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A] The name of the blog has changed.
I guess I could pretty much leave it at that, really. It was originally "A Fart In The Wind" which, while crude, was supposed to represent how I feel about blogs. Which is that they're about as consequential as said hypothetical fart in said hypothetical wind. However, the charm of it lasted about as long, so I've altered it. The current title is a placeholder until I can think of a better one, but it's just ironic enough that it'll do. For now. Suggestions welcome, of course.
B] The Oscar season is the Oscar reason.
Dree and me saw not one but two movies this weekend, and as far as I know [I'm a little out of the loop] both are generally held as Oscar material. Because my opinion on the Oscars ranges somewhere between mild ambivalence and outright disgust [depending largely on the types of dips being served while I'm watching the event], I couldn't tell an Oscar-worthy movie from a hole in my ass. Still, here are thoughts.
I already talked about this one, but here's a recap and an expansion: Natalie Portman is intense, and the movie is very lovely and spooky and effective. However, I feel that the conceit is sort of goofy if you think about it too long, so maybe avoid that. Just enjoy the creepiness of the look and the performances, and be happy in the feeling that because it's about ballet, it's making you more classy, even while people are pulling their skin off. Or... are they?
There's something about the Coen Brothers that makes me somewhat... unwilling. I don't know what it is or where it comes from and I can't explain it. Examining and deconstructing it just sort of makes it worse. I know that those movies they've made that I've seen, I've always really, really liked. The Big Lebowski remains a favourite, being one of the few movies to directly influence my drinking habits [I like my drinks like I like my bread: White and Russian.] And yet I've never seen Fargo or No Country For Old Men and I have no desire to. True Grit seems to have gotten me over the hump, because I wanted in right away. Maybe it's Jeff Bridges. Maybe I just want the Dude back.
|The patch is on the wrong eye! This blog sucks!|
Well, Rooster Cogburn's got some Dude-like qualities, in that there's a scene where he's just waking up, and he does some good drinking. But besides all that, True Grit is a damn fine movie, and I'll tell you why: Hailee Steinfeld is pretty remarkable. I can't imagine it's easy chewing through a mouthful of that nutty dialogue, but she seems to manage it, and real convincin'-like, too. There's also sexy Matt Damon.
The King's Speech
This one was a wild card. I didn't want to see it originally, because, well... I don't know. I'm perfectly suburban in my movie preferences, and this all seems so stodgy and British. But the opportunity arose where viewing it was an option, and in the heat of the moment we took the chance, and I'm glad we did. Even thinking about it now, it feels like it should be a terribly unentertaining film. A middle-aged man who can't speak well publicly learns to speak. In the 30s. But what I was sure would be a drawing-room bore was crisp and sprightly and charming, and dammit if Bertie didn't speak the hell out of that speech. And, really, I learned something [sort of] about the great mystery of the reason for the British Monarchy [which I still don't understand at all]. I feel that, at least in regards to that king at that time, I kind of get it. I think. And if not, at least Geoffrey Rush was entertaining.
So to recap: See all three movies. Although I say that about every movie I see. So see them all, but maybe in the above order.
What? I didn't do a picture for The King's Speech? How could I have forgotten.
|Pictured: Prince Albert.|