Why hello, guys and ghouls, and welcome back to The 300, a feature on my spooky attempt to watch 300 movies in theaters in the year 2018. I’ll be watching new releases, classics, hidden gems, and festival films to experience the wide world of cinema in all its forms. With so much moviegoing variety, there ought to be something here for you to enjoy. If not, step into my laboratory and do the Monster Mash until you are content.
As always, there are three rules for The 300:
The senioritis of the last two weeks has let up slightly. I tried to watch mostly horror movies this week since it’s Halloween, but I broke my rule to catch a restoration of a Chantal Akerman movie. Maybe the loneliness that many artists feel is a kind of existential horror. Maybe. If anything, the Akerman films I’ve seen mirror my own bouts of alienation and solitude. Yet it can be so comforting to know that another person understands the melancholy shape of your isolation. While I still have so many of her movies left to see, 2018 is the year I became a Chantal Akerman fan.
I have 21 movies left to go. Drink up, bucko.
And so, onward.