Echoes of the Garage

📓 Thursday, January 29, 2026 — 8:21 p.m.
I’m watching One Battle After Another for the second time. The first time I saw it was premiere week in the theater.

So I pre-ordered the 4K Blu-ray… but something funny happened.

Warner Bros. released the film with zero extras.

Why?

Because in March they’re dropping another version—a steelbook—with an additional bonus disc that has all the extras.

Why the fuck would they do that?

According to them, Paul Thomas Anderson needed more time to finish the extras because he “personally” did them for this film. Is that true? Who the fuck knows. To me it feels like a cash grab.

The main reason I wanted the disc wasn’t just to own the movie—I wanted the extras, because this film was shot in Panavision.

Panavision only has a handful of those cameras still in existence. And from what I’ve gathered watching a bunch of YouTube videos after seeing the film, that camera captures more of the frame—top, bottom, and wide—so it feels more immersive.

The funny part is that the whole idea was originally created to get more people back into theaters when attendance dropped because home televisions were taking over.

And now? Cinemas seem like they’ve been hurting badly since 2020. People got used to staying home and streaming everything.

Then today, life reminded me we’re not watching a movie.

I was doing deliveries at a market. As I got out of my van, I heard a bang—but since it’s South Central, that could be anything, so I didn’t think much of it.

I felt hyper today. It happens sometimes. I’ve been in survival mode so long it turns automatic: hurry, find clients, make money, hurry, deliveries, you’re late—blah, blah. I can’t relax sometimes. It’s like my mind is a track star that refuses to stop running because it thinks if it stops, it’ll never win. Like it’ll never be good enough.

So back to that moment outside the market—

I stepped out and saw a woman crossing the street to see what happened. Another guy was recording on his phone. A man was on the ground with blood, his bike tossed nearby.

Then cops showed up fast—pushing people back to give him space.

A helicopter was above us almost immediately. Five minutes or less. Somebody said the man was shot in the head. Looked like a Hispanic guy.

And that’s when the day reminded me how stupid my complaints can sound.

I’m mad about a movie not having extras—Panavision, frame, immersion—while a few hours earlier, in real life, a man got shot in the head. Same city. Same day. Same sun.

It’s not funny. It’s just insane. The way life puts cinema and tragedy on the same coin.

Life is a trip.

Poor dude.

Reader question: Have you ever had a normal day flip into something you can’t unsee?

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