Friday, September 19, 2008
I should always listen to Anthony.
(Sorry about Cake Tuesday. Got sidetracked with medical-related nonsense that I won't go into just yet; I'll make it up to you with TWO cakes next week, promise. In the meantime, a friend sent this link to these unbelievable Russian cakes - enjoy!)
I went into Burn after Reading with high hopes - the previews looked hilarious and the cast was terrific. Ok, so The New Yorker panned it. But I thought maybe just this once they were wrong. Unfortunately they never, ever are. (Here's Anthony Lane's review of the newly released The Women, and I have to agree with him, including his assessment of other chick flicks from this summer...) I don't think he's ever raved about a movie that I've hated, or hated a movie that I loved. I'll learn.
The character development in Burn was nonexistent, nearly every person was unlikable, and I just don't get the humor in ridiculous acts of violence (although Pulp Fiction, somehow, managed both). There's a scene in Fargo that STILL gives me chills to think about, when Frances McDormand's character (I think?) is stumbling around with a bag on her head, and I remember the audience laughing uproariously. The same thing happened during the last scene with Richard Jenkins' character in Burn. What am I missing?
I'm not anti-Coen brothers. I adored Raising Arizona - so quirky and innocent, and O Brother, and absolutely think last year's Oscar wins were deserved. No Country was one of the darkest, most elegantly disturbing movies ever made. But this movie was just awful, and I want my ninety-seven minutes back.