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I don't know if it's because of the new Pirates movie, but suddenly the place is just crawling with Johnny Depp movies. I've watched three of them in the past week alone.
I watched the first Pirates on TV for the second time, having no memory whatsoever from seeing it in the theater except a distinct bewilderment as to why the rest of the world was losing its mind over it. Sure, it had Johnny AND Orlando (who, I'm sorry, does nothing for me without his long blonde elf hair), but apart from that, it really wasn't that great a movie (which was Tery's very response when I told her the new movie had the top grossing weekend of all time: "That doesn't make it a good movie," she sniffed disdainfully. She's just jealous because people don't flock in those numbers to watch documentaries, her film genre of choice). I believe this proves that squealing fangirls are just as guilty of thinking with the "little head" as men are often accused of.
I felt similarly on my second viewing. I found myself only slightly more interested than Tery, whose attention was waning even before the cursed pirate crew made an appearance. Ah well, c'est la vie. It isn't like I don't have plenty of other fandoms keeping me busy. However, my little sister informs me that if I don't like the new movie, it could jeopardize our future relationship as siblings. I shall have to take my chances.
In summary, Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl: 2 out of 5. Still.
I once read an article about Johnny that began by pointing out that his agent was the most frustrated man in Hollywood, due to his client's insistence on taking only the quirkiest, most bizarre roles out there. These next two movies will probably demonstrate that in spades.
I happened to notice a Depp vehicle coming up next on IFC's gay film week, Before Night Falls. Unbeknownst to me this was nominated for an Oscar and Tery actually had wanted to see it. Great! A movie that achieves that rarest of intersections between her interests and mine.
It's the story of Reinaldo Arenas, a gay Cuban novelist living in Cuba when Fidel Castro comes to power. It was interesting, I suppose, although an hour and a half into it I was starting to suspect that this was yet another indie film cashing in on having one big star attached (actually two -- Sean Penn makes a very brief appearance and is virtually unrecognizable as a peasant farmer. I recognized him but Tery didn't, and argued with me about it. She joked that as an indie film, they could only afford South American actors who vaguely resembled Hollywood stars. NEVER question my movie acumen, bitch.) Every time a new character was introduced, I asked, "Is THIS Johnny?" Since everyone had dark hair and dark eyes, he could have been anyone. But I persevered on the dwindling hope that Johnny might be a romantic interest for the star eventually.
Reinaldo gets thrown into prison and it is there we meet "Bom-Bom," a transvestite known for his impressive capacity for smuggling in contraband (I will say no more). Bom-Bom's on-screen entrance is made from the rear (oh, it gets worse and worse) and as we watched the back of the shapely but unmistakably male character cross the exercise yard, I joked, "Is THAT Johnny? Ha ha ha." Hooboy.
Would you believe it wasn't until I started looking for internet pics for this post that I noticed Bom-Bom has facial hair? I'm still up in the air about whether Johnny makes a pretty girl or not. I'm leaning more towards "unsettling," sad to say. He restored his masculinity in the next scene where he plays a sadistic warden (who, nonetheless, starts to beat off for Reinaldo in a short fantasy sequence), but this just confused me. Was Bom-Bom the warden in disguise? Or were they two separate people who looked inexplicably similar?
Like most gay-themed movies, the ending was dismal and depressing, and had I known Johnny's total screen time was less than 10 minutes, I might have just left Tery to it. Eh. 2.5 out of 5
Finally I rented The Libertine from Netflix. I was excited to see this since first hearing about it many months ago. Johnny plays John Wilmot, who sounded like a less extreme Marquis de Sade of his age. It was also a fairly safe bet he would be on screen for more than 10 minutes in this one. And here I will cut, since this is a recent release and I will never be counted among the inconsiderate filth who doth blab the spoilers.
( ::The Libertine:: )
It was strange. I liked it, though not enough to watch it repeatedly. 3.5 out of 5
=============================
COMPLETELY unrelated, a short tale of road rage. Yes, these are boring to everyone but me, but some days I suspect this can be said of anything I write.
I was driving home from work last night, minding my own business (yes, surprisingly I am yet again the innocent victim in this story). It was just me and one other car on Parker Road, the massive 6-lanefreeway street my road branches off of. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, another guy came cutting across three lanes to get behind me. I don't know why he didn't get in front of me, he had plenty of time and he could have saved us both a lot of stress. But he didn't, and there he sat behind me.
"Tailgating" is such a small, inadequate word. This guy was INCHES from my bumper. INCHES. I could have leaned my head out the window and caught a whiff of his aftershave, he was so close. Think NASCAR minus the skill and handy roadside medic crew. He also had his high beams on, lighting up my car's interior as bright as daylight, he was so close. I tried the flipping the mirror up tactic, but I could still see him in the side mirrors and of course, his blinding headlights. For an entire block he breathed down my neck like this then, delightfully, he also turned onto my road. We continued and he didn't back down one tiny bit.
I put up with it most of the way up my street, then I just snapped. I pulled over to the side to let him pass, admittedly slamming on my brakes first, because why should I make it easy for him? He didn't pass me right away. First he pulled up alongside me to gesture at me silently (with my windows up). Yeah, mister, I'M the one with a problem. I'M the asshole. Tell me I'm the first person who won't tolerate your guerrilla driving style. For my part, I started screaming (though I doubt he could hear me either) "GO!!!!! Don't just sit there, you're in such a fucking hurry, GO ALREADY!!!!!!!!" If you think I was coming unhinged unnecessarily, you're still doubting me when I say he was INCHES from me. Unless you've got someone giving birth or bleeding to death in your backseat (in which case you shouldn't be heading home), ain't no reason on the planet for driving that close to me.
He finally moved on and I pulled out to follow him. Is this better, sir? Do you enjoy having someone behind you who's pissed as hell at you, you fuck? Of course I didn't tailgate him because two wrongs don't make a right, lucky for him.
He turned off about 50 feet later, and again I was left wondering how the story would be told from his perspective. "...and then this crazy bitch suddenly just slammed on her brakes in front of me! Yes, for no reason, why do you ask?" This as always is closely followed by the question of how Tery can drive to and from work 5 days a week and never once have this happen to her. People. Should. Die.
I watched the first Pirates on TV for the second time, having no memory whatsoever from seeing it in the theater except a distinct bewilderment as to why the rest of the world was losing its mind over it. Sure, it had Johnny AND Orlando (who, I'm sorry, does nothing for me without his long blonde elf hair), but apart from that, it really wasn't that great a movie (which was Tery's very response when I told her the new movie had the top grossing weekend of all time: "That doesn't make it a good movie," she sniffed disdainfully. She's just jealous because people don't flock in those numbers to watch documentaries, her film genre of choice). I believe this proves that squealing fangirls are just as guilty of thinking with the "little head" as men are often accused of.
I felt similarly on my second viewing. I found myself only slightly more interested than Tery, whose attention was waning even before the cursed pirate crew made an appearance. Ah well, c'est la vie. It isn't like I don't have plenty of other fandoms keeping me busy. However, my little sister informs me that if I don't like the new movie, it could jeopardize our future relationship as siblings. I shall have to take my chances.
In summary, Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl: 2 out of 5. Still.
I once read an article about Johnny that began by pointing out that his agent was the most frustrated man in Hollywood, due to his client's insistence on taking only the quirkiest, most bizarre roles out there. These next two movies will probably demonstrate that in spades.
I happened to notice a Depp vehicle coming up next on IFC's gay film week, Before Night Falls. Unbeknownst to me this was nominated for an Oscar and Tery actually had wanted to see it. Great! A movie that achieves that rarest of intersections between her interests and mine.
It's the story of Reinaldo Arenas, a gay Cuban novelist living in Cuba when Fidel Castro comes to power. It was interesting, I suppose, although an hour and a half into it I was starting to suspect that this was yet another indie film cashing in on having one big star attached (actually two -- Sean Penn makes a very brief appearance and is virtually unrecognizable as a peasant farmer. I recognized him but Tery didn't, and argued with me about it. She joked that as an indie film, they could only afford South American actors who vaguely resembled Hollywood stars. NEVER question my movie acumen, bitch.) Every time a new character was introduced, I asked, "Is THIS Johnny?" Since everyone had dark hair and dark eyes, he could have been anyone. But I persevered on the dwindling hope that Johnny might be a romantic interest for the star eventually.
Reinaldo gets thrown into prison and it is there we meet "Bom-Bom," a transvestite known for his impressive capacity for smuggling in contraband (I will say no more). Bom-Bom's on-screen entrance is made from the rear (oh, it gets worse and worse) and as we watched the back of the shapely but unmistakably male character cross the exercise yard, I joked, "Is THAT Johnny? Ha ha ha." Hooboy.
Would you believe it wasn't until I started looking for internet pics for this post that I noticed Bom-Bom has facial hair? I'm still up in the air about whether Johnny makes a pretty girl or not. I'm leaning more towards "unsettling," sad to say. He restored his masculinity in the next scene where he plays a sadistic warden (who, nonetheless, starts to beat off for Reinaldo in a short fantasy sequence), but this just confused me. Was Bom-Bom the warden in disguise? Or were they two separate people who looked inexplicably similar?
Like most gay-themed movies, the ending was dismal and depressing, and had I known Johnny's total screen time was less than 10 minutes, I might have just left Tery to it. Eh. 2.5 out of 5
Finally I rented The Libertine from Netflix. I was excited to see this since first hearing about it many months ago. Johnny plays John Wilmot, who sounded like a less extreme Marquis de Sade of his age. It was also a fairly safe bet he would be on screen for more than 10 minutes in this one. And here I will cut, since this is a recent release and I will never be counted among the inconsiderate filth who doth blab the spoilers.
( ::The Libertine:: )
It was strange. I liked it, though not enough to watch it repeatedly. 3.5 out of 5
=============================
COMPLETELY unrelated, a short tale of road rage. Yes, these are boring to everyone but me, but some days I suspect this can be said of anything I write.
I was driving home from work last night, minding my own business (yes, surprisingly I am yet again the innocent victim in this story). It was just me and one other car on Parker Road, the massive 6-lane
"Tailgating" is such a small, inadequate word. This guy was INCHES from my bumper. INCHES. I could have leaned my head out the window and caught a whiff of his aftershave, he was so close. Think NASCAR minus the skill and handy roadside medic crew. He also had his high beams on, lighting up my car's interior as bright as daylight, he was so close. I tried the flipping the mirror up tactic, but I could still see him in the side mirrors and of course, his blinding headlights. For an entire block he breathed down my neck like this then, delightfully, he also turned onto my road. We continued and he didn't back down one tiny bit.
I put up with it most of the way up my street, then I just snapped. I pulled over to the side to let him pass, admittedly slamming on my brakes first, because why should I make it easy for him? He didn't pass me right away. First he pulled up alongside me to gesture at me silently (with my windows up). Yeah, mister, I'M the one with a problem. I'M the asshole. Tell me I'm the first person who won't tolerate your guerrilla driving style. For my part, I started screaming (though I doubt he could hear me either) "GO!!!!! Don't just sit there, you're in such a fucking hurry, GO ALREADY!!!!!!!!" If you think I was coming unhinged unnecessarily, you're still doubting me when I say he was INCHES from me. Unless you've got someone giving birth or bleeding to death in your backseat (in which case you shouldn't be heading home), ain't no reason on the planet for driving that close to me.
He finally moved on and I pulled out to follow him. Is this better, sir? Do you enjoy having someone behind you who's pissed as hell at you, you fuck? Of course I didn't tailgate him because two wrongs don't make a right, lucky for him.
He turned off about 50 feet later, and again I was left wondering how the story would be told from his perspective. "...and then this crazy bitch suddenly just slammed on her brakes in front of me! Yes, for no reason, why do you ask?" This as always is closely followed by the question of how Tery can drive to and from work 5 days a week and never once have this happen to her. People. Should. Die.
