Well, dear readers, let’s get the bad out of the way first, oh, yes, let’s get the bad out of the way first. Actually, there’s a lot of bad to get out of the way, but let’s get the worst bad out of the way first. There is a Chinese jernt close to the home environment – I’ve thought about eating there many times – rave reviews, but I haven’t because it is also the most expensive Chinese restaurant around. But when I got home from the movie last evening at 5:45, and I had a 50% off coupon from UberEats, I decided perhaps it’s time to try it out, it being Bamboo Chinese Cuisine. I ordered the orange chicken, of course, and some white rice. The orange chicken cost? $26.00. Outrageous. It arrived pretty quickly – I asked for it extra crisp, as always. I opened the container and didn’t really understand what I was looking at. Orange chicken, especially extra crispy, is deep brown/dark orange in color. What I was looking at was blonde and golden in color. Crispy was nowhere in sight. There were sesame seeds, which I’ve never seen in orange chicken. I thought maybe they gave me the wrong dish, but in searching their menu, there is nothing else that resembles what I was seeing. So, I had a helping on rice. It wasn’t awful, it did have a kind of orange sauce, no crispy anywhere. I should have stopped right there. But I ate a couple more small helpings, less than a third of what was sent. Now, I’m feeling a little nauseous. I went to Yelp – lots of five-star reviews – read some and clearly written by youngsters who know nothing about Chinese food, clearly. Of late, a bunch of one-star reviews. I’ll be adding a review after finishing these here notes. Ultimately, I did a UberEats complaint, and they refunded me all but the tip, which is fine. I just hope this doesn’t turn into anything worse. That was the worst bad. Moving on.
Prior to bed and yesterday’s adventures, I ended up watching Apartment 7A, a prequel to Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby. I can only tell you that I believe he would have hated every second of it. It takes a minor character from the book and makes her the major character of the prequel – Terry Gionoffrio, who, in the book and original film, meets Rosemary in the laundry room and they bond a little and Terry tells her that she’s been befriended by the Castevets (Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer in the original film). Next thing we know of her is that she’s committed suicide by jumping to her death. So, we certainly know the ending to the prequel. I suppose there could be worse ideas for a movie, but it’s so ham-fisted at every turn, and despite a nice performance from Julia Garner, it just never even gets interesting. We can start with the horrible writing and dialogue – Ira was a master of dialogue – he was a playwright before his first novel. All the dialogue, every single line, in the film of Rosemary’s Baby, is Ira’s. In the prequel, every single line of dialogue is clunky, uninspired, and occasionally downright stupid. All the theater stuff, with Terry’s dancing and performing is so awful that I actually yelled at the TV a couple of times, especially the choreographer character and the awful actor who plays the role. In fact, they apparently blew most of the budget getting Ms. Garner, and this film’s Minnie Castevet – Dianne Wiest. She’s probably physically closer to what Ira Levin wrote, but Ruth Gordon’s performance is unforgettable and completely unique. Ms. Wiest goes her own way and she’s fine, but I, at least, couldn’t put aside Miss Gordon’s performance. But the rest of the cast is grade B and C, I’m afraid, with a couple I’d rate lower than that.
The director tries for atmosphere but is no Roman Polanski. It’s completely uninspired. And what is suggested or part of the brilliant dream sequences in the Polanski film, here is in your face, fake scares, special effects, and it all stinks. Of course, my question always with films today is, where is the first vomit scene. Fourteen minutes in, for those who like to know these things. Everything is in your face and blatant, no subtlety, no humor (the book and original film both have humor built in), but in the end, you really can’t get past the writing. Heartily not recommended by the likes of me. I call it Rosemary’s BooBoo.
Then, I had a rough night after that, but did get nine hours of sleep, thankfully. I arose at noon o’clock, answered e-mails, got dressed, and then moseyed on over to the Fine Arts theater, a movie theater I frequented many times as a young teen because they played low-budget and foreign films there, which is where I got hooked on those kinds of films. The first thing I remember seeing there, I think, was Never on Sunday, during its very long run there. I saw David and Lisa there about ten times, same with The Miracle Worker, over and over again. Same with the wonderful That Man from Rio and then Zorba the Greek. It’s quite nice inside – they went from 700 seats in my day to 400 now, enlarging the lobby and putting a little stage thing in front of the screen for Q&A things. The curtain opened and with the house lights on they showed a bunch of trailers for upcoming 70mm showings, none of which looked very good. Then, without closing the curtains, they began West Side Story, which starts with whistles coming from the rear of the theater, left, then right, then going into the Saul Bass visuals with the overture. Well, I don’t think they had the rear channels working – sounded like all sound was coming from the front speakers. Bad. The image looked soft, and the colors weren’t quite accurate, AND the houselights were still up and remained up until the end of the overture. Not the way it’s supposed to work. Then we go to the overhead shots of New York. Just not sharp and certainly doesn’t look like 70mm to me. Then as we’re getting close to the end of the overheads, suddenly it’s like the projectionist accidentally turned on the Blu-ray player and we see the MGM logo and then the Saul Bass overture designs faintly over the image. Say what? That continues through almost the entirety of the Prologue. No one ever explained what THAT was about. So, without dwelling on it too much, I saw West Side Story during its original roadshow engagement over twelve times, maybe even closer to twenty. It was a gorgeous presentation. Image was sharp as a tack, color was gorgeous. I don’t know if it was the print or the projector, but the image was soft throughout, the colors leaned very yellow/brown, even though you could tell they were accurate, and that was pretty much it. Intermission card was there and there was an intermission of fifteen minutes. The last time I saw the movie in 70mm was sometime in the late 1980s, at the Plitt in Century City, I think, and it still looked pretty great. My feeling is the color timing notes for the film were accurate to carbon arc projectors. Well, the light from Xenon bulbs isn’t the same and it affects the color just the way this print did. Also, seeing it on a 33-foot screen is not so thrilling. Anyway, the film remains the masterpiece it’s always been and there was a lot of sniffling going on during the final ten minutes, including mine own.
Then I came home, had the bad orange chicken, which is still upsetting my tummy even as I write this. Then I watched a motion picture that was recently released, entitled AfrAId. Whenever you see “From the producers of such and such and such and such” yes, be VERY afraid. In this case it was “From the producers of M3GAN. Well, let me tell you something, marketing department – the producers weren’t the WRITERS or the DIRECTOR of M3GAN. I’m sorry to report that AfrAId is terrible, another AI run amok movie, this time a kind of hugely next generation Alexa. There’s really not a believable moment in the movie, despite some okay performances. There are no scares at all, and really, we’ve seen this too many times already. The final third is especially bad and then it just completely fizzles and ends. Another highly not recommended by the likes of me. That was pretty much it and here we are.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll see if I’m happy with the two songs I re-recorded yesterday whilst waiting for the bad food to arrive, if not, I’ll try to re-record them yet again, I’ll check with the mail place and see what’s what, I’ll choose songs, I’ll pray for a very needed modern major miracle, I’ll eat hopefully good food, and then I can watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week is more of the same, Wednesday I go to the Arboretum with our sound guy to check things out, and there’ll be some meetings and meals, too.
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, do whatever needs doing, see if I’m happy with the re-recordings and if not, do ‘em again, check with the mail place, eat, pray for a hugely needed modern major miracle, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What movies that have never had sequels or prequels, might actually lend themselves to having one or the other? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, wishing I hadn’t seen Rosemary’s BooBoo.