Monday, February 8, 2010
Ok. Netflix thinks I'm a huge weirdo that loves soft-core porn. They give me recommendations. Sometimes I go along with them because the cover looks interesting or I'm feeling brave. Every once in a while their recommendation is something worthwhile and I thank Netflix (in my mind...or maybe in the general direction of the television).
Then there are times they steer me in super weird directions. That was last night. Frownland. Have any of you ever seen or heard of this movie? There was a girl that kept rubbing her face in a pillow after declaring she was allergic to it, a door to door coupon scam, fake crying, eating snotty kleenexes. Ultra weird stuff. There was no sense seeing it through to it's completion. It was clearly going nowhere. Here's how Netflix described it:
Social misfit and self-labeled "troll from under the bridge" Keith Sontag (Dore Mann) lives a sad and lonely existence in this disturbing black comedy -- an Independent Spirit Award nominee -- from director Ronald Bronstein. When he's not trying to sell coupons door-to-door, Keith struggles with evicting his roommate from their seedy apartment, helping a friend who's suicidal and just getting by as an outsider in the cruel city.
Independent spirit=weird just to be weird. Why was I drawn to that description?
They've also recommended quite a few softcore porns to me. Not artsy ones either. Like super lame-late-Cinemax softcore porn. The stuff you watch when you haven't figured out what sex is yet. I'm not interested, Netflix! I know about doing it. Thank you very much.