Everything went nearly as predicted yesterday. My feet are no long capable of grating cheese, which is good, and toenails have been painted a near-black purple shade called ‘Eiffel for this Color’. This was the first time I’ve paid for a pedicure, but maybe it was worth it? We shall see if I can keep up the non-crustiness for the rest of the winter.
Even more decadently, I went to see two movies yesterday, as planned, though I had intended to see Hugo rather than The Descendants. (Full disclosure: Considering my job, I don’t go to the movies a lot. But that’s going to change.) Hugo isn’t playing in 3D (which I’ve been told is essential, rather than superfluous) anywhere but the non-giant Cinematorium in the East End, which I didn’t realise until halfway through my downtown breakfast. The Descendants was amazing, though, so I have no regrets, but as usual at this time of year, I get confused as to why something that excellent isn’t winning everything (and only made one of the Filmspotting’s end-of-year critics’ Top Ten lists).
Then I remember The Artist, which is riding the hype train fast, and also didn’t get huge love from that show (but did from most other critics). But then I remember Martha Marcy May Marlene, and how it didn’t get any Golden Globe nominations, despite praise from a million corners, when something like The Help got 800 of them.
Then I remember how cracked out the Golden Globes are. Remember Pia Zadora? I actually don’t, just the subsequent jokes on Letterman and SNL that thrived throughout the 80s. I do remember thinking ‘Are you fucking SHITTING me?’ when Avatar won best drama, though, when it’s basically Ferngully with more army guys and 3D stuff (perhaps a ‘Best Popcorn Movie’ should be introduced). I’m surprised that New Year’s Eve (currently 7% ‘Fresh’ on Rotten Tomatoes) didn’t get a nod for Best Comedy.
Despite the crackheadness, normally, I love the Golden Globes best of all awards, because of the TV/movie mix and the relative drunkenness of the proceedings, and the lack of interpretive dance (remember the Crash burning zombie tribute at the Oscars in 2006?), but I’m so off Ricky Gervais it isn’t funny. Kind of like him. (Zing!)
Honestly, it’s not because I think he ribs celebrities too much, but because he’s not very clever about it. And his Infinite Smugness is fucking unbearable. I also get unbelievably (heh) irritated by proselytizing, even from atheists. But it’s okay, because if I’m doing pub quiz tonight, I’ll miss the opening monologue anyway. A blessing! (Double zing!)
Anyway, The Descendants was very good. I cried a lot, along with, from the noise from the eight other people in the cinema, everyone else in the audience. And I went to Shame, which was good-not-great, and was deeply uncomfortable with everyone else in the audience. The shared audience experience is part of why I love movies. And sharing it with strangers can be especially great, especially since there is no expectations of reaction, like you might have with friends (though, whooping at 2012 with Lesley is one of my favourite movie memories ever), no looking over to make sure a friend/husband/kid has the reaction that you want them to, just the story on the screen and the joy or fear or sadness that can be felt in the room. I love it. I can’t believe I had forgotten about how watching movies alone in a crowd can be almost transcendent.
Of course, now I’m sitting on my couch, watching less cerebral movies and getting distracted by (half-assedly) blogging and getting up to get more coffee and thinking about lunch and making fun of the cat for snoring louder than a drunken Henry VIII. I think this is how (well, not exactly how) most people watch movies now. The big screen tv is nice, but I’ve decided to go out and make an event of movie-watching more often. Maybe y’all should too.
In slightly less rambly news, I burnt my finger on a faux Pop Tart on Friday and I have a blister that takes up the entire pad of my right pinky. It has not burst yet. I AM SO TEMPTED TO GET A NEEDLE OUT AND POP IT. It’s gross and wrong, but good lord, this pustule is annoying. I soaked it in Epsom salty water for a half hour this morning, with no change. What can I do that won’t give me a staph infection and kill me?