Why does sleep need a TED Talk now? Last night I tried to optimize with a sleep tracker, memory foam pillow, and a bedtime affirmation. Ended up staring at the ceiling doing mental math with my REM cycles and wondering if I should set an alarm for water breaks. Am I losing my Religion. Wellness trends got me turning napping into a competitive sport. Can we just get back to passing out from Jamieson shots like regular human?
Stuff by the grocery store register is like a psychological booby-trap for adults? I walked in for eggs, milk, and chicken broth, and suddenly I’m standing there holding a rubber chicken, a kombucha-flavored energy drink that promises “mental clarity,” and three packs of gum, because apparently I believe my future breath deserves the best.
How about a glow-in-the-dark stress ball and a novelty lighter with a Steelers logo? I say yes! Treat yourself, and call it what it really is:
Mindful self-indulgence.
A tiny emotional support purchase.
Wreckless adoption of useless happiness
Why Frankenstein (2025) Is One of the Best Shot and Acted Films I’ve Seen
Look, I’ve seen a lot of movies. Occupational hazard. When you’re always hunting for material, studying film, or just trying to forget you’re eating mozzarella sticks alone after a Tuesday night gig in Southern Ohio (no disrespect, Ohio, your bars close early), movies become part of the job.
So when I say Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is one of the best shot and acted films I’ve seen in years, that’s not hype. That’s me putting my tequila and mozzarella sticks down and losing myself in a movie.
This isn’t a “root for the mob” monster movie. It’s a film that made me sit there like, Oh… this is why movies get made.
Let’s start with Jacob Elordi as The Creature, because this performance genuinely knocked me out. I went in expecting the usual: grunting, rain, lightning, and some dramatic arm extension. Instead, Elordi gives a heartbreaking performance. He was more heartbreaking than Jay Kelly (thats not a rip on Clooney, it was his character)
He completely disappears not just under makeup and prosthetics (which are incredible), but in posture, stillness, and vulnerability. He makes The Creature sympathetic without ever making him safe. You feel for him deeply… while also being aware he could tear someone in half if things go sideways.
What really got me—and this is the comedian brain at work—is how Elordi captures intelligence without polish. This Creature is learning everything in real time: language, emotion, rejection. He’s essentially a newborn trapped in an adult body with no stable emotions. Rage, confusion, longing—it’s all there, and never overplayed. It’s the kind of performance that reminds you that acting is such a craft, not just famous people in tailored clothes and hitting marks.
Oscar Isaac’s take on Victor Frankenstein is just as compelling. He doesn’t play Victor as a mustache-twirling villain or a tragic saint. He plays him as something much more unsettling: a charismatic guy who is absolutely convinced he’s right.
Isaac nails that arrogance. Not stupidity. The kind of Ego (or is it the Id?) that destroys lives while insisting it’s progress.
He essentially is an abusive father who refuses responsibility, and a “son” who wants acknowledgment more than revenge—except, you know, with murder strength.
This movie made me notice everything.
Del Toro uses close-ups, colors, and slow pushes like nobody else. And then there’s that shot—the camera traveling through The Creature’s body, into his beating heart. It sounds gimmicky as I type it (and misspell “Creature” four times) but it is not. It makes it come alive. In fact, it may be his “It’s ALIVE!” moment.
The color work is gorgeous and unsettling. Warm sunlight with grotesque imagery. Cold shadows keep you emotionally off-balance like a great Goya painting.
Del Toro never lets the horror drown out the human story.
He’s always been great with monsters, but here the monster may be the most human person in the room (well, he and the sea captain are my favorites). Quiet moments matter. Silence matters.
The score deserves real credit. It doesn’t tell you when to be scared; it tells you when to feel the tragedy, music that happens to be in a horror film, not “horror music.” If that makes sense.
At its core, this movie is about learning how to be human. Social cues. Emotional feedback. Rejection. Desperate attempts to connect.
That’s… me doing stand-up.
The Creature is performing humanity, learning behavior through observation and imitation, especially with the old man. Watching that, I kept thinking about the line between performance and authenticity.
That question runs through the entire film, quietly, intelligently.
I love Paul Thomas Anderson. Depending on the day, he and Peter Farrelly fight for my personal first place in the Director Hall of Fame. But I didn’t agree with Best Film or Director. In 100 percent honesty, I did not watch “Hamnet”.
Frankenstein was snubbed. This movie fires on every cylinder: performance, direction, cinematography, score, and philosophical weight. It asks hard questions without announcing them. It lingers. It stays with you.
That’s the point.
Frankenstein isn’t just one of the best horror films of the year. It’s one of the best films, period. Beautiful, unsettling, deep—and unforgettable.
Willie Nelson dropped a song called “Still Not Dead” in 22 — and honestly, it might be the most accurate title.
At 91, Willie’s not just breathing — he’s still picking, touring, and reminding Father Time that retirement is optional. I believe retirement in entertainment is looking at an empty calendar.
And he’s not alone. A whole army of octogenarians has decided 80 is the new 40. These legends aren’t just surviving — they’re thriving.
—
There are at least nine performers over 80 still touring. Nine!
Bob Dylan’s “Never Ending Tour” is in its seventh decade. The Stones are still gathering no moss, McCartney’s still working it out, and Keith Richards is probably laughing at mortality — cigarette in tow.
These aren’t nostalgia acts shuffling through the hits — maybe a little shuffling — but they’ve figured out what the rest of us are still chasing: a reason to wake up.
Artists don’t retire. There’s no pension plan for rock ’n’ roll. Ronnie Wood once said his old classmates with “real jobs” were getting laid off in their 50s, while he’s still cashing checks for songs written before color TV.
But at this point, it’s not about the money. These artists cracked a code: how to stay relevant long after society thinks you should’ve settled.
The secret isn’t Botox or a crossroads deal (though Keith might have made a deal with the devil, allowing him to make deals). It’s the next gig. A date on the calendar gives life direction.
Dylan once said Success is waking up to do what you want. While most are counting down to Friday, these guys are living the weekend, it’s not nostalgia — it’s anthropology with a 4/4 beat.
They gave us the soundtrack to our lives — and they’re still adding verses.
They could coast. No one would blame them. Passion doesn’t expire.
Willie Nelson’s “Still Not Dead” isn’t just a song — it’s a manifesto. At 91, he’s proof the best time to start something new is whenever you damn well feel like it.
So next time you think you’re too old, too tired, or too late — remember: somewhere out there, a 90-something is strapping on a guitar and reminding the world what art is.