Suzy Says

And then again, sometimes it’s not.

All the critics have been drooling over Punch Drunk Love, the latest movie from the brilliant Paul Thomas Anderson. I love Boogie Nights, a completely perfect movie of its kind, and expected to like the new one, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone to see it in the theater, since there are so many annoyances inherent in movie-going (you have to go when they feel like showing the movie; you have to pay; you can’t pause it; there are other people there; you have to more or less sit up the whole time). But it turned out to be the first movie we actually walked out on in some time (the debate continues as to whether we actually left Leaving Las Vegas or just wanted to).

All the things that worked in Boogie Nights didn’t in this effort. The harsh SoCal light just made everything and everyone look horrible – and yes, I realize I’m shallow, but everyone looked absolutely terrible in this movie. If I were Emily Watson, I’d be first in line when the botox clinic opened. The story, such as it was, meandered aimlessly, things and devices that should have been funny weren’t even remotely, and it tried so hard to be hip and arty that I just felt embarrassed for everyone involved. Finally, the scene where Sandler and Watson start having sex made us flee before it quelled every urge we’d ever have for the rest of our lives. John restored himself with a cigarette while I restored myself at Mac.

I am one of the world’s slowest learners, but I have finally learned this: if the critics like it, I’ll probably hate it. And vice versa. And no matter what they say, I should just see it for myself and make up my own mind, even if I have to wait for it to be on HBO.

Yesterday, Rufus and I decided to see Jim Carrey’s new movie, “The Majestic”. With its majestic running time of two and a half hours, we figured it would definitely help pass the time and take our minds off our troubles, in the time-honored way of movies since their invention.

It was quite eerie walking to the movie theater. We left the house at 9:30 a.m., and the streets, other than a few scattered, die-hard joggers, were almost competely deserted. So was the theater at 1000 Van Ness; there were only five people ahead of us in line and possibly six people seeing the movie besides us.

1000 Van Ness used to be a Cadillac showroom in the 1920’s and 1930’s, but it was vacant for years and years, its original splendor gradually decaying over decades of disuse. It was renovated in 1998 and converted into movie theaters, a gym, and apartments. The character and beauty of the building was preserved as much as possible, including the adorable bears who have been guarding the facade for nearly 80 years. Here is one of the bears before the renovation, and here he is after.

So it was quite nice to go to a movie featuring the restoration of a movie palace in such a place. Also, most of the film had been shot where my brother and sister live, Mendocino and Fort Bragg, and it was fun for me to identify the various locales. When the film was being shot, it caused great inconvenience to the locals, particularly when the film crew closed off the only bridge into or out of Mendocino for an important scene. My brother told me that although Jim Carrey was well-liked, the residents objected to the fact that the filmmakers brought all their own extras and carpenters and even flag wavers (for traffic control). The area is used frequently for movies and TV shows — “Murder She Wrote” was filmed there for years — and normally, locals are used for some extra work and carpentry. So the fact that this crew didn’t use any local talent at all definitely made them less popular around town.

Despite this, and the long running time, it’s a wonderful movie. It would be easy and obvious to categorize it as Capra-esque, but it’s more than that. The outline is that Carrey’s character is a blacklisted Hollywood screenwriter in the days of the McCarthy hearings, who has a car accident outside a small Northern California town and wakes up with amnesia. He looks a lot like a local boy who went missing in WWII, and has to decide if he will accept the identity of the missing boy, or not, and the film then follows what happens after his decision.

I’m afraid it will get trounced at the box office by the current fantasy blockbusters and those films appealing to the lowest common denominator, and those who think of Jim Carrey as nothing more than Ace Ventura won’t give it a chance. But he gives a subtle, emotional, and excEt performance in this film. He is the heart and soul of it. Supporting him is a great cast, including Martin Landau and James Whitmore, and of course, the beautiful scenery of the coast.

It’s been too depressing inside and outside to update this for the past few days. All tragedy and no comedy makes for a boring little blog, n’est-ce pas?

It’s been pouring ever since Friday afternoon. Our (fortunately hilly) street looks like a young river, with the water rushing down it faster than the cars, and the area outside our building’s basement is flooded. The power has been out for two days where my brother and sister live, so everyone’s been congregating chez Jonathan, because he has a generator. I can imagine them all sitting by the fire, playing cards and listening to my old Atwater Kent radio. They could be living 50 years ago.

Here the wind is howling outside, so strong that there are warnings about crossing the bridges. There are high surf advisories, too, and the rain just keeps on coming. It’s dark all day, so we have just curled up with the cats and watched Stephen King miniseries. Yesterday, it was the appropriate Storm of the Century and today, The Stand is our scheduled matin?e. It’s probably an upopular view, but I’d rather have this Charles Addams type of weather (the caption to this cartoon is “Just the kind of day that makes you feel good to be alive”) when it’s the weekend and going out into the elements is optional. I hate being at work all day in storm-tossed attire. Damp nylons are especially unenjoyable. So I hope the storm goes to spread the wealth somewhere else by tomorrow morning. In the meantime, it’s showtime!