Seen and heard
I finished my college career on Monday and immediately stepped forward to do the lazy things I’d put off for so long. First up: movies.
It’s the curse of the awards season. If “The Hours” had sprung out of the ether, a quirky little melodrama with a quiet beauty, I would have been impressed. But as we know, “The Hours” was a Miramax prestige-fest that corralled the finest actors of our day (Streep, Kidman, Harris, Richardson, et al) in a plot to win some Oscars. And it did. But not for the awesome Philip Glass score, which was the only aspect of the movie that really deserved it.
I suppose I was hindered when the filmmakers showed their cards and obviously tried to send a message with the whole thing, and I couldn’t tell what the message was. So I checked with Rod Dreher at National Review, who I knew loathed the film like a cancer. He quoted the requisite raves from feminists. Neither side convinced me. It seemed like Julianne Moore’s selfishness inspired her son to become a suicide case, so the scales were balanced on all sides.
Starsky and Hutch
Wonderfully dumb fun – a lot like “Super Troopers” in that you don’t get the sense filmmakers put much care into the plot, except as a device for cute gags.