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58008

@58008@lemmy.world

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Ever had something spoiled for you in the opening credits?

I was watching a film yesterday (went in blind) and during the opening credits I saw something along the lines of “Special effects artist for the Creature”. I had no idea the movie was going to have a creature in it before reading that, so when it was eventually revealed later in the film I was kinda annoyed that I knew it...

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Possession (1981)

Most of the movie is about

spoilera couple and their young son going through a divorce, along with severe bouts of mental illness and destructive behaviour. Enough of it that it would earn the “horror” genre tag on its own.

Gong farmer: The people whose job it was to remove human effluent from privies and cesspits in Tudor England. Operating at night to avoid the public, they were generally shunned. (en.wikipedia.org)

One notable incident occurred in 1326, when a gong-farmer named Richard the Raker fell into a cesspit whose ceiling had rotted, and drowned while collecting feces....

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What’s truly sad about this is that the same people who would buy golden sneakers from Trump will have already lost one or both of their feets to the diabeesus.

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This is the perfect time to recommend the funniest series of games I’ve ever played:

The scene in the OP appears in The Procession to Calvary.

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Donald thinks I’m a complete cunt, wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire atop Obama’s presidential bed in a Russian hotel. He considers me to be worse than Hunter Biden’s laptop.

Just saying.

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Elon is psychologically compromised. Not sure if it’s rampant drug abuse, mental illness unrelated to drugs, a brain tumour, or what. But the man is not on planet earth, and not in the way he would prefer. If he weren’t a billionaire, he’d be sectioned/committed. Same with Kanye; that dude would be in care in no time flat if he were a regular Joe. This is one of the few ways that being rich and famous is a net negative; when you need help the most, you get enablers and yes men instead fermenting your insanity for their own purposes or out of fear for their own livelihoods.

Has there ever been an attempt to do a modern "novelisation" of Shakespeare's plays?

We get novelisation of films, but what about plays? I know I can freely read his plays anywhere online, but surely reading a script is less ideal than reading a novelised version written for people who were born sometime after Bach, assuming you’re not planning a word-for-word performance yourself of course....

Why do I enjoy the combination of two flavours if they arrive separately, but hate them when they arrive pre-combined?

By way of an example, I was eating a salad which had raw onions in it. I then took a sip of Coke. The combination of the two flavours was amazing, but I know that if someone handed me an onion-infused Coke, I’d find it horrid....

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Great answer, makes sense! Cheers.

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Makes sense, maybe if the oniony flavour was in little clots floating within the Coke it would work better (just realised how profoundly gross that sounds).

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I can still smell, taste and hear those cassettes…

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It’s the paper cut law.

Having your leg wrenched off at the thigh by a syphilitic alligator: 8/10

Banging the back of your head on the corner of the open cupboard door as you stand up from a crouch: 11/10

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I remember my friend telling me in 2000 that he saw a video at college of a guy having a knife shoved into his neck. I obviously didn’t believe him, and anyway it sounded kinda tame and I wasn’t sure why he was so disturbed by it. So we spent about 2 hours downloading RealPlayer at my house and then the video clip. Genuine trauma ensued. It’s a now-famous video of a Russian soldier being stabbed in the neck and beheaded by Chechen rebels. Turned out to be one of the lesser atrocities from that war caught on film, but it was my first internet-based trauma. The same friend and I goaded each other into clicking on links on Rotten dot com while chatting on MSN Messenger, to let the other person know how fucked up it was and if it was safe to click on the other person’s end.

Then Ogrish dot com came along and all manner of horrors became available. Many more Chechen war atrocities, random murders, executions, the latest beheadings from Iraq, you name it they had it. It was during this period in the early to mid 2000s that I developed a thick callous around my brain which let me view those materials without getting PTSD like I did with that first video.

Occasionally, even that decades-old callous can be penetrated. The creative folks working as chief torturers for the Central and South American drug cartels have really given me a run for my money, in terms of what I can stomach seeing. Every time I thought “well, this has to be the worst thing you can do to a human” they released another video making the previous one look like a merciful death.

The idea of this sort of stuff being one or two clicks away from children is terrifying. Imagine a 6-year-old watching Funkytown. What manner of therapy would you even deploy in such a scenario? “Yes sweetie, sometimes bad men and women like to peel people like meat-bananas, but don’t worry, that won’t happen to you. Anyway, off to bed with ya!” 😬

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Every pig they feed in this manner is absorbing the combined knowledge of every pig that preceded it. I look forward to being treated fairly and kindly by our new superintelligent pig race overlords with decades of memories of human depravity and cruelty pre-wired into their brains from birth. I look forward to my very kind and gentle treatment indeed.

You must pick a point in human history before the 1950s to be spend the rest of your life in. What era and place would you choose?

You would still have the same age, gender, personality, skin color, etc. and you would be able to speak at least one local language and would know basic information of the era and place. Your family, social standing, and such would be randomly picked.

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11:59:59 December 31st 1949. Fuck the olden times.

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I watched My Neighbour Totoro (1988) yesterday for the first time. I’m not into animé in the slightest, I actively hate most of the pop culture that surrounds it, so I was bracing for impact before starting it. But man, it’s an incredible film. The background artwork was breathtaking, every frame was literally a painting, shown for a second or two then gone forever. The level of detail was overwhelming. There was something about the way it was animated and coloured and “lit” that made it feel like my soul was being nourished.

The youngest kid was so well-written and animated, reminded me so much of my nieces and nephews at that age. The way small everyday human things were included elevated the experience hugely. Like, the way the kid clumsily walks down the stairs, or the way someone puts their shoes on (they even animated the dad slipping his shoes off from the chest up, so you just see his shoulders move in a way that makes it clear what his unseen feet are doing, really masterful stuff).

My one criticism of it - and this may be a criticism of animated films in general - is the “frame rate” of the character animations. It was bordering on being a slideshow. Hand-drawn stuff that isn’t rotoscoped tends to have this issue, even in modern video games, and in Eastern animation in particular. For example, The Simpsons never had this problem, but Dragon Ball Z and Pokémon did (it’s probably one of the things that put me off the genre). It seems to be a stylistic choice, rather than just trying to save money by skipping the creation of every second frame. If so, it’s a choice I dislike and feel hurts the experience a little. Not hugely, just a little.

The story and acting were really pitch-perfect. Certainly a nice change from the grotesque shit I usually watch.

I’m going to be checking out the rest of Studio Ghibli’s oeuvre over the coming weeks. First on the list are: Grave of the Fireflies and Spirited Away. There are a few non-Ghibli animé films I plan to watch, too. Perfect Blue is one.

I just need to ensure I precede each film with 15 minutes of chanting “I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be, a weeaboo”.

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