Sunday, Jul. 28, 2002
While Harrison Ford has always made my pee pee swell, Tom Hanks has never floated my boat.
I have no idea why but at some point in every Tom Hanks movie I have ever seen I want to reach out, pat him on the head and give his hand a reassuring squeeze. That is, until I saw him last night in The Road to Perdition.
First off, this is NOT the sort of movie I would pick. I do not like violent movies but in a moment of weakness weeks ago at the same theatre I made a terrible error and last night I Paid The Price.
See, a while back I dragged the spousal unit to see The Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood. As we left the theatre afterwards there was much whining and patting of his chestal area as he looked for the burgeoning man boobs he claimed he expected to find having been exposed to such massive amounts of estrogen in such a short time.
He was SUCH a crybaby that I agreed that he could pick the next movie. I know. I Gave The Spousal Unit Free Will. What WAS I Thinking? And thus it was that we ended up watching The Road To Perdition.
First off, this is a wonderfully crafted, very symmetrical movie. You know exactly where it is going to take you because the plot is very predictable, but you follow it willingly. But oh, man, the violence. And yes, I know you can't make a movie about a 1930's mob hit man and not have him kill people but oh, man, the violence.
I'm guessing that compared to most movies this is not particularly gory. They use a lot of cutaways so you mostly see the aftereffects of the violence, and not the actual moment when the bullet penetrates the skull and gray matter flies everywhere.
I guess I should count my blessings, eh?
But see, the thing is that I decided quite a while back that I did not want to watch violence as entertainment and so I'm probably something of a violence sissy compared to most folks.
So even with all the cutaways this movie distressed the living bejeebus out of me.
And Tom Hanks did such a good job of playing a hit man that I promise that I will never, ever try to pat him on the head anymore. Never. Oh, and that Jude Law guy? He puts the ick back in sick psychopath big time.
There is a silver lining to this cloud, of course. With just a minimal amount of whining I have gained the right to pick the next movie. I already know what I want to see.
Before I go on I want to state for the record quite firmly that I DON'T want to hear a word from any of you about my choice. I mean it.
If pressed I'll admit that there's this male menopause thing happening with Harrison, My Personal Lust Object for over 25 years now. Yes, yes, I know he's being stupid. Calista Flockart. He's gotten an earring.
Yes, yes I KNOW I should just dump his sorry butt, get a New Improved Personal Lust Object and move on.
Believe me, I've tried.
But I can't.
I have my needs.
So our next movie? One that the critics are stomping all over. A movie I normally wouldn't even bother to rent.
But ... but ... but ... Harrison is in it.
I have my needs.
So yeah, our next movie will be K-19.
Oh be quiet.
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.
This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.