
This was probably one of the most French movies I’ve seen in a long time. The final film of Polish director Andrzej Zulawski, the film tells the story of Witold, a law school dropout obsessed with writing a garishly romantic novel. He and his friend Fuchs end up at a rural inn run by a family just as crazy as our protagonist. Mrs. Wojtys is prone to outbursts of screaming only to freeze in place for a few moments after. Her husband Leon is an insane retired banker who is constantly twisting around language. Her daughter, Lena, becomes the focus of Witold’s obsession and comes to despise her pretty boy architect husband. He also holds an obsession with the housemaid, Catherette, who suffers from a lip deformity as the result of a car accident. Throughout the story is the ongoing mystery surrounding a bird found hung by its neck in the garden behind the house. The film meanders through the inn and the group all end up at a seaside cottage for the finale, chasing each other through the woods with lanterns.
To say Cosmos caused major confusion as I watched it would be an understatement. There is very little plot to the film beyond what I described. The majority of the picture consists of Witold exploding in wildly emotional monologues either while typing out his novel or lamenting and pining over the unobtainable Lena. I personally love films that challenge narrative structure and experiment, but moments of Cosmos went so far over the top it lost me. Scenes play as vignettes that don’t really add up to a meaningful whole.
The acting was wonderful due in part to how free and insane the characters were meant to be. Sebastian Genet as Witold did an incredibly convincing job of portraying a comically angsty poet/philosopher. He even made the stranger moments captivating enough to keep me engaged. Early in the film, he has a moment where he faces the camera and repeats the phrase “The savage power of stupid thought” over and over in a Donald Duck voice, looking like he is both on the verge of tears and bursting out laughing. In many ways, that phrase serves as the thesis statement of the film.
The film was packed with references to authors and figures of note in the arts. This becomes part of the word play with Witold referring to Sartre’s Modern Times, only to have Fuchs mistake it for the Chaplin film of the same name and proceed to perform the waddle of Chaplin’s Little Tramp. The crazy old man Leon overhears a conversation about films and chimes in with “Spielbleurgh” (bleurgh being an expression of disappointment) which leads to a sort of pun competition between the man and Witold to plug bleurgh into a litany of other names (Bleurghman). I seem to recall another of Leon’s bizarre turns of phrase being “When an icicle mounts a bicycle it becomes a tricycle”. *Shrugs*
I was never bored by Cosmos but I was pretty strongly confounded for 90% of it. It is a movie that has a very strong forward momentum, that momentum is just leading you to nowhere, but that is on purpose. By injecting things like the hanging bird mystery into the film Zulawski almost seems to be daring you to try and make sense of this absurdity. The film does manage to capture the chaotic nature of creativity through Witold’s mad outbursts of typing as his novel becomes more and more about recording his angst. Most definitely a film that does not have wide audience appeal, but then not all films should. If you are wanting to be challenged and confounded Cosmos is certainly up to the task.




In the vein of Serial and The Black Tapes, comes this intriguing audio drama. Lia Haddock is an American Public Radio journalist who has a personal connection to an incident that occurred decades ago at neuroscience research facility in Tennessee. Three hundred people vanished without a trace and the government has worked to cover up the truth. As Lia digs deeper, she uncovers a vast horrific conspiracy. A beautiful artifact that immerses the listener in this dark parallel world. Only six episodes with a companion prequel novel in the works.
Paul F. Tompkins (Mr. Show, Best Week Ever) hosts this series that is half-interview show, half-improv show. Each episode begins with Tompkins interviewing a celebrity guest. In the second half, the guest offers up a location and Tompkins and his improvisers create a longform improv based on both the suggestion and tidbits from the guest’s interview. These are some amazing improvisers and they produce hilarious comedy.
Hayes Davenport and Sean Clements aren’t industry douchebags, they just play them on a podcast. Each episode of Hollywood Handbook begins with the duo in media res humblebragging through a story that involves a mid-tier celebrity (think Elliot Gould or Anne Heche). What’s most cringey/captivating about Handbook is how real these characters feel. I’ve never worked in the entertainment industry, but even I can feel the genuine nature of the smarm coming off these characters. The target of their passive aggressive sneers is poor Engineer Cody. A classic duo of episodes are the dueling interviews with comedian Chris Gethard (whose podcast is featured below). Hayes, Sean, and a few friends also made an amazing appearance on Earwolf’s flagship Comedy Bang Bang podcast.
hang up, the caller can at any time. After one hour the call will automatically end. From this simple premise comes some of the most beautiful and funny human interactions you’ll be witness to. Callers often feel awkward at first, but there is inevitably some moment where they make a revelation about themselves. From there you can’t help but be pulled into the story.




