Interesting insofar that it establishes Scorsese’s essential preoccupations with grace, violence, Italian Americans, and New York — but I think Charlie’s spiritual anxiety is not especially compelling. And I don’t think it’s any fault of Keitel’s, who is magnetic, but rather of the screenplay itself, which is plodding. But the pool hall fight is a stroke of brilliance, as was Johnny Boy’s last disconnected series of stunts and hysterias. Maybe this is really a PSA for TBIs.

Quite possibly the greatest satire of all time? The tone of this film’s humor is so perfectly embodied that even it’s most formulaic slapstick feels equally hilarious to its spontaneous absurdity. The promethean horror of Shelley’s classic was, perhaps, too fully realized by the twentieth century. God bless Mel Brooks for swooping in to lighten the mood.

Time is frozen on the estate. Perhaps this is Poe in Texas? I think so. That was truly an unforgettable dinner. I think I’ll hear the motor running for the rest of my life. Drill baby, drill. Brodie dances in the dawn and dips his brush into the blood red light. Sew it all together now.

We won’t know if this is good or not for another 10 years. For now, it’s more than anyone could possibly ask for and different from anything we’ve ever seen. This was a bacchanalian mutant that no one got blessings to conceive. Seeing it in an amc defied every level of cultural logic. The surplus enjoyment I gleaned from the very event of its aberration makes everything worth it. This movie must be seen.