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New list on letterboxd for a sub-genre I'm obsessed with and have never been able to quite put into words until now. This is a very specific sub-genre of movie I remember as a kid that seemed to only exist from about 1996 to 2004, but really seemed to prosper between '98 and '02. I also call them "silent hill" dramas. For the film to fit under this umbrella, it must contain at least a handful of these criteria:
- Moody, rainy/windy atmosphere - Blue/greenish hue - Unhappy couple in their 30s-40s - Someone in the marriage is having an affair or under a lot of pressure at work - Someone in the marriage is sick/recently died - The couple has recently divorced but are still in somewhat close contact - The couple must live or work in Manhattan - If not Manhattan, they must spend part of the movie in New England - Takes place in any season except summer - There is a remote, secluded estate/vacation home - The wife is waif-y yet determined - The husband is kinda gay in a Ralph Lauren sweater way
This sub-genre is primarily associated with psychological erotic thrillers and horror but can be found in other genres as well. There may be films made referentially in this style outside the stated time period (eg: Faces in the Crowd, Chloe). The locale of and proximity to Manhattan is exceptionally crucial to this genre, but there are select outliers (eg: The Fourth Kind, The Piano Teacher, The Ring). The couple aspect is a core component of this sub-genre; the dynamic between the two, whether separated by divorce or death, is important to this specific theme. Films about single individuals, although otherwise fitting the sub-genre (eg: Sliver with Sharon Stone) cannot be included.
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Eye movements made by subjects while examining I. E. Repin’s painting “An Unexpected Visitor”, with different questions in mind
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Rain Coat by Andrew Wun Silk Mix Jaquard and Embossed Taffeta. Hand Beaded with over 30000 Swarovski Clear Crystals.
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the eroticism of brutalist architecture with ethel cain
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One year ago today, I accidentally discovered the defunct Bruce Mansfield plant in Shippingport, PA on a late night drive along the Ohio river while I was living in Coraopolis. Lights on the horizon from the bridge in Monaca led to “smoke” from cooling towers on the other side of the hill until I had followed the backroads all the way to what now sits in my mind as nothing short of a monument to God. I’ve always had a fascination with great brutalist structures, but something about the smokestacks, cooling towers, and other twisted entrails of the power plants of Pennsylvania truly changed the way I see the world and my place in it last year. I spent multiple nights a week parked on the side of the road outside that plant the entire 9 months I lived in Coraopolis; I’d drive up the river in the middle of the night and sit there for hours, admiring the sheer might of the towers and how beautiful and resolute they stood against the grey night sky. They became a beacon of religiosity, of sexual liberation and enjoyment, of contentedness. When I would drive home, I would masturbate in the dark and think about them and only them. I think I miss the power plants more than anything since leaving Pennsylvania. Perverts wouldn’t exist without Bruce Mansfield and neither would the person I am today. Happy 1 year anniversary to me and my giant concrete boyfriend ♡
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Hospital Beds II - Ethel Cain
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I’m always out looking for sad landscapes for photography, but all I see is lost hope and fleeting conformity
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