Talk to Me
Last night, I realized that Reality Bites had a strong hand in forming the person I became in my 20s and 30s, which is probably why I’ve had such poor results.
” My grandfather used to work for your grandfather. Of course the rates have gone up.”
Happy belated birthday to Marty Feldman. Watched Young Frankenstein tonight for the first time in forever and nearly pissed myself.
Turner Classic Movies was playing a Hitchcock marathon yesterday. I only got to catch bits and pieces, but I’m glad I caught this.
Spellbound (1945), directed by Hitchcock, designed by Salvator Dali.
Megatron ain't nothing to fuck with.
The best part about the Transformers sequel wasn’t the awesome CGI (drool-worthy) or Megan Fox’s bum (boner-worthy, and a close second), it was the crowd I went to see it with, which was seriously hood.
I opted for the 1 a.m. show, because I couldn’t believe a movie theater would show a two and a half hour movie at 1 a.m. Also, everyone I knew in a 2,800 mile radius had already gone to see it without me. I know, because I’d read their Facebooks. After a long day of working on the magazine, I was the only one in the theater sober, which was fine by me because I hadn’t showered and hadn’t bothered to change my boxers from the day before. I was ripe, and ready for Optimus.
Two rows back were a group of guys who weren’t shy about sharing comments with the rest of the audience. For the most part, it didn’t matter, because they weren’t being dicks about it, kept their comments short and movie-related and Transformers: Rise of the Fallen was so fucking loud they would’ve needed a megaphone to break through the din. During the G.I. Joe trailer, one said, “Yo, we gotta go see that too, dawg.” Later, as Ms. Fox straddled a bicycle in short shorts and quick changed from sexy biker chick into sexy white-dress chick, the group chimed in with a chorus of “Shit, son”s and “daaamn”s.
The best line was when Megatron was resuscitated from his watery tomb. He rocketed up from a deep ocean trench and completely pwned a submarine as he blasted into space. It was pretty bad ass, and a harbinger of bad news for our friendly neighborhood Autobots. One of the guys behind me was obviously concerned.
“Yo, that nigga’s a problem,” he said.
Rudy has long been one of my favorite movies. It’s a battle cry for the stumpy and unexceptional, without whom, there would be no need for the Internet.
Since I am one of the stumpy and unexceptional, it pains me to say that the more I watch Rudy, which is quite often, the more the title character irks me. If this film is an accurate portrayal of the man, imagine how insufferable he must have been with his “Notre Dame this,” and, “Notre Dame that.” He hardly talks about anything but. I’d only be able to take it so much before I’d start avoiding his calls.
Is that jealousy? Is it because I’m envious of his powerful sense of purpose and drive, or is it because I’ve always been more of a Syracuse fan? Go Orange.
A long time ago, I interviewed Jeffrey Liles for a documentary he’d made called The Last Record Store. The film centered around Bill’s Records in Dallas, Texas, and consisted of interviews with the store’s owner (Bill, duh) and its eccentric customers and employees.
I’m not sure what came of the movie, but I received a promo copy to do the interview, and I enjoyed it. Lately, Liles has been posting videos of Dallas-area musicians on Youtube. This clip gets a Counting Backwards thumbs-up.
Shoot ‘Em Up is one of the greatest and most impossible action movies ever made. Paul Giamatti is great as the heel and even Clive Owen doesn’t come off as a total waste as the hero.
Best scene? Obviously the one in which Owen engages in a FIRE FIGHT with evildoers while having sex with Monica Bellucci. Second best scene? A tie between all the rest featuring Monica Bellucci.
I watched Snow Angels last night starring The Kate Beckinsale, whose babies I want to have, and Sam Rockwell, who I usually don’t like. Dunno why. But jeez, what a movie. I’ll stop writing about it now because then I’ll have to think about it, and then I’ll get depressed. Well written, acted and directed. And it gives me an excuse to post a picture of Kate Beckinsale.
