While the cat's away -- or in this case, PJ's in Boston -- the mouse gets to watch films. I even ventured out of the house to our local cinema to catch an early-evening screening of Juno. I sat watching the numerous car ads (and btw Jaguar, I'm not sure it's a good idea to create an ad that makes me feel queasy; cit ertainly puts me off the car) and generally enjoying the civilised ambience that abounds in a Winchester cinema at 6.30. Just as the credits started, however, two teenage (?) girls came in late, sat down next to me, and proceeded to chat loudly. And then SMS their friends through the film. And rummage through their bags for stuff. The chap in front was so irritated by them kicking their feet against the back of his chair that he moved -- and I should have done the same, but preferred to feel righteously indignant instead. Despite this, I enjoyed the film. I'd be somewhat leary of seeing it: the writer, Diablo Cody, contributes to a forum that I frequent, so I'd followed the gestation/filming/promotion/reviews/awards and subsequent backlash in some detail and was kind of tired of it before going. However, it was entertaining: definitely a "woman's" film but in a good way -- (non-exclusively) female concerns handled in a sympathetic and amusing fashion, and with no sense of women as mere adjuncts to men or humourless deniers of male fun and freedom. Sweet.
Friday night saw another stab at Hammer, this time Dracula, Prince of Darkness. Readers, I've tried, I really have, but I just don't like Hammer films much. This one was not particularly gory or scary or sexy or funny. It was mildly interesting as a period piece but even that palls after about 20 minutes. Christopher Lee didn't appear for ages, and when he did he was silent! In the accompanying documentary, he reveals that he thought the dialogue for Dracula was so appalling that he refused to say it -- a silent protest, if you will. His hand acting was marvellous though, reminiscent of the finest hand work on The Addams Family. Still, not enough to save this from being really rather tedious.
Another period piece, but far from tedious, was Possessed -- Joan Crawford as a crazy-in-love stalker who murders a thoroughly dislikeable Van Heflin when he spurns her advances. A typical 1940s medical drama, complete with spurious and ludicrous diagnoses and treatments, this contained Joan Crawford at her finest -- all massive shoulder pads, stern jaw, and over-emoted hysteria. It's by no means a classic, but there are some interesting narrative tricks and Joan really gives her all. Much more fun than Dracula!
What's coming up this week? Pan's Labyrinth in class tomorrow, and then I'm going to press on with the Hammer box set, but this time with Bette Davis in The Nanny. Then another Joan Crawford -- Humoresque? -- followed by a much more upbeat William Powell/Myrna Loy flick. I feel I ought to see There Will Be Blood, but the thought of three hours of Daniel Day Lewis chewing scenery is more than I can bear right now.
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