400 Words on: Primate (2026)

or, “Johannes and the Terrible, No Good,
Very Bad Monkey Movie”:
A spoiler-free mini movie review.


1 out of 5

‘Pacing’ is certainly a thing: attributed to no one, it’s an essential part of any entertainment. Audiences won’t notice the spacetime something occupies in their lives unless they’re bored, or they totally disagree with what they’re experiencing.

As an example, halfway through Michael Haneke’s 1997 art-horror “Funny Games”, there’s a long, unbroken take assumed as decompression for its characters. That part is so slow that the first time I watched, I fast-forwarded through it.

But skipping “FG’s” depiction of grief also meant reinforcing its themes of desensitization. Once it clicked, it’s a rare movie scene where something simple blossoms within a spacial indiscipline.

On the other hand, skipping scenes in Johannes Roberts’ “Primate” won’t reveal the dark side of its audience, but it will get you to the credits faster.

[cont’d]

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400 Words on: Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017)

or, “You Made Me Promises, Promises”:
A spoiler-free mini movie review.


5 out of 5

Filmmaker & author S. Craig Zahler’s “Brawl in Cell Block 99” is a prison-fighting thriller, with an audacious literary-esque understatement. I’ll demonstrate using Lindsay Lohan…

In 2013, at her then-nadir, Lohan & disgraced porn performer James Deen headlined Paul Schrader’s social drama “The Canyons”. Schrader is the legendary screenwriter of Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver” – but a type-A director, exemplified by Stephen Rodrick’s New York Times article on Canyons’ production.

One provocative point in Rodrick’s piece was distributors’ worries over Canyons’ slow, unmarketable first act. Directorial colleague & editing precisionist Steven Soderbergh offered to cut an alternate version himself, to what Schrader responded, “You know what [he’d] do if another director offered to cut his film?” And flipped the bird. “That’s what Soderbergh would do.”

[cont’d]

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nostalgia’s in atm

ou, une merde chaude par une journée froide

A poem.


her back is to the separating wall,
left thigh over right
under the table at the unhappily married
middle-aged debutante ball,

long faces and all,
and instead of a trombone in her lap it’s her phone
and i’m not leering from around a beam.
this time.


what’s the use of this personification
except to hold on to it for later?
drooling through my pillow case at the open mystery
under those Lululemon Kirkland Signature duperies,
clasping fruitlessly to post-workout legs
like plastic cheese bricks to hot broccoli reeds


that, again, no one’s forcing me to eat

and being fun & flirty and platonic won’t do us good either
because you’re another non-native English speaker,
and i’ve changed little carnally in twenty-five years.
i’d much rather just non-verbally roll around on the floor
but it isn’t my middle-school Québec exchange anymore.
it’s life.



it’s life.
but apparently nostalgia’s all in at the mome.


Featured image “Impression of ‘Lonely woman embracing body in morning’ by Alena Shekhovtcova” illustrated by the author.

being the beta man

A poem.


when i’m on the clock,

i’ll talk back to a manager
no problem,
if i think it’ll get me anywhere

or not in trouble
or teased by female staff


but i won’t tell the guy
sitting in my reserved seat at the
movie theatre to
move over
please.

some words are too much trouble
for too little reward,
save my father and i getting
what we paid for.

he won’t say anything either.


Original photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com.