a seemingly random journey through cinema's heart of darkness. so to speak.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

playing catch-up

Okay, my iBook's back and working fine. You care.

I'll try and get around to a regular, three-times-a-week-if-that duty tomorrow, but, in the meantime, here's some seemingly random sentences: I can cross Rocky off the list. If the ambiguous space-set opening is to be trusted, The Garbage Pail Kids Movie reveals that the Topps trading card grotesques are aliens. Instead of going by John Ford's ethos of "Print the legend," King Arthur makes up its own stupid legend and prints that. Couldn't get into a sold-out screening of Fahrenheit 9/11 on Sunday, so I saw the (presumably) exponentially better Control Room instead. Vincente Minnelli's The Clock is a fine way to kill an hour-and-a-half as you impatiently wait for DHL to not deliver a much-needed package. Either Badder Santa isn't "badder" at all or it's the most seamless re-editing job there ever was. With the utmost respect to countless respectable people, Yes blows.

Today's Philly Weekly has but one thing from yours truly: this. Shake Yr ASSthetics indeed.

Also, expect a rant on Michael Moore once I can find a theater that has a seat for me.


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