July 8, 2010

Happy Birthday Anjelica Huston.

Speaking at the 11th Annual Costume Designer's Guild Awards.

Raw and brilliant as Lilly Dillon in The Grifters.

At the 1975 Academy Awards with Jack Nicholson.

I adore this woman. She's legend, inspiration, and the unforgettable real deal in talent. She has true style and ability. Respect.

Thank you for all the gorgeous performances and photos thus far, Ms. Huston.

Here's to many many more.

July 7, 2010

She'll Be Back.

Direct quote on the inking of Marg Helgenberger's new contract with CBS ensuring Catherine's return for CSI's 11th season: "Just for you, Torchy-poo."

Everything in that sentence except the quote is true.

Still, she's clearly not impressed that you hoped for Catherine's ultimate demise, Torch. Bad blood between you now. Bad juju.

July 5, 2010

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

Tonight I introduced Balthazar to one of my all-time favorite movies.

It never fails to seduce me. I might have watched it twenty times. Critics didn't get it. You only really understand it, I think, if you don't expect anything of it and let it slowly woo you or if you've been to Savannah and have therefore already fallen in love.

Every time I am reminded of that city my heart gives a little throb of longing. Savannah, one day I will return to you. And it will feel like coming home.

July 4, 2010

The Signs Were Happening All Over The Village.

Today, while doing that thing I do, I contemplated the ability to spin gold from shit. This is similar to the skill set of Rumplestiltskin. Except without the blackmail aspect.

I sometimes read the back of DVD covers (or, okay, full disclosure: VHS covers) in video stores (side note: why are they still called 'video' stores when so many pointedly refuse to stock VHS any more?) and wonder whose job it is to write unbearably upbeat and glowing film synopses. Oh. Right. Well let me tell you if you are forced to write enough of them you will inevitably come across a film that is comprised of pure unadulterated shit. Therein lies the quandary, see. Do you wax honest and save future viewers the torture associated with watching what will doubtless be the visual equivalent of Chinese Water Torture or do you, you know, do your job and blow sunshine up the collective asses of the public sector?

If you want to get paid, you do the sunshine thing.

Thus poor people holed up in a DVD slave camp somewhere are probably right now sobbing and rocking back and forth after being forced to write "Eddie Murphy, not surprisingly, carries the show... he manages to inject some poignancy into Norbit's and Wong's characters... It's not Shakespeare but the laughs are as big as Rasputia's muumuu". But my own personal watershed moment came when I had to celebrate the filmic legacy of M. Night Shyamalan in written form.

Sometimes kids, when you're a grown-up, you have to do things you don't like.

Don't point out how brilliant The Sixth Sense was. I never saw it unspoiled. Some critic wrote about the twist and thus negated the entire film for me. I had some like for Unbreakable. I endured Signs but the plagiarized Wicked Witch ending hurt. I wanted to like The Village because of Sigourney Weaver and it would have been good if it was simply a study in human nature versus denial and how you can't hide from what you are, etc, but oh no it had to have a twist. I refused to watch Lady in the Water because M. Night was in it. I can't talk about The Happening because Mother Nature is still pissed about her representation and awaiting her end of the gross so, you know, there are legal difficulties there...

Should we start a refugee camp for the cinematic ideas ill-used by M. Night Shyamalan? A place where abused ideas and scripts could go to recover and perhaps, with treatment, be given a fresh start in the gentle creative care of some new helmer. Somewhere they could reach their full potential.

I swear The Village was a good drama poorly treated and forced to masquerade as a stupid thriller. I think it should be remade. That is what Hollywood does, isn't it?. I suppose Scorsese could adopt it. Leonardo DiCaprio could take over from Adrien Brody and it could be set in Boston instead. Or Tim Burton could make it a madcap gothic adventure and cast Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter. I guess every director brings their own personal flair to a project. It's just too bad that M. Night's is vampiric in nature, draining all life out of whatever he touches.