The Duke On The Machinst

Sometimes a flick arrives in the land of flickery, and said flick seems designed purely for to fuck with The Duke's mindset ruthlessly.

This past however long, what's been keeping me settled and content and healthy of skull, is that in Fight Club a doctor says to Edward Norton that no, nobody's ever died of insomnia. What this has meant is that, on the occasions when days pass without a motherfucking wink of shut-eye, The Duke can think back and say, well, the doctor told Edward Norton that nobody ever died from it, so fuck it, I'll just sit here and smoke and worry my head not one iota.

Then a flick arrives by the name of The Machinist, and suddenly things seem a tad more worrying. What The Machinist concerns itself with, y'see, is a fella by the name of Trevor Reznik, played by Christian Bale, and Reznik, it transpires, hasn't slept in a year.

So the fuck what, you might think. It's not like it'll kill him. Didn't you hear the doctor in Fight Club?

Thing is, it may not kill him, but if The Duke were to end up in a state similar to this Reznik fella, I believe I may well go ahead and die anyhow, just for the fuck of it, since it'd be more fun than existing like this fella right here.

Trevor Reznik is a sight and a half, is what. Except you don't think that for a good fifteen minutes or so. What you think first of all is, fuck Trevor Reznik, look at the motherfucking state of Christian Bale, would you ever?

Christian Bale, in order to make things as believable as possible, went ahead and lost 63 motherfucking pounds for the role. His diet consisted of an apple and a tin of tuna per day. Looking at him here, it's all a fella can do for to push images of Auschwitz to the back of his mind. Bale looks wretched. His spine pokes out from his back, his head seems disproportionately large, his cheeks swallow his eyes.

Amazingly, though, what happens is that, following the initial shock, you start to forget all about Bale's physical degeneration. He inhabits his character so completely, that you don't even see Christian Bale anymore.

Just like when Robert DeNiro put on the pounds for Raging Bull. By the time those scenes came around, you didn't think Holy shit, look at DeNiro! What the fuck is this shit, anyhow, he's the size of six DeNiro's! You become so entranced by the character that you don't even acknowledge Fat Bobby.

Article Author: Duke De Mondo

Visit Duke De Mondo's author page — Duke De Mondo's Blog