Last night, I walked into my hubs going through Netflix (lovely online streaming thingy) and randomly picking sth to watch based on its suggestions.  30 min later when I checked on him, he’s watching Hunger.  Of course I sat and watched it with him.

I kept prying side glances at him, it’s another 10 min when he furled his eyebrows and looked at me all puzzled.  ’That’s yourFassbender?!?!?!?’  Yup he sat through more than half the movie not recognizing the guy. *proud fangirl moment*  It happens, it’s Fassy.  I didnt recognize him, myself, till about the same time deep into the movie.  Did I say it out loud?!  I was bewildered, thinking, ‘Wow, Fassy must be insanely terrific to blow minds not appearing in a good chunk of the breakthrough movie he’s leading’  Yes, he’s insanely mindblowingly terrific.  And we r stupid, he’s been there all along in the beard, even his grey blue stares r unrecognizable.

I’ve seen 90+% of Fassy’s body of work, so I’m much more educated to objectively conclude Hunger is his best meaty (pun intended) job to date, Shame is right there on that level, but I watched Hunger first and it’s the movie that did me in irreversibly his and Steve McQueen’s fangirl for life.  Shame is the confirmation.  Hunger, the revelation. I’ll be watching BAFTA live for the first time. It’ll have Fassy and Fassy fanboying Oldman and Jon Hamm and all those damn hot Brits preferably all in suits. *sigh* I wished I didnt know it, but now that Tom Hardy said Fassy was the first choice for Ricki, WANTTTTTT! GIMMEEE! Sorry Hardy, sorry TTSS and Oldman (because Fassy will steal the show)

It’s extremely raw and brutal and I watched through my fingers, stomach queasy all the time.  You know Fassy starved himself for the role, but it is torturous painful seeing him as a bag of bones inside a broken fragile layer of thinnest skin and I thought of his mom sitting through the movie seeing her real son in this decay and my heart can’t take it.  And there are mesmerizing visuals of fecal wall installation that is indelible art.  Instead of music to normal ears we have urine, cleaning fluid harmonizing to the coarse bristles rhythmically scratching out the most befitting OST. Its OST should also have the symphony of batons banging on the naked flesh and the transparent shields when it rarely makes misses.  The same harsh bristles we’ve seen scratching red threads on raw skin on the naked prisoners.  There is a scene that seems to go forever of Bobby and Priest that you know you’ll be carrying with you for the longest time with the rest of the movie. McQueen presented sth so honest and true, I feel, esp when it’s based on true story, everything will stick.  I had a hard time eating afterwards with the visual memory of the starved to death man.

Rewatching McQueen’s masterpieces are all sorts of wonderful trauma.  Your senses will be intensified, anticipating everything he’s going to present next.  The anticipation makes it all more searing.  There are times I have to go to happier places yet I can’t get my eyes off screen and my mind is flashing this scene:
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