We get kind of pretentious in our film critiques this week, so get ready for that. But then, we get a little sentimental, and a little musical. So it’s really just a fun time for everyone. Enjoy!
QUESTIONS:
Dear Dissonant and Confused Forced Voices of the Magical Talking Hat, What are you most grateful for? — Azuretalon!!!
Dear Tony & William, Do you play any musical instruments? Did you used to? — Craig
Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Weirdly, I had been thinking of sending you guys a question about what you think of Wes Anderson right before I listened to the podcast.
He does have a real story-book visual style, and I’d agree that it’s even more accentuated in Grand Budapest Hotel (which I highly recommend). But one thing I really like about him is that the artifice of the technique somehow makes what he’s saying more about reality than if it were realistic (similar to the Cohen Bros.).
Boxers? Bah, boxer briefs FTW!
Megaphone: Producer, really? Seriously? You bought Tony something to make him louder?!?!? What were you thinking?
Back issues: Glad to hear things are getting better.
Movies: Wow, I feel totally unable to comment on this conversation. When I go to watch a movie; if I can disassociate myself enough from the story to analyze it, I consider the movie a failure (especially on a first watch). I get the distinct feeling that’s not true for either of you.
O Brother Where Art Thou?: TONY! For shame sir, for shame!
Michigan? Where about in Michigan? Wait, I have to wait until “next week” to find out more? Heh, I guess it’s good I’m behind in listening again. :p
Grateful for the Producer: Nope, that’s not creepy that’s beautiful.
Musical Instrument: I remember when they tested us for musical aptitude; I wanted to learn the flute, even then thinking I’d be one of the few guys hanging with a bunch of girls. Unfortunately, I couldn’t play the flute at all. I tested well at the trombone, but that was my dad’s instrument so I went saxophone. I last at it about 6 months; as I couldn’t stand practicing it. Though by the time I gave up, I could either blow well enough to sound the sax properly or I could move my fingers but never both at the same time.