Bronson & Kill Hannah (shuddup)

Uhm. Kill Hannah was my favorite band in 7th and part of 8th grade. I still read Mat Devine's blogs and such because he's funny as hell. They've put up a new music video for their newest album Wake Up the Sleepers. Here it is, because I think it's actually a pretty good video...

So. There's that.


I also just finished watching the movie Bronson. Wow. One thing to note before I begin: Tom Hardy, I'm not even into super buff guys, or screwy and disturbed ones either, for that matter. BUT. You seem to be the exception. I mean. I have never thought a shirtless, super ripped man was in any way attractive. Ever. Ahem.

I also have to admit: I am a whore for movies where the protagonist isn't actually good, or something is off kilter in their head, something fundamentally off-base is going on. (Black Swan, The Wall, Inception, Donnie Darko, etc.) So Bronson? Was totally my cup of tea.

This movie was dark to the very core. The moments when the camera stayed on his face just too long, those were the beautifully disturbed moments. You could feel his anger that was always close to the surface, always at the core of his being, and it was incredible. You could almost watch the thoughts turning over and over in his mind, but they were just out of reach. Just as Bronson's character was the entire movie, especially the notable scenes when he is on stage, narrating his life to an imaginary audience. The energy that was conveyed through Hardy and the way he portrayed his character was absolutely amazing.

And one of the things that always makes a movie more realistic, I believe, is the weakness of the "strongest" character. The weakness of Charles Bronson was, of course, his inability to know what he wanted with his life, and his stubbornness, which prevented him from actually being motivated to achieve anything. He resigned himself, admittedly rather whole-heartedly, to a life of blood, bruises, cursing, hate, and anger. It didn't help that when he had been in the "funny farm", they had fried his brain with medicine. He was definitely not as clear-headed as he had been before he was slumped in a chair, drooling all over himself and mumbling incoherently.

The colors red and black were unavoidable in the movie, and the symbolism was artfully done. The curtains in his uncle's place, where he met the girl who broke his heart (who was wearing a tight scarlet dress) were a bright red. The paint all over his body when he was painting his "art teacher" (I guess) was a messy black. And one of the most beautifully scarring moments was in the very last scene, when he is in a small cage, alone, covered in black paint and a sharp red light in the room around him, moaning and grunting and, it might be safe to say, suffering. Red and black are, in so many cases, the colors of war and blood and a darkness in the roots of someone's mind, as they are in Bronson.

Bronson embodies the carnal, human urge to feel pain and make others feel pain. I truly believe that this does exist in everybody, some are just better at suppressing it. And it seems that you nearly want to empathize with the man; his creativity, his unrequited love, and the normal childhood that was simply not enough for him: people understand these issues, they've been through them. But he is extraordinarily different, with his need to be famous and always need to make himself feel his own humanity, through bodily harm inflicted by others.

One thing I think was extremely important that made Bronson who he is, was his home life. The moment in the beginning when his parents are smiling down at him, and he is turned away and clutching at the bars around his crib says so much about his dissatisfaction with his situation and himself.

Okay. I think that's all I have to say about that movie. This looks like more of a geeky, English class analysis than a review anyway. Unless they're the same thing. It's late here, and I've been feeling off. I'm gonna post this, hope it's not too terrible, and try and sleep.