I almost managed to avoid the Notting Hill carnival this weekend. ALMOST. Actually, it was all very typical for a three day weekend. I partied far too much and I feel like crap today. I gave my phone number to two guys, *both* of whom called me, and *neither* of whom I was remotely interested in. That's the third time I've done it in as many weeks and it really must stop. Charlie was the unlucky fellow on Friday night, but hell, I was drunk, people kept giving me lines of coke, and he was probably the most interesting guy there. We had been talking for quite a while and getting on well and then, suddenly, out of the blue, he says to me, "So, shall we go back to your apartment?"
People don't tend to surprise me, but sometimes they do shock me. I was all, where did *that* come from? I've barely even been flirting with him and as a general rule, I don't make plans to go home with someone I haven't even *kissed* yet. So I struggle to think of a reasonable way to reject him and come up with, "I don't think so."
Awkward silence. (He looks kind of annoyed or embarrassed and maybe thinks I was leading him on, which is just funny.)
"I have to pee!" I say, and flee.
I guess that's why I gave him my number - I sort of felt sorry for him. Oh, and he found me amusing, which I like. Why he actually called after all that is beyond me.
Hamish and I watched three movies yesterday.
Which confirmed Will Smith's place as my Favourite Actor, or rather as the actor who I love an unreasonable amount more than other actors because he just *seduces* me every time I see him no matter how shitty the film is. The film opens with him getting out of bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, and he is buff. Huge and perfect. I don't even normally like really muscly guys, but on a 6 foot something, ridiculously sexy black man, I'm all over it. Then a shower scene, with Will Smith *naked* and I'm already planning to buy the film for my DVD collection. Yeah, so what if the ending is shmaltzy and dumb? Will Smith gets his kit off and that's all I need to know.
Requiem for a Dream (spoilers)
Alright the only reason I got this film out is because so many people had told me how amazing and brilliant it was.
I have GOT to stop listening to people.
For starters, it's about a bunch of fucking junkies, all of whom get their comeuppance (for being junkies) in various revolting ways, including a limb amputation, insanity, and the performing of a lesbian sex show for a bunch of braying, suited creeps. The message, I guess, is, "Drugs are bad, m'kay." Not an original, truthful or appealing idea for a movie, quite frankly. Everyone who liked this film warned me about how grim it was, but it didn't even touch the sides of my emotion cup. When so much of the film is patently ridiculous - the batty old woman who gets addicted to diet pills because doctors today just don't care enough (the doctor in question didn't look at her once before prescribing the pills. Ooh, subtle) - why the hell am I supposed to care when she gets her brain fried later by similarly cartoony doctors? If you're going to populate your film with over the top caricatures doing unrealistic things, and then expect the audience to take the heavy stuff seriously, at least be making a fucking decent point. I don't think I've loathed a film this much in a long time.
And what doubly winds me up is my flatmates who get this condescending tone in their voices, and say things like, "yeah, I'm not surprised *you* didn't like it," just because it's a depressing independent film with a hideous, intrusive soundtrack. Pete is convinced of the following: Art House Good; Hollywood Baaaad. An attitude that makes me want to smack him upside his head. I mean, I know I have superior taste in film to those guys, but it's hard to tell somebody that and have them believe you.
Still hate Jennifer Connolly. Natch.
Now we're talking. Perhaps the only sequel ever I prefer (by a long way) to the original. On second viewing I appreciated it even more: the perfect story arc, the humour, the performances, the spidey suit (by far the best of all the superhero costumes). Tobey Maguire. Then, of course, I had to listen to Pete and Hamish say that it wasn't as good as Requiem for a Dream (just because it's a blockbuster, not because either of them are even able to think about films intellectually). Idiots.