So, today was Little League Opening Day!

And how do I know? Well, let me put it this way, when you are house-shopping and you see that right-smack-ass up against the house there is a ball-field, the thing to worry about is not whether the baseballs will break your windows, but more about what time the games start and whether they have a freaking loudspeaker.

This morning, Opening Day, they were kind enough to start at 10a, which wouldn't have been such a thing had I not gone to bed at 4a, and had they not had a freaking loudspeaker, which made it sound as though they were actually in the room with me. At one point, the announcer sang "Happy Birthday" to the Deputy Mayor of Weehawken, unless it was some sort of fevered dream.

I staggered to the kitchen to close the windows, which made them sound less as though they were in my bedroom and more as though they were in the bathroom. Unlikely, as there isn't quite enough room for a regulation Little League baseball diamond, let along two teams, all the parents, the Deputy Mayor of Weehawken and the guy with the freaking loudspeaker, but hey, I was running on diminished sleep.

The funny part was, after all of the extravaganza leading up to the first game of the season, it started raining and the game was called. Fortunately, all of the residents of my street were well-jolted from sleep before that happened, so it was a days work well-done, I think.

Yesterday they had cookies at the front desk, and Carol brought me one. They were individually wrapped and pretty big, studded with all kinds of nuts and bits of fruit and so on, and on the front of the plastic was a very plain logo that said:

"Mangia
MCMLXXXI"

I know that this means that the company was founded in 1981, but to me it looked like the cookie was made in 1981, and if there was any mangia-ing to be done, it should have been back then.

"Wow, these cookies sure are soft!"
"That's because they are 21 years old. You think those are macadamia nuts, but really they are crawling with maggots!"

Is the heat getting to me? Possibly that's it. But I ate my maggoty, twenty-one-year-old cookie, and it was quite good. Well preserved. Perhaps I would have hummed a popular hit from that bygone year, but I'm too old to remember any.

"Because your kiss, your kiss is on my list..."

I was firmly set on seeing Big V in Chelsea Walls yesterday no matter how appalling it was, and the more I heard about it, the more appalling it sounded. I was reading the reviews linked at Moviefone aloud to Bill at my office and giggling like a loon.

"Listen to this pull-quote, it says '...two hours of constant disappointment and despair...'! That's one to put on the poster."
"And you're going to see this why?"
"Love knows no bounds. Or bad reviews."
"Ah."
"O, wait, the longer version of that quote is even better, '...this two hours of constant disappointment and despair is enough to make even the most upbeat moviegoer ask for Prozac with their popcorn.' "
"Why don't you just wait for two weeks and use a pass?"
"O yeah, like it'll still be open in two weeks..."

Yeah, so I went. It's playing in two theatres in New York City, one of which is, of course, the Chelsea, just up the block from the hotel, so that was where I chose to see it.

I didn't make it downtown in time for the 7.30p show, amusingly when I left the subway it was 7.30p and four seconds later at the theatre, it was 7.40p. Apparently, they are in different time-zones.

Anyway, anyway, I wondered if this movie was worth my killing more than two hours or should I go home. What the hell, I had come this far, so I went to McDonald's. Fortunately, I had to go to the bathroom, so that killed twenty minutes right there, because it was being cleaned. I thought that someone was in there bathing until I heard the door being wiped down, and it occurred to me that it probably wasn't a patron. Unless they went in to relieve themselves and simply lost control, spraying urine around like a lawn sprinkler.

Of course, when the diligent bathroom scrubber finally let me in I expected to be blinded by the gleam, but not so much. One can only imagine the state of filth that it was in before the twenty minute scrub down action if it ended up so dingy. I should have been thrilled at dingy, frankly. Dingy is doable.

I decided to have a sundae to help kill the time, and asked for nuts, because now you have to specifically request them due to the rampant peanut allergies sweeping the nation, and he brought me a plain caramel sundae with a little plastic packet of chopped peanuts. And you know what it said on the bag, do you? "Granulated Peanuts". Has McDonald's gone completely insane? Is the term "Chopped Peanuts" trademarked? Because completely besides the fact that there is no such thing as granulated peanuts, if there were, they weren't it! They were so totally not grains of peanut that I cannot even begin to describe how grainy they weren't.

Okay, yeah, I get hung up on silly things, but it helped pass the time.

Finally, at 9.30p, I wandered back over.

Now, of course this is Friday night in New York, where everything sells out and you have to buy tickets hours in advance, and if it opened that day, well forget about it. But you know what? Didn't think it would be a problem.

Now, I know this is seeming as though I went in expecting to hate it and I didn't give it a chance, but I swear, I really, truly went in with an open mind. I wanted to like it, I just wasn't really expecting to.

And how was it? Well, let me put it this way--I think that if I am a very very bad person who kills and eats babies, many many babies, and I die and go down to a very bad circle of hell, that my punishment will most likely be to watch Chelsea Walls over and over again throughout eternity, and I can't look away or close my ears or let my mind wander in any way whatsoever. Is that clear?

I was praying for death before the opening credits. I was clutching at my hair in despair. Were I sitting by a wall, I would have been pounding my head against it. At one point, Kris Kristofferson is having a long long phone monologue and he says, "What, do you want a list?" and someone said outloud, "O God, no, not a list!" And yes, that someone was, in fact, me.

This is the worst movie that I expect to see this year. It has rocketed to the top three on the list of "Worst Movies That I Didn't Actually Walk Out On", and it is number one on the list of "Worst Movies That I Paid Ten Bucks To See". It is probably the most pretentious movie ever made, and remember, I have in fact seen Eyes Wide Shut.

The script is appalling, unactable, but the startlingly bad camera-work rivals it for the biggest reason that the movie reeks. The funny thing, though, is that some of the camera-work was astonishingly good. Not in the scenes, though, just in the connecting shots between scenes, the second-unit stuff. Alot of those shots were beautifully composed, stunning, like photographs, just none of the shots with actual acting in them. It was as though two people shot the movie, a hack and an artist. And I'll bet anything that I'm right.

The acting, well the poor little actors did the best they could with no help from the script, directing or cinematography, and there were a couple who managed to struggle and fight and barely get their noses out from the quicksand that was this movie, but it was tough work. You could practically see them strain with the effort of it all.

Sexy sexy Vince D'Onofrio was, of course, very good, but only had a couple of scenes, one of which was the only non-tiresome scene in the entire film, the only scene that was actually about something, the only scene that had a moment that was interesting to watch, and that was Big V and Uma Thurman having this awkward date-ish thing, and she breaks a glass, but she's barefoot, so he lifts her up onto the counter and sweeps up the glass, then has her stand on his feet and walk away from the glass with him, and it was so charming and so real a moment, that I would be surprised if it were in the script.

Anyway, that was it for the whole movie. That one three minute scene. And Big V was only in two other scenes, little scenes, and the big denouement scene was both written and shot so badly that there was no emotion in it at all. On a shallower note, he had a bad haircut and a bad goatee, and baby, I don't want to hurt your feelings, and Lord knows I shouldn't go around throwing any stones on this matter, but a man of your, well, bulk, should really avoid the loose sweaters with the horizontal multicoloured stripes.

Again, don't mean to be rude, but somebody should have been before you were immortalized on celluloid, or digital video, in that sweater. Nobody is looking out for you, baby, that's why you need me!

There were other good performances against all odds, Robert Sean Leonard for one, Steve Zahn for two, and especially Uma Thurman. Uma lucked out in that alot of her scenes were line-free, so she could act her little heart out without having to battle against any of that bad dialogue. The play of emotions across her face was just wonderful. Also interesting was this tiny old black person who looked like a man and sounded like a woman, "Just like Little Jimmy Scott!" I thought. Which is who it turned out to be, so that was cool.

But Big V and Uma and Robert Sean and Steve Zahn were so totally not all of the movie by any stretch of the imagination, and they all (but for Robert Sean) were woefully underused, and the rest of the cast wasn't so good at getting their heads above water.

So the verdict is, nothing like enough Vince D'Onofrio or Steve Zahn, far far too much Kris Kristofferson. And I like Kris Kristofferson! But not so much of him, and not saying all that dreck. It was during his scenes that most of my despairing hair-clutching happened. Basically, this was a long, long, slow movie in which nothing happens and no-one is interesting, and some people are so annoying that you want to fling them off the balcony of the Chelsea Hotel.

I wanted more than anything to ask the other audience members (all twenty of them--remember, opening night in NYC just up the block from the setting of the film!) after it was all over what the hell they were doing there. "Are you related to someone on the crew? Did you think it was going to be good? Why why why are you here?!"

Nicole, I know that you are my partner in D'Onofrio-ism, but please, let my suffering be for both of us. Do not see this movie, for the love of God stay away! The Salton Sea is next week, wait for that one.

After it was over, I went to the bathroom, and then noticed that the next showing of The Scorpion King was just about to start in the theatre just across from the ladies room. So I snuck in. I paid $10 to get into the building, I wasn't leaving having only seen one bad movie, maybe two would be better!

And you know what? After the horror that was Chelsea Walls, it was fucking Citizan Kane! It was a big, silly cheeseball of a film with losta fights and losta things moving quickly, and probably the best condition to see it in would be immediately following a really slow, deadly horrible film of horribleness that takes itself far too seriously, because I was just able to throw my arms open in relief and say, "Yes! More swords and silliness!" Also, big strong muscled tanned long-haired man in leather fetish gear, what's not to like? Particularly that scene where he wears that leather mask.

Thank you, The Rock, for saving my evening and reminding me that while it's a great thing to support independent film, if it sucks, go see a big, stupid summer movie, you'll feel much better.

Lenten entries missed:

Anne well Anne is far too busy to update. This is actually true, she really is, but I'm sorry because her life sounds just so interesting in the one entry that she managed to write during Lent that it seems a shame that she's not keeping a good record of it. Also, she's not taking her responsibility to keep me entertained seriously enough.

Today's horoscope:
You have much energy, independence and enthusiasm to apply to your work. You accomplish a great deal today.

One year ago today:
Snoozing is what is bringing the nation to its knees.

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Last Updated Sun 21 April 02:11:09 2002