FUCK YEAH, ARMOND WHITE
If You Don't Like It, You're A Hipster
About ARMOND WHITE
Armond White lays down TRUTH BOMBS for the New York Press.
You can't find a fake account of him on Twitter.
This is not written or updated by Armond White and in no way you should assume he even knows about this.
Elsewhere
White—no fan of Precious—takes the podium. “Mo’Nique could not attend tonight, but the award is hers.” He shrugs and moves on without a word of praise for her. It’s an ungallant reminder of why critics and moviemakers don’t get together more often.
And then there’s his underlying purpose: Avatar is the corniest movie ever made about the white man’s need to lose his identity and assuage racial, political, sexual and historical guilt.
SOMETIMES ALEXANDER SOKUROV,Werner Herzog and Pedro Almodóvar are ingenious, but their newest releases regress.
-Precious Moments, in which Armond reviews The Son, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans and Broken Embraces in one review.
Behind every moment of The Messenger, you sense a keyboard; every scene sounds “written.” It all reeks of professional seminars, playwright retreats and Sundance.
Clooney’s matinee-idol goofiness in the Coen Brothers’ O Brother Where Art Thou?, Intolerable Cruelty and Burn After Reading is all that keeps him from being declared an enemy of cinema.
To those who would eagerly praise the deficiencies and clichés of Guillermo del Toro’s Hellboy II: The Golden Army as daring pop, I propose The Ting Tings scintillating new single, “That’s Not My Name.” Once the song’s chorus begins (“They call me Hell…”), The Ting Tings make Hellboy’s campy, bad = good subversiveness seem like a stack of dusty old comic books.
