Tag Archives: movies

Tired, Old, and Reading Other Blogs

Well, I was all set to have another Tired Tuesday. In my defense, I seem to be coming down with some weird winter malady, the main symptom of which seems to be that I am tired. And headachey. And not a little vague. The sad thing is that I have so been having Mohawk Valley adventures. I hemmed and hawed, listening to the little voice in my head saying, “I CAAAN’T write a real blog post today!” It was not the little devil on my shoulder; she is a good deal more robust.

I really wanted to write a better blog post than about how tired and ill I feel. I went to Facebook and got some info for a local business I patronized recently and thought to give a shout out to. Then I came back to WordPress. Of course blogs I follow popped up first. I just had to read a couple.

I noticed that Today I Watched A Movie had reviewed Double Jeopardy. Sometimes he reviews older movies (it really grates on me to call a movie released in the ’90s “old,” because what does that make me, for heavens’ sake?). I remembered when this one was in theatres, so I perused his review. And made the following comment:

I always thought the premise of this movie was so asinine! You cannot legally murder somebody just because you got wrongfully convicted of doing so when they are still alive. Yes, I felt free to give away the whole plot without benefit of a spoiler alert because the TV advertisements and trailers did the same thing when this movie was in the theatres. We caught it on video, because at that time we caught almost everything on video (and now that’s the olden days. Damn!). Now I see my comment is running longer than your concise review. Sorry. I think I’ll use my comment for my blog post. Thanks for listening.

It would be nice to credit the other blogger who occasionally uses his comments on other blogs as his own blog posts, because that is what gave me the idea to do it myself. Unfortunately, I can’t remember which blogger that was. I thought it was a brilliant idea, though. To me it has a nice reduce/reuse/recycle feel to it. To others, it perhaps seems lazy. To my hazy, ailing brain, it seems acceptable on a Tired Tuesday.

And when I’m feeling better I may do a whole piece on how we used to trek to the video store and rent movies all the time and how much fun that was. Yes, I’m old! I embrace it!

Lamely Theatrical

I said earlier this week that I would use Lame Post Friday to consider the term “marvelously theatrical.” Regular readers (if any) may remember that George Zucco was described thusly in a summary of a Horror Classic I once saw.

The term “theatrical” to me seems a little silly. I would think that if something is on a stage in a threatre it is, by definition, theatrical. Kind of like looking your age. My dad says, how can you not look your age? I’m 50. This is what I look like at 50. Hence, I must look 50 (I know, I KNOW some of you probably think I DO look 50 or worse. It’s just an example) (And when my dad was 50, everybody said he didn’t look 50) (but I digress).

Perhaps it is one of those words that “I can’t give you a definition, but I know it when I see it.” I could explain this better in person. I would sit demurely and say in a quiet tone of voice, “I am in a theatre. I am theatrical.” Then I would leap to my feet, make a wide gesture with one arm and shout, “I am in a THEATRE!” Then a wide gesture with the other arm, “I am THEATRICAL!” Can you picture it?

I bet some of you have been sitting there trying to get a word in edgewise and point out to me that George Zucco was in a MOVIE not the THEATRE. Oh silly me. Did I even realize there is a difference?

Of course I did, stop looking so smug. I would submit that the difference may be less than we think. And I believe audience expectations are similar: they want to be entertained.

There is a wonderful scene in All About Eve where Gary Merrill tells off Ann Baxter for scorning movies vis a vis Broadway. He basically says that theatre encompasses all sorts of entertainment, “wherever there’s magic and make believe. So don’t approve or disapprove. It may not be your theatre, but it’s theatre for someone.” (I may be misquoting; don’t judge.)

“I just asked a question,” she replies, in that demure, well-modulated voice she uses when she’s got everybody fooled.

Steve and I always say, “Yeah, right,” because she used a horrified tone of voice, as if Hollywood is the antichrist.

Hmmmm… Do you suppose that’s kind of what the summary writer meant? That George Zucco is way better than an ordinary movie actor — he’s THEATRICAL (with gesture)! Perhaps he was just looking for a more impressive way of saying, “George Zucco is really, really good.” I eventually came to the conclusion he meant that George Zucco chews the scenery in a good way.

He is a pretty good actor. His presence will certainly be a selling point in my ongoing quest for movies to write about. Maybe one day I will even write a marvelously theatrical blog post.

How James M. Cain Makes Steven Nervous

How about a new feature called Tired on Tuesday? I may have suggested that before.

I was afraid this would happen when we did not watch a cheesy movie on Sunday. I was just too lazy to look for one. Instead, we watched two film noirs (films noir?) based on James M. Cain novels, The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) and Double Indemnity (1944).

I can’t write about these movies the way I usually do about more cheesy cinematic fare. They’re really good movies. I suppose I could do a compare/contrast about them, because both are about sexy blondes who enlist boyfriends to help kill their husbands. Or I could be silly and tell how my husband Steven gets a little nervous because they are two of my all-time favorite movies. Or I could bag both movies and write instead about the walk I took with my schnoodle Tabby yesterday.

What I cannot do, it seems, is go right downstairs and watch a cheesy movie or have a Mohawk Valley adventure so I have something to write about.

The funny thing is, I almost had a topic this morning. Steven was driving me to work, and I went into one of my foolish analyses of words, this time critiquing the name of a certain chain drug store. Steven’s reply was, “Blog post.” I won’t write it, though, because on reflection, I feel it is not a spot-on analysis.

And now I see I have over 200 words (love that word count feature), which by my definition makes a respectable blog post. Tune in tomorrow (if you will be so kind), when perhaps I will wax eloquent about Valentine’s Day. Happy Tuesday, everybody.

Why This is Not a Movie Post

I’m not giving up Wrist to Forehead Sunday, you can’t make me.

That previous sentence should have a semi-colon instead of a comma, but sometimes I regard punctuation as much art as science. The Punctuation Police and the Grammar Guardians can ding me all they like, because I am usually quite correct about these things.

Regular readers will realize I was too ill yesterday to partake in any Mohawk Valley adventures. Today I feel slightly less crappy but not yet un-crappy. Anyways, Sunday is almost always an off day for me.

Yesterday I watched a Hammer Studios film and today a Bela Lugosi movie. I could write about either one, only it also seems that I can’t. You know how I always put a Spoiler Alert. Well, the things I would be apt to talk about for these movies goes beyond spoiler and into “Well, why don’t you just tell us the whole damn movie while you’re at it!” These are things astute movie viewers may see coming (I did), but there is still an element of, “Wait a minute, it could be that…” The satisfaction is in saying, “I thought so!” and not “I read about that in a blog!”

You know, I’ve said too much already. Now I am afraid viewers will say, “What did she see coming… ah yes! Of course!” Instead of letting it unfold in front of them.

Or am I being silly? That, of course, is always a possibility. In any case, I see my word count is over 250 words. Quite respectable for typing with one wrist on my forehead (oh, OK, that’s only figuratively)(metaphorically?). I hope to see you on Middle-aged Musings Monday.

Almost a Run

I don’t suppose anybody has been waiting with bated breath for Running Commentary from Mohawk Valley Girl. Still, I have been unhappy about not running. However, this morning it was cold with potentially icy sidewalks. I could deal with the cold, but the sidewalks gave me pause. If I fell, I couldn’t be sure of landing where most of the padding is. More likely I would twist myself around in an effort to keep from falling and pull some muscle I didn’t even know was there.

My sister had suggested running on a mini-tramp. Easier on the knees and feet, she said. In fact, I did this for a short time some years ago. I still have the tramp. Full disclosure: it’s my mother’s and she hasn’t asked for it back yet. Thanks, Mom!

Earlier this morning I had done ten minutes’ worth of push-ups, crunches and whatever other exercises suggested themselves. Hey, you have to start somewhere and I haven’t been doing much besides walk lately. After Steven left for work, I hauled the mini-tramp out from under the bed in the second bedroom, put on running clothes and gave it a try.

My sister watches movies on her tramp. I was doing this too (in fact, I still haven’t seen the end of The Unsinkable Molly Brown)(oh, well, I’ve seen the ending, but I started watching it and didn’t run long enough… you know what I mean). I still have several horror movies on the DVR from October. I thought I’d try Devil Doll.

No, I’m not going to do a running/movie write-up. I have too much to say about this movie, and I only ran for 20 minutes.

If you could call it running.

This mini-tramp business will take some getting used to. Obviously your feet can’t move the same way. And I had a problem right away in that I wanted to make some notes from Robert Osborne’s pre-movie commentary. It’s on DVR, I reminded myself. Just don’t erase it at the end and you can watch the commentary again. Then I laughed at myself for thinking I was going to make it through an hour and a half movie on the mini-tramp.

Soon I came to the depressing conclusion that I do not find a movie as interesting to me as the outsides of other people’s houses. But I persevered. I mean, I liked the movie; I look forward to seeing the rest of it. But I would have preferred to be crocheting with pauses to make notes in the TV Journal.

Well, one can’t have everything. I did get some exercise in. A little later in the morning I took Tabby for a walk. That might be the subject of tomorrow’s blog post.

Curse You, Vincent Price!

What is it about Vincent Price? I start to write a perfectly straightforward post about one of his movies and I get all bogged down and confused and it takes me days to get it right.

At least, the one I started today hasn’t taken me days yet, but I can see which way the wind is blowing. First it was The Tingler. Now it’s The Mad Magician. What’s a blogger to do but write about the problems she’s having writing. (I didn’t end that last sentence with a question mark, because it is rhetorical. I don’t need any smart answers from the peanut gallery.)

After all, I avoided Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I think I’m entitled to a Middle-aged Musings Monday. I shall muse about my trials and tribulations as a writer.

The problem I had with The Tingler and am having with The Mad Magician is neither Writer’s Block nor Writer’s Blank. It’s quite the opposite. I have too much to say (some people think I have too much to say at all times, but I daresay they don’t read my blog, so we need not consider them).

Usually, having too much to say is not a problem. I just write and write till it’s all said. I find that fun. In this case, however, my thoughts do not flow in a logical fashion. I start out talking about pre-movie commentary, jump to the plot, jump back and add in the spoiler alert, remember something I forgot from the commentary, go off on a whole other tangent.

Some may say that’s still no problem. Just write it all down they say, perhaps in a condescending, overly patient voice (you know who you are). Sort it out later. Well, that is what I’m doing. However, these things take time and effort and a good deal more oomph that I can generally muster on a Monday.

I repeat, what’s a blogger to do?

Kind of a Time Warp

I had intended to have all posts about Halloween movies till Halloween night. I have plenty of material to work with, thanks to TCM and the miracle of DVR. Well, I was working on it, and let me tell you, my post on The Tingler is getting scary and not in a good way.

On the brighter side, I noticed yesterday on my computer that WordPress seems to be twelve hours ahead of me. Thus yesterday, when I wrote about Cat People, was Halloween. Today I can go on to November, or as the retail world seems to think, Christmas. I was thinking I could post this silliness tomorrow on Lame Post Friday, when I realized, according to WordPress, THAT’S TODAY!

However, as I wrote the preceding earlier, before beginning my shift at work, it was (and still is as I type this) Thursday. Non-Sequitur Thursday, in fact (if you saw me trying to rearrange the paragraphs of my Tingler post using asterisks, you would agree that it is). I was and still am having an indecisive day. I had to flip a coin to decide whether to drink coffee or water as I was writing before work (drinking both was ineligible for reasons I will not go into here).

I wrote more while at work, but it was fairly tiresome. There was one parenthetical comment I rather liked, but I can’t figure out how to fit it in now. At any rate, I am over 200 words. I deem that respectable. I will continue to work on my post about The Tingler and eventually publish it, regardless of the day WordPress or the calendar say it is.

Keeping It Lame

There are times when one certainly appreciates Lame Post Friday (one is me in this case). However, one must also admit (still me) that even on Lame Post Friday, one must write something.

One might think I had thoroughly hashed out the subject of How Stupid of a Post Still Counts as a Post (one is not me in this case). One might be right. On the other hand, I’m betting most of my readers don’t read every single post (but God bless you if you do!). On a third hand (using my foot as a hand?), perhaps I can think of something new to say.

Well, I think I did. Using a foot as a hand is not a silly joke I have made before. Perhaps some did not find it a particularly funny joke, but at least it had the charm of originality.

Oh, here’s some half-baked philosophy: what can you say when originality masquerades as talent? Another question: just because something has never been done before is that sufficient reason to do it?

I’m thinking right now of some current and recent movies (like in the last few years). Some movie makers are known for “pushing the envelope” (I might research where that expression came from for another post. I mean, what envelope? Just saying). Torture porn falls under this category, as do ultra violent films. I’m not saying none of these films have artistic merit (I don’t watch many movies from this century). I’m asking, does their entire merit consist in the fact that they have done something that has never been done before? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Well, that was a totally wimp out discussion. You may have noticed I did not mention any specific movies or in fact make a strong stance on the issue. I just brought up the question.

In my defense, the heat wave in the Mohawk Valley continues, and neither my place of employment nor my residence boast air conditioning. And anyone who is rolling their eyes and forming the words, “You think you’ve got it bad” or “I don’t want to hear it,” just give it a rest. My brain has been baked, steamed, boiled and stewed for five days now. This is all I got.

Stopped by the Seine

So there I was, writing away at a post about a cheesy movie, when I began to write a sentence I had clearly written before. I completely remembered writing it. Those words were in my head, and I had put them there. Definitely. There was no way I could continue the sentence I was about to write next without using those very words again.

Why, you may argue, would that stop me? I repeat myself in this blog all the time, especially when I’m having any kind of trouble writing the damn thing. I argue back, in the first place, give me a break. In the second place, this sentence involved a murderer dumping a dead body into the Seine.

How many movies could that possibly have happened in? And how many of them could I possibly have seen recently? I was stopped cold.

Before I go on, a little background (another way to put this: in my defense). Earlier this week I experienced a flood. No, not as bad as other people have experienced (I’m also quite certain I’ve written about how there is always somebody who has worse problems than me), certainly not as bad as it could have been. But, still, a pretty bad experience.

I believe I mentioned briefly yesterday that some have believe I am handling it well. Oh, I am trying to. I really, really am. But at intervals, I suppose it’s bound to happen: not so much. I was having, as they say, a moment earlier today. Rather than write about it and look like I was making a colossal bid for sympathy, I decided to write about the cheesy movie I had viewed. Surely that was a good plan (and I’ll call you Shirley if I want to).

My first move, when I could move at all after coming to a complete standstill, was to go to the computer and search previous blog posts. Hmmmm… nothing that takes place in Paris, no place where I possibly could have mentioned the Seine.

After a couple of more distractions (when I have a moment, I really have a moment), I found the notebook I have been writing blog posts in for the past couple of weeks. On going through the whole thing (it’s not a big notebook), I found very few movie posts, none I did not remember, and no mention of the Seine. I sat and pondered.

At last I picked up the TV Journal. Oh. There it was. In a note I had made about the very movie I was attempting to write a post about. I tell you what, I felt so stupid about that, I almost had another moment.

But not quite, because I thought I could make a decent blog post about that silly writing crisis and then I would have two posts for the price of one. I ought to anyways, because I’ve taken a long enough time about this.

By the way, my moment is over. I’m back to handling things, if not exactly well (I’m not that competent), at least cheerfully and with a sense of humor. No need to make a colossal bid for sympathy. Thank you for bearing with me.

Be Kind to Animals, Hollywood

What is it with animals coming to bad ends in movies?

I recently wrote about What’s the Matter with Helen?, in which some very beautiful white rabbits suffered at the hands of a lunatic. I watched a movie yesterday in which a perfectly nice looking dog had an even shorter and more thankless role. And now I am looking at a movie where every third or fourth scene, I hear myself saying, “Nothing bad better happen to that cat!”

So far the worst thing that happened to the cat is a lady took away the yarn he or she was playing with. I only wrote my remark about nothing bad happening in the TV Journal once, but as I continued to repeat it, I thought to myself, hey, this could be a blog topic.

Many of us get more upset when bad things happen to animals than we get when bad things happen to people, especially in the movies. After all, animals are more defenseless and often more harmless. Most of them are a good deal less annoying than some people, especially in a work of fiction.

You know, now that I’m writing this, I believe I have touched on the topic before. My defense for repeating myself is: I think it was previously a remark in passing and now it is the topic of the post. Also, it is a topic that bears repeating. Who doesn’t love cats, dogs and beautiful white rabbits (or at least one of the three)?

Hollywood, apparently.

Sometimes it is movie shorthand for a really, really bad person. Ooh, look at them, they were mean to a dog! They can’t be any good AT ALL! Just in case the viewer was looking for socially redeeming characteristics. Now we know there are none to be found.

I still don’t like it. I just don’t LIKE to see bad things happen to good animals. I don’t particularly like it when characters I like die either, but at least I can comfort myself with the thought that actors like to play death scenes. I don’t know that any animals feel the same way.

I don’t think any Hollywood screenwriters are likely to heed my words and start writing movies where all the animals live happily ever after (humans can take their chances). But I wanted to express myself. Now I’ll go back to the movie I was viewing and check out what happens to that cat.