See, I call it the Sidewayzzzz factor. That movie generated a lot of critical buzz, but all it generated from Corb was a lot of snoring. It literally pained him to sit through that movie, and as a result, he tends to shy away from anything that even has a hint of critical acclaim. Oh, except for Pride and Prejudice . He really wanted to see that.
So, what was the verdict? "It was all right," said Corb, as we were leaving the theater. "But it wasn't the greatest movie in the world."
"The cinematography was beautiful," I replied. "And the story was well crafted. And, the actors were totally believable."
"Except you couldn't understand half of what Heath Ledger said," replied Corb. "I don't know. I guess it just bugged me, the way everyone was like, 'Oh you HAVE to see this movie. It's the best thing in the world.' After seeing it, I didn't thing it was the best thing in the world."
"And maybe, a bit of it is what it represents," I acknowledged. "I don't know. For me, I could totally relate to what they were going through, because I lived that life."
"You went 'fishing' with your best friend every year?" he asked, smiling. "I'd better talk to Josie about that."
"No, I like to spit into my hand and take you in the poop shoot. I like it better that way," I said sarcastically. "Now that you mention it, it is sort of a gay Same Time Next Year . Only, without the laugh track."
I returned home from work last night, and as we were eating dinner, Ashes asks, "Did you know that there's a scene in the Wizard of Oz where you can see a man hanging himself from a tree?"
Oh yes, the old Wizard of Oz hanged man story. How do these things get mass distributed, and why do people keep telling them? Apparently, on the wide screen, you can tell that it's a bird flapping it's wings.
guysterrules was writing about the death of Shelley Winters, which reminded me of her autobiography, something I read many years ago.
It also reminded me of my recent trip to Borders. There I was, standing in the checkout line with Corb, clutching a copy of a biography on Cole Porter (and yes, it's research.)
"There's another book that will take you six months to read," smirked Corb.
But he's wrong. I read biographies pretty quickly. Pretty much because I usually skip the first 50 pages. I just don't care where anyone famous grew up or spent their childhood. It's usually never very interesting, to me. I mean, maybe there are some stories that rise above the norm, like Brian Wilson, because his dad did fun things like take out his glass eye and chase him around the house with it. But most people? Gah...just let me fast forward to the good stuff!
I actually should cut out the last 50 pages, too, because it's invariably depressing. Take Cole Porter, for example, who had his leg amputated and just stopped writing. It was a slow steady decline, and not half as much fun as reading about beginning the beguine.