Supposedly A Writer

It occurs to me that I'm supposed to be a writer. I just graduated from Universiry with a Batchelor of Arts (with Honours) Degree in Screenwriting, so I should probably pretend that I could be a real writer, one that does it for money or something like that. So as of the New Year, I'm making the pledge to myself that I will try to get my novel published. I know that I studied screenwriting, not novelwriting, but at the same time, I've got this done and I'm happy with it, so I want to try and get it out there. What is it, I hear you ask? Well, I shall reveal all.

Tomorrow.

I'm gonna dedicate the next few posts (and random others throughout next year) to what writing projects I'm working on, how I feel they're doing and what they're all about. I'm kinda doing this out of ego, and also because I just really want to talk about them, mainly because I feel my genius will be lost if nobody knows about it. I've already got a few fans of my garbled words, so I may as well big myself up a bit about them. This blog post is mainly filler, of course, a thinly disguised attempt at getting through all the movie reviews that I've got left to do for the year.

My ambition would be to get a script gig at some point in my future, but if I don't make it, I'd like to know that at least some people thought of me as a writer.

For those who are interested in my scripts and stories, you can ask me for some and I'll do my best to send it to you and you can make up your own minds on them.

For now...

WE NEED TO
TALK ABOUT
KEVIN

I can sum up the feeling of watching We Need To Talk About Kevin in one easy reaction. I genuinely felt after this movie had concluded that I should call my mother and apologise. I don't know what I should apologise for, but God Damn did I feel the need to. So you know what? I did exactly that.

If I hadn't seen Senna earlier this year, then I would probably be touting the Film Of The Year card right now, but with careful consideration I'd say that this is easily top five material. It's cold, unsettling, brutal, empathic, voyeuristic and masochistic all at the same time.

This film has enough malice to make me shudder in fear, enough weight to crush me beneath it and enough acting talent to make Brando take a step back and hold up his hands. Easily the film of Tilda Swinton's career, newcomer Ezra Miller is chilling and even John C. Rielly manages to pull a straight role.

This is a movie I'm hesitant about recommending, simply because I'm not sure how many people have the stomach for it. It is most certainly one that will test its audiance's limits with sadism and sociopathy. I liked it, but I wouldn't be in a rush to watch it again, to be completely honest with you.

Next blog: THE IDES OF MARCH.