em Bones and All /em Is Clearance-Rack Grand Guignol

I'm writing this post from the guest room in my mom's house, which is peppered with old knick-knacks of mine--to summon the spirit of my childhood room, I suppose. While flipping through my photo albums, I was tickled to find a blurry picture of the poster for Phone Booth, clearly taken by me on a disposable camera outside of a movie theater. I was probably too young to be watching a gunman thriller--thanks, Mom--but I'm pretty sure my affection for it had a lot to do with Colin Farrell, who was a relative unknown when that movie came out in 2002. To this day, I'm a bit gaga over him, though I think part of the reason my puppy love has turned into something more enduring is that, as I've gotten older and my tastes have evolved, so has the actor's persona. Not to downplay his macho heartthrob phase in the aughts--I still go catatonic whenever I think about him salsa dancing in Miami Vice, and I sense noted MV-heads Bilge and David feel the same way--but it has been a delight to see him take on increasingly stranger, more cerebral roles for directors like Yorgos Lanthimos and Sofia Coppola while also pushing himself, unafraid to get ugly and unhinged, in blockbusters like The Batman.