Watching Cecil B. Demille's GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH
I can totally see how this film housed HIGH NOON's monkey ass at the Oscars that year. Yep.
Actually, this is a remarkably enjoyable chunk of hullaballoo -- especially, I would think, if you have children. It's weird how rarely Charlton Heston sounds like Charlton Heston -- the heavy smoking and drinking to come explain the timbre of his voice, but where did the actorly accent come from, and did he develop it before or after this movie?
Joe's funeral lunch
Klitschoko vs. Chagaev
I like Vladmir K., even though he's the ultimate safety-first-last-always fighter. With no information, I guess that he wins by decision, probably by winning the first few rounds and then lulling the judges to sleep with his unending pawing jabs and jumping backward whenever Chagaev moves forward. Zzzzzzz
José Mojica Marins has officially flipped my shit.
The Independent Film Channel is currently airing Marins' 1977 clumsy mindfuck HELLISH FLESH, which has the snap of a particularly solid training film and the polish of a snuff film. It has been disturbing me for almost an hour now -- the unbearably random, heavily echoed screaming is enough to unnerve anyone in the dark, but every time I look up from what I'm working on I see something creepy enough to not look up for another reel. Marins starts this cycle off strong with long takes of a scalpel hovering and poking around a red, tore-up eyeball. The fuck? Coffin Joe, we salute you; this movie would keep me awake longer than meth would.
It's a shame that IFC is only showing it once. [Keep your "Once is enough" comments to yourselves, please.] I admire that whoever's in charge of programming at IFC regularly takes a few risks and airs stuff outside of the indy-film/Janus-classic rut so common to IFC/Sundance/old-school Bravo/repertory arthouse circuit. It would be nice if FLESH had aired, say, twice this month, however.
It's a shame that IFC is only showing it once. [Keep your "Once is enough" comments to yourselves, please.] I admire that whoever's in charge of programming at IFC regularly takes a few risks and airs stuff outside of the indy-film/Janus-classic rut so common to IFC/Sundance/old-school Bravo/repertory arthouse circuit. It would be nice if FLESH had aired, say, twice this month, however.
Leaving philly
you take the feh, you take the bad
I obviously lean toward D, as flunky nos. 1-5 seemed far more interested in the home-computer-printed boarding pass than their fistful of my IDs. Plus, porn stars are more convincing at pretending to be gravely concerned about what they have in their hands. Once I was let out of the glass booth and into the pat-down/bag-check area, the guard temperature rose dramatically. I guess the guards up front can't just say "sir, you've been flagged for extra-security checks, please come with me" without the chance that the schmuck will give them static. Their act is enough to convince the passenger that they have a good reason for what's an assinine, abitrary piece of legal ass-covering in case the dirty laundry in my carry-on is rank enough that I can attack the plane with it. (It is, BTW.)
Grilling hot dogs out on the stoop.
my guest room; plus Binny's!
The Score.
(note to self: fix the last photo in previous post)
Looks like it will be one less night in suburbia than planned.
Hunan chicken from Taste of Chinatown
That order of chicken by the way, was supposed to be a small/pint order; this is what happens when you learn how to charm old Asian ladies.
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