Word: dead
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...with hypnosis, trust exercises, and thought-pyramids) into the heart of a forest subtly titled Eden. In nature, “Satan’s Church” as she calls it, the world is destroying itself and shows no mean intention of destroying them in the process. A dead calf swings from a fawn’s hindquarters; a baby bird is swarmed by ants and devoured by a hawk. It’s enough to believe that Von Trier is playing an enormous joke on his audience when Gainsbourg remarks grinningly to her husband, “Dreams...
...finding the natural extreme of a career that counts a visually stirring and intellectually stunted film like 1991’s “Europa” as its peak leaves “Antichrist” on the level of an aesthetically-conscious “Evil Dead.” The second half is a mixture of out-loud laughable dialogue and uncomfortable gore (an exceptional combination of the two, when the talking fox devours its own entrails) that, however unintentionally, makes for terrific popcorn-viewing...
Celebrate the Day of the Dead by watching ballet folklorico, taking part in a skull design competition, and enjoying mariachi music...
...much of the book’s attention to plot somewhat irrelevant. One passage exemplifies Crutchfield’s divided attentions throughout the novel. “Memo: work on your mother’s file. Query the Racine PD. Memo: your case file is updated. Your case is dead-stalled. Memo: get your ass to the rockin’ D.R. and voodoo-vamped Haiti.” The split focus and meandering pace of the novel give the sense of only a passing interest in the novel’s supposed central event...
Have you heard of “The Boondock Saints”? Two Irish brothers enter a room full of Italian (or Russian) mobsters. Gothic techno plays in the background. In beautiful synchrony, the brothers shoot everyone and then place coins in the eyes of the dead. They cross themselves and say a prayer, bidding the soul of the dead a swift departure to their hellish punishment. And then they crack a joke and revel in how easy it all is—how fucking cool killing people...