Alright, let’s just ignore the fact that these lists are basically just mindless filler—even if we all still can't help ourselves from reading them. The real issue for me is that most of this isn't even about actual songs; it feels like it's mostly just singles (I haven't finished going through everything yet, so I'm just guessing here). I get that making a list would be even more of a headache otherwise, but then why call it "songs" instead of just calling them "singles"?
Also, in my humble opinion, this list is way too mainstream.
And honestly? It might be a little too obsessed with British bands.
There. At least, thank God, there's no Zeppelin, and especially no Dream Theater. 😎
Jessica Nguyen85 said:Ah... here we go, the debate begins... 😉
Hey, at least we can all agree on one thing—albeit a pretty non-controversial point—that Tarantino was one of the absolute directing geniuses of the 90s. 😁😁 -> though Jackie Brown just never clicked for me (and this new one looks like it might be total garbage)😢
We could start a whole new thread about this right now...🙂
Look, the movie is easy to remember and recognizable, and you can sum it up in a single sentence. Sure, it didn't pull in billions at the box office, but it made enough, and it even caught the Academy's eye -> which is plenty for a film that's basically "indie" at its core
It was a similar story with something like Memento
It's also true that the movie is simultaneously "high concept" 🙂
Alright folks, here’s the real kicker: way back in the day, I caught this total B-movie sci-fi flick on PBS. It was airing at nine in the morning, so you can probably guess exactly what kind of "masterpiece" we're talking about... Anyway, the big scene—the one that stuck with me—is when these Earthlings trap some cute little space monster on a starship and lock it in quarantine. Then, out of nowhere during some cabaret number, the thing grabs a mic and starts belting out: "I WANT TO EAT YOUR SMILE..." and so on. Eventually, it breaks out of quarantine and gobbles up everyone (obviously nothing gory or violent, since it was a nine AM broadcast)...
Sure, space opera technically falls under the sci-fi umbrella, but it’s basically the black sheep of the genre—the kind of thing hardcore sci-fi purists pretend to hate while secretly devouring 😁 behind closed doors.
Look, Star Wars is just some lighthearted nonsense for kids, though Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace is just pure, obnoxious nonsense for kids. Still, I guess they're the only tolerable roles Harrison Ford has ever played (maybe excluding Indiana Jones, if you're feeling generous)... so there you go.
Real sci-fi: but what about those total B-movies from the 50s and 60s? Don't forget Predator (even the sequel!) or some absolute trash like John Carpenter's Dark Star. Heck, throw in Red Dwarf, even if it's a series—those two together would basically define the whole comedic sci-fi subgenre.😎
Look, let's be clear: I don't totally agree with how the ending played out either, but conceptually? This is how the movie had to end. Besides, there's actually some solid stuff in the last third of the film: 1. that intense twist at Cooper's place, where Streep is the only one with enough guts to actually settle things once and for all 2. then that super poetic scene where the two brothers are just leaning against that tree, surrounded by morning mist (kind of like something out of Bambi😁) 3. for me, that sudden, totally unexpected collision where Donald dies—even if it makes perfect sense looking back now 4. the fact that it isn't a textbook happy ending; the hero doesn't necessarily win the girl, it's just left as a possibility. The focus stays on the internal shift rather than the actual outcome
I have to say, this thread is easily one of the best and most well-argued discussions not just on Movie Talk, but on this entire forum. 👍 👍 👍
This is how every discussion should look. 😎 Maybe it's because mostly intellectuals watched Adaptation, or maybe it's something else...😉
Some of these points have been made before, but still...
It’s funny how this movie works for the "intellectual elite"—you know, the college crowd and recent grads. They’re totally hooked through the first two-thirds, only to be left feeling totally let down at the end. It feels like these types fall right into Woody Allen’s trap. They spend most of the runtime thinking they're watching some deep "neurotic intellectual comedy"—basically just Woody Allen set on the East Coast. Sure, they probably caught all the postmodern nods and meta-references scattered everywhere. They noticed them, too—because they were pretty blatant—but they only ever processed them as clever little trivia bits or tests of their own cinephile street cred.
The film is high concept, but not in the way most people expect once you hit that final stretch. I want to point out the psychological ego trip involved here. There's this automatic sense of self-congratulation when you think you've "cracked the code." Once we label a film as intellectually demanding and feel like we've successfully deciphered its tricks and passed its tests, it gives us this smug little sense of pride. That's why the disappointment in the last third hits so hard...
On the flip side, the movie simply had to end that way. For the first two-thirds, we’re essentially watching the screenwriter's own sickness and frustration play out. He—the character/writer—refuses to reconcile with his "dark side," which is represented by his twin brother, Donald. Donald is the embodiment of mass appeal, social constructs, and market logic. As long as he keeps fighting that, he’s paralyzed—spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, even sexually. Only when the reconciliation happens—after that meeting with the lecturer—do the brothers finally cooperate, and the story actually starts moving again.
Of course, to make that work, you have to throw a few sacrifices to the Hollywood machine: sex, violence, car chases, all that stuff...
And naturally, the other brother has to die at the end because he’s no longer needed as a foil. Charlie absorbs those traits, undergoes his catharsis, and finally becomes an active participant who finishes the film on his own terms (whereas up until then, his daydreams were completely detached from reality).
The handling of Cooper and Streep is also pretty interesting. Cooper is a total vacuum of a person. He compensates for his complete lack of depth by being obsessively devoted to bizarre hobbies. You can tell he’s empty because he’s constantly switching interests, which just shows he lacks any actual core or deep passion. In that key scene where he's leading Streep through the swamp and gets lost, there’s a moment of pure vulnerability. His carefully constructed image of being this fascinating, confident, eloquent weirdo slips, and he asks her, "So, what do you collect?" His character is hollow, and he uses these odd hobbies to create an illusion of personality. So his question makes perfect sense: What do you collect? What defines you as a person? Immediately after, he snaps and tells Streep something along the lines of, "You're all the same. You take a man, suck him dry, and toss him aside..." His facade might be charming, but it’s just that—a facade. Eventually, everyone sees how shallow he really is.
Streep is just as empty, honestly, but she tries to solve her existential void with drugs. Just as Cooper dies at the end (effectively cutting off her supply), she "dies" too—exposed as an addict, a killer, and a cheat. Her external persona—all that Einstein and Jesus imagery—crumbles, revealing that underneath, she's dead inside.
And through all this, the soundtrack for the Hollywood party features Folk Implosion! Man, I actually want to go to a party like that... 🙏