Well, dear readers, we are T-minus two until the big birthday of someone named ME. We do also have a big birthday the day prior to mine, but it’s not as big as the ME birthday, in terms of age. But let’s not get older any sooner than we have to. As for right at this particular moment, I am still listening to Ernst Fischer music, having found five more things available on the Tube of You, including several orchestral pieces from various operettas he wrote – that music is charming as all get out and I think we all know just how charming all get out is. Prior to listening, I watched. The first thing I watched was a 2016 “thriller” entitled Solace, starring Anthony Hopkins and several really not so hot actors, who I shall not name other than they play the other two leads. Wooden for the woman, and schmacting from the man. Hopkins plays a man who has some ESP going on and he’s asked to help solve a serial killer case. We’ve all seen this a zillion times before, so it’s all up to the script and direction to make it seem fresh. Unfortunately, the script is horrible and ultimately becomes almost laughable in terms of it suddenly turning into an angst-ridden soap opera that is unfortunate. And the direction by a Brazilian filmmaker whose second film this was. If his first film was like this, I can’t imagine why anyone would have thought him doing this film would be a good idea. He can’t make up his mind about style – we have shakycam for several dialogue scenes but not for others, we have slow motion for no reason, we have just about every cliché of now filmmaking there is. Hopkins is fine, as he always is, but he can’t really do much with this material. He also gets an executive producer credit – meaning more dough – which is probably why he said yes to it. The second thing I watched was Air Force One, which I hadn’t seen since a pre-screening at the DGA. I really didn’t care for it much back then – it just seemed very silly to me – and while I went along for the ride last night, it’s still very silly. I will say that mumbling Gary Oldman is not much help. Harrison Ford is in hero mode and he’s fine, Glenn Close is the Vice President, and a lot of familiar co-stars do their thing. The writing isn’t great, but the direction is and that’s a big help. It was a big hit when it came out. Originally, the film had a score by Randy Newman, which was tossed out and replaced by a Jerry Goldsmith score. The Newman score isn’t hard to find and it’s easy to see why it was tossed – he kind of went for a Russian sound for his main title, which doesn’t work, and much of his action scoring was, well, as director Wolfgang Peterson stated, it almost sounded like a parody of action scores. Goldsmith provided what everyone was looking forward to, a loud, relentless score, trading off between big action cues and a Coplandesque main theme, which is very declamatory, as is most of the score. It’s not the Goldsmith I love – it’s just too one-note, bombastic as can be, and it’s just not my kind of score. Then I started a limited ten-episode thing called Maniac from 2018, starring Emma Stone and Jonah Hill. It got mostly good reviews because it’s the kind of thing critics like for reasons unknown. I found it pretty awful so far, but we’ll see where it goes. I’m certainly not a fan of Jonah Hill.
Yesterday was nothing special, but thankfully no irritants, which I hope continues for the rest of the birthday week. I got about six hours of sleep, which was fine given the long sleep of the night before. Once up, I had a couple of telephonic conversations, then went out and got food to bring home – Panda Express – I ate it, and it was very good. After that, I did some work on the computer having to do with figuring which way I’m going to go, new book-wise. I ascertained there was no mail, and then began viewing. Between movies, I had some nuts and muenster cheese bits. Which brings me to something I’ve been meaning to write about in these here notes, and that is what I’ll call movie driving and movie eating.
So, we have a generation of self-indulgent mumbling actors who feel they have to BE their character on and off screen, who make other actors’ jobs more difficult, not to mention making the director’s job more difficult. It’s all about them – they research, they do this, do that, and, in the end, for me, it’s a big ol’ who cares. But I do find it amusing that these METHOD actors (I think that’s how they see themselves, although what they’re doing has nothing to do with Strasberg’s method) who must have everything be real and authentic and must never not be in character (heaven help the people they’re in relationships with) when involved in eating or driving scenes, suddenly do nothing that any character would do in real life. Let’s start with eating scenes. Just watch them – they put food on the fork, toy with bringing it to their mouths, but never do – they push the food around on the plate but never really eat it. Sorry, how is that real? I understand they don’t want to ingest food because these rail-thin actors might actually gain a pound or two, but they just expose their BS when they don’t eat in an eating scene, or perhaps but one string bean in their mouth. Uh uh, fake as can be so don’t give us this METHOD crap in interviews. And then we have the driving scenes. Look, we all know, the car is being towed by a camera truck and rig. We KNOW it. But if you’re one of these actors doing that METHOD shtick, then do explain to everyone how you justify looking at your scene partner during a scene in which you’re supposedly driving – you look so long and so often that in real life you would have caused an amazing number of accidents. They want to relate to their scene partner, to the other character, but you have to have it be real and real is you don’t look at anything but the road when you drive. You can’t have your METHOD baloney all ways from Sunday. Just admit you’re in a movie, you know you’re in a movie, and stop with the pretentious interview twaddle you spew. I has spoken.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll continue trying to decide on which book idea I’m going with (I’ll probably call Muse Margaret and see what she thinks), I’ll choose songs, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, I’ll pray for a major miracle, I’ll eat, and then I can watch, listen, and relax.
Tomorrow, I’m having an early birthday luncheon with Robert Yacko, otherwise it’s more of the same. On Thursday, the actual birthday, I’m being taken to lunch by Richard Sherman and daughter Vicky. I get to choose the restaurant and I have an idea, if they don’t mind the drive – it is on their side of the hill, though. Friday, I’m told I’ll be seeing the first cut of episode three, so that will be exciting, and then we’re into the weekend. I do know that on Sunday it’s a birthday lunch with dear reader Jeanne and I’m looking forward to that.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, continue deciding on which book to write, choose songs, hopefully pick up packages, pray for a major miracle, eat, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite films of Mr. Anthony Hopkins, one of our very finest actors. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have vented about movie driving and movie eating.