Five Classic Movies You — Yes, You — Can Watch Free on YouTube

For those of you who didn’t read the title of this post, today’s Friday Five is a collection of classic movies you can watch for free on YouTube. At first I wanted to collect a list of public domain movies online, but most of them are too crappy to endorse. So this is a list of films you watch freely on YouTube if you so choose until such a time as they are inevitably found and wiped from the internet, probably in about two hours’ time.

Everything I Knew About 'The Avengers' Before I'd Even Seen It

It took me a while to see The Avengers so naturally I was fair game for spoilers just for being on the internet. This is all of them. Question: how long can you – yes, you – leave it until you start spoiling films for me? I’m thinking “forever.” Just assume I didn’t see whatever film you’re talking about.

The snake, Basil, was introduced into the film by Stanley Kubrick when he found out Malcolm McDowell had a fear of reptiles. A Clockwork Orange (1971) Hypothesis: fuckyeahbehindthescenes is the most addictive blog on all the Tumblrs. When I was a pretentious sixteen/seventeen-year-old boy I discovered the IMDB’s ‘trivia’ section and spent more hours than I’d like to admit trawling through it. Then someone added behind-the-scenes photographs to that concept and ensnared me for the whole afternoon. Anecdotes like this one made Stanley Kubrick (along with Tarantino, as discussed) the model for the kind of filmmaker I wanted to be until I realised that directing bored the hell out of me and the meat of the thing was usually in the screenplay anyway. A truth: you can’t make a good film out of a bad script. Take Children of Men: undeniably it’s a beautifully-directed piece of cinema, but a terrible film. The exposition, so awkward! The dialogue, so on-the-nose! Clive Owen, who let you out of acting school? The inverse isn’t true. You very much can make a bad film out of an amazing script. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head. Maybe the shot-for-shot remakes of Night of the Living Dead or Psycho. The lesson here is that directing is harder than it looks. Also, kind of boring. But, I don’t know. I haven’t given it a shot – oh-ho! – in years. Maybe if this whole ‘jobsearch’ thing works out I’ll invest in a new camera. What are they, £300? I could get £300 through a Kickstarter campaign. “I am bored. Give me a camera to make some terrible short films and maybe they’ll be good one day.” “I know I have a lot of ideas and plans, and yes that whole start-doing-comedy-again thing didn’t work out but I promise this one is different.” “Come on, guys, it’s £300.” “Update: Oh, also, I’ll need money for herbal cigarettes and moustache wax. What is that, £50?”

The snake, Basil, was introduced into the film by Stanley Kubrick when he found out Malcolm McDowell had a fear of reptiles.

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Hypothesis: fuckyeahbehindthescenes is the most addictive blog on all the Tumblrs. When I was a pretentious sixteen/seventeen-year-old boy I discovered the IMDB’s ‘trivia’ section and spent more hours than I’d like to admit trawling through it. Then someone added behind-the-scenes photographs to that concept and ensnared me for the whole afternoon.

Anecdotes like this one made Stanley Kubrick (along with Tarantino, as discussed) the model for the kind of filmmaker I wanted to be until I realised that directing bored the hell out of me and the meat of the thing was usually in the screenplay anyway.

A truth: you can’t make a good film out of a bad script. Take Children of Men: undeniably it’s a beautifully-directed piece of cinema, but a terrible film. The exposition, so awkward! The dialogue, so on-the-nose! Clive Owen, who let you out of acting school?

The inverse isn’t true. You very much can make a bad film out of an amazing script. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head. Maybe the shot-for-shot remakes of Night of the Living Dead or Psycho. The lesson here is that directing is harder than it looks. Also, kind of boring.

But, I don’t know. I haven’t given it a shot – oh-ho! – in years. Maybe if this whole ‘jobsearch’ thing works out I’ll invest in a new camera. What are they, £300? I could get £300 through a Kickstarter campaign. “I am bored. Give me a camera to make some terrible short films and maybe they’ll be good one day.”

“I know I have a lot of ideas and plans, and yes that whole start-doing-comedy-again thing didn’t work out but I promise this one is different.”

“Come on, guys, it’s £300.”

“Update: Oh, also, I’ll need money for herbal cigarettes and moustache wax. What is that, £50?”

Film Review: The Cabin in the Woods

On a whim, I went to see The Cabin in the Woods at about midnight last night. Then I reviewed it for Csicon, on just about as much of a whim (another writer was on “Cabin in the Woods duty” but it didn’t work out). In short, it was ridiculously awesome in ways all films should be. In long, it was awesome, but there are a couple of nitpicks.

Picture related: Kristen Connolly was great. And, I mean, obviously, I fancy her. But mostly she was great.

Now playing: Rushmore, which is great, although I’m not what you’d call a huge fan of the Wes Anderson canon; I blame Anderson for some of the terrible indie films I’ve suffered through.

Now playing: Rushmore, which is great, although I’m not what you’d call a huge fan of the Wes Anderson canon; I blame Anderson for some of the terrible indie films I’ve suffered through.

QUIZ: Is Your Boyfriend Secretly an Action Hero?

I had stupid amounts of fun researching and writing this for Csicon. There was a lot of Cosmo and a lot of YouTube, which counts as research if you’re a fan of loosely-defined words.

Really, though, I’m linking to it here so we can all be reminded how good I look in an eyepatch:

Over the weekend I had the chance to watch Lena Dunham’s Tiny Furniture. The plot, such as it is, is an unsettlingly realistic portrayal of post-graduate pre-adulthood moving-back-in-with-the-family life, and depending on the scene it was either insufferable or hilarious. But the ratio shifted towards the better end of the spectrum overall. So, more hilarious than anything else. I actually really liked it. I’m still not sure how to approach mumblecore. Maybe Tiny Furniture was objectively good. I don’t know. I’m not here to answer your questions.

Over the weekend I had the chance to watch Lena Dunham’s Tiny Furniture. The plot, such as it is, is an unsettlingly realistic portrayal of post-graduate pre-adulthood moving-back-in-with-the-family life, and depending on the scene it was either insufferable or hilarious.

But the ratio shifted towards the better end of the spectrum overall. So, more hilarious than anything else. I actually really liked it. I’m still not sure how to approach mumblecore. Maybe Tiny Furniture was objectively good. I don’t know. I’m not here to answer your questions.

So, reader, I watched High Fidelity again, as per our previous discussion, and although its emotional impact has been deadened by multiple viewings over the last twelve years it stands up pretty well. I don’t think I’ve learned much about life and love and whatever in the time since I was nineteen, but at certain points I felt the sting of familiarity, so take from that what you will. I’m a big believer in the idea that art means whatever you take away from it, and what I did take away from High Fidelity this time was that “get off your ass and do something” message that runs through it, albeit as a minor, not a major, theme. Now, maybe I took that away from this viewing because “get off your ass and do something” has been my mantra over the last few months and the human mind has a built-in confirmation bias. But, whatever, I took away that message and it’s my message. Long story short, in accordance with that message I’m looking for places to ‘do readings’ in London, which first involves finding out what those special evenings are called. Stories, not poetry or stand-up, but along those lines. Someone must know what I’m talking about. Anyway, to drag ourselves back around to the point, High Fidelity: still pretty good. It only occurred to me this time around that John Cusack plays a grown-up version of the Say Anything genre of characters from the 1980s. A little more believable now I’m older, but no better or worse for the six years’ life experience between the last viewing and this one.

So, reader, I watched High Fidelity again, as per our previous discussion, and although its emotional impact has been deadened by multiple viewings over the last twelve years it stands up pretty well. I don’t think I’ve learned much about life and love and whatever in the time since I was nineteen, but at certain points I felt the sting of familiarity, so take from that what you will.

I’m a big believer in the idea that art means whatever you take away from it, and what I did take away from High Fidelity this time was that “get off your ass and do something” message that runs through it, albeit as a minor, not a major, theme. Now, maybe I took that away from this viewing because “get off your ass and do something” has been my mantra over the last few months and the human mind has a built-in confirmation bias. But, whatever, I took away that message and it’s my message.

Long story short, in accordance with that message I’m looking for places to ‘do readings’ in London, which first involves finding out what those special evenings are called. Stories, not poetry or stand-up, but along those lines. Someone must know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, to drag ourselves back around to the point, High Fidelity: still pretty good. It only occurred to me this time around that John Cusack plays a grown-up version of the Say Anything genre of characters from the 1980s. A little more believable now I’m older, but no better or worse for the six years’ life experience between the last viewing and this one.

Lorene Scafaria’s Seeking a Friend for the End of the World appeals to that part of me – that very large part – that spends a lot of time thinking about what I’d do if an asteroid were heading for our planet, or if we were staring down the barrel of a grey goo situation. Usually it’s zombies, of course, but when you’re daydreaming it’s important to mix it up occasionally.

Since the snow began to fall a few days ago, I’ve been having these amazingly fucked-up dreams about the end of the world as we know it (a recurring theme in my subconscious), and in my dreams I manage to survive them. Patently ridiculous, sure, but all the best apocalyptic stories aren’t really about the end of humanity but the survival of the worst part of it in microcosm. What’s my brain trying to say to me?

Last night it was the rise of the snow golems, marking their first appearance in my dreams. I’d say they were analagous to the hrímþursar of Norse mythology, the frost giants of Niflheim, but you and I both know that they probably seeped in from Marvel’s Thor comics.

And I really want to tell you that I figured out the frost giants’ weakness – you know, fire – and tooled up with a flamethrower, but it wasn’t as good as all that. I probably just sat down and talked through my problems with the frost giants around a gigantic tea set. My dreams are like a pretentious indie film that fizzles out after I’ve exhausted the two or three scenes implied by the concept. You might recognise this phenomenon from my writing.