i'm been avoiding buzz about the slumdog millionaire for weeks now. i've also had multiple chances to see the movie snatched from my grasp just moments before the lights in the theater dimmed. very frustrating. so when walt and i had a friday night dinner engagement cancelled the day before, i pounced. we had the sitter. we had the evening. marty was too exhausted to voice an opposing opinion. it was on.

when we sank in the seats i couldn't believe how much effort went into seeing a simple film that runs hundreds of times a day in our city. as for the film, this film, we made it twenty minutes before walking out. a friend of marty's said we just needed to make it another five minutes and we would have been alright. this friend does not have a son that looks like one of the main child actors, so our stomachs didn't have five minutes in them. we instead went and had persian kabobs and talked and laughed and made it home at a respectable hour in that we were missing our kids after our bad movie outing and thought we might sneak in cheek kisses before they drifted off.

i spoke to bookguy a few days earlier regarding our annual ski adventure. he said he was reading three musketeers. i said i was reading three musketeers. he asked if i had seen slumdog. i said i had not yet but was hoping too. i asked why those were connected and he said they just were and he was fearful of saying more giving my neurosis about learning stuff about movies before seeing those movies. he did add though that seeing the movie would not wreck my ability to read three musketeers. we had both just started reading so we compared how far we had gotten. he said he had just read the translator's forward and was ready to dig in. i said i skipped over all forward and preface material and turned to the first page of the first chapter and started at the first word (because i like my books like i like my movies, unspoiled by insight and opinion). bookguy went on to say that the forward was interesting because the translator of his text explained how it was important to continue re-rendering and re-translating books even if this had previously been done in order to keep them semantically relevant and readable to contemporary audiences. i thought this was a sound insight but not worth risking a spoiler just pages before the real story begins.

then sometime after talking to bookguy (but before seeing slumdog) i was chatting with a colleague. they asked me if i do a certain thing. i said no i don't, i in fact avoid it like the plague. then i took pause long enough to know that i don't really spend much time avoiding plague so corrected my comment by saying i avoid it like i avoid syphillis, because i think syphilis is actually something i've actually tried to avoid in my lifetime. i think the person i was talking to wanted to say "too much information" but knew me well enough not to bother.

sleeping in the same bed with another person is quite a bit like going to the movies with someone. there are moments you want to entertain or interact with the other person but most of the time you just want to do what you came to do, watch the movie.

if you haven't seen the movie Before the Devil Knows Your Dead, i'd suggest making the time.

absolutely, do not read any review. don't even skim over the plot description on the box or netflix page. that will for sure ruin the fun. just find it, rent it, pop some corn, sit back and let the two hour story wash over you.

i was recently with someone and they started talking about a movie. i stopped them, telling them that i planned on seeing it and didn't want to know anything about it. they assured me what they were about to say wouldn't ruin the movie for me. they then proceeded to tell me about one of the plot-threads of the movie. i wanted to say with flared nostrils and wide eyes ... are you insane? have you lost your mind? what part of don't tell me about the movie was unclear to you?

watching trailers (especially modern-day trailers), reading reviews (which aren't much more thoughtless re-tellings of the film with an opinion before and after), and asking people about films is like finding out the outcome of a sporting event before watching it. it's as if you just sat down to watch the superbowl and someone tells you that the most exciting moment comes with 2:20 left and the cardinals take the lead for the first time but to not worry if you're a steelers fan because pittsburgh retakes the lead with just 27 seconds left. then they clap you on the shoulder and tell you to enjoy the game and walk away. how is blowing a movie's story-line any different than that?

so if you know me, if you see me, if you like me, and if you think you know a movie i might enjoy please just send me a note that says watch this, with 'this' being the name of the movie. i don't need to know the actors, the genre, the state it happened in or even the century it takes place. just the name of the film and that someone else walking around enjoyed it. that's enough for me.

over the weekend, we watched a movie from my youth, savanah smiles (Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox, Brer Bear). it is one of those comic and heartfelt products of the 80's and leaves most normal humans welling up at the end. we watched it late on sunday afternoon at the tail-end of the multi-day thanksgiving break. a fire was warming the room and several neighbor girls were over. when marty announced the matinee was beginning, everyone raced to the living room and crowded onto the futon.

with less than ten minutes left in the film, and about two minutes from the tear-jerking climax the writers and directors had spent the last hour and a half working towards, one of the girls announced she had to go pee. the movie was paused and the girl ran with heavy and hurried feet up the stairs (i do think she tried to wait it out but nature prevailed). a moment after she was gone bella announced she had to go to and jetted up the stairs. then anthony fearing he was missing something, charged after both of them. some five minutes later muffled cries were heard from upstairs.

i went up. when i passed the kids room anthony was sitting on the floor playing with a puzzle. the muffled cries were coming from the bathroom. it seems anthony had swung the door closed on the girls locking them in (the door has no handle ... a victim of one of our three children). through the door i instructed bella on how to get the door open. after getting the door open bella loudly announced that the excitement caused the first girl to pee on her pants, the floor and herself. with this the girl stepped forward wearing the wet pants and looking sullen. she asked if she could go home to change. i said of course. she asked if we would wait to start the movie until she came back. i said of course. twenty minutes later we were all back on the futon ready to finish the movie. the heart-wrenching moment came two minutes later and surprisingly still hit its mark with marty and i. as for the kids, all of them were just curious why the characters in the film and the two adults in the room were teary. i told them it was because of the puddle of urine on the bathroom floor upstairs, an answer they accepted more easily than if i had told them the truth.

for our last movie night we watched a film about a family who found a stray dog and kept it. some weeks later the dog had six puppies. the father who was in marketing and worked a lot of hours insisted that the children give the puppies away in that they didn't have time or money to care for so many dogs. the family protested but he stood his ground and the dogs were given away. through the tumult of these events the man came to be fired from his job because he botched an account.

after this happened i paused the movie and asked the kids what they thought the man would do. the kids turned the question to me asking what i thought the man would do. i said i thought he would open his own company and win the account back showing his previous employer that they shouldn't have fired him. bella then said that she thought he would get all the puppies back, train them up and then have a carnival of dogs that would make him richer than he was before.

bella's outcome was so exponentially better than mine. and, i wish the filmmakers had thought of it as well because the story would have been more entertaining to watch had the story taken bella's counsel.

one of the very last old, saint louis movie houses closed a few months back. several years ago it was absorbed by landmark when they came to town along with a few of the other small, privately held theaters. for several reasons landmark decided to cease operations of the hi-pointe theatre, originally built in 1922, and shuttered its windows.

but then, with the release of the new batman film, the hi-pointe's lights mysteriously came back on. while showing my support at a 10:15 viewing, i was told that a landmark employee based out of chicago quit his job, leased the space and is resuming operations of the historic theatre as a private business venture.

oh, and i was also told that next week is free popcorn week. so grab your girl or guy and take in heath ledger's farewell performance, which is worth seeing, in one of saint lou's last theaters with character. and i'd call about the popcorn. i may have heard that wrong or it may just be a few nights or whatever. i just don't want anyone getting pissy with me because i botched a detail. but, either way, at the hi-pointe you can actually load up at the snack bar for less than ten bucks.

and i have to comment on something said in the article linked to above. in it landmark ceo ted mundroff says that part of their decision was based upon the fact that "people prefer to go to multiplexes." i'm going to pause for a moment to collect myself before continuing. ok. almost there. alright. i think i can proceed now. let me start by saying HEY TED! SHUT THE HELL UP! and please, please, please don't ever again apply you imbecilic and self-serving notions about movie culture to me again. feel free to say your mother prefers multiplexes or your neighbor or some college frat brother, but don't ever imply that this is the true choice of the people. unless you are equating the sheer paucity of options left to the consumer after the corporations razed the land.

typically when i go to a movie theater i go to see A movie and i don't take my seat and reflect at how pleased i am that there are fourteen other movies playing at the same time in the same building as the one i actually came to watch. because you know what ted. the second i walk down the aisle of your multiplex theatre the first thing i feel is claustrophobic and that is because you shrunk and shrunk and shrunk the rooms so you could shoe-horn two or three or five more screens into the complex. but once i find my seat and sit down i'm welcomed by the inviting feel of a piece of fabric stapled to a piece of cardboard glued to a metal chair that is welded to a string of twenty other chairs so that when the four hundred pound guy eight seats away hefts himself out of his chair mid-film to refill his rubbermaid size tub of day-old, butter-it-yourself popcorn the whole row rocks because all the damn seats are connected to one another because the are cheaper by the dozen. but thankfully my mind doesn't dwell on this nuisance given the explosions and music and screams emanating through the wall of the films playing on either side of the room i'm in, movies, mind you, i did not come to see OR hear. so ted mundroff, someone may have put you in charge of a movie theatre chain and told you to do good but it is not because of your love of film or knowledge of the theater-going experience or even because you know what movie-goers like, want or need. it is because you know how to work a casio calculator and your gifts could just as easily be applied to shoes, valves or tampons. so again, don't ever pretend that you have my or any other customer's best interest in mind. it insults your patron's intelligence and reveals your lack of it.

and ted, there ain't a multiplex in this nation that has better:

• urinals
• marquees
• ticket booths
• style
• or class

than the hi-pointe. you pompous douchebag!

it was a little bit after nine and all the kids were asleep. heading downstairs for a drink, i found marty at her desk lazily browsing the web. i stepped behind her, leaned down and softly kissed her neck. her body softened at the touch, her shoulders falling in relaxation. i kept on. after a few minutes she spoke in a slow and soft way, "i have to put the beef stew away." my mind twisted wondering what this bizarre quip meant. it sounded new. it sounded kinky. then i remembered we had beef stew for dinner. i stopped and stood up. she immediately turned to me, apologizing but said she really needed to put the stew away or it would go bad. she told me to go to the bedroom and she'd be just a minute.

i laid in the dark room remembering the scene in american beauty where lester got scolded for almost spilling beer on the couch. with me still grinning from the similarities, marty appeared in the doorway, backlit by light from down the hall. she began a sultry striptease and lester burnham quickly left my mind. she slid her hand down her leg to remove her shoe. i heard the loud rip of velcro tear through the otherwise silent house. i listened for a child to stir. none did. other shoe, more velcro. still lucky with the kids. her shirt came off next and while i waited for her to cast it to the side the hand holding it reached to her left behind the wall. i thought she was getting some hidden surprise but then realized she was just looking for and then fumbling with the small door of the laundry chute.

lester burnham was back.

but not for long.

i watched mr and mrs smith last night and can confidently say one thing about the film; it's apparent that jenifer aniston did not read the scripts her husband accepted. i don't want to say that brad and angelina flying away together was inevitable, but there really isn't another word in the english language to define what was bound to happen. you could have shown me nothing but the film's first five minutes and i could have picture-perfectly drawn the next six months in those people's lives. i mean from the word action they had angelina flitting around in a sheer white, see-through dress and then they made it rain. game, set, match and marriage.

another thing that struck me is how uncharacteristic this role was for pitt. combining this man's charisma and the young age he entered the industry, he's proven quite selective and diverse with parts, reminiscent of a young nick cage. seeing the lack of creativity and innovation in this film, i'd put money behind pitt (a) taking this role purely on the angelina-factor and (b) never having any intention of returning to aniston when the work was done.

aniston's mistake was that she didn't sit her ass on that movie set like a doting girlfriend. i know it seems insecure but consider who she's married to. i mean not everyone can be as confident in union as, say, marty, even if her faith doesn't stem from thinking i will never leave her as much as it stems from faith that no other woman would ever take me.

i'm a big kevin smith fan. have been since i saw clerks in the theater.

here is a short film (20min) of him at a college speaking gig where he fields a question about his early involvement in the new superman movie. in the event you haven't seen it and like smith, superman or hollywood silliness you may enjoy the yarn.

may not be safe for work or your home depending where you live. watch at youTube.

several folks asked about the subject line of yesterday's post:

michael, why are the drapes open?

the (i guess obscure) reference is from The Godfather, second installment specifically. this is what kay said to michael corleone moments before bullets rained through their bedroom window in an attempt on his life. the phrase has come to be synonymous with the importance of noticing the little things and how subtle shifts in these seemingly innocuous details can portend matters of great and grave consequence.

you are either better, worse or the same as you were 24 hours earlier. today is a 'better than' day.

it is my personal goal to be the last information technology guy in america who doesn't own a cell phone. as it stands, it's between me and 18 other folks.

i still haven't even seen titantic. i cannot be beaten. this is a fact.

a review:

holy damn!

i currently have a few too many friends. and gobs more acquaintances than i'd ever know what to do with. so it's time to thin the herd a bit.

ok. what to share? i just want to run a few of you off. not too many, certainly not everyone. ok. i got it. hows about this:

i liked the film legally blonde a lot. and, not as in, i liked it for what it was. i liked it a whole lot, period.

i reckon that should take a few of you out at the knees. it's been real. best of luck. have a super summer. xoxoxo.

ok. carry on. that will be all for today.

movies that have made me cry ...

1. the champ
2. where the red fern grows
3. life is beautiful
4. fahrenheit 911

and, on that last one, i'm not talking about a welling up in the eyes but about full-on, cheek-streaming tears.

of the documentary-based movies i've seen recently (fog of war, super-size me) and am about to see (fahrenheit 9/11, like don't ya know) i must say that my majority feeling has been one of anger. well, and of course there's disbelief. and, i'd hate to leave out disappointment. and then you've always got good ole american apathy.

if only selfish-ass behavior was a reusable natural resource, this planet would be set for the next trillion years. assuming that the corporate or governmental agency charged with its control didn't totally screw the human race over for the benefit of the top three executives. and in considering that, go ahead and scrap the canning of selfish behavior idea because the power broker's record aint all that impressive when it comes to doing the noble and global thing.

and, don't think i'm not hip to how unoriginal this rant is. that's just how damn sad i feel about it all.

saw mystic river. my only thought; the film should have ended at the whiteout of the gunshot.

no question.

our film industry's obsession with explicit closure has ruined so many movies. why can't anyone leave something, make that anything, for the audience to mull over and create themselves? set the scene, draw the picture and let millions of minds divine the finale.

it is unfortunate that the majority of decision-makers are so entirely disinclined to let the minds around them have any decisions of their own.

let the creative morass flow, finally.

below is one of the explanatory tag lines for the new movie the last samurai. i have not seen this movie nor am i familiar with the full story it's trying to tell and if you talk to me a year from now, i hopefully will be able to say the same. i can't help but ruminate on the question; what could an american pretty boy, like cruise, possibly have to do with the birth of the japanese nation? i'm surprised the film is not costarring pamela anderson. or perhaps they're saving her for an epic about the beginnings of africa.

melvin van peebles speaking to how quiet the theater was during a showing of his movie sweet sweetback's baadasssss song.

american beauty is a favorite film of mine. i learned last night (via luby) that moments before the movie's release, thirty minutes were cropped off the end. this is thirty minutes of fully edited and polished footage detailing a trial trying to pin lester's murder on the wife (if you haven't seen it yet, wake the hell up!). now while i totally love the ending as it is, i thirst for more of this story with every viewing. luby and i agreed that someone has this, somewhere, and that we need it. how in the hell is it not on the dvd? are they holding off for a second release to fleece their fan-base? does anyone know of this? has anyone seen this? as always, i pay top dollar for satisfaction.

in another movie note, i've been watching/listening to martha coolidge's audio commentary on the making of valley girl, another of the greatest films ever made. one of the things she discusses is how she was contractually mandated to include at least four breast shots in the film. she went on about how disgusted she felt, as a woman, having to meet this gratuitous and forced tactic just to guarantee ticket sales to a movie not, inherently, about woman's breasts. as a married, quasi-experienced, and internet-connected adult, i agree with her. it's a sad statement on the art of film-making in hollywood. but as a 13 year old watching this movie on HBO again and again and again i wholeheartedly agree with and thank the decision-makers of this film for piping those breasts into my home, again and again and again.

a nighttime ritual in our home is after baths (bella's) we watch toy story for a bit before going to bed. this has been going on for some time and i've now watched the movie no less than fifty times. after these numerous viewings i have only one observation on the film:

little bo peep is a tramp.

darkman clued me in on a new film coming out, winged migration. it is from the makers of microcosmos but dedicated to birds instead. cosmos was a phenomenal film focusing on the greatly overlooked insect kingdom. it had two hours worth of super-duper-close-ups of insects doing what insects do which is remarkably similar to what we all do. but, the real wonder of this film is in its technical achievements. how they captured what they captured is simply incomprehensible.

my favorite scene from cosmos followed a dung beetle as it rolled a tightly packed ball of, you guessed it, crap to some private place. the sphere was about twice his size and he would stand up on his hind legs and use his front legs, arms, claws, not sure, to roll the orb from the top. during his trek he inadvertently impaled the ball on a small branch sticking out of the ground and it became totally stuck. this little guy worked his crunchy little ass off kicking dirt out from his back legs. he finally backed up and studied his parcel and i swear he looks just like your dad as he might eye a flat tire in a midnight rain. perplexed the dung beetle walks around the ball and discovers the problem. at this point he shook his head, and i mean he literally looked down at the ground and shook his head. if his little paw could have reached his forehead he would have slapped it and if he could speak he certainly would have muttered "am i a dumb ass or what." he then got up on the front of the ball and pushed it backwards off the twig, waddled back to the other side and, pushed the ball around the branch and continued his journey.

i've always said that if i won the lottery, i'd fund the arts, as i know the arts. i'd give the secret cajun band piles of money to continue making music that makes me smile. i'd financially support my cousin who can draw everything from battleaxe-wielding, cleavage-ridden warriors to chaotic sporting scenes with great realism. i'd also fund bookpimp's potential film making career, but his stipend would come with a condition. he'd have to make a film styled after microcosmos but focusing on the odd and private things about the human body. imagine a super close-up of your mother plucking her eyebrows or your college roommate pinching a large blackhead from his greasy cheek, the cloudy cartilaginous plug filling the whole movie screen as it was forced through the infected pore. and you know that if troy dearmitt's name appeared on the produced by line, there would have to be a fifteen minute montage dedicated to 'the magic of flatulence'. like i said, the arts as i know them because i'm dead certain there is an untapped fortune behind what isabella excitedly refers to as 'juicy-gas'.

have you seen the trailers for the new film drumline? have you wondered who on earth they made it for? let me help you out on that because they made this film for me, specifically for me. oh my gawd am i bristling to see this. i know some of you (darkman) think i just go for those arty, non-english, low-rent movies. not so, entirely. i rented bring it on, twice. ok. so it was three times. and, once i got a late fee because i couldn't bring myself to return it as agreed. so can you imagine bring it on with cool-ass band drums instead of bounding attitude ridden, haughty girls. i know, i know, too good to be true.

so, anyone who wants to attend opening night with me, i'm planning on getting in line at 6am as to ensure a seat.

if you've not seen the movie/film/documentary, trekkies, you must see it. my mouth is still hanging open from the experience. wide open.

my favorite guy is this youngish kid who possibly mispronounces more words than he says right. listen for curious renditions of the words adamant, plethora and debacle when viewing. and, i'm plenty sure you don't even have to be an english snob (as i was recently told i am) to catch them. oh, and if that isn't enough, when not defiling the english language he passes the time by designing his own starfleet uniforms to be used in the star trek movie he is making, mostly on his computer.

wowzers!