Thursday, July 30, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
Thursday, July 23, 2015
ANT-MAN was fleet footed and charming, and made good use of the gags inherent in the premise. That said it was rather silly the effort the film made to keep Evangeline Lilly from just being the co-star superhero alongside Rudd.
HOW AWFUL ABOUT ALAN is Aaron Spelling’s contribution to the 1970s boom of solid made for TV horror movies. Anthony Perkins and Julie Harris are a pair of neurotic siblings unhappily sharing a house after their father’s death. Well made, if not in the top tier of small screen spookers like GARGOYLES and DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK. A nice snap of autumn in the July heat and humidity.
THE GHOST SHIP (1943), a nifty Heart of Darkness riff and stealth little anti Fascist parable. Terrific atmosphere, especially in the use of close ups on Skleton Knaggs’ wonderful face. He plays the near mystic mute sailor of the crew, his interior monologues serving as Greek Chorus as the coils of madness and authoritarianism, revealed to be comfortable traveling companions, spool ever more out of control.
What a difference a hair cut could make. She transcribed a panic attack on the back of a menu in a sushi restaurant. She felt she was about to vibrate out her skin her molecules smashing the glasses and worse embarrassing her so she couldn't go back there. And then there was the clean wooden floors and track lighting of the salon. The swoosh of the water close to her scalp and the near sacred pleasure of having someone else shampoo your hair. The clean scent of her hair nearly intoxicated her as she sat on the bench reading. It was an autobiography by a famous actress, discussing her discovery of New Age beliefs. She was delighting in reading about cocktail parties and gala fundraisers next to descriptions of UFOs over Peru and Mayan temples. It reminded her of studying to be an anthropologist one or two failed college attempts ago. And the primary lesson of being respectful to belief systems not your own. She was finding it easier to think of her aborted academic career without her skin starting to buckle from shame. But maybe that was due to the hair cut. The breeze tickled the back of her neck, November seemed far away.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
My name is Grace, daughter of Cole. I write this down, - actually write this my hand feels strange on the pen awkwardly scratching across the paper - so that there may be some record of what I saw...but on such an impermanent, insignificant sketchbook am I secretly hoping this too will be lost? I've lost too many things already. But it has also been a time of great wonders and happiness. I guess that's what this record is, my attempt to make sense of a very eventful eighteen months. Maria would know what to say, but Maria is gone. Marcus would lie, but Marcus is gone. I cannot talk to Omri, at least not yet. And Chloe is off being a secret agent. So I'm afraid dear reader, you're stuck with me.
She spent her first night in her new apartment. She moved her things in on the thirteenth. It was a summer of milestones. The day before was the fortieth anniversary of humans walking across the moon. Their heavy feet stirring up streamers of dust. She was saying goodbye to things. Her room at the house didn't feel like hers any more. It hadn't for a long time. She would miss waking up to the smell of fresh cut grass but the apartment was a good first step. A first step to getting out of Pickton, getting out of North Carolina. It was a beautiful day, clear with a breeze gentle and warm like a friend. There were still some necessities to get for the apartment but until she lived with a large group of people its spartan furnishings and decor would suit her fine. She was terribly lonely. She was going through the time of being unable to sleep, and dreams being bony fingers raked across her sense of safety. She was excited about the new place but sad. But it was a gentle sadness, she was grateful for that.
Friday, July 03, 2015
"...that saved a wretch like me..."
"...it's up to you New York, New York..."
"I think we are born into this world and inherit all the grudges and rivalries and hatreds and sins of the past..."
"...you don't understand this is not my kitten, this is god's child..."
Summer flowers for summer nights.
There is nothing healthy about this cake, because it's cake, delicious, buttery cake.
Snaps from the Eastern Bloc coven.
"and the tide's gonna turn and it's all gonna roll your way..."
I wrote about a few of my favorite James Horner scores.
Friday Jukebox, It's Fourth of July weekend, hope you enjoy your independence however you celebrate it.