Category Archives: Bijou Independent Theater

Norway: Unsurprisingly Troll-Infested

Trolls: Less Hairy, More Attractive Than Your Ex-Boyfriend. (You Know Who I'm Talkin' 'Bout)

Drop whatever stupid thing you’re doing: surgically removing a ganglion cyst, breast-feeding your infant, piloting a trans-atlantic flight, whatever. Watching TrollHunter (dir. Andre Ovredal) is infinitely cooler, and therefore more worthwhile, than any other possible activity. Believe me. I have a blog, ergo; my opinion matters.

This beautiful little number out of Norway, the sunshine country, has exactly the right combination of mockumentary wit and oh-my-god-they’re-gonna-get-eaten-RUUUUUNNNNN!!!!. You will be gasping for air from a smooth Columbian-brew blend of alternating (and sometimes simultaneous) laughter and terror. You will remember the night you watched this movie as being better than all of your major life events, which will seem to you afterwards sickeningly devoid of troll mayhem. Example: Troll Hunter, a.k.a. “Hans”, calmly eats breakfast and shows the amazed camera crew his very ordinary, beaurocratic paperwork that he has to fill out for the government after every troll extermination. Ha ha ha it’s like real life, but there’s trolls, you guys.

People get eaten, goats get eaten, trolls get eaten probably, and American audiences learn a critical international lesson: “Trooooooolllllllllllll!!!!!!!!” is the same in Norwegian as it is in English. (Who knew?) The trolls look like gigantic nightmare versions of Sweetums (from the Muppets). The actors look like pale, blonde versions of people (from the live-action parts of the Muppets, and also from real life). There’s a scrappy documentary crew who thinks there’s a bear-poaching problem (but it’s NOT! IT’S TROLLLLLLLLSSSSSS!), a crotchety loner dude who’s mean at first but then turns out to be a hero (duh), and more slime than you could shake a troll at. The movie even does the courtesy of offering a semi-reasonable pseudo-scientific explanation of why trolls blow up or turn to stone in the sunlight.

See it, or forever be mis-informed about the state of trolls in Norway. That would just be irresponsible. As a citizen of the world, it is your duty to stay informed.


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Marshmallows, Demons, and Marshmallow Demons

What Happens When A Girl With A TV For A Head Falls In Love With Two Men...And One Of Them Is Jesus?

In these trying times of political strife, of red versus blue, of noodle-armed vegan pit-hair wavers versus mullety gap-toothed hog-stranglers, sometimes we need to chill out, remember to put down our kindles and pitchforks, and just love each other.

Paradise Recovered (dir. Storme Wood) remembers. It’s a charming little indie flick from the heartland about a suuuuuuuuper-Bibley girl who believes that eating marshmallows and watching even the G-est of movies will allow actual-factual demons to infiltrate her brain and tear her away from livin’ the sweet Jesus life. She is brain-washed-ish by a TV evangelist and her boss/minister/father-figure (low-budget evil Tom Hanks) into being a nannyslaveprisioner at crazy Tom Hank’s house. He also arranges a marriage for her to his Bible college son, who is actually also kinda evil.

Bibella decides to spice up her hum-drum life by getting a job at the health food store where she meets the smug philosophy student manager and instantly sparks FLY! After Philosophy guy “She’s All That”‘s Biblette with lipstick and low-cut tank tops, they, as unlikely as it may be, fall in love even though he has utter contempt for her deepest beleifs and she beleives he will spend eternity skinny-dipping in a lake of fire. But at least she’s hot now.

It’s low budget. There are weird things like a comic-releif roommate who I’m guessing is normally a straight-up clown in real life, and a guy who talks in his best Bill Clinton immitation for all of his lines (the preacher-dad of smug Romeo). BUT, and I say BUT, this movie was fun and it warmed the cockles of my fridgid little prejudiced-against-both-smug-college-kids-and-religious-fanatics heart. Seriously. The characters were likeable and human, the issues were complex and compelling, and there was a nice story development which is dandy for people who like their heads not to explode because of retarded monkey scribble writing.

As I left the theater, I was left with a sense of understanding and divine grace.  I was brimming with a deep love for my fellow man and hope for the future of what seems so often like a divided world. …Then some little punk squeaked out a terrible attempt to pick me up and I was once again left with familiar old ire.


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