As a five–year–old, I saw Joel Schumacher’s universally–abhorred Batman and Robin in theaters, and loved it. In the interest (I guess) of being anatomically correct, George Clooney’s suit had bat–nipples, which might be the film’s most prevalent contribution to superhero lore. This aspect seemed insignificant to me. But then Christmas Day 2011 rolled around, and a couple of friends and I decided to eat some mushrooms and watch a superhero marathon on TV. Spider–Man was awesome, of course. But the caped crusader stole my heart. The film seemed conventionally horrible — none of the actors took their parts seriously, the action was glitzy and nonsensical, etc. But in my altered state, I began considering the bat nipples, Batman and Robin’s slightly charged partnership and Batgirl’s illogically less–pronounced bat–nipples. Where this thinking brought me I don’t know, or don’t remember. But it seemed sort of significant at the time. The point being: those were some crazy mushrooms, man.
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Though Danny Boyle’s masterpiece may be the first great piece of digital cinema, it’s certain to cause some problems for our stoner on–the–go. On one hand, it’s an exhilarating, mile–a–minute survival horror story. On the other hand, the fear it induces could turn Fling into a living nightmare.
Picture this: you’re in the Quad/on Delancey/out on the town, when suddenly you realize there are people around you. Hundreds of them. Thousands even (though probably not likely unless you’re on Delancey). Having just seen 28 Days Later, you may or may not be inclined to believe that all the raging hordes around you are horrible, Rage–infected zombies. Of course, while they may be intoxicated by various substances, Rage probably isn’t one of them. So, put down your baseball bat — blunt objects are not needed to repel fratty advances.
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I’ve been a pseudo–Biggie fan since Girl Talk mixed “Juicy” with Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” — which, in the grand scheme of things, is not very long. When Notorious came out, I was ecstatic. “Juicy” played in the trailer, which was all I cared about, and I rapped along to the entire film, alternately annoying/entertaining the other members of the audience. And only a year later I saw the movie again, after engaging in a lot of liquor and a lot of weed. All in all, I question how my critical faculties were still intact. But I hated that damn movie! The only thing I could think about was how a young Christopher Wallace referred to his mom as his “moms,” and how hilarious his visceral, out–of–breath sex scenes were. Not that these are criticisms — they just made me laugh. Perhaps it’s clear, then, that I was missing the point. My pretensions of Biggie fandom were revealed, after all.
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While RyGos may be stunning in this heartbreaker, you should avoid checking it out this Fling unless you want a serious comedown. Blue Valentine is not the most chipper movie — it’s troublesome even at the best of times, from the chin close–ups during sex to the death of a dog (not to mention the alcoholism tearing everybody apart). In order to avoid a solid breakdown and possible emotional scarring, scratch this one off your Fling list, unless you manage to get really creative with drinking game rules. Be warned though, Street isn’t responsible for any feelings of nihilism/cynicism you may experience following Blue Valentine.
