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Category: Movies

  • Bridget Jones

    I am Bridget Jones.

    Well, not really. But I did see the film today and I didn’t hate Renee Zellweger. In fact, I almost kinda-sorta related to her. But first things first: the movie was good. I was happy with some of the things they expanded from the book and disappointed by some of the things they had to cut, but overall I definitely had a good time. They really pared it down to a romantic-comedy and cut most of the girl-power, weight-obsession, Colin Firth references (for the obvious reason), and “Pride & Prejudice” overtones. And they completely changed the ending. (Actually, that’s probably for the best. That whole subplot about Bridget’s mom running away with “Julio” was a bit contrived.) I laughed a bit though, and I was sad a bit though, and I was happy when I left the cinema.

    Renee Zellweger was wonderful. There, I said it. She looks great with the extra weight (she’d still qualify for “thin”, if you ask me, but at least this way she has boobs and a bum). Her accent was a little unsettling at first, but once I got used to it coming from her, it stopped sounding fake and just became Bridget’s voice. Her mannerisms and her facial expressions… they were spot on. You may never hear me say this again – given my eternal hatred for anyone who looks remotely like Jewel – but I like Renee Zellweger. Well, as Bridget anyway.

    And now for the questions I know all you Americans are dying to ask. First off, no, I’ve never been to a Tarts & Vicars party. (Our Deviant and Diverse Party, while similar, still hardly qualifies.) No, there’s no way Bridget could afford that flat on her salary. No, I’ve never met Salman Rushdie. And most emphatically, no, it never snows that prettily – and thickly – in Central London. Satisfied?

  • ARGH

    I do this weird thing, where I read and watch things that I know are going to piss me off. Do you do that? For example, I just finished reading the latest “Dawson’s Creek” recap over at MBTV. It (the show, not the recap) enraged me, as I knew it would. Another example – I always read Victoria Hervey‘s column in the Sunday Times Style magazine, even though I know she’s a mindless name-dropping upper-class tart that’s just going to drive me up the wall. Another example – I managed to find a copy of the film Danny, the Champion of the World, which was based on the Roald Dahl book. Jeremy Irons aside, they completely ruin the story. They take out all the morally objectionable bits and replace it with Robbie Coltrane and a horrible plot contrivance. It never fails to completely appall me. And yet I watch it repeatedly. These things are my hair shirts, and I must be really penitent subconsciously.

  • Love

    Joy of joys! Did I mention that I have the BEST boyfriend in the world? While I was running around Chinatown trying to find cabbage, Snookums was tramping around north London with Wee Ben looking for computer parts. I caught up with them in the Trocadero and Snookums handed me a big bag with a present in it: Star Wars: Episode 1 Monopoly! How cool is that? I geeked out big time. So while I was at home, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over my new toy, he put another bag on my lap. It was Mac OSX. He got me OSX! Isn’t he the best? (If an operating system doesn’t sound like a very romantic gift, you’re obviously running Windoze.) I haven’t had time to get it installed yet, what with the egg rolls and all, but I’m hoping to find time early this week. I’ll let you know how it goes…

  • Blind Fury

    Blind FurySnookums and I watched an awesome movie on telly the other night: Blind Fury starring Rutger Hauer. Here’s the official plot outline from the IMDb: “A blind Vietnam vet, trained as a swordfighter, comes to America and helps to rescue the son of a fellow soldier.” I ask you, what more does a film need? The bad guy is a drug dealer, and the cute little boy is Hobie from “Baywatch.” Awww, yeah, baby. Feel the 80’s love.

    Quote of the Night:   That’s why Al Pacino gets an award for playing a blind man, and Rutger Hauer doesn’t.
    – Snookums expressing his bitterness at the lack of critical respect for this fine piece of cinematic fare.