Does anyone actually read this? My real-life paper notebook sits so forlornly, unwritten in for weeks. I've forgotten how to write to and for myself. But if no one's reading, I guess that's the same thing. But if no one's reading, and I'm writing with a bit of a filter because I don't want to bore or shock, then I have reached a point where my desire to please and entertain has eclipsed my desire to know myself and explore my inner landscape.
Oscar, The Grouch
No, this isn't about the mysterious Burt-n-Osama picture, although that's interesting, too.
No, this is about how I finally got around to watching Erin Brockovich the other day. It's not the first time the Academy and I have been at odds, but from what I kow, this picture was universally loved and lauded...and I really can't figure out why. It's got all the depth and complexity of a made-for-Lifetime-channel movie.
Julia Roberts is good at that flaring-nostril sassy speechifying thing that Dixie Carter used to do every Tuesday(?) on Designing Women, but is that good acting? Is that Oscar-winning acting?
The nominal heroine herself...geez what a publicity whore. She did a good thing, hallelujah, but couldn't this tale have been told without making the actual real-life heroine a media star? If the real life heroine weren't cute and long-legged, would anyone even give a shit?
And this is a small point, but that scene where Albert Finney says, "Some of the other women in the office feel a little uncomfortable about the way you dress...", and she basically tells him to fuck off...why are we supposed to find that endearing and heroic? That scene was irksome in a variety of ways. why is rudeness and contempt for coworkers considered brave?
But since I don't want to criticize a piece of art without praising something to balance it out, I will say this: Isolation Drills by Guided by Voices is beauty incarnate. I'll never get over this album.
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