'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

good weekend, so far; Oscar night tonight

I feel a little like a sucker watching the Oscars, objecting to what scores with The Academy & all, but I do like to tune in. Hope Chris Rock is fun, and transgressive in ways that I smile at. This year I've seen a number of movies with nominations; may zip out & catch Finding Neverland 'tween now & then---but prob'bly not, cuz I'm enjoying putzing around the house, and if I go out again I think it'll be for the gym.

Caught The Aviator Friday night w/bigfinedaddy. I'll tell ya---I didn't expect much, to tell you the truth (and for some reason I'd gotten it in my head that it was directed not by Scorsese but by Oliver Stone), but I've gotta thumbs-up it. It had pretty sound dramatic structure, and certainly an evocative visual environment, in many different sorts of settings. Cate's Kate didn't strike me as caricature so much as it did a folding in of the sort of "on"/creating-personality/acting-all-the-time thing HH accuses her of (and her different selves elsewhere echo); Leonardo was willing to get good and ugly in his part, and I think pulled it off, with how much help from director/editor I dunno. Moreover, the OCD and germ-aphobe stuff came off pretty uncomfortably realistic. That's what's staying with me most. My companion & I have been quoting his "show me all the blueprints" (no small feat of elocution there) with (possibly poignantly) maniacal glee.

Now that I think about it, the film may present a certain implication, in the depiction of the Hepburn family as well as that of HH's life, that the seeds of mental illness may actually get a little extra fertilizer in circumstances of financial privilege, as in those of celebrity. And of course we all know about the overlap of having a screw loose---a screw that doesn't necessarily remain in one place---with being a freak, outside the mainstream, operating outside of convention. That freedom, too, may include/induce a psychological freedom that may be dangerous for sanity.

Of course I'm talking out my ass here.

Decided not to go see Million Dollar Baby this weekend after hearing a clip from it on the radio (NPR piece about dialect ---with a guy from U. Kansas, actually) in which Hilary Swank's character cites, among other horrible conditions from which she comes & which she is of course desperate to escape through boxing, the fact that her mother weighs 312 pounds. Fuck you, Million Dollar Baby! I hope you lose! Go to hell, Clint Eastwood! (I spare you here my elaboration on why it's even worse that it's 312, vs. 300 or 350 or whatever.)

Also w/bigfinedaddy yesterday: dominoes, Master Mind, checkers, Chinese checkers. Woulda done backgammon but I can never remember the set-up & was too lazy to get online & look it up. All I remember is that there's something counter-intuitive about it, as a fair number of your thingies are already almost finished with the big lap you're trying to make.

So. Getting a bunch done today, though never enough. Breathing pretty regularly. Saw homovegetarian. Just had neighbor at the door with baby. (Such a sucker for babies am I.) Finished up cat-sitting for other neighbors. Dinner out with another neighbor next week.

Thoughts of H. (So what else is new.)
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