So it’s like this: We did not go to the Paolo Nutini show last night. I might as well come right out and say it. Oh, we WENT. We just didn’t get IN. It’s a sad tale of a sold out show, and a publicist for Atlantic Records who was supposed to have my husband’s name on the list, and who did not.
These things happen. Look, I had a bad feeling when we got in line, and because this year has made me used to disappointment, I was pissed for about 60 seconds, tops. Life goes on, we have lots more great shows coming this fall, and I told hub – lock that shit down.
And I had him send an e-mail to the publicist. Who apologized, but who cares? Too late, water under the bridge.
Speaking of water, the bathroom sink and dishwasher both sprung leaks this weekend. Both were taken care of yesterday by our patient super. However, my back left molar’s crown has sprung a leak as well, sort of metaphorically speaking, and I have to go to the dentist tomorrow. The pain, it comes and goes. Right now, it’s gone. I’m hoping it might be a re-cement issue; the thought of a root canal fills my brain and my wallet with the tinglies.
However, this Saturday, when I was in abject tooth pain, and husband was at a concert he DID get into, I sat down and re-watched two movies from the 90s on the Encore channel that I had forgotten how much I loved.
First up was The Freshman, the Marlon Brando/Matthew Broderick comedy. You know, that stuff with the Komodo dragon still kills me after all these years. Fact: it takes a lot to make me laugh, but watching Bert Parks sing “Here he comes, your Komodo dragon” does it. I used to walk around the house singing that to my mother for months. And for my money freaky freaky Maximilian Schell steals the movie. (And he is an Oscar winner….)
I wish I could find a clip, but there’s a scene of Marlon Brando ice skating with a woman in a rink that is one of the most graceful, sweet images I think I’ve seen on film. It only lasts a split second, but as I told Jon, it demonstrates why I love ice dance, and why I love cinema, so much.
After that, as my tooth continued to throb, I decided to make it a double feature and rewatch Howards End. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t viewed it again since 1992, and I found it held up beautifully.
I know, as time has gone by, critics have come to dismiss a bit the work of Merchant/Ivory. But there is no denying this was their masterpiece, and I say that not just as someone who read the work in high school, long before it was a glint in their eyes for adaptation, but as someone who can look back 17 years and say, “damn, that held up well.” Hard to believe the beauty on the screen was done for only $8 million, and financing almost fell through halfway through filming. Try that, Transformers.
And frankly, I miss seeing Emma Thompson in performances like these. She was so sublime in this role, the one good, intelligent person in a sea of selfish idiots. Gah! I want her back on the screen, stat. I miss her so.
Jon and I got in it last night over what Howards End lost best picture to, and I maintained it was Clint’s Unforgiven. Jon wasn’t buying it. Well, honey, I was right, and you can suck it. Never trifle with me over Oscar trivia. If only my entire Jeopardy run had been nothing but Oscar trivia, we’d be living in the Caymans right now, and have a nice Roth IRA waiting for our retirement.
(By the way: I realize this used to be a knitting blog, but frankly, I think those have almost disappeared from the ‘Net. I could never talk about knitting all day, anyway. But I will have some pretty yarn a lovely person sent me to show off, as soon as it stops raining and I can photograph it. And if the tropical storm doesn’t hit us. And we don’t spring another leak).