Tuesday, 18 March 2008

Ramble About Films

I don't really know why I'm blogging. I have nothing to say, as I've done absolutely Jack shite today except succumb to that time of the month and eat half a bag of Minstrels. No, not the small bag.

I am never, ever going to win this diet. But at least we refrained from getting Indian take away - so it could have been much worse.

We have an old fiend to stay in the shape of a small, fox-like Sheltie called Glen. He is repulsive in every way. He's timid and nervy, which is always excessively irritating, he stinks to high heaven owing to the dingleberries permanently attached to his fur, and, being male, he pisses everywhere in an attempt to make things his own. He's really very vile. I'm a dog-bonkers person, so to dislike a pooch as much as I do him is deeply distressing. Naturally, we treat him with the same care and attention we do all our visitors (she says, hastily, in case anyone's reaching for the RSPCA hotline) but it does take quite a force of will. Strangely, while Bridie goes for any dog that even vaguely looks at her funny, she doesn't seem to bother with Glen. It's probably for the same reason she's relatively placid about Jake the collie - they're both so utterly without dominance, she recognises she could kick twelve shades of living crap out of them with barely any effort whatsoever, so she can't be arsed to raise the effort to growl.

The other thing I did today was watch Jarhead. It's very good - one of the best war films around, I'd say. Hmm. What is it about British directors and war films? Sam Mendes, Kubrick (I count him as British because he renounced Hollywood and was with us from 1962 til his death in '99), David Lean, Ridley Scott, Richard Attenborough - directors of some of the greatest war films ever made. And I do love a good war film. I'm not very traditionally female in my tastes. I tend to find romances dull and uninspiring, while sports movies - no matter how crap - are much more likely to grab my attention. War films are totally engrossing, but dick flicks send me totally to sleep. Armageddon has to be one of the worst films in the history of film making - the archetypal dick flick, with 2D characters, utterly pointless women and strutting machismo of the most laughable kind. Backdraft, too, is a good example of a dick flick. "Look at him!" groans the dying Mr Goldie Hawn, as William Baldwin manfully battles a towering inferno. "That's my brother, goddamnit!"

I heard audiences in the USA burst into cheers at this point. The cinema in London burst into loud, full bellied laughter. I was just asleep.

I'm also unimpressed with any film involving a car chase. I don't find it thrilling and the modern penchent for jerky, hand-held camerawork makes my eyes go funny (please take note Paul Greengrass. The Bourne Supremacy was utterly unwatchable). I think watching two cars going very fast is not great entertainment. If I were driving one of the cars it might be fun, but I'm not. I'm watching. And that's very, very dull.

I've bored myself.

God it's cold in my study. I think I'll go to bed in order to get warm.