 Looking After Me |
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I saw Star Wars yesterday, and even though I can't really remember who in the hell Amidala was and why Natalie Portman's name is now Padme and don't really understand what a clone or a druid or sith is, I enjoyed it so much more than the first two films in this trilogy that bored me to fucking tears. I have a soft spot in my heart for Hayden Christensen because of my undying love for Life as a House, but it's easy to see from these films why people think he kind of sucks. I agree with those who said that Lucas might as well have made a silent film and it might have been just as if not more enjoyable. It's the images that are so appealing to me in these movies, those iconic costumes and accessories and creatures. It's certainly not what the characters say or how they say it. It is really absurd that Natalie Portman wasn't given anything to do but stand there, hold her belly moonily, and cry a lot. I mean, she should have been allowed to kick ass at least a little bit. I am pretty bummed that Joan of Arcadia got cancelled. It was uneven this season, but it still had wonderful moments and I think that it was such a strong show all around. It made me laugh and cry and think about the universe. What else, really, can you want in a show? I know this sounds extremely dumb, but I will always cherish this show for those quiet moments like when Helen read aloud the letter from Adam's mom, or when everything went berserk at the science fair and Adam and Joan kissed, or any scene between Grace and Luke, or Helen's conversations about God with Lily the punk rock ex-nun, or when Luke freaked out after smoking pot for the first time, or when Kevin and Joan would sit at the table in the middle of the night eating junk food and discussing life, or when Cute Guy God said to Joan, "Do you miss yourself? Because I do." So many more moments than that, even. And of course the entire zombie musical episode was perfection. I hope the second season comes out on DVD one day. I can't think about this anymore because it makes me too sad. I don't know that I've ever been so surprised by loving a show. I'm very happy about Veronica Mars being renewed, and the finale had me practically crawling under the couch in suspense. If fiery, fiery Logan had been the killer, I really might have had to write hate mail to Rob Thomas, but I still probably would have thought it was brilliant. It's just another really good show from head to toe, and I am glad I stayed spoiler-free because when Aaron appeared in Veronica's rear view mirror, I actually jumped and screamed out loud, and that is good TV right there. Speaking of good TV, Deadwood continues to basically amaze. I told my viewing companion that my favorite thing about it is that it never talks down to the audience. It just assumes that we can keep up and lets us fill in the blanks in the characterization, the narrative, everything. It might not make me boo hoo like my favorite teen dramas (like when Keith told Veronica that he's really her father, come on), but it makes me pay attention. I never really understand when they have meetings about claims and Yankton. I don't even care. I'm just kind of in awe of the whole operation. I guess the only show of mine that's left to wrap up this season is Everwood tonight, and if I said that I was not excited to see Bright grab Hannah and plant a big smooch on her, I'd be lying. I hope she does not leave the show. I was eh on her at first, but now I love her and am so glad that Amy has an actual friend who is not an immature wanker like Ephram Ass Brown. My sister is in South America for the summer. It is very strange not to have her on IM or at the end of the speed dial on my cell phone. It's hard to believe that it was about this time last summer when I was dropping her off at the airport and watching her line up while bent over by her giant backpack for Europe and I was making furious plans to join her. I worry about her, of course, because even though she's almost my age, she is my baby sister, and I still can't for the life of me help but see us in that collage of pictures that hangs on my bedroom wall where she's so much tinier than me, where we're sitting side by side talking on fake phones or standing on the beach in our swimsuits with goggles and snorkels or making funny faces in our pajamas in front of the Christmas tree, and even though she probably did not know it at that age, I always kept my eye out for her at school and on the bus and at camp and everywhere we ever were. I remember being in a very crowded bar a few years ago and being rocked in the sway of the crush of people and yelling at people to move away from her and she was so aggravated with me, like, are you fucking kidding me, who are you, Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston? But I cannot help it; it is my instinct even though I know logically that she does not need me in that way. She is so smart and capable and accomplished and just made it through her first year of law school and has a totally dreamy new boyfriend and just left with her giant backpack again for parts unknown, and I won't be joining her this time. It's true that I do think of her in many ways as my baby sister whom I need to protect and look out for, but it's also true that I count on her in so many ways to talk me down off the ledge, to tell me that I am being crazy or that I'm not, to understand what I'm trying to say without my really having to explain it. To have her look out for me. Not to mention that my little brother is about to go to Europe for 37 days and will not be available for consultation on such pressing matters as whether Christian Bale makes a good Batman and how Julie Cooper got to be so awesome.
About this time in ...
© Copyright 2005 elb |
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