Excuse the profanity. But a little googling just revealed the fact that an English-language re-make of Let the Right One In is in the works, by director Matt Reeves (who also directed The Pallbearer--a gag-fest starring what's-his-name from friends and the precious Gwyneth Paltrow.) That's never good. (American re-make or Gwyneth, for those of you who need clarifying.)
Three little words: Shall We Dance?
That's a reference, for those of you who didn't see it, to the Japanese movie Shall We Dance, which was a beautiful poem of a flick that Hollywood utterly dumbified for the English-speaking masses with the help of Jennifer Lopez and Richard Gere. Lopez I get. It's the perfect I'm-a-serious-actress delusion for her. But Gere? Maybe he had some alimony to pay? Needed another house in the Hollywood Hills?
At any rate, tragic. And lord only knows what they're going to do with my precious vampire movie. If Jennifer Lopez is in this one, I'M gonna go bite someone. In Hollywood.
And p.s. rent Shall We Dance--the Japanese version. It's lovely.
I had the normal upbringing with regard to movies, which is to say I went occasionally but nobody, including me, made too big a deal out of them. That changed in my mid-twenties, when I lived, for a brief and unhappy year, in Chicago. I knew few people, didn’t have a lot of work, was lonely, and needed to entertain myself. I discovered that I loved going to movies alone. That they left me in a contemplative, introspective state of mind that I really enjoyed.
When I moved to New York and began freelancing, I found that going to movies helped me write. I’d review my notes on a story, go to a movie, come back, sit down and the story—which had nothing at all to do with the movie—would just pour out. Maybe I was letting my subconscious work while the rest of my brain enjoyed itself. Maybe it was that contemplative state of mind I was talking about. Who knows? The only thing I really knew for sure was that it worked.
When I was writing my first book, I often saw a movie every morning as a prelude to the afternoon’s work. That meant I saw A LOT of movies, some great, some awful. You can’t be too picky when you’re seeing movies at that pace. My favorite movie experience during that time was when I went to see “Lord of the Rings.”
I had not read the books. It was long. I hadn’t read any reviews—I almost never read reviews (too many spoilers, and the critics’ views have a way of worming their way into your brain). I wasn’t totally thrilled about it, but I had few other choices. It was lunchtime, and on the way I stopped, on impulse, at Murray’s and got a sesame bagel with whitefish salad. And I picked up my customary enormous diet coke on the way in.
Well. The movie was beautiful—it was shot in New Zealand—and enormously entertaining. It had Ian Mackellan in it (a big plus), and the bagel with whitefish salad and (it almost goes without saying) the diet coke were sublime. And it was a LONG movie. So I really got to relish the experience. It was, in short…perfection. And that, my friends, is how this blog--which is, in essence, a movie lover's diary--got its name.