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This weekend Tery and I were watching the local news, with a story about a townhouse complex being condemned. Grim tidings, to be sure, but Tery and I couldn't stop laughing at the screen titles, which spelled it "condemnded."
"We're condemnded! We're condemnded!" we howled in anguish back and forth, in the style of Leonardo DiCaprio's "Arnie Grape."
Until a new screen title popped up, where the word was now spelled "condemed." WHO are these high school drop-outs designing these titles? Graduates of a correspondence course in journalism, I guess. We had to rewind to the beginning of the story, where the first headline was spelled correctly, to reassure ourselves that SOMEONE down at 9 News could spell.
Condemnded!
~*~
One of the daily frustrations I live with is this state's maddening lack of Dunkin' Donuts. Sure, we have plenty of places that sell donuts, but it seems it has never occurred to any of them to put together the delicious combination of a powdered donut with a Bavarian creme middle like DD has. Jelly, naturally. Lemon, sure, though god knows why. Bavarian creme? Is reserved for the less delicious chocolate-covered variety.
Tery said someone told her that Winchell's sold them, and furthermore there was a Winchell's just up the road from her hospital open 24 hours. This weekend I decided to pop round.
Behind the counter was a very nice little man. I asked for a couple of what appeared to be the Bavarian creme, but when I double-checked he said, "No, no those are lemon. I don't know why I make them, is a lot of work and no one likes them." Yeah, I don't know why either. I asked for a couple of regular chocolate-covered ones instead, but couldn't hide my disappointment. I explained how DD sells the powdered kind and I really missed it. "Would you like me to make you one?" he asked casually.
I was bowled over. I watched as he went into the back and did something behind the wall, I assumed injecting Bavarian creme into a powdered blank. At this point I should mention I don't know the first thing about how donuts are made. I was really pleased that he did it for me, and he seemed really pleased to make me happy.
I was going to wait until I got home, but the thought of having an elusive Bavarian creme donut the way God intended right next to me was too much. I bit into it excitedly, only to taste the very unexpected and very unwelcome flavor of lemon instead. What the...? To be sure, the powdered outside was fresher and better-tasting than the grocery store kind, but not enough to counteract the vile lemon middle.
Did he somehow mix up his donuts? Didn't seem likely, considering I was the only customer and he wasn't handling a bunch of other donuts at the same time. Or is there a formula of Bavarian creme which is very similar to lemon? I highly doubt it. Which left the only other possibility, that he had pretended to make me a special donut in order to unload one of the awful lemon donuts that no one wanted. Tricky Winchell man! I almost wept at his evil deceit. It's not right, messing with someone's head where donuts are concerned. Especially someone who spends the night cleaning up dog poop.
~*~
Last night, against the advice of not one but two people who fell asleep during it, we watched No Country for Old Men. Since Tery gave control of the TV to me, I decided to make it a Coen Bros. day and started with The Big Lebowski, a movie that makes me laugh more every time I see it. I'll freely admit, I didn't get it at all the first time, and many years passed between that viewing and when I asked for it for Christmas last year. Sometimes the Coens, they just need a chance to grow on you. This movie, I have a feeling, is the same way.
(Not cutting because not spoiling.)
Fairly straightforward plot: Josh Brolin stumbles upon a drug deal gone bad in the desolate wasteland of West Texas. He steals the satchel of money, only to find himself pursued by Anton Chigurh, the creepiest, most memorable killer since Hannibal Lecter. One step behind both is Tommy Lee Jones, in his 30th portrayal of a Texas lawman.
The movie at its heart is about how the world is changing for the worse, with new kinds of evil so incomprehensible that old school law enforcers can't even wrap their minds around it. We knew it wasn't exactly going to be a laugh-a-minute. Still, I couldn't resist in the opening credits, after Jones delivers his solemn speech about how policemen never even used to wear guns before in his county, belting out the yodeling theme song from Raising Arizona in a truly MST3k-inspired moment. Tery really liked that.
(Which led to a moment of silliness which led to this picture, which, sadly, doesn't work as well icon-sized):
"He's a little outlaw, he is"
We didn't fall asleep during the movie. We both actually really enjoyed it, until the extremely anticlimactic end, which bore more than a little resemblance to Fargo: Nothing is really resolved. The evil still exists, but regular folks have to find a way to get on with their lives despite that fact.
I thought Javier Bardem as Chigurh was absolutely spellbinding -- menacing, intriguing, electric, impossible to take your eyes off him while he's onscreen. His first scene is one of the most unforgettable and truly convincing portrayals of a psychopathic killer I've ever seen. Which made his "You really need to trust me on this one" look (immortalized in my icon) at the end of the infamous "Friend-o" scene, enormously, disproportionately funny to me. Tery thought it went against the only description of the character we get, a man without a sense of humor. I thought it was very in keeping with a Coen movie, accompanied as it was with a pretty profound speech about the 22-year journey of a quarter arriving on this particular day to decide the fate of the gas station clerk at the hands of a serial killer.
Plus the movie contains one of the best lines I've heard in a decade: "If this isn't the mess, it'll do 'til the mess gets here." I'll be looking for ways to drop that into casual conversation, rest assured.
Oh yes, and now I'll have to replace my "bump-proof" door lock with a "cattle airgun-proof" one. Damn.
It did annoy me a tad that every last crew member in the bonus features mispronounced Anton's last name ("Sugar" rather than "Shigurrrr," as we learn in the movie's dialogue, which they apparently haven't seen yet).
So, having seen it at last, I was at liberty to go back through the six "Entertainment Weekly" issues devoted to it. The most interesting-looking one was a piece on Javier's Anton vs. Daniel Day-Lewis' Plainview in There Will be Blood. What promised to be a very insightful article comparing the two villains fell a little flat when it was forced to admit that Day-Lewis declined to be interviewed. What an asshole. Meanwhile Bardem went on and on about what a highlight of his career it was to be photographed next to Day-Lewis (for the cover). Trust me, Javier -- you can and will do better. I had no interest in seeing TWBB before, and even less now. It's little things like that can turn me against an actor for life (though in fairness, I didn't really like Day-Lewis very much to begin with).
In summary:
No Country for Old Men 4 out of 5, perhaps higher with time
Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh: An unqualified 5 out of 5, fully deserves every inch of his Oscar award.
"We're condemnded! We're condemnded!" we howled in anguish back and forth, in the style of Leonardo DiCaprio's "Arnie Grape."
Until a new screen title popped up, where the word was now spelled "condemed." WHO are these high school drop-outs designing these titles? Graduates of a correspondence course in journalism, I guess. We had to rewind to the beginning of the story, where the first headline was spelled correctly, to reassure ourselves that SOMEONE down at 9 News could spell.
Condemnded!
~*~
One of the daily frustrations I live with is this state's maddening lack of Dunkin' Donuts. Sure, we have plenty of places that sell donuts, but it seems it has never occurred to any of them to put together the delicious combination of a powdered donut with a Bavarian creme middle like DD has. Jelly, naturally. Lemon, sure, though god knows why. Bavarian creme? Is reserved for the less delicious chocolate-covered variety.
Tery said someone told her that Winchell's sold them, and furthermore there was a Winchell's just up the road from her hospital open 24 hours. This weekend I decided to pop round.
Behind the counter was a very nice little man. I asked for a couple of what appeared to be the Bavarian creme, but when I double-checked he said, "No, no those are lemon. I don't know why I make them, is a lot of work and no one likes them." Yeah, I don't know why either. I asked for a couple of regular chocolate-covered ones instead, but couldn't hide my disappointment. I explained how DD sells the powdered kind and I really missed it. "Would you like me to make you one?" he asked casually.
I was bowled over. I watched as he went into the back and did something behind the wall, I assumed injecting Bavarian creme into a powdered blank. At this point I should mention I don't know the first thing about how donuts are made. I was really pleased that he did it for me, and he seemed really pleased to make me happy.
I was going to wait until I got home, but the thought of having an elusive Bavarian creme donut the way God intended right next to me was too much. I bit into it excitedly, only to taste the very unexpected and very unwelcome flavor of lemon instead. What the...? To be sure, the powdered outside was fresher and better-tasting than the grocery store kind, but not enough to counteract the vile lemon middle.
Did he somehow mix up his donuts? Didn't seem likely, considering I was the only customer and he wasn't handling a bunch of other donuts at the same time. Or is there a formula of Bavarian creme which is very similar to lemon? I highly doubt it. Which left the only other possibility, that he had pretended to make me a special donut in order to unload one of the awful lemon donuts that no one wanted. Tricky Winchell man! I almost wept at his evil deceit. It's not right, messing with someone's head where donuts are concerned. Especially someone who spends the night cleaning up dog poop.
~*~
Last night, against the advice of not one but two people who fell asleep during it, we watched No Country for Old Men. Since Tery gave control of the TV to me, I decided to make it a Coen Bros. day and started with The Big Lebowski, a movie that makes me laugh more every time I see it. I'll freely admit, I didn't get it at all the first time, and many years passed between that viewing and when I asked for it for Christmas last year. Sometimes the Coens, they just need a chance to grow on you. This movie, I have a feeling, is the same way.
(Not cutting because not spoiling.)
Fairly straightforward plot: Josh Brolin stumbles upon a drug deal gone bad in the desolate wasteland of West Texas. He steals the satchel of money, only to find himself pursued by Anton Chigurh, the creepiest, most memorable killer since Hannibal Lecter. One step behind both is Tommy Lee Jones, in his 30th portrayal of a Texas lawman.
The movie at its heart is about how the world is changing for the worse, with new kinds of evil so incomprehensible that old school law enforcers can't even wrap their minds around it. We knew it wasn't exactly going to be a laugh-a-minute. Still, I couldn't resist in the opening credits, after Jones delivers his solemn speech about how policemen never even used to wear guns before in his county, belting out the yodeling theme song from Raising Arizona in a truly MST3k-inspired moment. Tery really liked that.
(Which led to a moment of silliness which led to this picture, which, sadly, doesn't work as well icon-sized):
"He's a little outlaw, he is"
We didn't fall asleep during the movie. We both actually really enjoyed it, until the extremely anticlimactic end, which bore more than a little resemblance to Fargo: Nothing is really resolved. The evil still exists, but regular folks have to find a way to get on with their lives despite that fact.
I thought Javier Bardem as Chigurh was absolutely spellbinding -- menacing, intriguing, electric, impossible to take your eyes off him while he's onscreen. His first scene is one of the most unforgettable and truly convincing portrayals of a psychopathic killer I've ever seen. Which made his "You really need to trust me on this one" look (immortalized in my icon) at the end of the infamous "Friend-o" scene, enormously, disproportionately funny to me. Tery thought it went against the only description of the character we get, a man without a sense of humor. I thought it was very in keeping with a Coen movie, accompanied as it was with a pretty profound speech about the 22-year journey of a quarter arriving on this particular day to decide the fate of the gas station clerk at the hands of a serial killer.
Plus the movie contains one of the best lines I've heard in a decade: "If this isn't the mess, it'll do 'til the mess gets here." I'll be looking for ways to drop that into casual conversation, rest assured.
Oh yes, and now I'll have to replace my "bump-proof" door lock with a "cattle airgun-proof" one. Damn.
It did annoy me a tad that every last crew member in the bonus features mispronounced Anton's last name ("Sugar" rather than "Shigurrrr," as we learn in the movie's dialogue, which they apparently haven't seen yet).
So, having seen it at last, I was at liberty to go back through the six "Entertainment Weekly" issues devoted to it. The most interesting-looking one was a piece on Javier's Anton vs. Daniel Day-Lewis' Plainview in There Will be Blood. What promised to be a very insightful article comparing the two villains fell a little flat when it was forced to admit that Day-Lewis declined to be interviewed. What an asshole. Meanwhile Bardem went on and on about what a highlight of his career it was to be photographed next to Day-Lewis (for the cover). Trust me, Javier -- you can and will do better. I had no interest in seeing TWBB before, and even less now. It's little things like that can turn me against an actor for life (though in fairness, I didn't really like Day-Lewis very much to begin with).
In summary:
No Country for Old Men 4 out of 5, perhaps higher with time
Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh: An unqualified 5 out of 5, fully deserves every inch of his Oscar award.
