One From the Heart

Caught a revival screening of One From the Heart, Francis Ford Coppola's little-seen, bittersweet, semi-musical from 1982. Ah, how I long to return to those days, where Frederic Forrest was considered a viable leading man and Terri Garr was va-va-voom hot stuff. Filmed entirely on a soundstage, which gives the film a bizarrely appealing artificial, theatrical feel. Who gives a shit if something looks real? I prefer my films to either be kitchen sink or ornate and beautifully false. Baz Luhrmann's been paying attention, no doubt. Throw in an incredibly lovely Nastassja Kinski (cast as a circus acrobat minx -- perfect) and a Tom Waits score (hearing him growl the word "Sucker..." over and over in scenes that lead to the film's closing, you experience nothing short of a bottoming-out epiphany) and, well, you've got a fucking odd and affecting film. But what's with Coppola using every excuse in the book to show Terri Garr topless? The first time's cool, but by the fourth time, you just feel a little bit... creepy.

Bunnies, Getting Stronger, Getting Weaker

It is a blessing unto you that Vib Ribbon exists, even though you can't play it on your American PlayStation. Too bad. For further edification, learn about Laugh and Peace.

Michel Gondry: Frog Genius

I am obsessed with this. It breaks my brain in the loveliest way possible.