I’m back in Perth now. Have been since a couple of…
I’m back in Perth now. Have been since a couple of days ago. Simon and I are pretty much just hanging around the house. The flight from Sydney was uneventful, my favorite kind as Jim Northrup would say. As we passed over the south coast of the Great Australian Bight, the water was so clear I could see the bottom several kilometers out from the white sand beaches. Later, as we approached Perth, we flew through a thick column of smoke eminating from a large bushfire.
At the airport I discovered that my ATM card was not working, so I had to use my credit card to pay for the cab. For some strange reason, taxis here have a deep enmity for the VIsa corporation, so I had to resort to the “Hero Card” I got when I was in the army. The cabbie looked at my signature and asked “What language is that?”
“Chinese,” I replied. He gave me the familiar once-over, trying to ascertain whether I had appeared Chinese before and he just hadn’t noticed. After concluding that his previous impression of me as Not Chinese was not in fact erroneous, he went on to comment on the fact.
“It’s a long story. Have a nice day,” I said as I exited the cab.
Yesterday I watched four movies in a row on Simon’s DVD player: Being John Malkovich, Trainspotting, The Crow and Dead Man.
Being John Malkovich was a clever idea poorly executed, I thought. While the facination with the interesting plotline nearly manages to steal one’s attention throughout most of the movie, the utter lack of character development creates an empty feeling one cannot ignore by the end of the film. I have to admit, though, that at one point when I was working for the newspaper, I did in fact look quite a bit like John Cusack’s character. I also have to admit that the name Spike Jonze sounds just plain silly.
Trainspotting was more interesting, with real character arcs and spunky editing. I appreciated the brutal honesty of the flick ensured by solid perfomances. Another guilty admittance: I had to turn on the subtitles to understand nearly everything Begbie was saying.
The Crow was, unfortunately, not displayed in its original widescreen format, so I didn’t get a chance to appreciate the cinematography. The crappy editing nearly ruined the film, though, and the job was almost but not quite finished by the bizarre plotline, which induced a feeling akin to passing an autonobile accident. I just couldn’t look away, but it wasn’t a pretty sight.
Dead Man was good, meaty cinema, but overlong I think for most audiences, which includes me. Granted, it was the fouth film I had seen in one afternoon, but even not considering that it seemed long and repetitious. Gary Farmer was, as always, excellent, and we even get to see another glimpse of his nekkid butt, the first such view since he did Powwow Highway.
Later today we’re going to drive out to wine country and get drunk. No! We’re just going to have a couple, honest! I hear there will be chocolate involved as well, and perhaps cheese. After that we’re going to go see The Man who Sued God, starring Billy Connelly.
