Anyway...

I, while eating The Last Nachos, saw what is definitely the best film of the fourteen that I have seen in the past eight days, The Winslow Boy.

It starred Rebecca Pidgeon, formerly known as the talent-free Mrs. Mamet (though I did like her in The Spanish Prisoner), who was astoundingly good and whose accent was so perfect that you didn't notice it was an accent, as opposed to Gwyneth Palthrow, whose accent is so perfect that you never stop noticing the fact that she is doing an accent so well, which means that it's not really so good after all.

It was the kind of movie that I wished would go on for eight or ten hours, just because I loved all of the characters so that I wanted to spend more time with them. I loved it so much that I may very well see it again tonight with my last pass.

After seeing An Ideal Husband (still swell) I popped over to the Ziegfeld to see Star Wars-Episode I again.

The Ziegfeld is where I saw all of the Star Wars re-releases, and where I wanted to go see Phantom Menace the first time, but couldn't get tickets. I remember feeling all nostalgic when I saw the re-releases, and when I sat down to watch the movie, I realized that I was feeling nostalgic for when I first saw this movie, meaning I was nostalgic for May!

"Ah, back before the heat wave, back when we were still excited about Eyes Wide Shut, back when I was 34...how young and foolish we were back then!"

Anyway, there I was, seeing it at the best theatre in New York. Vast, and almost empty. As the titles began, a man came and sat behind me. There were about fifteen people in this whole giant auditorium, and he sits behind me and proceeds to read every title and describe the action, I assumed to a blind friend.

When the queen looked at Artoo and said "It shall be commended. What is its number?" he cried out "R2D2!" like he was psychic or something. Fortunately, the movie was so loud that it wasn't as annoying as it could have been, but I wonder sometimes why are so many people so stupid and why must they invariably sit behind me at a movie theatre, like I'm magnetic or something? And why can't I kill them?

Of course, at the end when I got up, I looked at him and he was sitting alone. He was a human Jar Jar Binks.

The movie wasn't so good the second time. Perhaps it was because I just saw The Sixth Sense with that astonishingly good child actor, but Jake Lloyd didn't really do it for me this time. He reminded me of a commercial kid--every time he spoke I expected him to start talking about Life cereal or proclaim that he was a Toys R Us kid or something.

I think that he's a "Whatever Happened To..." waiting to happen.

And all I kept thinking during the pod race was that someone watched an awful lot of Penelope Pitstop and Wacky Racer cartoons in their formative years.

And then yesterday I saw Mickey Blue Eyes, which I liked very much. It was no glorious Notting Hill, but neither was it the appalling Runaway Bride. Thank God.

One thing, though. When I sat down in the theatre I sat in my usual front row centre seat, I stayed for about four seconds before realizing that my neck couldn't take it. It takes eleven movies in four days for me to get to that point, but the front row was just too close.

So I moved to the third row. Which was fine, as there was no-one anywhere near me. At least, there wasn't during the credits, the second the movie started, a guy sat down behind me and said "Hey, that's Manhattan!" and I got up and moved. That was it, three words and I picked up my bag and moved to the far left.

I reached my limit on talking creeps as well.

Today's horoscope:
Creative efforts pay off. Your abilities and flair contribute to material rewards. You are appreciated.

One year ago today:
"Look! I look human!"

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Froggy froggy afternoon by:
Brittly!

This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Tues 31 August 11:58:09 1999