Refn

I drink lots of vodka. That cleans out my system, and even cleans my teeth (I haven’t brushed in years, and haven’t had a cavity since).

I also eat a liverwurst sandwich pretty much every day – to counterbalance the effects the vodka has on my liver. I make my sandwiches on seeded rye (because it’s the healthiest bread), with mayo (because eggs are the best protein; I use kewpie, because the msg makes it taste better), coarse mustard (good for the white blood cells), zucchini pickles (because they taste good), and a bunch of baby spinach (just for filler; it could honestly be left out).

I also eat a lot of canned fish (mostly sardines, but also the occasional fancy smoked oysters) on saltines. They give you all your essential amino acids, and provide a nice opportunity to try out various hot sauces, which are generally very low in calories, while high in flavor and immensely prodigious to healthiness.

Aside from that, I drink large amounts of water (anywhere between ice-cold to slightly chilled) every day, always through a straw, and sometimes with a lemon wedge.

To each their own, I say, but I’m just shy of 30 and am doing better than most of you.

He's only getting better. Autists can't into magical surrealism. Need real human Driver to relate to.

Kill yourself.

Funny thing is that Refn thought of Drive as a fairy tale

Drive was pretty good
Only god forgives was alright
Neon Demon was pretty bad, but I think thats mainly because it was a mostly female cast and females ruin movies

Are you from opposite land? TND > OGF > Drive

Refn is just getting into his groove

That was the achilles-fucking-heel of the movie: the soundtrack.

Holy crap.

The movie starts as the comic starts, with the dramatic murder of the character known as The Comedian. Shot very well, very stylish. Soundtrack: Unforgettable by Nat King Cole. Hmm… The ironic use of a touching old-timey ballad to contrast with the disturbing on-screen content. It worked when Terry Gilliam used What a Wonderful World at the end of Twelve Monkeys, but the dramatic effect of this technique has lessened ever since. But, fuck it, it’s the beginning of the movie, I’ll give it a shot, fine.

Next, opening credits. Song choice: The Times They Are A’Changing by Bob Dylan. In its entirety… Ok now. This is getting kinda Gumpy. Please tell me this isn’t going to be one of those Time Life soundtracks where they use blatantly iconic songs from the 20th century in a lazy attempt to give weight to the scenes…

That’s exactly what the entire movie was.

Every time I would be digging the film’s many awesome qualities, they’d plug in these tired movie music clichés.

IE:

Sound of Silence – Simon & Garfunkle: during a wistful ponderous scene

All Along the Watchtower – Jimi Hendrix: during an intense suspenseful scene

Ride of the Valkyries – Wagner: During a war scene

Mozart Requiem: After a main character dies…

Guh… and the rest.
The absolute worst though: Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah during a graphic sex scene. No, not one of the many awesome, sexy covers of this song. The Leonard Cohen version. Now, I love this version, but it’s anything but sexy. It made the entire audience view the sex scene as a joke. It was almost grotesque.

In all seriousness, during the moments when these songs were used (usually in their entirety!) it brought this highly polished professional film down to the level of a high school class project. They were an awkward blight that pulled a well-crafted film into the depths of banality.

Where were you when the goose made a better movie than refn?

This is one of the few copy pasta i read on their entirety when i see it.

You sound like you stink

Shut the fuck up, Clyde! You faggot! Fucking skinny, butt-munching faggot! I hate you, you know that? I really do! Because all you do is fucking prance around school, talking about your fucking faggoty, fairy fathers! I'll tell you what! I don't want to hear about your fucking fathers and how their assholes work. Alright? It makes me sick! And I... I fucking hope they fucking die of fag disease! Yeah! And... And speaking of dead fathers...I just remembered why bonehead, white-trash, fucking donkey-dick Marty got so fucking freaked when I started talking about his daddy. His Neanderthal drunk dad put a gun in his mouth and splattered his brains all over the wall. You know, I almost forgot that my mom told me that. She said, "His daddy splattered his brains all over the wall." I thought it was sad at first. But, now, I like it. His daddy splattered his brains all over the wall. His daddy splattered his brains All over the wall. His daddy splattered his brains all over the wall! All over the wall! His daddy splattered his brains, all over the wall! All over the wall! All over the wall! His daddy splattered his brains, all over the wall! All over the wall!

Imagine being Leah Remini in that scene and having to be all like "damn, Kevin James, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your barrel-shaped body and horrific concrete slab of a head. I would totally have sex with you, both my character and the real me." when all she really wants to do is fuck another 16 year old in her dressing room. Like seriously imagine having to be Leah Remini and not only sit in that chair while Kevin James flaunts his absolutely flabulous body in front of you, the favorable lighting barely concealing his putrid lardrolls and poorly attached wig, and just sit there, take after take, hour after hour, while he perfected that dance. Not only having to tolerate his Herman Munster lookin fuckin visage but his immature attitude as everyone on set tells him he's STILL GOT IT and DAMN, KEVIN JAMES LOOKS LIKE *THAT*?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch his gormless fucking meathead contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of blond skaterboys and Scientology abuse victims for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the projects in Brooklyn. You've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on his bulbous, slimy stomachs as he sucks them in to writhe suggestively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in his "strapping (for that is what he calls himself)" beauty, the beauty he worked so hard for by downing forty cheeseburgers a day in the previous months. And then the director calls for another take, and you know you could kill every single person in this room except Jerry Stiller before the studio security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Leah Remini. You're not going to lose your Operating Thetan level over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.

>you know you could kill every single person in this room except Jerry Stiller before the studio security could put you down

home as usual

he looks like a class A retard
>there are people surprised he is making shit films

ogf>valhalla>drive>bronson>neon demon

>even knowing what a Rihanna directed music video looks like
kys literally irl