Archives for posts with tag: Imogen Poots

Jesse Eisenberg doesn’t look like himself in the promotional photos for “The Art of Self-Defense” (2019). Dressed in his karate outfit, fist and jaw clenched, he looks like a 1960s British spy. At least he does to me. And perhaps to himself, because the reason his mild-mannered character takes karate is to become more masculine. That’s the pivot point upon which this dark, dark comedy rests. There’s humor and horror within his desire to become the thing he’s afraid of, and we are witness to both. But the thing that makes this film worth watching is the courageously quirky dialog.

I like to eat Little Debbie snack cakes while I watch DVDs. Technically, they are food, but have such little nutritional value, I probably edge closer to death every time I eat one. But they taste sooooo good. Pop music is kind of like that, too – so lacking in artistic value, it probably damages your brain by listening to it. But the beats are sooooo catchy. Now envision an absolutely stupid movie about an absolutely stupid popstar who sings absolutely stupid songs. It’s titled “Popstar” (2016) because of course it is. But damn them if I didn’t laugh out loud.