Thursday, October 28, 2004


I haven't watched a movie since God Knows When, and with the man home I decided to hit Blockbuster and rent everything I haven't seen that relates to my job or interests me. I don't watch broadcast television anymore; I just read TV Guide. Which is faster and more fun for me than wasting hours in front of the TV set.

Ron Perlman has been one of my favorites actors since the first time I saw him making a character come alive while wearing forty pounds of makeup and prosthetic devices. Thus Hellboy was a personal interest and a big treat for me. Interesting premise, too (alas, I'm too old to have read the comics.)

The one movie I wanted to see most, Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman, wasn't bad, either. Seemed a little odd and too fast-paced at times, maybe, but fun. Hugh was cute.

Ben Affleck in Paycheck, eh. Pretty sure this is another Phillip K. Dick novel-turned-movie, but I'm too lazy to check. I like Ben, so I watched it. Did Cameron Diaz lend Uma Thurman her hairdresser for this flick or what?

Taking Lives with Angelina Jolie was likely the most disturbing film I rented. I liked the forensics and the relationships in the film, but this is dark, violent, often grotesque stuff and definitely not for the queasy of stomach or faint of heart. Beginning and ending scenes are real shockers, and whoever wrote this movie understands suspense.

And yes, I finally rented and watched Return of the King. I figure it's like reading The DaVinci Code: you simply have to brace yourself and get it over with. Like pinching your nostrils shut when you take nasty-tasting cough syrup. The things I do for my art . . . anyway, I discovered that if you take off your glasses during the big battle scene, you get a fuzzy deja vu, something like, "hey, aren't those the empirial humpback walker things from the ice planet battle in Star Wars movie #2 or #3?"

Now all I have to do is read The DaVinci Code and I'm done with my culture catch-up for the year. Or are they making a movie out of it? Hey, a girl can hope . . .

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