This guest article is brought to you by Miculka; he enjoys sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. Go follow him on Twitter @culky_poo.
So, being the lonely virgin I am, I could think of no better way to top off the week than by seeing a movie with my crew (one of them being smoot herself). But not just any movie – no, we went to see a flick about the most riveting thing of all: the fucking economy, bitches.
Before being seated, shit, on the way to the theatre, I was possessed by a single riveting notion: “I wonder what the old person to hipster ratio will be?” Well now I know, and I can say in confidence that it’s, like, 56 to fucking 3. Should have seen that one coming. Oh, there was also a balding lady that had Dangerfield’s eyes and Rickles’ jowls. You know what, I’m fairly certain that she was supposed to be a secret Frankenstein experiment to piece together a mega-comedian from the bits of lesser comedians who escaped her laboratory chambers and were wandering the streets in fear whilst trying to fit into the real world. Now that’s a movie I would pay to watch. Experience so far: fucking terrified.
There was a kid working at the theatre with a new age mullet, so that was cool. You wanna’ know how I figured it was new age? He was wearing motherfucking striped TOMS. It doesn’t get much more hip and fashionable than that, yo. To boot, there was even a shitty crystal chandelier that didn’t match for shit to complete that copiously ironic/old person vibe.
At this point you may be thinking to yourself, “Wow, this guy is neither funny nor to the point,” and you would be totally right on both accounts, but we had to wait a good hour and a half for this bitch to start. So think about it this way: I’m merely trying to convey my experience to you, the poor bastard duped into reading this. That, and we had to spend that whole time sitting on stone, so you could say that I’m very literally…butt-hurt.
Anyway, my Jewish pal, David (because he’s really Jewish), spotted a sign for another movie called “Shalom Aleichem” and relapsed into a violent fit of mild irritation. The poster for that very movie was right outside the entrance to our theatre. Needless to say, he clenched so tight I witnessed a singularity occur before my very eyes.
Eat your heart out, CERN. When we were seated, I got antsy once again and shit happened. Onto other things.
As the lights go down and the Night of the Living Dead, I mean, the old people disappear into the darkness, there is the obligatory listing of famous people names. Kevin Spacey – quality. Zachary Quinto – quality. Demi Moore – a round of chuckling ensues. Fair enough. The movie starts off with some dude getting laid off at some financial firm that may or may not be real. Who gives a fuck. Anyway, bossman number one comes onto the floor like some sort of office-Stalin to give everybody a pep talk after most of their coworkers have been sodomized by the long member of business. At this point you say to yourself, “I bet this place is called Assholes Inc. Like Monsters Inc. But with more anuses. Christ I’m good, I need to write this down.” And to top it all off, the bossman is bitching and moaning about his dying dog instead of his coworkers. Cut to five minutes later where there is a shot of him trying to comfort his ailing dog in a vet clinic. This time the internal monologue turns to, “MY EMOTIONS. I BET MOFFAT WROTE THIS.”
Regardless, the dude who was fired earlier was pretty pissed as the firm cut off his cell phone, internet, etc. and shit. Essentially they cut this guy off in the name of the firm’s security.
Yeah, fuck you, man, you can’t do sh- IS THAT A USB, ANYTHING BUT THAT.
Yup. He is fired and gives his USB-of-bad-omens-forged-in-the-fiery-heart-of-Mount-Mortgage to Quinto’s character who finds information so fucking terrifying that there is honestly a sequence in the movie where he slowly removes his earbuds and stares at a computer screen in shock. NOW IT’S A THRILLER. From that point on, well, let’s just say the surprises keep rolling in. First shocker, there’s another bossman. Second, ANOTHER bossman. Third, EVERYBODY IS A BOSSMAN. It’s Boss-ception.
Moving on, they basically all come to the realization that fecal matter is about to get very, very real. Thus begins the meandering moral friction between maximizing profits and getting out quickly against responsibility that I don’t care to go too in depth with (because I’m only one autonomous energy entity in the form of a person). Predictably enough, the British top bossman wants to maximize profits and spunk out of the market. However, there are a series of events that reveal each character’s dichotomy between the desire to earn and their obligation to the rest of society. Or something like that.
As you might expect, the firm ends up liquidating practically everything and thereby setting off the chain of events that would blow up the markets in 2008. Everybody could figure how it would pan out, but the commentary provided through the character interactions is interesting. For example, one of the bossmen makes the point that they shouldn’t be lampooned (even though he accepts that it will inevitably happen) because normal people, the fucking assholes, want to live like kings instead of face reality, thus delegating the responsibility of maintaining their almost stupid amount of wealth to the people that are now crashing the system. Along that line of dialogue, the point is also made that their decision was a merciful one as if they had let shit get more outta’ hand, the consequences would have been exponentially worse.
The movie itself is well made; the cinematography is pretty well executed and is able to convey the tension of the situation seeing as the whole film takes place within a single floor of a single building. Furthermore, the fact that it pans out in a mere 24 hours really lumps on the sense of impending doom.
To some, I would imagine, this movie is a boring foray into the land of boring financial forays. I know smoot was in that camp. But, if you want to see something well produced that occasionally brings up rather interesting points, it may be worth your time.
By the end of it all, though, this is about how much we cared.
In the way of life-changing movies, Margin Call wasn’t really up there. But it was still pretty good.
Now excuse me while I tend to my financial depression safety bunker. Fun fact: it’s filled with solid gold and jars of my own piss, because we all know that our water reserves will be tainted with the corpses of brokers who will have drowned themselves in despair. I will then proceed to steal an oil truck for a band of settlers so that they may reach the coast and establish me as their savior.