Brady’s Top 25 Films of 2014, Haiku-Style!

Hi! My picture has been posted here to make more people click on this entry.
Hi! My picture has been posted here to make more people click on this entry.


Hello loyal readers, most likely huddled together in a small basement for fear of persecution by other, more powerful film blogging communities. We appreciate your continued support. Also, do you have enough blankets down there?

Anyway, our Top Ten podcast has been pushed back a few weeks due to some scheduling issues. 2015 is already well under way, so I figured I’d at least tease out my top films of the year. In haiku form. Just so the most riddle-inclined of you might know what they are. I won’t be changing the reviews of my #20-11 films on the site. Those will remain a snapshot of how I felt at the time I wrote them. That said, the ordering has changed, so the numbers of these haikus won’t completely match the film review numbers. One fine, exceedingly noble film has even fallen out of the Top 20.

So yeah, we’ll still bring you our Top Tens soon, but here’s a little film hor d’oeuvre for you. Guess the films in the comments or on our Facebook page. Whoever guesses the most right will have a chance to be on the podcast or have their own Top Ten read on the show. Thank you for reading, whoever you are!

And my film is one of those, right? Right?!
And my film is one of those, right? Right?!


Brady’s Top 25 Films of 2014:


Standup keeps crashing

Film’s party. A great comic

Makes his best work yet.




Great filmmaking yarn.

Cult of personality’s

An understatement.




Hand-carved history.

Sad, expressive diorama

Of despotism.




It’s not long-winded.

Just too aghast to tell its

“Hero” to shut up.




Civics with a soul.

I remove my skeptic’s hat.

A good man’s walking.





Too lovingly critical.

Clear-eyed, like he was.




Even good choices

Cannot protect us from change.

Drive out to meet it.




The American Dream

Is a useful hypocrisy.

Flogged by our bootstraps.




Dredges up buried

Hatred until the hateful

Are buried with it.

Gazes serenely

And curiously at Time.

Time gazes right back.





And constraint kiss and make up.

I can’t stop laughing!




Woody’s NYC

Is rekindled and reborn,

With less cynicism.




Tense and immediate.

The best spy movie ever.

It’s bigger than film.




Great movie star makes

Neorealism sing.

We need each other.




The literary

World rendered with acid wit

And great tenderness.




Female friendship and

Punk in 80’s Sweden make

A darling “fuck you”.



Unspeakably cool!

To live forever is to

Become a hipster.



Icy and tender.

Kubrick just made Predator

And it’s beautiful.




Captured through sound and acting.

Ambition deafens.



An old fairytale.

Psychorealistic myth.

Humane and gutting.



The family unit

Climbs naked and embarrassed

From an avalanche.



A perfect horror,

Not because it stabs and shrieks,

But because it weeps.



A period piece

With character and insight

Beneath each brushstroke.



Once upon a time

A great many souls were lost.

And so I create.



Loves narrative,

Yet sees it for what it is.

All just passing time.


Guess as many as you can! Stay tuned for our podcast!


My great-grandfather was a tailor
A weaver of tapestries into costumes that mesmorized audiences of the stages on Broadway

Yes my great-grandfather was a tailor and perhaps that’s why when the the fabric of your pantleg touches mine
Or my fingers spiderdance across the draped curtain over the small of your back during a hug goodbye

I feel bubbly electric,
I’m goddamn eccentric–did you know this
I keep pulling the dumbest face just to see if you’ll notice

Just to get a little bit
Of a nit pick
A flit of a flicker of a spark in your eye
And when I see it I just want to die


My great-grandfather was a tailor
But no seamstress like you.

You weave my nerves and my hurt
You loop my bliss with my fear of a kiss
You prick
My interstit…ial feelings of doubt
Into a rhapsody of clout that could tetherweight my momentum anywhere you chose to flung it
And you could sing words so foul directly into my soul if it were you that sung it
I’d love it.

And this might sound like a love poem
But it’s really a confusion tomb
That I’ve opened up like Pandora’s box
And these thoughts
Got me tied up in knots
Got me tossing and turning on my cot
And wondering what I ought
To do
Because I got no business being with you

My heart belongs to another
And though she makes my heart flutter
Despite her mutters
That my life she clutters
YOU make my heartbeat stutter

That slight bump-hiccupity-bump
That makes that whump whump weeeaoooar weeeeaoooar

Fill my ears
And my mind fills with tears
I can’t let out

Aw shit, now you got me making stupid sounds and faces again

But baby it feels so good when someone as wonderful as you notices me
And I do nothing
I can pursue nothing
And I doubt you’d want me to.

But my great-grandfather was a tailor

And maybe if I can reach back through bloodlines
Drawn from thimbleless needle pricks sticking in my veins
Giving me a brilliant claim to affection create with
Dominico James Valentino’s trade’s namesake

I could just forge some kind of sinewy thread that could lash our pinkies together with a thin strand of honey
So we can orbit philotically

Sending transmissible
Down this invisible tin can string telephone

A secret code
Handed down from Martini
to Valentini
to Valentino
Just so
You and I could have something special

To share…