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Kevin Rolly
Bio
Artist working in Los Angeles who creates images from photos, oil paint and gunpowder.
He is writing a novel about the suicide of his brother.
http://www.kevissimo.com/
FB: https://www.facebook.com/Kevissimo/
Stories (67/0)
The FALLOUT Series and the Question of Enemies
Just binge watched the entire season of FALLOUT. All eight episodes in a row because I’m a good little film addict that way. The end credits were coming up with he sun and I have to say it was worth the rough day ahead. That's how good I think the show is.
By Kevin Rolly4 days ago in Geeks
FURIOSA and Why it Failed
By this time most people are aware that FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA is just tanking at the box office and even getting yanked from theaters like that guy you know who can't handle his booze at your favorite bar. But why? Was it really that bad? Most critics I've listen to claimed it was a perfectly enjoyable film but that audiences turned away because there was no Mad Max in Mad Max. But was that really the case? FURY ROAD did just fine, great even and was a tour de force without its titular character. It had all the gear porn, action sequences (mostly executed with practical effects) and was led by Furiosa herself with the insanely talented Charlize Theron in the lead and complimented by the master of rage Tom Hardy as Max Rockatansky. It had all the things. The things we loved. Character, story and payoff. It proved once again that a strong female lead in a dude fest is not just embraced but celebrated if they are written intelligently and with depth. So what went wrong with FURIOSA? It had the brilliantly talented Anya Taylor-Joy (The Queen's Gambit) as Furiosa and paired with the strength of Chris Hemsworth as the evil Demntus and helmed again by director/writer George Miller. So what bloody happened?
By Kevin Rolly15 days ago in Geeks
At the Sheltering Doors. Top Story - May 2024.
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
By Kevin Rollyabout a month ago in Horror
Rebel Moon Part One: A Dumpster of Fire
**SPOILERS** Oh, Zack Snyder...you and your ‘this isn’t Star Wars meets Seventh Samurai’ scheme, what did you do to us? I tried, I really did. The first fifteen minutes or so I thought we had something going on but quickly it all felt painfully familiar with themes and characters we’ve all seen before. We’ve got the evil Motherworld which is basically the Empire who have depleted their own world of resources and are in search of a planet that can make them sandwiches. One of the first images of them is their cylindrical ship leaaving what can only be describes as large space vagina. You be the judge. They find food makers in the village of the planet Veldt (It's not Tatouine) populated by a handful of farmers who proudly work their land and are home to our main protagonist Kora (Sofia Boutella). She is a brooding, isolated twenty-something with an attitude and with that well worn stereotype introduced we now know how this is all going to play out character wise for her. And yep, turns out she’s an elite trained soldier who escaped the Motherworld after their king, queen and their magical princess daughter Issa were assassinated. Issa could apparently bring dead things back to life (not using the Force) and was heralded as a messiah to her people. Well, she’s DEAD now viewers, don’t you feel angry? Well you SHOULD because Zack TOLD us so through three minutes of TOUCHING exposition. Does this play into the narrative? Does this motivate Kora for revenge? Nope. I don’t think it’s even mentioned again. So why bloody introduce us to it in the first place if it doesn’t advance the story? Well, viewers don’t ask questions, just suck it up and move on.
By Kevin Rolly6 months ago in Geeks
INCINERAT
It had been five days and the land still smoldered in wisps of curling smoke. All the homes gone, including his. The grey trails rose like mindless prayers into the merciless air like loosed cobwebs holding to themselves only to be dispersed by the winds that blew in from the sea just beyond. Smoke from grandparents’ beds, children’s toys and family albums. Things yearning to still be. Here he grew up, fought bullies, fell in love and wrote his first poem. The Five Cent Diner sat at the corner of Main and Holland. The counter still visible under the ashen collapse of the roof and coffee cups cracked and sullen rested still where no patron would ever go again. It’s where he met his first wife. Huervos Rancheros and conversations till dawn until another fire erased that as well. He turned left onto Spring St. It would only be another block.
By Kevin Rolly8 months ago in Fiction
THE ROAD by Cormac McCarthy
The Man wakes in the dark in the post-apocalyptic landscape, his son known only as the Boy, sleeps beside him, the father’s hand on his little chest feeling it rise and fall “with each precious breath.” We do not know what befell the earth and we never will. All we know is that the“Barren, silent, godless” world is dying and they need to move south or they will not survive the coming winter.
By Kevin Rolly10 months ago in BookClub
Snow Hill
Atop a snow covered hill a group of six figures hold colorful ribbons dancing about a May pole with train tracks in the distance. In Andrew Wyeth’s culminating masterwork they dance in anticipation of his impending death for the hell he put them through. Notice there are seven ribbons however.
By Kevin Rolly11 months ago in Critique
Atoms and Adversaries - the Power of OPPENHEIMER
J. Robert Oppenheimer lies in bed, his lover Jean hovering intently over him holding the Bhagavad Gita, the sacred Hindu text written in Sanskrit. She demands his translation of an obscure line. Oppenheimer struggles with the dead language and hesitantly speaks the now infamous quote.
By Kevin Rolly11 months ago in Geeks
The Sound of Freedom and the Maligning of Truth. Top Story - August 2023.
So much stink has surrounded this film that I went to see it to see if any of the media criticism leveled at it had any merit. Is it a conspiracy laden melodrama exploiting child trafficking for a buck? Is it a call to awareness about this dark hidden world that we all know exists but don’t hear about much? Is it good? Is it bad? So many questions... So let’s pull the trigger on this and get to bottom of it.
By Kevin Rolly11 months ago in Geeks
[boom]
On acid everything is very very important I had been on acid since breakfast and guarding the merry-go-round in my uncle’s Vietnam helmet was my only responsible choice. It was 2007 and my friend Ellen’s bachelorette party was raging sloppy and I knew everyone were incredibly vulnerable. Donned only in bridesmaids dresses, my friends cavorted in the dangerous wilds of San Francisco slurping mimosas out of baby bottles and occasionally exposing themselves as the ride careened at a seemingly impossible speed as legs and arms flailed in a tangle of chaos and light trails. Ellen was coming round on some chipped white beast of a horse and as she swung round she crossed her eyes, her tongue sticking preternaturally to the side and screaming, “BLAAAAAH!” and vanished from sight.
By Kevin Rolly12 months ago in Humor
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