Delicatessen

(1991) Starring a load of random French actors.

The French have an amazing ability to make the most unusual things in this world: Facsimiles, The Eiffel Tower, Accents, Bread, Cheese, Cars, and Film.
Facsimiles: That was just random. Invented before the telephone.
The Eiffel Tower: My god.
Accents: Noone even wants to know where that came from. Though they produce hot females.
Bread: Too long to cook in a conventional oven. It's like they're trying to compensate for something.
Cheese: Mmmm.... Brie, Rochefort...
Cars: Ranault, Citroen, The Donkey Cart.
Film:

A mind blowing story. So fictional it's unbelievably true (not really, some people do believe that though). This film is a work of systematic French Art. It's random. What on earth is with the story? It's madness. It's never going to happen. People eating people? Come on. But the French make it seem so normal in a way others just can't make a post apocalyptic world look like (see my future rant on the crapness of Children of Men).

Where do they come up with these ideas? Why is it that the French are the people to come up with everything original in the Film industry? And if they don't come up with it, they make it better. Examples of these points include Delicatessen, Amelie, and Les Choristes, and their unlimited amount of so-called "French films" that exhibit an 'unhealthy' (for former day feminists that is) proportions of the female body, ie. Erotica.

The films make you stop and think. Is there a God? Cause if there is, the world wouldn't be so unfair. My god. Like, how many people notice that the French have everything, and I, on the other hand, have nothing (except this shitty Weblog on a shitty server). It's sickening.

How is it, that every woman in the world seems to fancy butt ugly French men? I can see the logic in every straight guy digging for the hot chicks, but that's from 'a chauvinistic male egotistical point of veiw'. But they're hot, right?
And there is something about their accents that just turn any real man on. You could go on an erection just listening to them. Maybe that's why they rejected me for Sex Talk operator (I don't have a French accent).

No country in the world quite gets the French. Like, who would? Can you imagine a metric week? Okay, I say the decimal in money is grand, but the working week? How can you get away with it? Let's decimalise the second, minute, hour, and day next. Then it really will be weird.

The French know how to make comfort food. They understand the requirement of a little bit of fat in everybody's lifestyle. Don't you notice, all these size zero bitches are all sad, depressed losers? Then you look at the fat French person, and see then gulping down red wine, and guzzling full fat cheeses, and you realise that you only live once, no matter what the Buddhists tell you.

Now. To the film. It was good. It was brilliant. In fact, I should be speaking in present tense, because the film hasn't been banned in any country I live in yet. It was a breath of fresh air.

Imagine sitting in a stone cold, concrete walled cell, with no door and no windows. Then imagine some ridiculously foul smelling and toxic gas entering the chamber by an unknown means, suffucating you. You struggle, bahs your hard head against the wall, and finally break a hole in the wall. Now, breath out all those toxic fumes, then breath in the cool, sweet clear rose scented air. That's the feeling I had after watching this film (metaphorically speaking, of course). After Hollywood thrash (notably Children of Men, on which I will rant... I promise....) it opened my eyes. I was told that there was hope still in the world.

I am now convinced that cinema can be used to make good films. Volountarily, of course. Not because of a cleaver wielding madman laughing manically behind me.