward to what’s next for the character.

The rest of the supporting cast, Dave Bautista in particular, did a great job. Bautista turned in another surprisingly deep performance. Someone needs to get that guy a vehicle, fast. He deserves a goddamn marquee already! Also, someone give Carla Juri a role where she is an actual presence. I loved her in Wetlands and the little bit she has to do here, she does expertly. the fact she isn’t in more stuff is wildly disappointing!

The direction here is superb. Denis Villeneuve is fast becoming one of my all time favorite directors. He knows how to tell a great f*cking story. Sicaro was an inspired film but it was Arrival that really put ol’ boy on my radar solid. Sh*t was so goddamn emotional, it crippled me. I literally couldn’t deal with all of the questions and realities that thing kicked forth about reality, love, parenting, and relationships. I cried in my car, man. Seriously, broke down and sobbed. it was too much. That never happens. I never feel that much for a film. For his vision, his skill, to solicit such a overt emotional response out of me? brilliant. just brilliant. He’s pulled back on the emotional revelation for a more existential one in 2049 but the expert craftsmanship is still very apparent. We are watching the birth of a master right now and i am loving every minute of it.

The overall story is on point. It perfectly picks up where the Final Cut of the original Blade Runner left off. The story itself is a little concise and to the point, but it’s also the only logical evolution if you paid attention to the end of the original film. I like the hints left toward the end and look forward to another sequel, if we’re lucky enough to get a trilogy because, goddamn, i love this world!

The Good

It was fun to see Edward James Olmos and Barkhad Abdi make cameos. I kind of wanted more from those guys but i understood there was a place for them and that place was fleeting. Still, great spots.

I found the plot a little derivative. I wouldn’t say this was bad or disappointing and, indeed, the choice was made in an effort to make this flick more accessible since it deals with such heavy subject matter, but it was still a driving narrative we’ve seen before. But, goddamn, was it one helluva take on it to watch!

There was a scene at the beginning of the third act that kind of came out of nowhere. It hints at something greater on the horizon but it feels like that was an unnecessary reveal right now. Like, it was something that one would assume with everything that transpired in the film. It didn’t need to be visually quantified for the audience, i don’t think. It was all a little hand-holdy for me.

There isn’t a real villain in this film. Like, not even a little. I mean, there are insidious motivations all around but overall, it feels l like society, human society, like, WE are the real villains here and the people where’s suppose to think are the monsters, simply want what’s best for the Replicants. I like that twist, personally, but i ca see how someone new to the franchise or unfamiliar with the actual world would be put off by all of the grey.

The Verdict

This movie was so good, man. It’s everything you want in a cyber punk film. It’s everything you want in a post apocalyptic noir. It’s everything you want and need in a sequel. It expands the world, builds the lore, and gives you brand new revelations. It sets up future events but still respects the canon. The performances were inspired, if a little muted, and, goddamn is it beautiful. It never really dragged for me, even though the thing is 2 hours and 45 minutes long, which, in itself, is a goddamn miracle. This is easily the most beautiful film i’ve seen all year, i think i mentioned that before, and it was a legitimately compelling tale. Go see Blade Runner 2049. I cannot impress upon you how much you’ll be missing if you don’t. It is the closest thing to a perfect film i have ever seen, no exaggeration. Go see that sh*t!