Suzy Says

I have nothing better to do while I’m waiting for my roots to complete the enhancing process (my hair color is brought to you by the folks at Wella (an American Classic, just like me), than tell you what I did on Saturday.

It was a piquant mixture of duty and pleasure. Started the day off by going up to my Mom ‘s place in Petaluma, about 35 miles away. We brought the Beaujolais Nouveau for Thanksgiving dinner; the heavy object I’m giving my bro for Christmas (so I don’t have to mail it at vast expense and annoyance); and two pies. We traded all these for what was behind Door Number Two: an antique clock in desperate need of repair. I spent most of last week locating someone in England to repair, appraise and ship the 250+ year old grandfather clock I inherited, so now all I have to do is find someone in San Francisco to do the same for this one, which should be quite easy in comparison. Maybe I am developing a new talent.

I have discovered the key to dealing with my mother: bring John with me. She is much less likely to put me down or insult me or yell at me or complain or similar if he is there. So I brought him and voil&agrave! No yelling. However, we did have to move around most of her furniture so we ended up sweaty and dusty. But she was very grateful and couldn’t have done it herself, so she was Nice Mom, which was great.

After doing all this, we headed home, fed the cats, and then went out to the nearby Metro, a charming Art Deco theater serving the neighborhood since 1924, to see The Ring. We were both annoyed by the ads that preceded the movie – for cars, etc., not just for popcorn or even telling us to hush up and behave; when did this horrifying trend start? – and by the fact that the art of the trailer seems to be lost. They are now like Cliffs Notes for movies – you already know everything that happens in the movie, so why bother to go? The single exception was the trailer for Dreamcatcher, which was what it should be: just enough to get you interested.

But The Ring was worth the wait, and about a thousand times better than I expected. The premise is essentially that if you watch a certain videotape, you will die within a week. Sounds lame, but it was fantastic. Stylish, spooky, suspenseful, unpredictable, and I don’t know what was better: the beautiful photography, the excEt writing (no dead space here), or the story. Even the fact that the lead actress bore an unsettling resemblance to the toxic Jeri Ryan (currently destroying Boston Public) could ruin the movie. Also, this girl could actually act, unlike the talent-free Ryan, who runs the gamut of emotion from A to A (to paraphrase Dorothy Parker) and whose idea of acting is to stare vapidly into the camera. But I digress. In short, it’s a small jewel, a minor masterpiece. Go see it. And I’ll try not to think about how I, too, have seen the fatal tape.