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Dan Carlson
Los Angeles, California

I'm a twentysomething white male with ambitions to be a professional film critic and generally spend my days getting paid to watch movies and write about it. A compulsive reader and stubborn cineaste, I take an often contrary stance to my more fundamentalist peers and upbringing by celebrating the pursuit of the good, and the Good, in life, love, art and film. If you watched enough episodes of certain TV shows — for starters, "The Hungry and the Hunted," "The Cut Man Cometh," "The Body," "The Zeppo," "Waiting in the Wings," "Out of Gas," "April Is the Cruelest Month," "20 Hours in America," "Colonial Day," "An Echolls Family Christmas," "Look Who's Stalking," "The Garage Door," "Charlie Gets Crippled," "Wind Sprints," and "Corner Boys" — you would understand me completely, and you'd also realize that much of my worldview and philosophical insights are heavily influenced by fictional works/programs, and many of the good things I've said in my life are just a regurgitation of someone else's imaginings, or at any rate a heartfelt attempt to interpret them. I guess I was made to be a film critic.

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« You Just Keep Thinking, Butch. That's What You're Good At. |Main| January 2008 »

January 28, 2008

Review: Teeth

By Dan Carlson

Possible alternate headlines included "GAAAAAAH" and "Love Bites ... Your Dick Off."

I sat with my legs crossed the entire time. I mean, good grief. I can usually stomach certain amounts of violence, but there's something about seeing a man holding the severed stump of his penis as it gushes lifeblood down his testicles and thighs that makes me, you know, want to vomit and cry.

Click here for the review.

Comments: 6

My friend Fuzzball just insisted I check you out. I owe her a cocktail.

I just spent the last 10 minutes reading all the posts on this page and I've decided I'm desperately in love with you.

Wow! Wow!

When I heard about this movie before, I thought the last name was just a coincidence. Lichtenstein is totally one of my favorite artists!

Having said that, I think there is no way in hell I am ever seeing this movie. I never thought I could squeam so much without actually having a peener.

Jenny: Thanks. Tell your single friends.

Stacey: Tell me about it. The crunching sounds; the shorn members lying on the ground, poked at by a crab or a dog; and the shot framed by the heroine's legs as she (apparently) unclenches and the severed penis drops from the (blessedly unseen) grip of her fanged vagingo and lands on the carpet with a wet thud — it was like 90 minutes of pure nightmare.

I am really psyched for this one, but I am one of the fairly few people who falls into all the venn diagrams of: feminist, person who doesn't have a penis, and lover of excessive violence. I want to say this is one for the ladies, but the ladies who love the gore are a fairly small demographic.

Wait...crunching sound? It doesn't seem like penises would make crunching sounds when being torn off.

Unless maybe she has some sort of overbite and grinds her teeth?

Re: Alt. Titles - I hope that was the same "GAAAH" that Patton used when describing the 63 year old woman giving birth.

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"The critic is the only independent source of information. The rest is advertising."
— Pauline Kael

"Film lovers are sick people."
— Francois Truffaut

"I hope I strike a blow for chubby bald men everywhere. I hope they rise like an army."
Paul Giamatti, quoted in the Los Angeles Times, 12/14/04

"Let others praise ancient times, I am glad I was born in these."
— Ovid

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Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?

O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.
— Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe

Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives.
— John Stuart Mill

We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.
— G.K. Chesterton

We were, for the briefest of moments, something greater than the sum of our uncertain parts; we were youth itself, in all its painful glory and sharp joy.
— Me, Fall 2003

There is a time in the lives of most writers when they are vulnerable, when the vivid dreams and ambitions of childhood seem to pale in the harsh sunlight of what we call the real world. In short, there's a time when things can go either way.
— Stephen King

Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town.
Ask the Dust, John Fante