CAHIERS DU CINEMA
Android tabloid headline fixation.
Marquee overhead, blinking lights
like a crazy man singing dirges to
entreat a full moon. Nothing later than
this comes soon. 'Don't 'cha unnerstan,
Chuckie, don'tcha?' Then, the yellow
man put down his paper. It was
something from two weeks back.
What a difference already! I suspected
he knew that. The clock-tower struck
twenty-three. A few lush girls walked by,
staring at me. If I only had hands where
my sockets should be. In the background,
some twerp in his Chevy was loudly playing
'Full Moon Fever' on his cheap-shit radio.
Oh Tom Petty better get ready, the goon
squads are shaking their sticks.
-
Like a dope trying to learn his lines, I
read the same script over and over again:
Desert sands, the cowboy comes over the
ridge, shouting and hollering about something.
The love intererest, whom he's left behind in
Calico Falls, was just found out to be fucking
his brother all this time. She never let on, and
he never knew. The horse goes lame, falls and
drops the crazed rider. He passes out in the raw
desert heat - reciting Keats, absurdly enough.
A flying saucer is shown landing swiftly. Out come
android-geek-hairless aliens. They gather him up
and the take him away. No lines to learn. Nothing
to say. Everything else should be just like that too.
(Cahiers du Cinema for me and for you).
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