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Marine Boy

I received this movie as a gift. The giver must have had some insight into my psyche of the moment, and decided I needed a jolt to get me out of there.

It worked.

Being anti spoiler, I won’t tell the story, but I will say, seeing Kim Kang Woo for the first time was a treat and a half.

For the girls: He’s very handsome (serious eye candy), masculine, and seductive.

For the boys: He can swim, fight, and successfully seduce pretty women.

This is a nifty mix of the hapless, entangled with dangerous gangsters galore, in all shapes and sizes. Lot’s of dirty dealing, lots of major violence that flips around so unexpectedly, you’ll laugh before you realize it’s funny. It’s that slick.

Being one who adores really violent explosive stuff that makes me howl with laughter for the simple reason it’s so over the top, I love this movie. It’s neck and neck with, “Running Seven Dogs”, one of my bloodiest insane favorites from Korea.

The power of horrible screen violence that is done with the slyest imaginable wit…the wild humor of madmen, who have utter disregard for the polite/prudish viewer’s sensibilities, is delicious.

I mean…look…a mouthy guy gets beaten to death by a major gangster boss wielding a dangerous frozen salami.

What’s not to love?

This is a great flick. I watched it twice in a row and found more to laugh at the second time around. It has staying power. There’s so much action, it’s virtually impossible to get bored with it. It’s as wild under the sea, as it is on solid ground, and everywhere in between. It has everything, not to mention a terrific cast loaded with quirky talent.
Available at HK Flix

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A few new things...

have been posted at Hagfish Lite. Drop in, but be warned, good taste is not in the interest of Hagfish Lite. Hagfish laughs at narrow minded sorts, so...if you fit the profile, stay right where you are. Not that good taste is abundant here either, but there are fewer photos of naked butts, and sundry other thingys.

Now I know you can't wait to get over there.

On the day of enforced rest...

Lately I’ve come to a point where being precise is losing appeal. There’s a constricted feeling about my existence, something that makes me edgy, something knocking at the perimeters of my life from the outside. It whispers, “jump”.

Restlessness has me in its jaws. I’ve been working on photographs, and I realized how controlled they've been. They're so acceptably presented. Neatly cropped for the most part and contained conventionally.

I've started to feel so commonplace it makes me itch. Those pictures are the reflection of a part of my mind. I don’t like the box I find myself in.

I want that un-cleaned, imperfect, ragged non gentrified photographic howl to come out of me.

This is what I want.

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