Asian Invasion Finale

Last night, after the most delicious scallion pancake ever, I crossed the Wburg Bridge to check out Tokyo! at the Sunshine on Houston. Michel Gondry did a little introduction for the film, being 1/3 of the equation of this portrait of a city. I love how magically confused he seems at all times. It's all about the focus on the subtleties of life, and Mr. Gondry tells us how the most inspiring thing about this wonderous city on the island of Japan was the 'lack of the shyness to sleep on one another on the train', and also his realization that in comparison people walk like horses here in America.

Gondry via iPhone

(SPOILER ALERT)

In his 30 minutes of Tokyo, Gondry's Interior Design depicts a girl who is very much like the buildings in the city, one never touching the other. Her transformation into a useful being touches upon a sort of butterfly in reverse ideal. Gondry's vision can only be explained by what my mother calls fantasia (read: with adorable Polish accent). 

Leos Carax's Merde, with all its apocalyptic flare, kind of missed the mark for me. Although entertained by Mr. Merde's crazed gait, a Delicatessen-esque entrance into the world, and his slap-stick gibberish, Carax fell short of allowing us to sympathize with this literally misunderstood villain-- leaving me unmoved by his death sentence. But I will admit that I am looking forward to the New York edition.

And finally, what I believe to be the most affecting story told within the triad-- South Korea's Bong Joon-ho with Shaking Tokyo. Ok, so I happen to be a sucker for low dialogue loner romances, which I'm gonna go ahead and blame on my feminine nether-regions, but precision camera movement acts as an ethereal invitation into the world of a hikikomori in this tale of seclusion and rebirth. Moved by the fainted beauty of an innocently risque pizza girl, this man's emergence into the blinding sunlight put an approving smirk upon my jaded New York lips. 

Who Wants To Be In My Band?

Hats off to Pitchfork for making my night.

Um, did I write this?

Sadly, no.

But I should've--I would've even made it to the show, as I was desperately seeking ticket. I'm so bummed, I could just blog about it. And I thought I was the only one that wanted to bone him!? Although sometimes people can just go too far with their comments: 

you guys, NO. he is THIRTY SIX. THIRTY SIX YEARS OLD with that haircut.

I will forever defend boys with big noses and bangs. FOREVER!