Our resident reviewer is a critic from South America. For the sake of staying under the radar of a certain unnamed South American government he has chosen to remain anonymous. His reviews are both poignant and insightful. Originally trained in the analysis of film, he now reviews anything. He uses the same scale to critique everything because of his deeply held belief in what he calls “the equality of all things.” His is in many circles the final word on new and upcoming trends in the art world. He spends his time writing here and for other publications.
Review of the Mr. Coffee coffee maker
If I had to describe the Mr. Coffee coffee maker in a single word, that word would be whimsical. This coffee maker has soft black lines that curve up whimsically, which meet whimsically with its melancholy sharp lines. It is a coffee maker of contrast. This sharp contrast which makes it so melancholy somehow only adds to its whimsicality. The coffee that it produces is pure whimsical delight. It warmly dances across a field of whimsy. Yet as I drink a cup, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of melancholy. The clear coffee pot stands trapped between two oppressive ends. It is melancholicly encased; a prisoner by its very existence. To inspire such feelings in me, yet be so simple a thing, only speaks to the brilliant design of the Mr. Coffee coffee maker.
I would rate it higher, but alas, it is not a film.
Review of The Grand Budapest Hotel
Wes Anderson is truly an auteur. Again and again he brings a unique, delightful style to the cinema. This time is no different. To describe the Grand Budapest Hotel in any other way would be criminal; the film is pure, unadulterated whimsy. The pop-up book transitions move characters from place to place with such splendid whimsicality that the viewer may easily avoid the melancholy pit that is the tomb of the crumbling aristocracy. The color pallet scene to scene is as delicious as a Mendl’s pastry. The violence is jarring, but always purposeful. The film’s ensemble cast delivers, with powerful performances that whimsically lull the viewer into a warm and familiar state. So at home do we feel with these characters, so comforted by them, that we barely realize how melancholy the film truly is.
A masterpiece, but Bill Murray was underutilized. I also thought the fingering painting could have used more screen time.