This weekend I saw the superb “The Killer Inside Me”, a psycho-killer (Qu’est Qu’est Cest) thriller from director/ chamaeleon Michael Winterbottom, in which Casey Affleck is involved in a blackmail scandal with a local property Tycoon.

I have been a fan of Casey Affleck since I first encountered him in the equally cool “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”. His voice instantly and literally made me prick up my ears and take notice of this young man who had been dropped in a meaty role. Still he managed with ease to command the screen every bit as much as his co-star Brad Pitt.

I then saw him in one of my most watched films “Gone Baby Gone”, in which he plays a private investigator specialising in missing persons alongside his on-screen girlfriend Michelle Monaghan. Doubling not only as a moral and casting FEAST, it is the directorial debut of his Oscar Winning kin, Ben. Casey Affleck comes across as wise far beyond his years in spite of his boyish features, with eyes that seem to leak a kaleidoscope of emotion giving him range that surprises whilst it grips, much like a new born childs. This praise comes at the cost of seeming ridiculously fan boy-esque, but with an impressive choice of initial features (much like Ryan Gosling although I’m really only talking about ‘Lars and the Real Girl’) he will go a long way.

Back to the matter at hand, “The Killer Inside Me” had sadly been tarred with an undeserved brush of misogyny by critics due to it’s two scenes of extreme violence towards women. Much like “This is England”, a few scenes of relative and powerful violence which heavily contribute to the film’s theme are completely misjudged. This view only needs to be compared with another film that has more misogyny in the blurb of it’s DVD than the entire running time of “The Killer Inside Me” to dispell these complaints; “The Ugly Truth”.

This ‘saturday night rom-com cinema date for those who lack imagination or taste’  flick stars Gerard Butler as a wacky TV presenter brought onto a network where he clashes with Katherine Heigl’s character. The film then revolves around him mentoring her in the ways of appearing attracitve to men. Basically it delivers the message that all men only want a tremplate of a woman. This is a ridiculous notion, and even I as a man find quite offensive.

The scenes of violence themselves (in ‘TKIM’ not ‘TUG’) are displayed after strong relationships are established between Lou Ford (Affleck)  and prostitute Joyce (Jessica Alba) and his girlfriend played sweetly by Kate Hudson. When he first meets Joyce, he is commanded to instruct her to leave town due to the illegal nature of her occupation. She slaps him repeatedly leading him to refrain her and spank her with his belt. Later we learn that he has a history of sexual fetishes, raping a girl at a very young age, and spanking an unspecified partner of his father’s. Lou and Joyce then have a relationship consisting of sex and land-locked company. When he finally kills her, the camera does not flinch in an achieved attempt to focus more on the pain being suffered, as opposed to the pain being inflicted. As Joyce exclaims through tears “I love you” the blows suddenly shift from the face to the heart.

The point of view narrative then causes the viewer to (not all comfortably) not exactly root for Ford, but enjoy the way in which he escapes justice, which is a testament to the team of Winterbottom and Affleck, as well as Jim Thompson from whom novel the film is adapted.

The motivation is invisible, but this is precisely the point of the film.

As the alternatively visible finish line becomes apparent his actions drift claustrophobic over the audience but are not long knocked back by his air of calm collected Southern Man’s-man cool.

I can tell I’m beginning to waffle a lot and keep in mind this my first review so I’ll wrap this up.

The film on the whole is difficult to ‘enjoy’ and leaves one with a heavy heart and conscience. The cinematography and music create an encompassing atmosphere which is difficult to free oneself from. Winterbottom’s latest is deeply affecting; exactly what a good film should do.

Let’s get one thing straight. I ain’t pretty. I like many of us, with the personalities etc., HAVE to wear clothes to make us look attractive. I don’t look too great naked either, unless ‘Ausschwitz-chic’ is going to take off in 2010. So I’m not going to tell you what’s HOT, or what’s sooooo last Bank Holiday Monday, just what I think looks cool. And there-in lies the problem.

I’ve started to REALLY like the look of uncool stuff on purpose. In the past year tee shirts and sweatshirts began to appear in Urban outfitters with prints of wolves, much like you’d see on a fat american truck enthusiast. I bought one from a stall  that sole them for their non ironic purpose last christmas and cut the collar to make it more comfortable. The stall also had two live owls on display for some reason. It was easily the most exciting place I’d bought an item of clothing from in a while. This was, to sound up my own arse, before they became popular. Here is some additional information I learned last year at Uni. Forgive me if I don’t articulate myself very well. Bricolage is to take a product and make it your own by giving it one’s own meaning. (Me buying the tee shirt)  This is one theory by wearing tacky clothes. Counter Bricolage is when Marketers start to create products that adapt around bricolage, for instance, selling pre-ripped jeans. That’s what high street retailers like Topshop and Urban Outfitters did.

An ex girlfriend of mine who was far too nice to me bought me an 80′S  MEMBERS ONLY jacket I’d wanted but didn’t have the courage to buy from a vintage shop.  I really love it, but get slagged off for it. The latter doesn’t bother me. Below is myself wearing said jacket and my very funny friend Kirsten. Follew her on twitter! @kirstenin

However now the a forementioned passion for the dreadful has reached new heights. I’ve wanted one of these jackets for quite some time, but never been able to remember the name of them. I always remember them being wore by The Chuckle Brothers/ Parents in the 90′s. I finally remembered the name: NEVICA! Behold, a jacket I still require the balls to bid on ebay.

Don’t start reading yet… that’s a lot of nostalgia and colour to take in…

Beautiful right? I think I think I shall buy it. And that’s it. A blog entry born out of my indecision. And it was intended to be less self indulgent than the last two. (Shake head at disappointment in myself).

Till next time. John xxx