According to Michael Moore, we have Gwen Stefani to blame. Donald Trump found out that she was being paid more to be a judge on The Voice than he was to host The Apprentice. To prove his popularity, he staged a fake presidential run announcement. His improvisations were so blatantly racist, NBC had no choice but to fire him outright, so in a sense his move backfired, but he looked around and saw people waving placards on his name, and even if he did pay them $50 a piece to do so, he liked it.
The film is immediately and unapologetically a Michael Moore movie, its voice over irreverent and predictable. For many minutes, footage of election night seems intent on proving how little rhythm Democrats have. But eventually we get to the meat of the problem.
Historically, Michael Moore is inflammatory, but he preaches to the choir. I don’t think he’s converted anyone. And this movie isn’t going to do it, either. Republicans have proved impervious to shame or guilt or responsibility. That’s fine. Instead, this movie does something almost smart: it talks to democrats. It can’t change the idiots in the republican party or the fools who vote for them, but maybe, maybe, it can fix some of the problems in the democratic one. Because let’s face it: to elect Donald Trump, you need more than republican idiots. You need blind democrats and a whole bunch of apathy.
Who are the faces of change? The democrats have relied on an old guard for too long – an old guard who inspires no one. So grassroots candidates, minorities and women, are getting involved to steal the seats back. After all, isn’t democracy supposed to be rule by the people? I didn’t feel nearly as engaged with the film until it met up with the Parkland kids. After the shooting at their school, a fire was lit, and they were able to organize protests around the world. These kids have a passion for change that is both admirable and infectious. Their involvement in politics can’t come soon enough. Their parents and grandparents have failed them, but it’s just possible that when they storm the white house, and I mean getting elected into it rather than protesting outside it, real change may come to a system that was born broken.
resolves to flee in the middle of the night, he finds the house to be very uncooperative. Turns out uncle Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmerman are a couple of witches, and the house is indeed haunted by the previous owner, himself a warlock, or at least haunted by the clock that he left in its walls. Every night, Jonathan searches the walls for the clock that’s driving him nuts, but so far no luck.
extensively. The camera knows him well, and Avicii is fairly open with this struggles, although he, and the documentary, like the world, tend to emphasize physical health over mental health. Watching this, it really strikes me how many of these documentaries we’ve seen lately – the overwhelming fame that leads to tragedy. Except this documentary, curiously, doesn’t hint at the tragedy. It ends on a positive, optimistic note – that having retired from touring, Avicii is free to continue making music, which clearly does make him happy, on his own time, at his own pace, without the crippling anxiety. We saw goodbye to him on a tropical island, enjoying a sun-filled vacation.
The film follows the despicable events that follow: Kennedy’s obsession with minimizing the consequences to himself while painting himself as the victim. He assembles a whole team of men willing to lie and spin the story in his favour. Not a single one of them sheds a tear for the woman who died alone in the dark backseat of Kennedy’s submerged car.
designing and planting gardens for wealthy clients. Their work is so renowned that they’re invited to participate in the Great British Gardening Show, which is not at all what it’s really called, but I forget the name and don’t care to look it up. Of course, they’re prisoners, and not everyone is open-minded about that.
alarming ways. It’s not until he begins to ingratiate himself with a skate group that he comes out of his shell. Ray is the undisputed leader of the group. He’s effortlessly cool, and everyone looks up to him. Fuckshit skateboards equally well, but seems more interested in partying and getting fucked up. Reuben and Fourth Grade fill obligatory minion roles within the group, and Stevie, henceforth known as Sunburn, is the newest, youngest, and greenest of the bunch. And he’s just so happy to be there.
obtain his GED if he doesn’t want to work at Christian Chicken for the rest of his life (WHY is the chicken christian? how do we know to whom the chicken prays?). Two things stand in his way: first, the night school teacher Carrie (Tiffany Haddish), with whom he clashes, and also the school’s principal Stewart (Taran Killam), who was Teddy’s high school bully, more or less.
shows Cheney’s reluctance to be George W.’s running mate. Even though Cheney views VP as a “zero job,” he is always thinking dozens of steps ahead; he’s not going to sit around waiting for the president to die so he can wear the crown. In W., Cheney found a moron so empty, so distracted, so willing to give away all the actual power, and Cheney’s astute enough to surreptitiously pull the oval office throne right out from under Bush Junior. McKay brings Cheney’s machinations to the silver screen – every scheme, every lie and every gory detail.
