Stoney

In fact, porn is much more cultural than these little films.

I do not accuse such films of being veiled pornography; that’s not the point. When I hear "a diary rich in female psychology," I wonder why, coincidentally, to explore "female psychology," it always seems to involve staging these lustful whores on the brink of nymphomania. I wonder why these great directors never concern themselves with an ordinary woman leading a quiet life and expressing her sexuality in a healthy way, yet perhaps grappling with existential questions of some significance. In terms of psychology, the topics are numerous, infinite even; I don’t understand why to focus solely on one, among other things the most cliché and sensationalistic. But I’m sure that even if they made a film where the psychological introspection was of a certain level, it might be lauded as a masterpiece, yet no one would talk about "rich female psychology." To me, there’s a deep-rooted quantity of social prejudices at play that are frightening, far more than merely filling one’s mouth playing at being film critics. Similar films go hand in hand with those where bleached bimbos dream of becoming dancers or starlets "to emancipate themselves," thus giving the term "feminine" the meanings of either "frivolous" or "perverse." This isn’t pathetic moralism, and it’s not even an attempt to pass as "feminist," which I am not; it’s simply a matter of basic intelligence.

Always been a pain in the ass. And now that I know they hated grunge, I have one more reason.

"Tastes are tastes, and this is not easy music." I vote this as the quote of the year, even though it’s only May.

These things give an idea of the state of mental health of certain individuals who play and/or listen to power metal. Nerds, incredibly nerdy nerds. And proud!

"But why does it always happen that whenever Consoli is mentioned, someone is ready to bring up the usual Vasco and Ligabue?" Oh, yes. Why?

But yes, I totally get her success: she sings in a non-conventional way (let's say also in a messed-up way, but whatever...), she mumbles incomprehensible lyrics (let's say also meaningless, but whatever...), so I’d say she has all the right cards to make it big in a country where the charts are topped by Vasco Rossi and Ligabue.

How can we not quote to the letter comment number 9?

"Best of" and "Mr. Big" cannot be in the same sentence.

Here, to me this album sucks and I've always hated Angra, but it's nice, damn, it's IMMENSELY nice to read a review, once in a while, where the writer talks about something PERSONAL and expresses THEIR opinion. Maybe I'll give this album a listen, and I'll try to see what you see in it, dear Il Freddo. That's what this site is for, damn it.