The DVD copy of Stranger than Fiction I rented was defective. It played the trailers okay, but froze up solid whenever I tried to start the movie. Another time. We watched The Prestige. Who were we supposed to root for? This was rivalry taken to a mean-spirited extreme. David Bowie was excellent as Tesla (why doesn’t he act more?) but I couldn’t root for either magician. In retrospect, the pivotal scene in the film was the one where Christian Bale was talking to a drunken Hugh Jackman in the bar, waxing philosophical about the dangers of employing a double. It seemed intended to do one thing, but I wonder how revealing it ultimately was meant to be from another perspective.
Nick Kaufmann conveyed his opinion of Scarlett Johansson in a recent blog posting. I don’t have the same disdain for her, but I was mystified by the way she evaporated from the movie. There was a scene where she chastizes someone for being cold—and then she’s gone without further explanation. Unless I blinked and missed something.
Also, what is it with this love affair for constructing movies nonchronologically? I didn’t think it added anything to The Prestige, and only served to confuse at times. It’s okay (as in The Illusionist) to back-pedal at the end and fill in the holes, but I didn’t see any reason to jump all over the place like the guy in Slaughterhouse Five.
So, after watching two magician movies in a row, I tuned in to watch Columbo yesterday afternoon and what should be playing but the “Now You See Him” episode featuring Jack Cassidy as a magician who commits a murder while supposedly locked in a crate in a tank of water. I’m sensing a theme. It was fun to watch a 30-year-old program (that I probably saw when it first aired) that featured a newfangled electric typewriter with a single-use carbon cassette ribbon as one of the crucial plot points. “Where’s the carriage return?” Columbo asks. “What’s that little golf ball thing in there?” The funny thing is that the device is probably as novel and mystifying to many younger people today as it was to Columbo back then.
Finished and submitted taxes this weekend. Halle-freakin-lujah.
I also wrote a new short story this weekend. After a week of frittering and diddling around at the computer, I finally came up with something to write—but not for the anthology I wanted to write for. I woke up early on Saturday morning with the opening scene in my mind. I snuck into the next room and wrote out about two pages longhand. Went back to bed. Got up about ten minutes later and wrote out another couple of pages. Once it started coming, it just wouldn’t stop. I wrote the entire 2000-word first draft later that day, did a quick readthrough, did a more thorough edit yesterday and sent it off to my first reader. It always feels good to get back in the metaphorical saddle after several days of being storyless.
I’ve been invited to talk to a creative writing class at the local high school this week, which should be fun. I’m also getting a phone call from a journalist from the LSU Daily Reveille tonight for an article he’s writing about the rumored Dark Tower movie.
Amazing Race continues to be fun. Next week promises a finale “everyone will be talking about.” Looks like everyone heading for the mat at the same time, so maybe there’ll be wrestling. Full contact tourism. The blondes got off lucky for their gaffe. Keep your eyes open for a clue, they said as they hurtled down the rapids. Yep, they were in desperate need of a clue, for sure.
More shelf cleaning. I discovered a second copy of Joe Hill’s 20th Century Ghosts in my stack of books, a trade paperback. Since I already have a hardcover I put it up on eBay at $5.00 and watched it take off. I also found a stack of Elton John CD singles with six b-side tracks from the Peachtree Road session.
