I have caught some horrible fusion of cold/flu, which means I've been spending a lot of time with toilet tissue wadded up my nose. I'm trying to defeat the urge to go to the ER and have myself checked out for West Nile Virus. I can't help but think I'd get laughed at.
We went to see The Village, M Night Shaymalan's (no that's not how to spell it) latest. It was a good movie, but, with the way his movies have been going, I just felt like I had to watch every scene -- no, in fact, every frame -- of the movie, for fear I would miss something that I would be exposed to at the end (with that same, Oh Yeah, He IS Dead feeling). Lots of character development, which is M Night's real strength. But there was no Oh Yeah He IS Dead moment at the end. It was pretty much what I had predicted, and reminded me of an original Star Trek episode, For The World Is Hollow, And I Have Touched The Sky. Still worth the price of admission. The two lead characters, a blind woman played by Ron Howard's daughter (Bryce Dallas Howard, another member of the Let's Use All Three Of My Names Actress Club), and the character played by Joaquin Phoenix, are masterfully played against one another. I think Sigourney Weaver's character was under-used. She obviously wanted to work with M Night. The Villains are scarey, but again, no Oh Yeah He IS Dead moment. I also think it's neat how he's trying to be included in all of his movies now. Very Alfred Hitchcock, really.
I have not been watching the Olympics. No, not even the swimming, diving, or gymnastics parts.
My exposure to Reality Television goes on. Roomie and I watched a TV show about obsessive people. He tells me that VH1 has really been cashing in on the massive increase in their ratings thanks to these weird shows. In this one, a family decides to build their home as a duplicate of the house in the 70's TV show The Munsters. A poor fellow got his rocks off running around dressed as Peter Pan, showing off his girly fairy dance. Some girl intentionally is over-eating in order to weigh 500-600 pounds. A lot of people that can't afford proper mental health care are banging on the doors of VH1's greenlight office wanting to get on television. Entertaining, in a train-wreck-maybe-I'll-see-blood sort of way.
We're also watching the I Love the 90's series, in which they are hiring failed comedians and moderately literate Hollywood gossip copy writers to speak badly about stars that have done WAY more than they have in life, all while apparently being paid a per-bleep premium for curse words.
OK. Surely it's time for more cough medicine with codeine. Surely.
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