was classic, but I'm not in the mood for a B&W barely-talkie. Frank Langella
was beyond sexy. I admit it, I'm tempted. Gary Oldman
was so over the top I'm afraid my movie marathon might get exhausted before it gets started. As much as I love Angel, I decided what I'd really like to see was Buffy vs, Dracula, with Xander quipping his way through his horror at how easily he became the next Renfield.
as the man who bays at the moon and the gypsies who love him. I remember being creeped out and fascinated by Albert Finney in Wolfen
(and he was the good guy). Our local library has the complete She-Wolf of London television series. Admittedly cheesy, but I used to love to catch this series about a young female college student who gets bit by the wrong kind of dog and then becomes a sort of monster/superhero. But my first impulse in this genre is An American Werewolf in London
, with David Naughton as the unfortunate title character and Griffin Dunne as his rapidly decomposing friend. I loved this movie when it first came out and watched it more than once in the theater, but haven't seen it in ages. It was hip and post-modern and referential. I may have to watch it and the T.V. show. This one may be a double-header.
all the way. Too. Much. Fun.
is not only one of my very favorite movies, which I'm not afraid to admit that I can practically quote word-for-word, but it is still funny as hell. There are too many great moments to reference, but darts, neighing horses, rolling in the hay, and "putting on the Ritz" come immediately to mind.
. It doesn't get much more scary or relentless than this. At least for me. And I think I can bring myself to watch it, with the lights on. I'll let you know what I think about Zombieland
when I catch up.
, and female heroes have been trying to catch up to Sigourney Weaver ever since. On a more humorous side, Men in Black
is a lot of fun, and the kid might actually be able to watch ... oh, Vincent D'Onfrio. Well, maybe not, but it's still a fun film, and this is MY list, anyway.
is the way to go. It's not a perfect movie (I hate the guy in the bathroom scene), but it has such an easy relaxed vibe between Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams as the two parents, that once it starts, you really don't want it to stop. There are other great ghost movies to choose from, especially if you're in a more classic ghost story mood: The Haunting, The Others
, The Frighteners
and the wonderful The Innocents
, with Deborah Kerr, based on Henry James's The Turn of the Screw.
, if you're not put off by my Sweeney Todd warning and want to keep the decapitation theme going. If you're feeling ghostly, Pirates of the Caribbean 
is a good bet. There's nothing creepier than his portrayal of Willy Wonka. From Hell
is actually quite a good film about real-life monster Jack the Ripper. But my Depp pick would be Ed Wood
, hands down—the lovely and loving portrait of the world's worst auteur. It brings together so many of these classic monsters—creatures from lagoons, outer space, West Los Angeles—even Bela Lugosi himself.
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" asked Coraline.I had seen the movie first, which was just O.K., and was happy to discover how much I liked the book. Part fairy tale, part pure horror, part girl's adventure story, Coraline deftly sketches tween angst. Coraline is caught not only between the real world and the alternate reality on the other side of the drawing room door, but between wanting to be independent and a child's need for mommy and daddy. Aided by a black cat who can slip through both worlds, she uses her considerable smarts and sheer guts to not only get what she wants, but to help others.
"I swear it," said the other mother. "I swear it on my own mother's grave."
"Does she have a grave?" asked Coraline.
"Oh yes," said the other mother. "I put her in there myself. And when I found her trying to crawl out, I put her back."
"I don't want whatever I want. Nobody does. Not really. What kind of fun would it be if I just got everything I ever wanted just like that, and it didn't mean anything. What then?"I recently saw the movie again on cable and was perplexed by some of the additions (neighborhood kid friend) and subtractions—the book had such a great visual of the other mother's hair, blowing in an invisible wind, but the stop-motion style of the animation omitted this visual metaphor. But where the movie was really confusing was how it was marketed towards kiddies. Coraline is a creepy story. My six year old is too young for it—just a few moments flipping past it on television and she shouted out, "Too scary!" Animation is marketed towards a young audience. But those button eyes ... But movies are different from books and Gaiman seems fine with how the film turned out.
"What's your name," Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?"
"Cats don't have names," it said.
"No?" said Coraline.
"No," said the cat. "Now you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."
? Misdirected blood lust?
to the inimitable Jeremy Brett
, and especially, Robert Downey Jr.'s recent portrayal
.
is "married to his work" in the tradition of the books
, but the pilot couldn't help but flirt itself a bit with the Holmes/Watson relationship. A scene in a diner played with the characters—two grown men that have chosen to be flatmates—a situation that might mean something quite different to a modern 2010 audience than one at the turn of the century—and then moved on. It was a skillful sidelining of something that could have been distractingly commented on in an updated version. Their partnership is sealed not with a kiss, but a gunshot, and to paraphrase from Casablanca, "Watson, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
John Massimo was always a great jokester and a smart-aleck. When he was ten (c. 1931) and his family was still living with his Don Peppino [his grandfather], he used to attend summer school across the street from where they lived on 1st Avenue and 14th Street. One of the older girls (16 or so) would pick on him, getting him to do her “pig work,” always making him clean the blackboards, erasers, etc. She probably had a crush on him, but John resented always having to do the dirty work.
One time when she asked him, “Johnnie, go clean the blackboard,” He responded, “ No, I won’t!” She said, “Why not?” He answered by calling her a dirty name in Sicilian (by making reference to her mother’s reproductive organs.) She, unfortunately for him, understood, and slapped him hard across the face, first one side, then the other.
“Dove vive (Where do you live)?” she shouted angrily.
He answered, “Avenue D.” She didn’t know that he actually lived right across the street.
“I’m going to tell your mother. I’m going right now to tell her—wait until you get home!”
And she set off for Avenue D.
John Massimo crossed the street, went inside the building and upstairs to their apartment. Gertrude [his mother] saw him enter, with one bright red cheek. When she asked him why his cheek was so red he answered, “Because a girl hit me.”
“Why did she hit you?”
“Because I called her a name.”
“What name did you call her?” He whispered the word to her and she slapped him hard across the other cheek.
“Don’t you ever use those words!”
“But I hear you use them all the time!”
Gertrude was taken aback. “Never mind what I say. You don’t say them!”
At this point, Don Peppino and John Angelo [his father] couldn’t stop laughing and told Gertrude to leave the boy alone!
, Tim Gunn's latest book, which is a mix of etiquette, gossip, behind-the-scenes at Project Runway and some very personal revelations. It was an enjoyable read, if a bit of a mish-mash. The much-vaunted gossipy put-downs of fashion personalities like Anna Wintour and Isaac Mizrahi were hardly surprising. Vain, overinflated, nasty folks in fashion? Shocker.With a certain amount of maturity, we can set up our own constraints. That's a lot of what education is about—letting people set those assignments for us so that when we graduate we can start to set them for ourselves. even now that I'm in my fifties, I still face certain situations where I have to admit that I need some rules to help me figure out what I should do.I know that someone thought that fashion world gossip would be the selling point, but lots of folks like myself simply love Gunn and the sound of his voice, and I think the book suffered from not having a consistent and clear point of view—something that designers on Project Runway are frequently criticized for. The most interesting revelation was Gunn's personality—he simply cannot lie. His quest for honesty and integrity is fascinating, and I respect it, especially in the industry he has found himself in. His ideas of etiquette and desire to always "take the high road" are refreshing, and it would be nice if some of his colleagues made the same choices. I respect him for being so honest about his feelings about love and sex. I'm not sure I really felt I had to be on such a "need to know" basis—at times I was almost put off by the level of revelation, almost embarrassed. There were some excruciatingly detailed passages, mostly about his youthful love life and bout with depression. Some of his relationship stories just broke my heart—the decisions he made, the roads he took, or more accurately, didn't take. But Gunn puts his money where his mouth is—he said he believes in honesty and he means it. If he's going to tell a story, he's going to tell the whole story. Considering how hard it still is to be young and gay, Gunn's personal stories take on an even stronger meaning—if he can get through a failed suicide attempt and turn his life around time and again, even become a huge success in his fifties—then anyone who is having a hard time should know that it truly does get better. Bravo, Tim Gunn.
That is one thing I try to keep in mind when I talk about people's behavior. I believe very strongly that we should all try our best to treat another well, but I also know that some people who are difficult are doing their best, only their best isn't all that great.After reading this book, spending time with Gunn, I was drawn again to watch him on Project Runway. I know, I know, I have said in the past that I was done, done, done with the show. Everyone falls off the wagon from time to time. I feel a bit like Pacino in The Godfather, "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in." I don't know if Gunn's self-realizations and revelations have given him a softer edge, but he really seems more the den mother and mother hen for the designers this season than ever before. He actually seems wounded when some are sent home. I started watching about mid-way through the season and couldn't believe the amount of back-biting and bitchiness that was going on in the workroom. There's always diva-like behavior and trash-talking—emotions run high in an artistic environment—but these contestants were re-damn-diculous with their attitudes. Especially bee-otchey were the women. The guys also wanted to dish the dirt, but no one seemed to get as down and dirty as the women. And not just critical, but nasty.
is so subtle and multi-layered. Not only do they not make movies like this very often anymore, but people just don't seem to speak like this anymore. With subtext. I am constantly amazed at the brashness of people in conversation, the questions the have no hestitation in asking. Questions, that I was taught when I was growing up, are plain rude—How old are you? How much do you make?—And anything else that one might consider a tad personal.
gathering dust on my bookshelf, and was about to pick it up when I saw a copy of American Gods
at our local library. It was a great choice and a great book. Gaiman manages to successfully weave together a mixture of gods and mythic heroes from many different cultures and folk legends that would impress even Joseph Campbell—all into a fast-paced, intriguing, even comedic, thriller.
next, right? Or should I check if the library has The Sandman, because Odin and some of the other peripheral characters are suppose to figure in that one as well ... Or The Graveyard Book
? It looks like my Halloween reading this October and beyond will be Gaiman. The depiction of the down-and-out gods of the Old World trying to eke a meager existence in the U.S. is consistently good. And humorous. And apart from all of the deep mythical background, what really was the best part of the book for me were the supporting, peripheral stories that Gaiman wove to tell how a few of gods traveled to the New World, via slaves from Africa, a female prisoner from Cornwall, a salesman from Oman. These supporting mythlets were powerful and never detracted from the main narrative and fate of Shadow and Mr. Wednesday.No man, proclaimed Donne, is an Island, and he was wrong. If we are not islands, we would be lost, drowned in each other's tragedies. We are insulated (a word that means, literally, remember, made into an island) from the tragedy of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories. The shape does not change: there was a human being who was born, lived, and then, by some means or another, died. ... Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
A life that is, like any other, unlike any other.And also this wonderful speech:
or The Return of the King and I'm grateful for that.
