HBO’s documentary Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage, directed by Garret Price as a part of their Music Box series, seems to pose Woodstock ’99 as a seminal concert shitshow, like 1969’s Altamont, that somehow, in its dissolution into hormone-driven madness, which included chucking $4 water bottles at Wyclef Jean and The Offspring, rolling around … Continue reading
Hello there, dearest Filthy Dreamers! What’s that? Did you miss your last dosage of horse ivermectin? Why, you’re in luck! We just came back from the tractor supply store and got a new haul of meds with horses and other livestock on the box to protect us from the COVID-19. It just makes me want … Continue reading
An ill-fated trip to America’s heart of darkness–Florida–that becomes a whirlwind of sex work and crime. A doomed friendship forged over stripping and text messages. A montage of the most repulsive dicks you can imagine. It’s no question that Zola, the cinematic adaptation of A’Ziah “Zola” King’s jaw-dropping and riveting 148-tweet Twitter magnum opus directed by … Continue reading
Remember that subaquatic ‘eye of fire’ boiling like a cauldron in the Gulf of Mexico a few weeks ago? Another chapter in our woeful history of blowouts, releasing millions of gallons of crude oil into the open sea, presenting us with mortifying images of dead and near-dead oil-slicked marine creatures gasping for air. Continue reading
*scrolls intently on phone* Oh! Why hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams readers! Why you startled me! What’s that? What are my plans this Memorial Day? Why, voyeuristically peeking at other people’s drama, of course! Sure, sure. I know some of you ambitious readers may want to go camping or for a day at the beach … Continue reading
I wasn’t prepared to hear John Waters speak in tongues. I’m not sure why. What is there left to do after over fifty years of spreading the sordid slime of good bad taste around the globe than falling to your knees where your role model’s testicles were crushed before he was mowed over repeatedly with … Continue reading
“You thieving treacherous little shit! To think that I actually liked you and let you touch my lady bits. I’m going to slice your face off with a cheese grater and then feed your testicles to my girlfriend!” No, this isn’t a quote from a lost John Waters film spoken with the perverse and pathological … Continue reading
Who among us can deny the alluring draw of golf carts circling and darting here and there in formation set to the rhythm of their instructor’s whistle and shouted directions, “Ted! Ted!!”? Certainly not me. Only a couple seconds into Lance Oppenheim’s intoxicating documentary Some Kind of Heaven, which opens with the faint sounds of … Continue reading
The day after I finished watching Eugene Kotlyarenko’s film Spree, Azealia Banks documented digging up her dead cat Lucifer and boiling his bones on Instagram stories (apparently she wants to gild his skull). It was a witchier version of Joe Keery’s maniacally eager, viewer count-obsessed protagonist and spree killer Kurt Kunkle’s homicidal ride-share rampage turned … Continue reading
“Oh, fuck you! Those are heirlooms. My family heirlooms!” Wild-eyed and bunny-eared with her Appalachian drawl, Amy Adams’ Bev Vance delivers those lines with the pathos and conviction of a woman who just lost her cherished, long held inherited treasures, passed down from generation to generation of country folk. What are these heirlooms of which … Continue reading