From Burn After Reading to Slacker
April 2024 at the Movies
The Bad News: at the start of this month I was laid off one of my jobs.
The Good News: all the more time for movies (lots and lots of movies).
The Best News: If you enjoy those posts and feel bad for my new moneyless freedom, you can always become a paid supporter of my substack.
The Greatest of the Best of News: This is what I watched April 2024 at the movies…
Burn After Reading
Revisiting some Coen comedies for this month’s feature was as fruitful as any revisit to the Coen’s is. With Burn After Reading, we follow a slew of deeply stupid characters as they all backstab, betray, and scheme against each other (half the time without even realizing they are against each other). A comedic take on the spy thriller, we’re thrown into the dull lives of gym employees and middle management bureaucrats as they attempt to grapple with ideas and concepts much larger than they can comprehend. The end of the film asks what the point of it all was, and the brilliance of the comedy is that there wasn’t any point at all.
From Brad Pitt and Francis McDormand’s bumbling personal trainers to George Clooney and John Malkovich’s egomaniacal government agents, the film is chock full of classic Coen idiots. How their stories are carefully and playfully woven into a beautiful mess of a story is masterful. While the film may not leave your stomach aching from laughter, it will undoubtedly be at the forefront of your mind when recalling great comedic moments. The satire on the inefficiency and ineffectuality of the government, while also pointing out that the knowledge of the everyday man isn’t something great either, makes this one of the Coen’s best (though basically every Coen’s is one of their best).
Civil War
Civil War is not the film I was expecting, and my disappointment in it is no doubt attached to that. But even setting aside what I thought the film was going to be, the film we did get is still not up to the standards I expect from director Alex Garland. Following a group of journalists who are traveling to Washington during the final days of an American civil war, the film actively stays away from blatant political pandering, which is undoubtedly a positive. By choosing to focus on the individual character archetypes (the grizzled veteran, the newbie, the thrill seeker, the elder statesman) Garland is attempting to take this broad story and whittle it down to an emotional core. But in doing so I can’t help but feel he is leaving much to be desired, and much to be delved into, for the sake of not wanting to be controversial.
This is a film that could have taken place in any conflict around the globe, which is an active decision on the part of the filmmaker, but not an interesting one. We get a “war is hell” film every few years, and while that is not a bad path to go down, it does rob the story of a unique identity. This film has nothing to say about being an American, what an American civil war would mean to these characters specifically, or even what war means outside of the bland and formless “we’re all human in the end” platitude. While yes, every war on a granular level is effectively the same (especially for those caught in the crossfire) a civil war in America is different than a civil war in France. A conflict of such internal struggle as the oxymoronic civil war should be easy to bring such conflict into the characters or onto the screen. I don’t think identity is a political stance, I don’t think the struggle of what it means to have your country, your home, torn apart is a political stance. The filmmakers are too afraid of saying anything too controversial that they fail to say much at all.
Now that doesn’t mean that this film has nothing to offer. Kirsten Dunst gives a great, subtle performance as the war photographer with an icy shield she uses to try and distance herself from the world around her. The focus on making the film an “anywhere on Earth” story allows Garland to comment on modern journalism and the pursuit of the thrills over the facts. There are some truly tense setpieces, including the best scene involving Jesse Plemons as an army grunt dishing out his own form of justice. At the end of the day this film feels more like wasted potential than a poorly made film, but wasted potential from such talented people is almost worse.
Clockers
The first of my Spike Lee retrospectives from this month, Clockers follows a low-level drug dealer Strike (Mekhi Phifer) as he weaves his way through drug deals, family strife, and murder on the streets of Brooklyn. When his drug lord boss orders him to murder a rival, the table is set for the downfall of Strike’s entire life. Switching between Strike’s life as a drug peddler who develops a fatherly relationship with a local teen and the detectives (Harvey Keitel and John Turturro) investigating the murder that Strike may or may not have committed, Lee paints a portrait of life on the streets with no way out. Unfortunately, this is not a film nor a story that could only be told by Lee and has been told many times before in much more engaging ways.
For much of its runtime, this does not carry the style or heart associated with Lee’s work up until now. This film is not nearly as angry as School Daze or Do the Right Thing, not as compassionate as Malcolm X or Crooklyn, instead coming off as an underbaked genre exercise. While there are moments of brilliance they are quickly drowned out by a predictable and uninteresting plot and skin-deep social analysis. This film was originally meant to be a Martin Scorsese directed film with a full focus on the detectives, and it feels like a film uncertain of who or what we should be paying attention to. Strike is a shallow character, a stock stereotype with little moral conflict. The police are dogged in their stances without reason, and the film ends up being a rather forgettable inner-city drama. Seeing as this is the start of a rather rough period for Lee creatively (his next two films Girl 6 and Get On the Bus are held in such little regard that they are almost impossible to find) I can’t help but see Clockers as a film that simply feels tired.
Crooklyn
The second Lee film from this month, Crooklyn is a deeply personal, semi-autobiographical film about a young girl growing up with her large family in 1970s Brooklyn. A film that eschews melodrama for genuine moments, the film follows this family through the highs and lows of a turbulent year or so. The patriarch of the family, Woody (Delroy Lindo) is a dreamer, a struggling musician who reinforces the ideas of self-reliance and charity of heart on his children. Their mother, Carolyn (Alfre Woodard) is more of a realist, teaching her children manners and the harsh injustice that can exist in the world. Together the two fight, make up, make love, and struggle desperately to keep their family together in an ever-changing world.
One of Lee’s most personal and gentlest efforts so far, this may be my favourite film of his. While it doesn’t contain the rage of much of his earlier work, it does still give a unique and introspective view of a world far different from my own. Delroy Lindo gives a career-best performance as a struggling musician who is constantly battling between his artistic integrity and his need to provide for his family. Zelda Harris is wonderful as the girl-not-yet-a-woman, stuck in between not wanting to let go of her childhood and the world demanding she steps into a new, more mature world. Crooklyn is a film that unfairly does not get the representation it deserves in discussions of coming-of-age films, and if this post does nothing more than help combat that injustice then I am happy.
The Devil’s Backbone
Guillermo del Toro is unwilling to let us forget our sins. In The Devil’s Backbone, we follow a group of orphans at an isolated boys’ school during the Spanish Civil War. With the adults at the school being secretly in league with the leftist Republicans, and the war raging just out of frame, the tensions are only increased when a new arrival, Carlos, starts seeing the ghost of a young boy. Two stories emerge and dance before combining in the final act; that of an aged physician and his friend’s wife (Federico Luppi and Marisa Paredes) who are desperately trying to keep the war from swallowing everything and everyone they knew, and that of a young boy trying to find the truth about the ghastly dead child who follows him in the night.
Del Toro will never be one to truly frighten an audience as much as he unsettles us with the brutality of humanity. Here we are never scared of the ghost boy wandering after Carlos, quickly seeing he is an omen instead of a threat. Instead, it’s in the seemingly normal characters, if brash, that we see the worst of what humanity is capable of. We can see how greed and anger can quickly curdle love to betrayal and sanity to madness. But del Toro is, at his heart, a humanist, and while he shows us the horror on the one hand, he shows us the kindness on the other. We can see the indomitable human spirit, both in humans and ghosts, as friends and lovers band together in the harshest of situations. A lovingly told ghost story about the inescapability of the past.
Eraserhead
I am completely ill-equipped for a discussion of Eraserhead. I think most people would be, as deciphering what amounts to one of the greatest surrealist art films in history is a task nobody relishes. A black and white comedic nightmare, with one of the most disgusting and terrifying portrayals of a child put to screen, all filmed and staged like a madhouse melodrama. As much as a plot can be discerned from this film, we follow Henry Spencer after he marries his chaotic, despairing girlfriend Mary after she tells him she’s pregnant (even though they have never had sex). The creature born is an abomination whose crying drives Mary away, leaving Henry to take care of the baby creature while reality spirals out of control.
As much as it is an impenetrable art film with nothing more than fleeting dream logic to hold it together, the film is still an unnerving experience. Director David Lynch has an innate understanding of the human mind and can create wholly unseen characters and montages that penetrate deep into our minds. Combined with his wicked, kitschy sense of humor, we get a film stranger than you could ever imagine. The humor is as off-putting as the horror, leading to the audience constantly questioning which emotion is appropriate, horror or hilarity. A maudlin horror show, Leave It to Beaver in hell, the destruction of the world by Italian women. This review is barely coherent, and I hope that conveys how one feels after watching Eraserhead: confused but engulfed.
Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire
While my knowledge of the Godzilla lore is not nearly as encompassing as many true fans, I like to think of myself as at least knowledgeable. I’ve watched all 16 original Toho Studios productions (thanks to the lovely Criterion box set), and Godzilla Minus One was in my top ten films of last year. So, even though the Universal Monsterverse has been a combination of disappointing and generally forgettable, I’m ready and willing to love these big-budget monster movies. The problem with these films (one that even plagues the original series) is finding the proper balance between monster mayhem fight scenes and the grounded human drama that gives the films their emotional core. In their latest attempt Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, the film struggles not just with this balance, but with creating a coherent film in any sense.
I could not give you a proper breakdown of the plot of this film if my life depended on it. This is the fifth contribution to the film series (plus an additional television show) and with each subsequent entry, there has been less and less to grasp onto. All characters, from rogueish adventurers played by Dan Stevens to world famous scientists played by Rebecca Hall, are disposable shells, studio mandated quip machines. Their emotional stakes are completely non-existent, and for the amount of time we spend with them I couldn’t tell you any sort of growth or catharsis they were meant to partake in. The true stars of the films do get their times to shine, whether it be Kong using another smaller monkey as a flail or Godzilla battling an ice dinosaur, there is only so much near-nonsensical action that one can enjoy before the massive beasts tend to bore. A complete mess that was barely worth the thrill of the fights.
Grey Gardens
Following last month’s viewing of Salesman, Grey Gardens follows the eccentric relatives of Jackie Kennedy as they waste their days away in opulent squalor. Much like in Salesman, the Maysles are given almost complete access to the inner lives of their subject, allowing for a haunting portrait of the ravages of time and the waste of a youthful soul. The mother-daughter pairing of Big Edie and Little Edie is an intoxicating portrait of toxic codependency and mental illness. The film teeters on the edge of exploitation, only to pull back and allow incredible moments of humanity in these women, who spit poetry and performative vile without even realizing their ideas.
The two women, all but locked away in their East Hampton manor, weave back and forth from raging against one another due to petty grievances from decades gone by to declaring their unwillingness to live without one another. Though both paint tragedy, it’s in Little Edie that the audience and camera empathize. A constant performer, Little Edie is deeply in love with the camera. We can see her realize that this is her chance, her real chance, to let the world know who she is, a desperate attempt at reclaiming a youth wasted on fear of the future. Whether it’s her dancing seductively for the filmmaking brothers or trying and failing to sing opera (much to her mother’s disapproval), Little Edie sees the documentary as an audition for the real world, outside the depressing walls of Grey Gardens. The Maysles camera captures the rawness that exists in Little Edie, the pain of years spent avoiding a world that would never have accepted her for who she is, and presents it to us with beauty, grace, and just a hint of pity. A wonderful, human film.
The Hidden Fortress
Some films are hard to separate from their cultural influence, especially when the inspired films have a much larger cultural legacy. The main inspiration for Geroge Lucas in the development of Star Wars, The Hidden Fortress is an adventure film from Japanese master filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. Following a pair of bumbling peasants as they are tasked with escorting a princess in disguise and her loyal military commander across enemy territory, the film features the typical things one can expect from a Japanese period epic. There are massive battle scenes, climactic sacrifices, and beautiful black-and-white photography. But, unfortunately, this film can’t hold up to the other films of Kurosawa. Admittedly an incredibly hard task, but one that you can’t help but feel when watching this movie.
There is simply a lack of human drama in this film when compared to the master’s other works. He has proven before that he is more than capable of injecting these epics with powerful moments of catharsis, from Ran to Seven Samurai, and yet this film feels light in that regard. Where in his other works there are moments of heartache and grim necessity, this film feels almost incomplete in comparison, like Tarantino without the violence. There’s just something ineffectual. And while it may be unfair to compare this film to the masterpieces mentioned, when presented by the same voice it can’t help but be made. A light, fun adventure film that will likely leave you wanting much, much more.
Humane
I will always be excited when the Cronenberg name comes on screen, no matter which member of the Canadian shockers it is attached to. In the case of Humane, David’s daughter Caitlin Cronenberg takes the director’s chair for the first time, and while the influence of her father can be seen at times, this is still a complete vision separate from his. Set in a near future where governments have to cut their populations done by 20%, a wealthy family is forced to face their dark secrets when it’s their time to be culled. A thriller with comedic and horror influences, the bluntness of the social commentary at times robs the film of what could have been a slick, unapologetic thriller.
There is enough here to entertain, but not much to have the audience consider after the credits roll. Writer Michael Sparaga has lots on his mind here, from the ongoing environmental crisis to wealth disparity to political tensions that are currently dividing family and friends, and much more. By commenting on so many different cultural touchstones, the film never seems to really understand any of them, instead glossing over them in favor of the immediate thrills. And while those thrills hold us for the time, had the film more aggressively approached the harder subjects, this film could have been much more. As of now, it’s a fun, slightly forgettable thriller, with some fun performances (Jay Baruchel, Enrico Colantoni, and Emily Hampshire are standouts). A promising, if still disappointing, debut.
Intolerable Cruelty
A much-derided comedic effort from the Coen Brothers, Intolerable Cruelty has always been a film I have had a deep, nostalgic love for. A modern, at times cynical, romantic comedy about a divorce lawyer (George Clooney) and the ex-wife of one of his clients (Catherine Zeta-Jones) as they trick each other, fall for each other, break up with each other, and do it all over again. One of the broader comedies in the Coen catalogue, the film has a strong resemblance to a modern day Cary Grant classic, a blackly comedic His Girl Friday or Bringing Up Baby. Clooney and Zeta-Jones’ chemistry is palpable, and any shortcomings that the script may have are quickly forgotten the moment these two are trading verbal barbs.
The supporting characters, something that is usually the highlight of Coen's film, are a fairly big letdown this time around. While there are standouts (Edward Herrmann is incredible fun of Zeta-Jones's philandering ex-husband) most come across as either one note or plane not funny. Cedric the Entertainer’s turn as a private detective is painfully broad and unfunny, and Geoffrey Rush feels wasted in his bit part as a washed-up television director. But there are more than enough laughs from our leads, and sexual tension that melts like butter, to make this a more than enjoyable experience. A funny, light romp from some of America’s best filmmakers.
Monkey Man
It’s always exciting when a creative and talented person expands their horizons and stretches past their known capabilities. With Monkey Man, actor Dev Patel takes on the additional mantles of writer and director, and with this action-packed thriller it’s all the more remarkable. Following a young man on a quest for revenge against the corrupt politicians in a divided India, Monkey Man is an intense, no-holds-bar thrill ride through the slums and the opulent highrises of an unknown yet familiar cityscape. With much more on his mind than most revenge thrillers, Patel proves himself not just a thrilling action director but a social commentator and a politically intelligent artist.
While there are plenty of thrills to be found here for the more relaxed of audiences, it’s in the thematic explorations that the film flourishes. Drawing influence from numerous sources, from Indian and Hindi mythology to Western action films like John Wick, to Bollywood thrillers, the film is a collective of all the interests of Patel, and he’s able to distill these influences into a heartfelt, fascinating, and at times brutal revenge tale. The structure of the film focuses not just on the momentary satisfaction that comes with vengeance, but the echoes of the past that drive someone to devote their life to this one tremendous cause. All this, and the film is still able to have a sense of humor about itself and the ludicrous scenarios our protagonist finds himself in. A fantastic debut, a challenging and authentic thriller.
Mulholland Dr.
Yet another David Lynch film that I am far too ill-equipped to tackle, Mulholland Dr. is considered by many to be Lynch’s film masterpiece. A twisted, erotic melodrama mystery that drifts in and out of the lives of Los Angeles wannabe starlets, the film is hypnotic in its indecipherability, wonderful in its complexity, unforgettable, brash and sensual and more. Unlike anything you are likely to ever see again (including other Lynch films), Naomi Watts stars as a doe-eyed woman, seeking her fortune and fame in the bitter Hollywood hills. Meeting a woman in her apartment who has no memory of who she is, Watts is led on a twisted tale through the seedy streets and glitzy sheen of stardom.
Stitching together different lives that could have happened to these women, different lives we could’ve had ourselves, the past, the future, and everything in between the seams of reality, Mulholland Dr. is not a film that I understand but it is a film I feel deeply. Much like in Lynch’s other work, there is an ethereal, undeniable truth to the scenes pictured here, even if they do not make logical sense. There is emotional truth in his work, from despair to fear to enlightenment, and he refuses to hold our hands and explain where these feelings come from. His films are lucid dreaming on screen, and it’s best not to question why you feel something and to simply just feel it. A deeply emotional masterpiece, a celluloid dream that weaves into a nightmare.
My Cousin Vinny
A film that is so aggressively of its time, My Cousin Vinny shouldn’t work, and in many ways it doesn’t. A New York wise guy travels down to Alabama to defend his cousin in a wrongful arrest, the fish-out-of-water story will only have so much juice. It’s a comedy genre that relies almost completely on stereotypes and funny voices, comedy cliches that, while not necessarily unbearable, can quickly outstay their welcome. So when you have a film that has, to a degree, stood the test of time as well as My Cousin Vinny then there must be more to it than the stock plot mechanisms. In this case, it’s the truly riveting, fist-pumping trial scenes, combined with wonderfully witty performances from the cast that allow this film to overcome the generic hurdles.
Every cast member is given a moment to shine here, whether it be our leads Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomeo (in a well-deserved Oscar-winning turn), or Fred Gwynne (in his final performance) as the no-nonsense trial judge. The case is a well-crafted mystery, allowing the audience to make the discoveries along with our protagonists. The scenes outside of the trial tend to drag the pace and comedic elements of the film down, with none of the day-to-day misunderstandings Vinny Gambino and Mona Lisa Vito face nearly as interesting as the courtroom drama. But while these scenes tend to take up too much of the runtime, you will no doubt be cheering along with the final courtroom scene, as Tomei proves exactly why comedy performances should win more awards. A fun, if imperfect, comedy capsule.
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
If ever someone were to ask me where to start with the Coen Brothers, I would have to consider many things. Should one start with a comedy, something that almost everyone would agree with? Should we go with one of their dramas, something a little more challenging, or throw them to the lions per se? Or one of their many films that fall in between these two extremes, the black comedies, the light tragedies? If I had to answer right now, I would say O Brother, Where Art Thou?, their period comedy and retelling of one of the greatest works of fiction of all time; Homer’s The Odyssey. Combining their wackadoo comedic leanings and the more serious philosophical questions they have in most of their films, O Brother provides an excellent entry point in terms of entertainment and light philosophizing.
Following a group of escaped convicts in rural 1937 Mississippi, the script is tight and relentless in its humor and quips, and the performances are fun without robbing the film of its stakes. George Clooney puts on his smarmiest Clark Gable impression as the verbose and cunning (if not quite smart) leader of the felons, while John Turturro and Tim Blake Nelson round out the trio with scene-stealing ease. The story hits beats of racism, political corruption, and police brutality while remaining a rollicking adventure film. Much like in My Cousin Vinny, there are scenes that one can’t help but feel completely taken by in this film. A light, fun film with delightful performances from the entire cast.
One False Move
Sometimes all you need for a great film is execution. You can have a stock film, stock characters, familiar tropes, everything you need for a film to be nothing more than a forgettable Sunday afternoon nap inducer, only for proper execution to come around and change the tides. One False Move by director Carl Franklin is such a movie. Following a trio of criminals as they flee from a series of crimes and the small-town sheriff who is preparing for their arrival, there is nothing in this story that would be out of place in a Steven Segal sleeper. But a taut script from Billy Bob Thornton (who also costars) and Tom Epperson, as well as a powerful cast bumps this film into the echelon of great 90s thrillers.
The film has the perfect number of twists and turns, placed at just the right times to have the hooks sink into the audience. Bill Paxton plays the out-of-his-depth sheriff who we come to see is more capable and deceptive than originally believed, and any film receives a quality boost when Paxton is involved. Director Franklin draws out the tension beautifully, and the violence on screen is often contrasted with the beauty of the frame. Michael Beach, a character actor who always deserved to be a bigger name, is completely unnerving as a psychotic killer, his next move is never clear and always adds to the tension. A well crafted, well-acted, well-written thriller that will leave a knot in your stomach.
Perfect Days
The return of Wim Wenders to narrative fiction is something to be applauded. One of my favourite directors, I have previously done deep dives into both Paris, Texas (my all-time favourite film) and Wings of Desire (another all-timer). With Perfect Days, the gentle drama following the day-to-day life of a Japanese janitor, we once again can embrace Wender’s gentle and passionate vision. Hirayama is an unintrusive, almost silent man who cleans the public toilets of Tokyo for a living. While many would see this as unappealing and degrading work, as we follow Hirayama we can see the quiet purposefulness that such work provides him, and how embracing even the most repetitive and dismal of acts can be a rewarding life.
Wenders has always been the voice for the downtrodden and forgotten. His films are philosophies on the unseen, and with Perfect Days we once again are treated to his belief in a purposeful life. Hirayama is not a monk, he is not a pure figure in a corrupt world. He’s chosen a simple life, and simplicity has led to a form of peace for him. He still is passionate, still has loves such as music and books and an unrequited, almost boyish crush. This isn’t a screed against modernity, but instead shows us another way to live in a modern world. In a time when everyone seems to rush, seems to be anticipating the next moment instead of appreciating the current one, Perfect Days tells us we can have both. A beautiful, caring film about the humanity of little choices.
Raising Arizona
The earliest of the Coen Brothers’ comedies, and arguably their most outlandish, Raising Arizona is a Looney Tunes, madcap caper. Following semi-reformed criminal H.I. “Hi” McDunnough and his cop wife Edwina “Ed” as they decide to kidnap a baby. After the deed is done, unforeseen circumstances cause the couple to rethink their plans of living happily ever after with their newfound child. The romantic and comedic chemistry of the two leads (Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter) is wonderful, with both selling the more outlandish of comedic beats. While (much like in Intolerable Cruelty) there is somewhat a lack of great bit characters, both William Sadler and John Goodman are incredibly fun as bumbling criminal brothers who come to visit H.I. after escaping from prison.
The real selling point of the film is the honest heart at the center of the rambunctious comedy. ED’s infertility is not played for laughs but true tragedy, and even though they commit a crime we are never against our protagonists because we can see their heartache. While these beats are never put over the comedy, they provide a solid sign and help sell the final act. Outside of this heart, the cartoon-like overt violence is fun if not particularly interesting compared to the spoken barbs, and the design of the film makes this a fun revisit whenever the mood strikes.
Sisters
A moody, garish thriller from moody, garish director Brian De Palma, Sisters is anything but a straightforward story. Constantly weaving from one perspective to another, the film eventually settles on a reporter (Jennifer Salt) who is convinced a murder took place in a neighboring apartment building. Her sleuthing eventually leads her down a twisted path of gruesome medical mysteries and psychological intrigue. Combining a gory eye with a lusciously exploitative look at the psychology of the insane, De Palma is always best enjoyed when one isn’t trying too hard to connect the dots. Sisters is a messy, in-your-face thriller that enjoys making the audience uncomfortable, and it does that quite well.
Featuring a great performance from Margot Kidder alongside Salt, it’s all but impossible to tell exactly what dark corners this film is going to explore until it’s too late. Overt and unapologetic in the exploitative wells that he is drawing from, De Palma may not be the most cohesive of directors, but when the thrills hit they hit hard. The tentative explorations of identity and sexuality are not very well defined and cause the third act to crumble a little under scrutiny, but the shocks of the major setpieces are more than enough to make this one of De Palma’s best of his 70s output.
Slacker
The debut feature for one of my favourite filmmakers and a stalwart of the 90s American indie scene, Slacker is a formless, plotless tryptic of a city and a people. Like ancient beetles trapped in amber, the film explores the citizens of Austin through Richard Linklater’s ever-present lens. For modern audiences, it’s a strange and unfamiliar world, with only strands of recognition of the world we live in today. By focusing so narrowly on the individuals in each vignette he still allows for a broader reckoning with the identity of a city that prides itself on being weird.
The camera mindlessly drifts from citizen to citizen as we become enamored with the city of Austin. Whether it’s the overly talkative cab passenger who opens the film or the philosophy professor who sits down for a drink with his would-be robber, the film is uninterested in tension or traditionalistic filmmaking. Forgoing what the established artists would do to tell this story allows the style to remain fresh and innovative even by today’s standards, while the text allows us to venture into the past. Linklater is a master of people and place, and with this debut feature, we can see him marking his territory on the indie landscape.
Sorry you were laid off from a job. I hope you hated it anyway! Happy to read about even more movies you see with the bonus time.