4 May
So yesterday I had to get up early so that I could get into work by 9.30a (didn't happen--three smashings of the snoozebar=getting there at 10.15a) because that rat Mayur was going to be there at 9a.
Ha! I ran in at the aforementioned 10.15a, only to be told that he wouldn't get there until noon. Exactly as I predicted on Friday. And, since he had to leave by 3p no matter what, of course he didn't get there until 1p.
That rat Mayur, is, by the way, our consultant for our terrible horrible accounting system, and he was there to fix a few problems and show us how to do the POs in the system, which is so horrible and complicated and awful and dreadful that I practically threw up all over him.
After work, Tracing and I went to the SAG screening and saw Besieged, the new Bertolucci.
It's an extremely strange movie, oddly paced, starring David Thewlis, oddly left off of my pillow list the other day, and Thandie Newton, partially in Italian, partially in English about an African woman whose husband is jailed, so she goes to Italy and works as a maid for a British composer and pianist while studying to be a doctor.
I liked it, but baby, it won't make a dime.
Anhedonia mentioned The Road to Wellville the other day, saying that she thought that she was the only person who had anything good to say about it.
Well, I'm not going to be the one to disprove that theory.
I don't know if I ever expressed my feelings, my very strong feelings regarding this misguided piece of offal (and in doing a search, it seems that I have not), but it's never too late to do so.
The Road to Wellville is the worst film that I ever didn't walk out of, and, in fact, it's far worse than most film that I have walked out of (probably Toys). In fact, The Road to Wellville is my pick for worst film ever committed to celluloid.
I saw it at a SAG screening. I was supposed to see it with my friends Laurie and Robert, but they decided to go to a later screening, and as soon as the one I saw ended, I went directly to the phone, called them, and left an impassioned plea on their answering machine:
"For God's sake, don't come! I'm serious! Save yourselves, it's too late for me!"
I don't know if I can make clear enough to those who haven't seen it, but this is a truly excretable abortion of a movie. And I was really looking forward to it, I remember, because it has a swell cast--John Cusack, Anthony Hopkins, Bridget Fonda, Matthew Broderick, Dana Carvey, Colm Meaney, John Neville, Lara Flynn Boyle and an unknown Camryn Manheim.
Unfortunately, a fine cast can only do so much with a vile script and appalling directing (Alan Parker's follow-up to the glorious Commitments--I can only assume that he was replaced by a pod person). I remember thinking that watching John Cusack trying to be funny with this material was like watching Sisyphus push that rock up the hill over and over again.
It was exhausting and embarrassing.
About a year later, I was at a video store and they were playing it on the monitors, and I heard a customer saying to the clerk "I've never seen this. Is it good?" and him answering "I don't know, but it looks pretty funny!"
I ran across the store and started saying very forcefully "No, no, you mustn't see this movie! I wasted two hours of my time so that you don't have to!" I think that they thought that I was a little loony, but hopefully they listened to me. And hopefully you will, too.
I give it an F-. Or, to quote John Irving "It has left the alphabet altogether."
Saw Charlotte Church on Leno last night, sing Lloyd Weber's Requiem, a piece that I really love. I was right about her. I've been calling her the girl boy soprano ever since I first heard that she existed, and that's exactly what she is. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's a fine cold sound, but there's a very small window of time in a person's life where that style works.
She also had a moustache long enough to twirl. I don't think that eleven is took young to start bleaching it.
Today's horoscope:
A change in routines is likely. You may alter the tasks, sequences of duties, travel routes, or other "predictable" parts of your day.
One year ago today:
Caught a fly in my hand yesterday. Very Kwai Chang Cain...
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Last Updated Tues 4 May 09:56:09 1999