Movie Trailers
One of my favorite things in the world is to sit in the movie theater, finishing up my box Junior Mints and Hot Tamales (I mean, who really manages to keep their food around past the trailers in the movies? Except with that jumbo tub of popcorn, maybe, but even then..) and get that green screen that announces the next movie trailer... I can hit apple's site for them on my laptop, and here a few that caught my eye.
Kinsey Don't ask me what is really about, but after studying this kind of thing in college, it makes my heart tingle.
Garden State Zach Braff wrote, directed and stars in his movie. I have been kinda following him since him since his geek-turned-gym-bunny-turned-OD-druggy Benji in Broken Hearts Club. And who can resist the song in the background: the Postal Service from Such Great Heights
Collateral Tom Cruise as a serial killer. And with gray hair. Nuff said.
1 Comments:
Of course, it will not escape any of the regular readers of Roughgroove that Roughgroove himself is going grey at a young age. Let's hope that this identification does not betoken that Roughgroove is in imminent danger of becoming either a serial killer or a Scientologist.
And yet who am I, mere Patitos, to talk? The last two times I was in the movie house and had serious identification issues with the protagonist were The Fluffer and Chuck and Buck. (I recall seeing Chuck and Buck with Roughgroove, in fact, as well as with the Scarlett Harlot and her boyfriend Peanut Butter and Jeremy; Scarlett turned to me as we walked out the theater and said, "That was an admirable piece of film-making with subtle psychological depth. Now let us never mention it again." As for The Fluffer, it is just conceivable that the reason that I bought a DVD player last year was when I realized that the local, relatively well-stocked, video store would only be shelving The Fluffer in DVD format.)
Thus it seems churlish of me to complain of Roughgroove's possible --just possible!-- egomania issues, when, conversely, it has been clearly demonstrated that my own self-esteem can only be measured in angstroms.
Perhaps that would be an unusual superpower that it would be worthwhile to have (see previous blog entries): to boost or lower other people's self-esteem with a zap from one's hands, like a stage magician. I could call myself Captain Prozac, or Super Doctor Phil. But probably even if I had that power (see how my low self-esteem kicks in?), I would be compulsively unable to control it, and have to flip a coin before I faced each foe, like Two-Face; then I could wear '60s psychedelia and call myself the Mood Swinger--
patitos
8:24 PM
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