Saturday, being at loose ends, I made my usual trip to the public library. I wonder if it's even open today. It's like a federal holiday today, right? Anyway, here's some of my haul:
The Gore Vidal book is like a scrapbook, filled with pictures (for people like me too lazy to read). He's someone I think I'd love to have dinner with, but then afterward, I'd probably realize he was kind of a drag. You know those people? Anyway, the book is kind of like that. He was pretty cute back in the day, no?
The book about Lucia Moncenigo bored me. I just wanted a way to escape to Napoleonic era Venice for a few hours, is that asking too much? I have not been rewarded enough. It hasn't left the floor since. The only interesting thing I found out there was that the Austrians dropped bombs carried by hot air balloons in 1849. How cool is that?
Much better is Patti Smith's Just Kids, though it demands more attention. Thankfully, as you might expect, she's a great writer. Still, you know I looked at all the photos first. I can't help it. She recounts meeting her soulmate Robert Mapplethorpe quite accidentally.
To round things out I got an old battered Fela Kuti cd, one I hadn't heard before. The case is being held by a rubber band. It's so good I'm half tempted to steal it...or at least the rubber band.
Tonight I went to a performance of "The Pirates of Penzance" with Dennis, two of his chic Asian lady-doctor friends, and one ambiguously gay(ish), painfully handsome psychiatrist.
(Oh, and me. Not so ambiguous, and just plain painful. )
Anyway, I'd never seen "Pirates of Penzance" before, except in that horrible movie from the 80s, you know, the one with the painful (albeit handsome) Rex Smith. Ugh....what a dog that was. I mean really.
(I won't even subject you to a youtube clip of it. )
Dennis had a student of his performing, so that was his motivation. I had nothing better to do on a Friday night, so that was mine. The wigs were awful, the singing wonderful, the timing perfect. All in all, it was completely delightful.
The only downside is that I've been singing the part of the Major General since I got out. I'm afraid I might slip up and, Tourette's-like, announce: "I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus!" at the counter at Popeyes or something. Not like I haven't thought it there before, of course, but I might actually say it aloud this time.
I have an addiction to period films. I'll see anything with a corset or a costume. I have a latent desire to be a set decorator or production designer...or maybe just wear a corset. I'm not sure which. Anyway, I think I'd have done well (with all three). Since that didn't happen, I have to get my fix as an audience member. I saw these three just recently:
Me and Orson Welles
: I liked it. Christian McKay (who plays Welles) is incredible. Mainly it made me wish I had seen The Mercury theater's production of Julius Caesar, parts of which are recreated beautifully. Zac Efron's prettiness is very distracting, especially when he asks Claire Danes' character (I paraphrase): "What's it like to be a beautiful girl?" Puh-lease...like he doesn't know. Anyway, he's infinitely prettier than she is, and that's just distracting. It was a bit rambling, but I found it to be good.
Little Ashes: Along with the pedophile-o-gram, I got this in the mail this week. It wasn't worth the wait at all. The sex scene is all too brief (come on,you know that's the only reason to see it), and the production values are shoddy. It looks like a mid-eighties film set in the 1920s if that makes any sense. Robert Pattinson acquits himself well enough, I suppose (I'd never seen him in anything else, but he's nothing earth shattering.) He looks nothing like Dali, however. The other actor does a fairly good job as Lorca (even looks a bit like him), but the script is just not that good. (F.P.: I wouldn't rush it to the head of your queue, if I were you.)
(this youtube clip is ...umm...so much better than the movie...in so many ways. Maybe if the movie had been scored by American Idol contestants, it would have made more money)
Bright Star: It was a perfect storm for me to love it. Keats is one of my favorite poets of all time. Ben Whishaw (more on the film and him later perhaps) looks nothing like the young Keats however. Abbie Cornish is wonderful, the sort of stuff Oscar™ seems to love. The production values are wonderful and, needless to say, the story is very poignant. I really liked how it managed to work all the cliches of Romanticism (in both regards) without seeming too mannered...again, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I liked it. Except for "An Education" I think it's been my favorite movie of the past few months.
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