Canadian Cinema, Eh

Long-time readers of this blog have probably asked themselves, "When is Spaz going to get around to reviewing a movie from Canada? And why is he so good-looking, overall?"

Well, wait no longer, non-existent long-time reader! While I can't answer for my stunning Adonis-like cake of beef, I can finally bow to the frothy demands of my pubic. So before we get to the very necessary matter of my movie ratings over the last year, let us dive into the chef d'mooseodure of what's becoming known as the Canadian King Lear, but without all that Shakespeare in it.

We were found in a dumpster!

RYAN'S BABE concerns a maplehead who hits the road after learning that the woman who was stalking him tried to kill herself and who has a father who wields a shotgun and who acts as if he were just coming out of a surgery (but which was paid for by the government, eh) and who gets into adventures. This convoluted sentence should give a fair flavor to the cocoon of confusion about to wrap our minds.

"Pick up a Canadian? Eh? Anyone?"

Ryan is a plucky but not super-bright individual, despite declaiming from Homer and ignoring the talented extras around him pleading that he stop. The characters are what really drive the story. There's Ryan. There's, uh, the dad with the shotgun. There's... that one guy. Yes, a complex examination of the human spirit. Oh, and these three woman who dress up as cheerleaders and plot to cut off Ryan's dick ha ha.

"Okay, on count of three, we run off!

Don't tell the director!"

This is a running theme. Not the kooky castration, but the series of adventures that land Ryan in all sorts of murky situations and foggy denouements. At one point, Ryan takes a giant crap and must be guarded by an assault-rifle-wielding Shakespearean in case Ryan clogs the toilet and must be executed.

"So fain we practice deceit, O shit-squeezing prince! Etc!"

Our Saskatoony hero makes his way to Las Vegas where he does some Unmagical Mike stuff and meets an elderly lady who sees Ryan as her famous NFL quarterback-playing son, Mark Thiessen. Damnit, why didn't I take Mark Thiessen this year in my fantasy league??

GO LONG!!

In the end... Oh God, I feel so violated. Did I really watch this movie?? 

Yeah, I can't convincingly cry, either.

And now my very unnecessary (fooled you!) list of movies of the last year:

Multiple Maniacs (***)--John Waters at his vomit-eating, lobster-raping best.

The Art Life (***)

The Square (***)

Black Panther (**)--Or: why am I a racist?

Killing of a Sacred Deer (***)--The best of the Ernest movies

Anatomy of a Murder (***)

Marketa Lazarova (***)

Magnus (***)--No, pawn to e6, dummy!

Sorry to Bother You (**)

Ghost World (***1/2)

The New World (**1/2)--A slice of ponderous, anyone?

Synedoche, NY (****)

Melancholia (***1/2)

A Quiet Place (**)--"Is that flapjack still up there?"

The Endless (**1/2)

The Naked Gun (***), Naked Gun 2 1/2 (**1/2), Naked Gun 3 1/3 (*1/3)

The Devils (***1/2)

Solo (solo)

Mandy (***)

American Buffalo (**1/2)

Hour of the Wolf (***)--Death, madness, suffering courtesy of Ingmar Bergman, lotsa laffs!

RYAN'S BABE (nooooooo)

Jesus, are you still reading this far down???