Well balls. I was GOING to review Death Race 2000 for BSL but then my Netflix copy seized up both in the middle and at the end. I just had to re-order it. It was RIGHT during the Frankenstein/navigator seduction scene, just as her towel slipped off. Stupid Netfux. And it was a chunk, too. We may have been the first people to ever find ourselves confused by Death Race 2000. But liking it bunches so far. The death scenes are GREAT. The blood has quite the Argento look to it. And the hospital scene (wheeling out the elderly) was priceless. If only the disc had worked. More on this when I actually fucking finish it.
I seem to have gotten talked into working at the theatre tonight. Thursday nights blow, as they are all trailer change-outs and screenings. The shit we get usually sucks, so I end up screening the latest Strand production. (LOTS of manlove and poor production values). However, now that I'm the go-to for help on Thursday night rather than the regular, I get to screen what *I* want. I like this. Tonight, I get to screen Hollywoodland. Now, it's Diane Lane so it's fairly safe to say I would get to screen this anyway. (The other projectionists are well aware of my love for the Lane. See, unlike Cinemaslave Joe, I will totally watch a film just for the acting or more specifically, for certain actors. Not many, mind you. But I think Alex can totally back me up here, as we've probably seen the entire lifeworks of Gary Oldman (well, maybe not so much lately). From Meantime on down to Criminal Law. Some real shit. That man owes us several dinners. And it should be noted that when I do watch a film specifically for an actor, I don't necessarily expect the film itself to be good. Which is why you had better be a damn good actor). Anyhoo. I'm looking forward to Hollywoodland in a low-expectations kinda way. Strangely, I've heard from both the head projectionist and others that (prepare yourself) Ben Affleck is one of the best things about this film. I'm sure Ms. Lane and Adrien Brody do their usual great stuff, but apparently, the Afflecktion not only doesn't suck, he really pulls one out. I'll keep you posted.
Then next week I get to screen The Last Kiss, a fairly mainstream film we have no business getting and will surely get our asses kicked, Zach Braff or no. We're only getting it because our marketing director had a girly hard-on for it. Whatever, I'll screen the hell out of it, no problem. I'm actually kinda curious about it. And I'm not a Garden State freak in the slightest. Oddly enough, quite a bit about that film irritates me (mostly Natalie Portman's "quirkiness", e.g., the whole "make a crazy noise and be SO original!!" bullshit, plus the fucking screaming-over-the-cliff-moment GAAAGG!!! The Paul Simon song was the sole thing preventing me from disemboweling myself in lieu of continued viewing...oh and the goddamn ending. That reeked of shit), but anyway. All that shit bugs me, but then I'm oddly drawn to the rest. Weird. Anyway, this isn't even a Zach Braff-helmed picture, but rather Tony Goldwyn. It actually sounds a little bit like crap that will surely annoy me. But I'm curious. And therein lies my problem.
I should mention that I've consumed far more caffeinated beverages than usual today, and therefore this could be even more discombobulated than average. I drank tea all the way from Arlington and then unexpectedly had to pick up Cinema Mark from the auto shop; any time Mark is involved, so is Starbucks. So I had an Americano. And now I'm insane. At least on the drive up I had an episode of Nate and Di to entertain me. It was an episode in which they re-visited the ruins of the old drive-in they used to manage. I found it quite shocking that they had to live there and use their paycheck money to buy shit for the theatre--like concessions and shit! Not sure I could have done it...and paychecks of $125 a week, for both of them, and only received when begged for. Jesus! Impressive to say the least...
I think the next film trilogy I Netflix is either going to be Bond or Woody Allen (the latter to D's chagrin). Thinking Goldfinger, From Russia With Love, License to Kill, and On Her Majesty's Secret Service. So by "trilogy" I mean foursome. To get a rounder impression. I think Woody Allen, it'll be Sleeper, Play It Again, Sam, and Interiors. But first I gotta wrap up my TV shows to some extent. We're in the middle of the second season of Lost, Desperate Housewives (shut up), West Wing (well, season 4 there, and just me on that one), and House, M.D.. But then after that.
On a totally different track, we met with Reverend Roshaven yesterday, who is going to be marrying us. Having set foot inside a church perhaps four times in my life (not counting sightseeing in the UK), I was a little nervous. He is a Unitarian, at least, so that took nearly all the pressure off. He didn't even ask us about our religious orientation! D was fairly opposed to the whole Unitarian thing originally, as he is Lutheran, but I think when he realized finding the master of ceremonies would become the task of whomever won that one, he kinda let up. Honestly, I think he's just relieved I didn't insist on being married by the Justice of the Peace. So anyway, this guy is very nice (for three hundred christing smackers, he'd better be!) and basically gave us a ceremony menu, from which we can choose the different parts of what ends up being said. Looks like the whole thing should take about twelve minutes. (Which makes him more expensive than most hookers, if you ask me. But in this case, shorter is sweeter).
Ok, I think that's enough blathering to make up for yesterday.