Reviews of Movies I Have No Intention of Seeing: Factotum

I have no intention of seeing the movie Factotum, starring the increasingly cro-magnon Matt Dillon as Henry Chinaski, the alter-ego of Charles Bukowski, the world’s most overrated alcoholic. Oh sure I gobbled up Barfly when it came out in 1987, but I have an excuse. Two, actually. One is Frank Stallone. Two, is I was 19. Bukowski is the shit when you’re 19 and just beginning to pretend to drink heavily. So what’s Matt Dillon’s excuse? Fucking pork-pie hats is what. Same goes for Tom Waits, although somewhat less so on account that he can write a good song. But that Skid Row persona? Fucking Christ, knock that shit off already. I once bumped into him, quite literally, coming out of the bathroom at the Fillmore in San Francisco. After flying into a violent rage because I don’t like to be touched, I took a look at him and he was wearing the same fucking pork-pie hat he wears on stage. That sent me immediately into another violent rage. People who walk around in costume all the time need to get body-checked on a regular basis. I’ll accept the fact that the guy likes old-timey suits, but he needs to change it up a bit. I’ve done my time in horrible vintage stores where they rape grandma’s estate sale for dead people’s clothing, then jack up the price to sell back to her hipster grandchildren. (Short hipster grandchildren, God apparently didn’t make people over 5’4” until the early 70s, because I can’t wear anything in vintage stores on account of my technically perfect height, and also because I have some fashion sense.) I’ve seen the dizzying array of choices one has to look like a WPA worker. It’s out there, Tom. I want to see a little variety next time you set me off into a violent rage.

Dillon, though, that guy needs to hang it up. For one thing, he looks like fucking Frankenstein’s monster, only Herr Doktor’s creation had a bit more emotional range. Did you catch that? I just threw that "emotional range" line in there because I’m ostensibly writing about movies. I’m pretty sure the union requires it. Read "union" as "Krucoff." That guy requires such things, and so much more. Thing is, he gets away with it because he’ll go the extra mile for you. For instance, right now he’s over at Chris Gage’s place of work massaging his prostate. His own prostate, I mean. He’s like that, he’ll take a cab across town (I’m guessing, I have no idea where any of these people spend their days) just to massage his own prostate in front of you. He says it’s a motivational technique. I say he just wants to massage his own prostate in front of people. That’s cool, though. I do, too. It’s relaxing. In fact, that's what this blog is about. Massaging prostates. This is fantastic. Can you feel it?