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Ralph Fiennes little nephew plays the young Tom Riddle. How fabulous! This looks cool and dark and fun. I am thrilled.
Anyone else excited?
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I have been incredibly, horribly lax about posting in the month of July. In fact, I haven’t posted at all. In part, this was due to exciting developments Chez Jen, to be detailed at a later date (no, I am not pregnant). One of the many other distractions this month was my 20th high school reunion, coordinated by yours truly. Naturally, my mind spent a lot of time running through famous high school reunions in film in preparation. Here are some of my favorites:
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The Museum of Television and Radio hosted a marvelous interview with George Carlin years ago. He tended to give a great interview; he seemed to love conversation. Being in the audience was terrific, and remember feeling sated by what I learned. Yet, the only part I really remember was his description of his work habits. He had a file of thousands of little slips of paper, and when he was working on a routine he would pull them out and sort through them. Later, ideas would be transcribed to index cards which were posted on the wall and moved around until they had the right relationship with each other.
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It is lucky that Huxtabled’s Diana Fischer and I live less than a mile from each other and can arm wrestle periodically, because the line between television and movies continues to blur. If I watch Slap Shot on a television through free On Demand, per Diana’s recommendation, am I watching TV? A movie? Both? Has this question taken on the dimensions of a Zen koen at this point? The internet has further complicated things. My daughter watches both Enchanted and the Mary Tyler Moore Show on my laptop and doesn’t quite grasp why we old folks call one a movie, and the other a TV show. All of which is merely an attempt to prevent a beat down from Diana, because now I am going to discuss how thrilled I am that the Dick Van Dyke Show is available for free on Hulu (which I first heard about from G. Xavier, but let’s not bring him into this).
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Harvey Korman, king of the corrupt cranks, died last week at the age of 81. His work on the Carol Burnett Show was legendary, but to me he will always be Hedley LaMarr in Blazing Saddles, a movie that always makes me laugh. I’ll be watching it, for the thousandth time, tonight in his honor. Here is a brief clip for you to enjoy:
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As previously discussed in the Playground, I am starting up an Errol Morris discussion group, in honor of the release of his latest film Standard Operating Procedure. It was decided that since so many of you live in places where Errol Morris movies don’t tend to show at the local theater for months after the initial release, if ever, we would wait a while before discussing Standard Operating Procedure. Instead, we’ll work our way through his filmography, discussing on Wednesdays.
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Happy Birthday, Israel! What better way to mark this special day than to plug this upcoming Adam Sandler flick. I freakin’ love Adam Sandler, and not just because he looks crazy hot with the beard and Jew-fro he sports in this film. It probably has something to do with the accent: he is every wiseass kid I grew up with in my Boston childhood. Everytime I see this trailer, I get all giddy. Oy, what a mitzvah! Enjoy. LeChaim!
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I wrote this review the day the movie came out, but I couldn’t bear to post it. I love Tina Fey and Amy Pohler. My expectations were too high, and I came out disappointed.
This wasn’t a bad movie. It was enjoyable, it occasionally made me laugh aloud. It just wasn’t fully satisfying. There was a vagueness to it. Fey comes off as a really nice person, which might have made it hard to play someone who is supposed to be a demanding control freak. At one point, halfway through the movie, she tells another character that she’s controlling and demanding, and I was jolted by the statement. Was that what she was supposed to be playing? Read the rest of this entry »
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For those of you who don’t know Errol Morris, he is an astoundingly brilliant filmmaker, and I am both excited to see his latest, Standard Operating Procedure, and dreading it. His subject is Abu Ghraib, specifically the use of photography by the service men and women working as guards in the prison.
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I’m watching Casino Royale on Showtime and there’s this great parkour chase toward the beginning. Bond is chasing some guy through Madacascar, to a building under construction, up scaffolding, from beam to beam, picking people off as necessary: crazy things you shouldn’t watch if you suffer from vertigo in any way. Daniel Craig is icy and British and hunky, and the other guy is scarred and up to no good. I have no idea why he’s being chased or what Bond is up to, and even if I find out later what’s going on I’ll never remember, just like I don’t remember the plot line of any Bond movie I’ve ever seen, aside from there being some mean guy bent on world domination, and any number of choice birds who can’t resist Bond and may or may not be trying to kill him. Bond movies are all about chase scenes and making out. We know this.
About the joys of sitting in a darkened theater, covered in bits of popcorn, feet sticking to the floor while a world unfolds before your eyes.
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