skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com
Tuesday, 02 September
This Is Not A Love Post
Posts this week will be sparse if not nonexistent: Labor Day made this a short week, and I'm taking Friday off for a long weekend on Whidbey Island, so the resultant work-cram is making for a nice psychosis-inducing three days. Also, I have a bloody audition tonight, which means even less time for dithering madly on the site and more time for horrid stress; I hate auditions. All actors hate auditions, and anyone who tells you differently is a lying sack of wet dogshit. Auditions are the worst. Normally I'd worry about the director seeing this and getting the wrong idea, but the director already knows me, and is therefore already familiar with my neurotic, fucked-up self, so why be coy? Hire me! I'm all fucked up!
Oh, and before I sign off, I must report that my inability to appreciate well-received art films continues apace: I saw Swimming Pool last night, and while I appreciated the young morsel's carefree attitude towards shirt-wearing aesthetically appealing, I was thoroughly underwhelmed by the glacial pace of the movie, and seriously didn't care about anyone much by the time the story wrapped up. The acting was lovely, though, but overall: meh.
Which was pretty much my reaction to the last well-received art film I saw in the theaters: Sexy Beast. Wonderful acting, sure, but after a while I really stopped giving a fuck. "Ho hum, here comes Ben Kingsley to machine-gun spittle and invective at the sad-faced guy again."
Wise readers might take this opportunity to remember that I have confessed elsewhere on this site that I not only watched 13 Ghosts at home, but that I also came dangerously close to enjoying it, in that Holy-Shit-What-A-Ghastly-Movie kind of way. So it's safe to say that I am best ignored on the whole damn topic.
To sum up: I'm all fucked up! Hire me! Never take me to movies! That is all.
Note: Comments are closed on old entries.
You were missing the point of Sexy Beast! Somehow the producers reanimated Gandhi's corpse and got him to give a rather impressive performance as a deranged British thug. Who'd have thought that the Mahatma, previously known for his role as the founder of the independent state of India (as well as his habit of testing his celibacy sleeping next to naked women -- I smell Swimming Pool crossover!) had such range? I haven't seen such a fine performance by a major 20th c. historical figure since George Patton's gripping portrayal of a father delving into a world of sleaze in Paul Schraeder's Hardcore. That movie made me see his seizure of Port Lyautey in 1942 in a whole new light, you know.
I thought Ghandi totally kicked ass as hacker-gone-bad Cosmo. I found it pretty amazing such a wonderful man who devoted and ultimately gave his life for freedom for his people could manage to present the anarchist society-destroying mild nut case.
Although I guess cracking sort of fits into the civil disobedience thing. No violence, really, just computers. A trip to Australia coding session must be brutal with no Jolt or Doritos. Maybe he makes sure his milestones aren't scheduled during fasts?
It was especially interesting that the Sundance Kid was playing the good guy.
Have you noticed that Malcolm X never gets any lovin', no matter who he plays? Is that because he's Muslim?
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