That naginata. That whole total package of fightin’ skills, and timing, and strength and oh my.
Fun fact: That’s a thai spear called ‘Tuan’ , the length of the pole is very close to the Japanese spear naginata but the blade is more of a sword shape, it’s pretty good for poking and slashing.
OOOH! thank you! It looks awesome and the poke/slash combo is a v. desired trait
“The capabilities of this society are progressively reducing the sublimated realm in which the condition of man was represented, idealized, and indicted. Higher culture becomes part of the material culture. In this transformation, it loses the greater part of its truth.”
— Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man (via philosophybits)
hate tweets that are like “men will live in apartments like this and not see any problem” *picture of a poor person’s house*
i was thinking about that tweet when i made this post, thank you
i mean granted there are a lot of fun low budget ways to decorate, but being a dick to people because they havent spiced the room up enough is a collosal dick move
The second that final spoonful goes in your mouth the waiter runs over, noisily clears the plates away and shoves a new menu under your nose, while insisting that you order the set menu immediately. That’s the experience we all have when watching films and TV on streaming platforms.
The end credit sequence is an unsexy but still important part of the film-going experience. It can be a key moment of contemplation, to assess, absorb and reflect on everything you have just experienced. It can be a moment of musical resolve. It can be a place to see the countless hundreds of people who worked to create something from nothing (not just the famous ones). Or it can just be an excuse to look for crew members with funny names. But the current trend with virtually all the streaming services is to treat end credits as having the same artistic merit as a DFS Summer Sofa Sale ad. Our entertainment goes from being a work of art that could resonate for years afterwards to “content” that is to be guzzled as fast as possible from an endless bargain bucket.
I understand why the feature was introduced, especially in the age of the multi-episodic binge watch. And I have no problem with a lot of people wanting to skip credits – it was ever thus with home viewing. But I do have a problem with having to “opt-in” to watch something that is often an integral piece of a complete artistic vision.
I’m pretty sure it was the time I watched Schindler’s List on Netflix that pushed me over the edge. If ever there was a movie where the credits were an integral part of the experience this was it. However, the second after Steven Spielberg’s name came up, the screen was shrunk to the size of a postage stamp and a massive advert appeared telling you to watch something else. Worse still, if you didn’t click the correct button within 10 seconds, you could wave bye bye to contemplating the emotional complexity of the past three hours (and John William’s magnificent, Oscar-winning musical conclusion) and say hello to whichever trailer Netflix’s algorithm had decided you would want to gorge on.
The lights were off in my flat – and I had foolishly logged in through my PlayStation and its fiendishly unorthodox series of buttons. I stumbled around desperately trying to find the controller before the ticking clock of doom would hit zero. I got there with a second to spare – success – and then managed to press the wrong button – disaster – resulting in immediate expulsion from the cinematic world in which I had been so fully immersed. …
