In the interest of steering the Reverseblog away from a tide of unremitting negativity and hypocritical elbow-throwing, I'd like to speak for a moment to Michael Atkinson.

Man, I really dug your article on Cornel Wilde's directorial efforts in the November-December 1996 Film Comment—it opened my eyes to this strange, underloved oeuvre, for which I consider myself eternally indebted to you. Your piece is a cracking, vital little essay on pulp with a cacophony of left-field references, and your prose hits le mot juste with effortless accuracy throughout. Nothing bravura, really, but I still think to it often, particularly the reference to Beach Red's soundtrack as "canned patriotic drone." Spot-on.

So, thanks.

Now back to the schoolyard shit-talking.

Since we're getting all huggy, I'll go out on a limb: Armond, your piece on John Boorman's In My Country was dead-on. If I hadn't read you that week, I would have missed seeing it during the one week it played near me. I owe you one.

Okay, I'll pitch in...honestly, where would we be without Armond's constant reminders (constant....constant) of our man Steven S's brilliance. Back in 2001's summer, when every week's release was deemed irrelevant in the face of A.I. well, my friend, you were one hundred percent right.

On top of that, only you seemed to acknowledge the presence of the great Son Frere, and should be saluted for that as well. And a great piece that was.

Ah, the wondrous Son Frere! How could I forget? Armond: 2, Me: 0.