Monday, September 28, 2009



Yesterday I watched "Serpico" for the first time. The third film in an unintentional Netflix trilogy featuring "The French Connection" and "Get Carter"--70's grit, with Pacino demolishing the Age of Aquarius as a finale. All three of these films seem to have contributed to what we now take for granted in cop shows, cop movies, and so on. So much dark water under the bridge at this point that the stand-up idealism of "Serpico" almost seemed stock, or wooden...but his performance sparked it. And all of the character actors in the movie make it special as well. I would add "The Killing of a Chinese Bookie" to this, and make it a quartet.

Konking hard today with a cold, watching Anthony Bourdain eat pigeon in Egypt.

We saw "Julie and Julia" yesterday. I liked it alot, though it came close to feeling like an episode of "Mad About You" grafted onto a pitch-perfect biopic w/ Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci doing all the work. (In Dante's coldest circle of hell, "Mad About You" is the only thing on TV.) Feeling puny but wanting to cook something, I came home and made mashed potatoes w/ one clove of garlic and a bay leaf, half a stick of butter, half and half, and tons of black pepper. What's up with pubs calling mashed potatoes "smashers" or "mashers"? (Has "turbo-accelerated spudular units" been taken? By Devo, maybe.) This went real good with a bucket of KFC. And if you are sick at home with a cold, that last piece of cold fried chicken the next day is like a beam of light shining down from Heaven. Thank you Colonel, can you use your juice to promote free-range KFC?

With some time to groom my Netflix list today, I got a little jammed up by Too Many Choices Syndrome and ended up googling "Pauline Kael's favorite movies," "classic Greek cinema," and so forth. I harvested a number of movies off Steve T's list, including the Jackass "Tribute to Evil Knievel" movie. Maybe I should take a class. I took one at LCC once but all the movies were so damn depressing I stopped going. I guess I was in kind of a deep funk at that particular time in my life, and Swedish art movies about sexual abuse and suicide weren't needed as much as, say, joining the gym or eating more fresh fruits and vegetables.
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