SIX REASONS YOUR STUDENT FILM FLOPPED

By N. Khazzam and Z. Winthrop

You were too nice to tell your friend that he can’t act — If you love someone, let them go. Not everyone can be Leo DiCaprio. Brayden certainly can’t.

Bad publicity — Your friends didn’t tell their aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and cousins to tell their friends to tell their cousins to buy tickets to see your movie. Charging sixty dollars per ticket probably didn’t help sales either.

Excessive “indie-ness” — Not even the judges of the HollyWeird FilmFestival (it’s real) wanted to watch Alexa and Jeremiah discover their sexual identities whilst struggling with their methamphetamine addictions. Maybe they were right to question the strategy of filming the entire thing in an abandoned cornfield.

Your film claimed emotional intelligence was fake — Peter Salovey consequently mobilized the Yale militia to block off all the movie theaters in New Haven. Yalies must be protected from fake news — especially when it contradicts the lifelong research of our righteous leader. Sorry nobody wanted to drive all the way to Bridgeport to watch your pretentious drug-infested-corn-obsessedquasi-pornographic indie movie.

Let’s face it, you’re lazy — You procrastinated for hours and compiled the whole thing the night before your release date. Editing was harder than you expected, so you ended up only using a single wide shot of them frolicking in the field. You take pride in the fact that you finished at 11:59 p.m. And honestly, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

You wasted your entire budget renting out a fucking cornfield — Turns out your viewers wanted costumes and props and nice lighting and a highquality camera and stuff. But that just wasn’t in the cards. Who knew dried grass and corn husks were so expensive? Clearly not you.

YOU JUST DON’T GET IT

Quentin Tarantino doesn’t have a foot fetish. I’m tired of people saying it’s “gross” to see extreme close-ups of Uma Thurman’s juicy lil’ piggies every ten minutes. Take it from me, a certified cinephile: you just lack the media literacy to understand Tarantino’s genius. Some of you, especially those with feeble, feminine minds, may need me to explain why this actually supports the subtextual feminism behind his filmmaking.

Let’s start here: how many toes are on one standard foot? Five. And how many movies has Tarantino made? At least seventy. Divide that and you get fourteen. What name is fourteen letters long? That’s right, Hillary Clinton, the world’s most famous woman. Remove the N’s from Hillary’s last name, and you get “clito”, as in “clitorus”, the most empowered part of the woman. Should I have to explain something so obvious? No. But some of you are so set on your agenda to cancel a brilliant man that you can’t even read between the toes.

Don’t get me started on how the sensual curves of the heel emblematize divine feminine sexuality and power. And the sole, its distended muscles serving as a fleshy memorial to silenced women of the past, bulging with ideas.

So you see, Tarantino does not objectify women, he’s actually more of a feminist than you or I could ever dream of becoming. To the trained eye, it’s clear that he’s actually sending subtly subversive critiques of the patriarchy with each close-up. Besides, tons of beloved filmmakers have bare feet in their movies, like Alfred Hitchcock, who everyone knows was a super normal guy.

The Silent Car

— N. Stack