Dream 392: Asshole
04.25.2015 § Leave a comment
Darth Vader inside the Technodrome, climbing all over the Enterprise. I shout out at him, “It suits you.”
Somehow I missed it, but this Tati-esque movie had a recurring gag whereby mounted lights could only go just off to the side of the sink, so the Sesame Street tall skinny blue long hairy monsters washing dishes can still not see what they’re doing.
I look up the cinematographer Inoue. His previous movie had monsters hanging around contemporary interiors too, but these more like the Halloween creatures from Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, bobbing their heads to a suburban college town house party. It’s a little too repetitive for my taste — the instrumental’s going, you open a door, and there’s a few hemispheres with witch hats bobbing and chorus in for a line before the door closes again, over and over every fourth bar.
Now the movie’s getting a little preachy. I’ve been a Wall Street stock trader, following in my dad’s footsteps. I’m calling him for some transgression and my closest companion calls out my hypocrisy. There’s some moral about not doing a job which if everyone did society could not exist (isn’t that every job, though?)
We all get away with it in the end though. I’m someone else now, ghost riding the whip in a white van painted with my likeness. I’m in my tighty whiteys, and I bend over, pulling them down, and I not only moon everyone but I also shave my chode hair right then and there. The camera pans away to the other side of the street’s traffic. There’s a red shipping container blocking one of three lanes of traffic right after the intersection. A bunch of kids are standing in the second lane, boxing it. The cars try to squeeze together to be able to use the lane the kids are in. The movie is ending; you can tell because they’re fading in some 60’s wall of sound pop track.