Well, dear readers, we’ll have to keep these here notes on the short side today, because I must get ready to go to the city known as Las Vegas. I’m being taken there for my birthday by my friend and we shall have fun, perhaps even fun-and-a-half. I will be writing tomorrow’s notes “on location” and they will be on the long side to make up for these here notes which will be on the short side. If you put together today’s and tomorrow’s notes, they will be on the medium side. I think that about covers it, side-wise, don’t you, dear readers?
Last night I watched a DVD at Manderly. Which DVD did I watch? Well, to find out, simply click the Unseemly Button below and you shall be illuminated. Oh, yes, you shall be illuminated.
At long last illumination. The DVD I watched was, according to the back of the case, “a scare a minute chiller”. The film was The Glass House, starring Leelee Sobieski, Diane Lane and Stellan Stensgard. That kind of star power is hard to beat, but since I don’t care about star power one or even two whits, I watched it anyway. Let’s get the most important thing out of the way first: I am so tired of being told something is “a scare a minute chiller” when the film doesn’t deliver one single scare or chill. It’s not that the film needs to deliver it, but when you use that kind of hucksterism then it does have to deliver it. This film was not designed to be a scare a minute chiller, and yet that’s what I was expecting, and when that’s what you’re expecting and you don’t get it, then how can you not be disappointed, even if the film is good? That said, this film is not good, so it’s all a moot point. It’s typical of this film’s conceits, that the titular glass house is occupied by a family named Glass. This is very subtle. Every “twist” of the film is a cliche and can be seen coming miles away. It’s screenwriting by computer, and Wesley Strick should know better. But to hear he and the director, Daniel Sackheim, chat on the commentary track, you’d think this was the most brilliant film ever made. Every decision about the beats of the story (the “acts”), the color scheme, the use of the widescreen frame – it’s like, to what end? Tell me a good story, not one I’ve seen in every other 90s scare a minute chiller. Certainly, it’s competently made and I do like scope widescreen. Interestingly, the writer and director both cite Rosemary’s Baby as an inspiration because of its use of the scope widescreen frame. They talk about it for quite a bit. The only problem is that Rosemary’s Baby wasn’t in scope widescreen, but that doesn’t seem to matter to these boys. I do like Leelee Sobieski though. I then watched a great movie, Fritz Lang’s The Big Heat, a film about corrupt people. Oh, yes, dear readers, The Big Heat features corrupt and despicable people, doing corrupt and despicable things. But in the end, the wronged cop takes care of all of them quite handily – not that he hasn’t been hurt by the corrupt and despicable people, but the corrupt and despicable people get their just desserts (and I don’t mean Strawberry Shortcake).
What am I, Roger Ebert? Who needs all these fershluganah movie reviews? I should be talking about musicals. But I haven’t seen any recently (except for Flower Drum Song, which I enjoyed very much). Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk about musicals from Viva Las Vegas.
If you haven’t heard Donald’s new radio show, do give it a listen, it’s lots of fun. And click all the unseemly buttons so you can partake in all the unseemly things that are hither and thither on this here site. I must now go shave and shower and dress and prepare for my sojourn. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I must prepare to go on my sojourn. Soon a cab will be here to pick up my friend and I and off we shall go. Just before I go, may I just say that Tuesday mornings give me a headache. That is because the gardeners come and mow. Oh, do these people mow. And they have very loud mowers, and the loud mowing is so annoying that it gives me a headache. And whatever room I go in to get away from the loud mowing, they immediately come to that side of the house to continue their loud mowing. They stalk me with their mowers. They think, “Well, Bruce has moved to the kitchen, let’s go mow loudly over there.” However, when all is said and done, my lawn and environs looks quite spiffy, so I suppose I must put up with the loud mowing. Of course, as soon as the headache sets in, they stop mowing. This is Gardener Torture, this is, and it’s quite unseemly in my book (Chapter 12 – Tortured by the Gardeners). Well, off to sojourn.