Aren't I just high-brow and ABOVE such things.
Evidently the Oscars were last night. As much as I love Jon Stewart, even he wasn't enough to make me want to tune in. The television in my living room was OFF and I was reading Dickens.
Call me a pretentious old harridan, if you must, but I absolutely cannot stomach those self-congtratulatory wank-fests those idiots in Hollywood call their "party of the year." It'd be one thing if there weren't fifty million other awards shows out there, and if this were really it for movie awards, but let's face it, these shallow, idiotic, egotistical wank bags are at it just about every other week. God, how fucking boring.
Who's wearing what? I couldn't fucking care less. Of course I'll check in with the ladies over at "Go Fug Yourself" for some healthy lampooning of whatever gawdawful shite passes for red carpet fashion, because that's about as close as I can get to caring. Honestly, all the money in the world, and you picked THAT to wear to the biggest "event" in your industry's year?
A few things about the films this year, though. The only movie I have seen in a theater in 2005 was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Liked it. Hated having to watch it in a theater with a bunch of noisy, irritating, inconsiderate assholes. Though I DO WANT to see Capote, Brokeback Mountain, Walk the Line, Good Night and Good Luck, and a few others that look interesting, I simply haven't gotten around to it.
Oh, and someone please tell Joan Rivers that all that plastic surgery, far from allowing her to hold onto her 'youth,' has made her the most frightening gorgon since Medusa and I'm sure she frightens children. Jesus Christ, people. Plastic surgery is not the answer, if it is OBVIOUS that you've had it.
Call me a pretentious old harridan, if you must, but I absolutely cannot stomach those self-congtratulatory wank-fests those idiots in Hollywood call their "party of the year." It'd be one thing if there weren't fifty million other awards shows out there, and if this were really it for movie awards, but let's face it, these shallow, idiotic, egotistical wank bags are at it just about every other week. God, how fucking boring.
Who's wearing what? I couldn't fucking care less. Of course I'll check in with the ladies over at "Go Fug Yourself" for some healthy lampooning of whatever gawdawful shite passes for red carpet fashion, because that's about as close as I can get to caring. Honestly, all the money in the world, and you picked THAT to wear to the biggest "event" in your industry's year?
A few things about the films this year, though. The only movie I have seen in a theater in 2005 was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Liked it. Hated having to watch it in a theater with a bunch of noisy, irritating, inconsiderate assholes. Though I DO WANT to see Capote, Brokeback Mountain, Walk the Line, Good Night and Good Luck, and a few others that look interesting, I simply haven't gotten around to it.
Oh, and someone please tell Joan Rivers that all that plastic surgery, far from allowing her to hold onto her 'youth,' has made her the most frightening gorgon since Medusa and I'm sure she frightens children. Jesus Christ, people. Plastic surgery is not the answer, if it is OBVIOUS that you've had it.
posted by Andraste at 3:46 PM
5 Comments:
I saw Capote yesterday. It was really very good, slow, moving, and what a performance by Hoffman. But what an odious little creep his Capote is...so self serving and shallow. But it was brilliant, I really enjoyed it, despite having to sit next to a couple that kept tittering to each other. I can't wait until the day I am rich enough to install a 'Cribs' style cinema into the broom closet in my apartment, I'll never go to the cinema again.
You know, that Franken-Rivers chick HAS to be a robot! I swear she must have died years ago and she is a mean/nasty animatronic devise that they prop out there just to make people say,"My God, what is wrong with that person...". Don't feel bad, it it weren't for my children, I would never ever go to a movie.
Hey, don't knock Joan Rivers! After all, in the year that King Kong goes CGI isn't it nice to see that some of Ray Harryhausen's stop-motion plastic models are still getting work?
I had a real dilemma this winter. I desperately wanted to see King Kong on the big screen, for the atmosphere, but desperately didn't want to share a cinema with a rabble of noisy gormless chavs and other plebs. In the end I didn't go. When I do get around to watching KK, on my modest-sized TV screen, I'll probably experience a nagging feeling of missing out on something.
These are my sentiments exactly.
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