I’ve had too much coffee today so I’d like to have a witty tittle about cowboys and wranglers and a movie round-up

“If you like your sports slow and complicated, you’ve come to the right place!”

Curling is amazing. If by “amazing” I mean “insane and completely WTF?” 

I was just saying the other night, how the winter Olympics are weird sports that make no sense. At least the original Greek stuff relied primarily on athletic prowess, not…the balls to jump head first on a sled (skeleton? REALLY??).

 http://www.hulu.com/watch/131077/saturday-night-live-telemundo-winter-olympics#s-p1-sr-i1

 “This is the madness that happens when a country has no beaches.”

 I also cracked a joke about long dark winters giving us Bjork and curling.

 So I watched The New 20

 …is what, 30?

 I started out wanting to like it. There’s a gay character who looks…like a normal person. But I have a hard time feeling sorry for anybody who lives in NYC. And plays squash. I don’t feel sorry for rich people. Ever. “Oh, poor me and my thin, good-looking body lying around this awesome apartment in one of the most amazing cities on earth…”

 I had a feeling the one with the curly mop of hair and sad eyes would be the “smart, but self-destructive” one. Poor dear, hooking up with gorgeous redheads and drinking beer on your roof in the sunshine w/ your hot gay roomate.

 

16 minuntes in…not sure I can take another 1:15. The whole thing just feels too forced.  The characters. What they look like. The montages. Even the sdtk. Is like…too…expected. Like these frantic close-ups are supposed to impart this sense of what a crazy drunken time they’re having…uh-huh.

 St. Elmo’s Fire is way better. So’s Reality Bites. As far as small group of friends and their time-to-grow-up life crises movies go.

 So far, the two gay storylines are interesting, the main couple is not even…anything enough to be fully fleshed-out bored, and the poor ol’ junkie is a walking cliché.

 I watched this in the middle of it without pausing

 

They were arguing about money or something. And then the junkie and his hot girlfriend lie around on her satiny bed listening to woeful female singing and cuddle.

He even admitted, “…just a touch of existential malaise.” Will he die? Or just nearly die and be redeemed and MESSAGE (little Don’t Be a Menace  joke there).

I hate how in movies, when A has some ephihany about B, and A goes running through rain/traffic/the Civil War to tell said person B who is, always, at home. Or work. Or wherever A has just traversed hell and high water. 

 As someone who also has existential malaise and emotional epiphanies, sometimes you drive an hour to stand barefoot in the torrential rain only to have your banging on the trailer door go unanswered.

 Why do these movies often revolve around one (or two) of the contigent’s getting married? I guess yeah…that’s certainly a catalyst for change in group dynamics, but still. Produces too many obligatory scenes.  One of the other friend’s is always an ex resulting in some sort of “if only!” and hidden feelings scene, the bachelor party scene where some gross error of judgement is made – or the ol’ cold feet resulting in same, some secret about one of them coming out (no pun intended). At the end, someone moves away. I’d love to provide the references, but unfortunately I can’t remember any of the movie’s titles…

 Had some newer twists on tired storylines (mostly the aforementioned gay plotlines), and the performances were all good, but ultimately The New 20 just wasn’t satisfying. No, no – The New 20 is the old The Same.

 Since that wasn’t much of a review, here’s what others had to say:

 “When a movie has a major character who’s an Existentialist Addict, your really shouldn’t be rooting for the heroin.”

 “…we spend lots of time with people sitting in lawn chairs, drinking beer and whining as they gaze at the skyline.”

 “An interesting concept, that somehow diminished what it could have been.”

 Sweetland

 “Set in 1920, Inge travels from Germany to rural Minnesota meet the man destined to be her husband. Bureaucracy and social morality cause major complications.”

 A sweet movie….about some sweet land…so Allan Cumming’s face is the last one I expected to see. Also all of a sudden it isn’t the little indie gem I thought I was watching. And Allan’s accent is…alternatingly Southern, Bronxish and stereotypical Norweigian Midwestern? Huckster?

 I had no idea Germans were such a plague “they harbor dangerous political convictions, encourage polygamy…I’ll tell you what’s in her favour: she’s not Chinese.”

 Kudos to the American for learning whatever language that is. I’m curious as to the decision not to subtitle it. To add to the air of foreignness she’s experiencing?

 Oh, well, according to IMDB:

 Most of the Norwegian and German was not scripted, but made up by the actors during filming and is gibberish.

  • Elizabeth Reasers’ Norwegian pronunciation was so bad that after Dagbladet (one of Norway’s biggest news-papers) stumbled upon this film, they posted a clip from it with the title “What is she trying to say?”

 

 Now THAT is some BS. Seriously? This is a real movie, not some SNL skit, and they just made up gibberish?

 Hallmark Hall of Fame. THAT’S what this reminds me off. B-list cast (“she was in…oh that’s the guy that was in…), heartwarming, jovial, etcetcetc. The costumes looking like modern versions of historical clothing – like a Vogue shoot of this seasons prarie chic. Little regard for historical accuracy. But, I mean, instead Babelfish to half-ass translate a script, they just blurt out gibberish, sooooo…yeah, “sweet” about sums it up.

I invented a drinking game, just name either the artist or title of the piece (I sat at my desk and watched this video and thought it would be fun to have friends who would play a drinking game with me) :

 http://vimeo.com/9752986

Also read Jason Sheehan’s Dirty Cooking. S’ok. Another chefs/kitchen people are punk rock chemically unbalanced fuck ups with an amazing penchant for fantastic food. The similarities in life stories, band name dropping, drug use, etc. pretty much felt like re-reading Kitchen Confidential. So, if you enjoyed KC, you’ll like it. I suppose his twist, as he often reminds us in the book, is that his isn’t a story of kitchen success. He works at Waffle House and then writes for newspapers. Can’t get his line of cutlery at Kohl’s. I did learn that a shot of olive oil before drinking wine can be helpful…but otherwise – I mean, it wasn’t disappointing, just nothing new or…terribly exciting.

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