“You might say I’ve been a fan of the blues since I was in my daddy’s sack, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, Fatty. I know you’re referring to your father’s scrotum. Gross.
Maybe it’s a translation issue, but that conversation he and Jet have had to be some of the most awkwardly-phrase “tough talk” I’ve ever encountered. When I hear exchanges like that, I can’t help but picture the voice actors struggling to keep a straight face in the recording booth. You can write this “stuff” but you can’t say it… as the sentiment goes.
I was going to comment on the villain in this episode reminding me of the cute lil’ gangster Hobb in ROBOCOP 2, but the creepily-precious kid is really a genre onto itself, isn’t it? It seems like there’s a new “evil child” movie every year. Hell, it seemed like every J-horror movie that Hollywood was remaking for that spell had to feature a youngin’ who knew “more than he should know.” I’ve never seen this kind of bad guy get taken down with head shot and a rapid-aging bullet. That, friends, is a first.
You know, in an odd way, Faye eating the dog chow’s actually endeared her a bit more to me. She might’ve just been a vamp before - - and I still don’t trust her - - but eating pet food gives her a new kind of… vulnerability. Maybe her heart’s been broken in the past, maybe she’s got a family tragedy in her history… she doesn’t really need to, now. Only crazies and hobos eat dog chow, so there’s definitely something seriously wrong with this broad. And, for once, it’s not the kind of crazy that people find sexy. It's along the lines of, say, waxing rhapsodic about your Dad's nutsack.