Hetzer

Boredom..
Verbose, slow, total & all-consuming boredom, boredom that theorizes boredom, feeding on that little which boredom itself generates.. Boredom that feeds on banality, on the fragile void, boredom that grows at the rhythm of routine, of the already read, of the already seen.. You reviewed a curl of local pop discomfort, and you produced incurable, definitive, sloppy, and alienating boredom..

But I had started watching something like a series or a movie, I can't remember, but after half an hour or a little more, by the fifth or sixth exclamation like "Yeah, but these Japanese are really messed up" or "What the hell happened to these guys," I was incontrovertibly and irreparably bored out of my mind, and it turned out to be unwatchable. But it’s not their fault, for deciding to be verbose and convoluted like an Italian legislative decree; it's my fault for, by now, if there isn't that (rare) right chemistry, getting bored in no time at all.

It's a film from another time, which indeed stands apart from the heaviness and rhetoric of many contemporary war-themed works, more iconographic and hagiographic than "historical." There are some historical liberties, but overall they are forgivable. If I'm not mistaken, almost all the foxhole scenes were shot in a studio, with impressive results for the time. Nice find.

You did well to retrieve that cinema, even though the analysis seems a bit too long and at times somewhat forced in my opinion. But it’s the production context of this film that deserves reflection: having started working on it at least in 1996, a quarter of a century goes by, and this span of time clearly shows how much and what has been lost in the meantime. The quality of the scripts, the actors, the dialogues, the sets, the miniatures.. It may or may not be enjoyable (personally, I find it the weakest of the trilogy...) but it certainly lacks everything that characterizes today’s colossal productions: gaudiness, attitude, rhetoric, rollercoaster spectacle, easy sentimentality, CGI with no restraint or control.. Which is really everything that made the scandalous prequel trilogy a steaming pile of garbage..

Sometimes the opening that appears at home is more than enough to understand the consistency of certain review crap. Then, out of curiosity, one goes to "read" the "writing" and realizes, almost incredulously, how such a conoid of waste is not even capable of making one laugh, smile, or stimulate any reaction, not even a perineal one.

Curiously, I’ve consumed this album and the other two you mentioned, Dig You etc and You've Come etc, at full throttle. It’s a great listen for those years that were a bit of a nightmare for me. For this album, on which you’re being a bit too harsh, I especially appreciate "Diesel Power"; which is really bizarre, given that I consider rap a sort of exotic parasite smuggled in. Anyway, you were absolutely wrong to sell it, shame on you!

A completely different era, a completely different music, a completely different way of making cinema... Disco was better than punk at sucking the market’s teats... Disco consecrated and attracted great musicians, while punk was just a spray of shit... I can’t stand disco, but punk almost makes me feel pity for its falsehood and shallowness... Believing in certain post-progressive nonsense is something curious, if not concerning... Saturday Night Fever is one of those films I haven't rewatched and will never watch again, but it holds the historical place it deserves... Try making a similar film today: what a shitty soundtrack would it have? What ridiculous attitude would characterize it? What slap-worthy faces would be the protagonists? Thank John Travolta and the Bee Gees; they contributed more to cinema than the entire concept of punk did to music...

At first, I thought of a boring panegyric that, regardless of merit, gave importance to one of those categories of people who have always received too much, namely, the so-called "professional critics."
But then you came to speak in a more than agreeable manner about a little record that only a poor fool couldn’t find at least charming and well-crafted. Aside from some crappy clichés, aside from Lene’s vampish attitude (let's remember, she sang "It's your duty to shake your booty," and here Scaruffi sips a cup of my urine, ed.), we're talking about a respectably entertaining work that contains a couple of tunes, like My Oh My and Turn Back Time, that today’s middle school kid, steeped in raps and fake alternative-ism, can only dream of. And this regardless of what the idiot... oops, the critic of the moment might "think."

One of the most irritable and sickly attitudes I have ever come across (alas) is this one.. This embarrassing album has always bothered me with its cover, provincial, shabby, and infamous plagiarism of "Red"..
You awakened memories of mediocrity that, to be honest, I didn't miss at all..

Well, I'm not voting for you to avoid ruining your average, but you've bored me a lot... This was (used to be) bread for the teeth, alas no longer present, of @[dlf] ...