hounddog (2007)
my rating: Zero holes filled out of a heapin’ bunch.
what possessed me: Yes, I understand that this fixation with Dakota is creepy. No I cannot stop. Kim Morgan, my favorite movie reviewer of all time, has my back. In the interest of added responsibility shirking, I’d like to maintain The Cracka’s encouragement in this endeavor.
what i learned: I didn’t like Elvis before, and I like him less now. The word on this flick was that, in a role that expands her range into serious adult drama, Dakota’s character gets raped. When you spend the majority of a movie in eye-rolling detachment waiting for this event to finally occur, everyone feels kind of icky. But yes, once again Dakota acts the shit out of this movie, while the rest of the cast spans a range of ineptitude, all of which falls under the umbrella phrase “plum retarded.”
you may also enjoy: Deliverance, Wrong Turn, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning and other cautionary tales woven specifically to prevent you from ever attempting to visit the American countryside.
tangential thought: Long ago, I read that Quentin Tarantino is willing and able to sit through any movie because there is inevitably something to be gained, even if it’s the briefest instant of inspired film-making. Based on this infinite database of diamonds-in-the-rough, he cobbles together his patchworks of genius. Astonishingly disparate metaphors aside, lightning strikes will be a prevalent theme in my eventual directorial career.