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Sunday, July 24, 2005

I abandoned my attempts at keeping a "hard copy" journal almost as soon as I started. I'm hopeful that this may prove more compulsive.

The South in my title refers to south Dublin, Ireland incidentally; south of the Liffey, the hopelessly inflated, unreal estate comprising much of Dun Laoghaire, Mt Merrion, Stillorgan, Blackrock... where I was raised and continue to live.

Yesterday evening I went to a movie with a couple of friends, SILVER CITY, directed by John Sayles. I had read a lukewarm review which turned out to have been ridiclously generous. The thing was terrible, the worst I've seen since NAPOLEON DYNAMITE (which invited us to giggle at the antics of a gawky adolescent who acted and spoke like someone whose attic was wholly empty); a painfully slow unveiling of dastardly deeds in the background of a republican candidate (clearly a take-off of Bush Jr). The lead actor was an amazingly uninspired choice, a certain Danny Huston (half-brother of Angelica, son of John, grandson of Walter, etc.), who looked and spoke like one of those particularly badly carved wooden actors from the 1950s, Victor Mature or Ronald Reagan; he even had a kiss-curl drooping from his not-too-greasy, not-too-touseled hair. His vast wardrobe of facial expressions seemed to consist of either:

the passionate/determined Nice Guy (a jutting, clamped jaw)
or
the cutely baffled/okay shucks let's fuck Nice Guy (arched, squinched eyebrows and a tendency to flash a "handsome" toothy grin)

The supporting actors were good, especially Dreyfuss, playing the Karl Roveish spin-doctor, and Daryl Hannah, who was lovely to watch, a languidly dangerous Amazonian practicing her archery. It was utterly unbeliavable that she would ever find Danny "cute", or that he would even believe that she does (turns out she doesn't really, but that's beside the point, the damage had been done and the disbelief unsuspended); as for the beautiful Maria Bello, his gorgeous, far-too-intelligent-looking ex girlfriend, yearning to hook up with him again... nyeh!

We finally walked out before it finished, something we hadn't done since we became depressed halfway through the terribly earnest WINGS OF DESIRE. This time, alas, we had left it too late: the credits began to roll before we reached the door.




posted by Southsider at 5:45 PM 0

2 comments:

Poet Bloggs said...

Where have the irish blogging poets gone? Both you and Peter seem to have given up.

pb.

Poet Bloggs said...
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