February 5th, 2005

little review

Poem for Saturday

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Today was writing and shopping and organizing and not getting behind, which in and of itself is an accomplishment these days. Also getting older son's report card, which was not nearly bad enough to have been thrown out, though he was correct that he was losing weekday GameCube privileges until that C has come up. Am thinking that I should make him write essays or fanfic or something creative based on the games, since barring him from playing them altogether cuts into his social life and his down time. Is this foolish and counterproductive? He spent all night making a web page on AOL to link to his favorite game sites, and I am teaching him a little HTML, so it's not all bad...

This week's Enterprise review, as we head into the home stretch: "United, just as derivative as last week and more gratuitous violence -- nothing that really made me sob about the cancellation -- but rather enjoyable, and Reed is so completely in love with Tucker that I even mentioned it in my review and will get lots of hostile homophobic mail tomorrow. I also threw in a feminist rant for good measure. And in an editorial, I confessed that I suspect Manny Coto is not the messiah.

all_ahoo linked to this article, "What the Super Bowl can teach us about men touching men", that put me in a happy place several different ways. Also, we've established that I DON'T write lotrips, right? Right. Good. Because this article-thingy on Bloom and Bean made me grin like crazy and then spank myself. See, am caught up on friends, just not in fic which I am several days behind on. And because it's Friday, a no picture day, you get more blabber...

fannish5: Name 5 movies you thought you would hate, but didn't.
1. Titanic.
Saw it long after everyone else, was warned that I would hate the historical innacuracies, would hate the framing story, would hate Leo, would hate the song...wrong, wrong, wrong and wrong. I really loved it.
2. Hannah and Her Sisters. Seen under duress under pressure from my college roommates after I swore off Woody Allen forever because The Purple Rose of Cairo made me so mad that I didn't think I could sit through anything of his again. I despised the idea of a filmmaker making a film about a woman screwed over by filmmakers and film fantasy, and it was only much later that I realized that the filmmaker's point of identification is not with the powerful producers and the asshole star, but the woman sobbing in the audience. Hannah, and the storyline in which Allen's character is going to kill himself until he sees the Three Stooges, saved him for me, and thank goodness too or I'd have missed Crimes and Misdemeanors and Shadows and Fog.
3. The Prophecy. I thought it would be a bad horror movie, and I hate horror movies and I hate bad films about religion. I thought Viggo Mortensen's screen time would be the only five minutes I enjoyed in the entire film and that Christopher Walken would creep me out. I could not have been more wrong in every way.
4. Joe vs. the Volcano. I don't really like Tom Hanks. I don't really like Meg Ryan. It looked really silly, but apaulled adored The Man With One Red Shoe so we figured we'd give it a chance. And I love this movie more than I can say, but I don't need to say it here because I've blabbed about it in this journal before and if you really want to know you can look in my LJ memories under "movies"!
5. Gangster No. 1. You can read about this one in my LJ memories too, though I think it's filed under "Russell Et Al" (poor Paul Bettany, still an accessory of Russell Crowe's in my memories, heh -- well, he did say he was Russell's bitch forever). I was informed by many people that it was horribly violent and that Paul played a completely despicable character. And this is quite true, but no one mentioned to me that the entire plot of the film was about how Paul Bettany is obsessively in love with David Thewlis, to the point of fetishizing his tie tack and wanting to run his hands over his clothes. I didn't really notice the bloodshed because I was too busy drowning in my own drool.

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