‘The Peanut Butter Falcon’


That’s it.

That’s my review of The Peanut Butter Falcon…


Pair it with The Art of Self-Defense for a double feature about the relationship between sports steeped in purportedly-controlled violence, and the gestation — or is it the radicalization? — of adolescent conceptions of masculinity.

And now, a letter from our resident Diarist (it me):

Dear Big-Screen Directors (including those of the casting variety),

I promise, John Hawkes CAN play more than just rednecks (a crude word for a crude characterization, which Hawkes does his best to humanize from page to screen). You know, like, leading parts, too?



The Peanut Butter Falcon’s disregard of his talents is symptomatic of its surface treatment of what the movie could’ve been, wisps of which are detectable throughout, albeit spasmodically.

One more Thespian Thought, regarding two thespians:

The cameoers of the year: Bruce Dern (Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood!, not to mention a sterling supporting turn in The Mustang), and Thomas Haden Church (Hellboy!), whose 2019 in movies consists EXCLUSIVELY of caped crusaders of a certain age…

…which can’t be all he’s offered…

…right, aforementioned directors??

Please tell me I’m right, for the love of … Church.

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