The Film Noir Experience

Stephen Fry has written a book about poetry. I remember reading a blurb about it when it first came out. For some reason, I thought it was just going to be a guide to poetry appreciation.

I am sorry, Mr. Fry, for misunderstanding your intent before cracking the cover of your book. But, now that I have, I know that it is something so much better than a book on poetry appreciation. It is a technical manual for writing poetry.

The book has a foreword followed immediately by a section entitled, "How to Read This Book", which contains three rules:

1. Take Your Time
2. Don't be Afraid
3. Always carry a notebook (Fry 2005: xxv)

Mr. Fry tells us that these rules are, in essence, the manual's end user license agreement. You have to agree in order to continue. He even gives you a place to check "Agree" or "Disagree". Beginning this book is my last fling with summer. And, I whole-heartedly agree.

Posted by Kate at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You'd never know I had shit to do.

This is my new favorite website. True story, bitches.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my madlib:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of metal. Tohr and Rhage were listening to Jonatha Brooke again. 'What is this fuckwit?' Wrath demanded.

Go forth, and madlib for yourselves!

Posted by Kate at 09:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It appears I haven't updated in awhile. And, do you know what is sad about that? Its not that I've not thought about it. I have at least four things (reviews, mostly) written out long hand floating about my place, just waiting to be typed up. That's right. I've done the hard part and now I'm just too lazy to actually sit down, turn on my computer, open up a browser window, long into movabletype, and type up the things to post.

In my defense, I've recently watched:

In this film, Humphrey Bogart plays Babyface Martin, a man who has murdered many people, who has come home to collect his girl and see his mother and then disappear out West. Home is a tenement neighborhood on the East River that is overlooked by encroaching upscale buildings. In this neighborhood, gangs of kids fight, people do odd jobs to make ends meet and sole-supporters of families go off to stand on the picket lines every morning in an effort to force management to raise everyone's pay. In short, this film that came out in 1937 is a tale that makes you think, "Wow, the more things change, the more they stay the same."

That being said, it was very good. Bogart plays an excellent murderous psychopath. Sylvia Sydney is strong and thoughtful as the striking sister doing everything she can to move her younger brother away from the gangs and the poverty, and Joel McCrea is also excellent as the out of work architect/moral backbone/cynic of the neighborhood.

This film was based on a play and that shows in the pacing (and, the moral summation given by the brother of a judge towards the end.) But, it warrants a watch.

Posted by Kate at 08:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Half way through this film Ed Helms sings a song about tigers, what they dream of, and what has happened so far in the film. It has been stuck in my head all. day. long. That is okay, though, because it is hilarious and every time I catch myself singing it, I smile.

This film is about three guys who take a friend to Vegas for his bachelor party and then proceed to have such a wild time that they don't remember what they did...including where they lost the groom. This film was funny, inexplicable and well executed. I wasn't expecting to enjoy it so much. Hooray.

Posted by Kate at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Oh, Sam Raimi, how I love you. love you almost as much I love GDT. (Almost.)

So, this film is about a cute, little blond thing (Alison Lohman) former Pork Queen from down on the farm, dating newly-minted Professor Dr. Nonbeliever (Justin Long) who is up for a promotion at her branch of the bank when an old lady comes in to ask for an extension on her loan. She has to make a tough decision, in order to prove she can make tough decisions, in order to put herself ahead of the competition for the promotion. So, guess what happens? Yup. Bam. Curse.

Highlights of this film: Possessed man dancing like a marionette, gore (so GROSS), Gorey-esque opening credits, Ash/Uncle Ben's car, Alison Lohman

Drawbacks: As much as I love Mac, this wasn't his best performance. Also, (and, this isn't the film's fault) it was paired with Orphan at the Drive-In, and well, you read what I thought about that.

Posted by Kate at 10:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

So, I. Live. An. Exciting. Night. I live an exciting life in which I come home from work on a Saturday night, make a lovely dinner full of veg from the CSA. I popped in a DVD from Netflix; I have the first disc of the second season of the The Gilmore Girls. And, well, I don't want to ruin the show for you, but I'm a little surprised that its taking me ten years to watch the show. In the second season Mama Gilmore Girl is engaged. She tells her Mother that this has happened and the Mother is cold (because she already found out because Mama Gilmore's friends are planning a surprise wedding shower). Mama Gilmore freaks out and says, "Who reacts like *that* when their only child says they're getting married?" And, I flashed back to a friend of mine's wedding eight years ago now and how his parent's had said, "Please don't invite our family." when their only son said that he was committing himself to his partner of four years.

So, the answer to the question "Who reacts like that?" is uncomfortable parents of gay kids and religious kids who are marrying outside of their families...and, people. I don't want to get preachy, but I'm watching this show and I'm thinking that it probably happens more often than you'd think.

In other news, The mud mask that I am using is a new mud mask. I ran out of the old mask and I thought it was time for a change. So, I'm currently waiting for this bad boy to dry. Its ionized. Apparently, dirt and crap in your skin is positively charged and this mask is negatively charged to pull the crap out of your skin. You can see the dirt that has been pulled out and trapped in the clay. It is so gross. It is also incredibly fascinating.

Posted by Kate at 09:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Former musician/Yale Professor/Drunk and Architect (I think) look to complete the circle of love by adopting an older child after a terrible and traumatizing still birth. They are a couple with secrets. He cheated on her drunk ass. She once passed out and almost let one of their non-stillborn children drown. Dr. Yaley Lush still has horrific nightmares about the still birth and feels incredibly guilty about it. So, they go to the orphanage and pick out the quiet kid from Russia painting and ignoring the festivities downstairs. She turned out to be a total psychotic bitch with secrets of her own.

This film was boring. Worse, the "twist" was something we guessed fifteen minutes in. It got points (okay, a point) for allowing to make a reference to the Tales from the Crypt in which a ribbon worn as a choker is the only thing keeping a girl's head on her shoulders. That was it. The soundtrack wasn't great. The acting couldn't save it. One of the other girl's in my car at the drive in fell asleep. This doesn't even get a meh.

Posted by Kate at 05:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

This may have been the most ridiculous film I have ever seen. And, since I've seen pretty much everything Monty Python has ever made, that is really saying something. (And, it is not saying something good.)

It is a cool concept for a film. Something terrible happens and we see it from more than one perspective. Right, I am with you. And they even went all out on casting Dennis Quaid, Sigourney Weaver, Dr. Lost...I mean, Matthew Fox, Forest Whitaker, Zoe Saldana and my favorite hispanohablante Eduardo Noriega. It should have been a good film, right? I mean, Zoe Saldana AND Spanish-speaking eye candy!

There are explosions. Dennis Quaid chases Dr. Lost through the streets of Salamanca in a cute, little European car. Dr. Lost has the worst Gringo accent when he speaks Spanish. (Oh, and the rubbish he says. My God.) It hurt. Forest Whitaker saves a little girl from inevitable and painful death (which, by the way, I felt was the punch line in a Lars Von Trier kind of way. This was also painful.) El Guapo looks guapo even when he is being rundown by the Secret Service and, in the end, Dennis Quaid saves the day. I painted my nails during the last half of this film because I had to do something to keep from scoffing at the screen. (There were some continuity errors as well, like why is Forest Whitaker agreeing with El Guapo in one scene and the shocked, shocked! to be running from a bomb in the next?)

I should have listened to Media Zombie, but I didn't. This film was punishment. Boo.

Posted by Kate at 09:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)