17 – Zero Dark Thirty – Bigelow is fearless
18 – Heartburn – dated and diluted
19 – Safety Not Guaranteed – good till end
20 – Game Change – possibilities truly frightening
21 – Savages – captures siblings, disappointment
22 – Religulous – what you’d expect
23 – Tucker and Dale vs Evil – clever horror twist
24 – Identity Thief – slapstick done well
25 – Youth in Revolt – unlikable, unfunny, unsympathetic
26 – Cabaret – wish color held
27 – The Trip – just too British
28 – The Iron Lady – conservatives, alzheimers, conviction
I know. Dude – I KNOW. One movie the whole month. And I didn’t even realize I’d forgotten to post my one measly movie from February until I just read Raul’s post where he acknowledges a January posting in March. Oh crap – it’s March!
I could blame the lousy Smarch weather. The storm that dumped on Raul earlier this week is now actually snowing one inch an hour today here. I could say I was busier with work. I have been busier and have had to manage my time more. But the real reason is happier, sappier and a real time hog but delightfully so.
I know, it’s March. I haven’t slacked off on my screen time. It’s been winter, after all. I just need to catch up with accounting for my hours.
Louis C.K. All Chewed Up: This is one of Mr. Lousy’s picks. I mostly enjoyed the stand-up, and it does make me appreciate his television show more. As much as he manages to offend, he usually turns his aim back on himself. (2008)
The Scalphunters: Where to begin? I can’t fathom a summary, so I’ll just run down the cast of this 1968 Sydney Pollack western. Burt Lancaster is an illiterate, hard-drinking fur trapper. Ossie Davis is a highly educated runaway slave finagling his way to Mexico. Telly Savalas is the hard-drinking leader of a band of outlaw scalphunters, and though they massacre Indians, I don’t believe there was scalping. Savalas wears a giant onesie pair of light pink underwear in most of the film. Shelley Winters plays his blowsy, hardscrabble hard-drinking whore companion in an outrageous blonde wig. Can I really ask for more in a cast? The film was slow, but the acting energetic throughout. One scene, involving Lancaster dumping something like peyote into a horses’ watering hole, did bring the film truly alive for about ten minutes. Otherwise, I was focused delightedly on the four leads getting drunk and screaming at one another.
Jane Eyre: British series from 1983. I confess that I’m mostly watching for Timothy Dalton, but I’m enjoying it. And I’m not close to finished, even in March. Mr. Rochester is being a complete dick. I must make a note to watch the ’96 Zefferelli version with Charlotte Gainsbourg and William Hurt; and then the ’11 Cary Fukunaga one with Michael Fassbender trying to overcome unattractive facial hair.
Marwencol: Documentary (2010) by Jeff Malmberg about a man, Mark Hogancamp, nearly beaten to death in a bar and left severely brain damaged. He pieces his life back together as he creates a make-believe Belgian town in World War II, while the audience puts their own pieces together as they are doled out to us. By the ending, I’m surprised and overjoyed.
¡I loved Marwencol!
WWII soldiers agog at the Witch of Marwencol.
Nikita: Still season two, still not as good as season one, though they managed to add a younger male lead who was neither bland nor repugnant. I’m enjoying some of the back story we’re getting, especially as it enhances rather than contradicts what came before. Alias, I’m looking at you.
Shut Up Little Man!: Maybe I’m the target audience for this 2011 documentary by Matthew Bate about the sordid lives of two San Francisco alcoholics whose existence seemed predicated on shouting hateful epithets at each other during almost every waking minute. Their terrified but clever slacker neighbors began taping them using a cassette deck, ushering in an era of underground fascination with the real life skid row characters of Peter and Raymond. I’m the target because I was part of the 1990s cassette phenomenon; my boyfriend from S.F. introduced me to the audio, and by the time I heard, “You giggle falsely!” as an invective, I was sold for life. Or so I thought.
It’s curious to see this now. I’m not so interested in what happened to Raymond and Peter. I assumed that they came to a sad end and they did. More fascinating was the story behind how the underground phenomenon was built, and how original fans now in their middle age look back and re-experience their window, or microphone, into the pathetic, grindingly joyless world of two degenerate, hardcore alcoholics. Not for all tastes or all moods.
How It’s Made: Science series about how shit gets made. I quit after one piece about aluminum foil, mainly because I had about seven questions they had to answer for me and failed in the short spot that they got. They need to give a science editor more say. Maybe I just started with the wrong episode. I do know that aluminum foil requires a lot of heat and gigantic rolls. There’s something I retained after two months.
The Brother from Another Planet: John Sayles’ 1984 castaway alien comedy/drama set in NYC with loads of racial overtones. The Brother, a mute Joe Morton, carries a lot of the film, observing and experiencing racial dynamics as an alien with the appearance of an African American man. The final minute or so pulls the story together with a single hand gesture – melding pun to analogy and history to future. This one was also rather slow, but a smart mix of heavy and light. It’s one that I’d watch again.
Archer: Still season two. I’m pacing myself as I could easily blow through an entire season on a self-imposed snowbound day. Like today.
The Sarah Silverman Program: Still the first season. It’s fun but a little cynical for me.
Mad Men: Season Three. Spellbinding as always. I fear I could watch an entire series just based on the relationship between Sally Draper and her doddering, angry, loving grandfather.
Reel Injun: This prompted me to select The Scalphunters (see above), which actually only used American Indians as bookends to the story. The 2009 documentary traces the depiction of Native Americans from silent films through the present day, capping it with a stunning segment from film made by a one of a new line of indigenous directors. The most bizarre part was about the actor who played the Indian who cried while beholding pollution in a series of environmental advertisements in the seventies. I recognized him as a professional Indian, which he passed himself off as throughout his career, even though he was born Sicilian! He gets a surprisingly sympathetic treatment in the film. We also get to hear from Sacheen Littlefeather. I’d really only heard about her accepting/refusing Brando’s Oscar. Now I got to hear her account of the event.
***
Elektra Luxx: Moments of inspired lunacy. Sebastian Gutierrez directs his girlfriend, Carla Gugino, as a former porn star, now pregnant and panicking. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is the porn aficionado who provides some narrative cohesion through his highly entertaining porn vlog, which he apparently shoots in his mother’s attic. Gutierrez thanks Almodovar in the credits, so maybe envision Almodovar taking an interest in a multi-threaded story centered on a pregnant porn star and there you have it. This 2010 movie was preceded by the 2009 film Women in Trouble, also written by Gutierrez. I have that in the queue.
The Air I Breathe: Intolerable shit from 2007. According to imdb, director Jieho Lee went to Harvard Business School to appease his parents while he set his sights on becoming a film director. Mr. Lee should apply to a Fortune 500 company and never make another film ever again. I was drawn in by the cast, and while I did enjoy Forest Whitaker playing against type in the first of several segments, the story was simply so pretentious and the direction so heavy-handed that I had to cry mercy and switch it off. This means that I completely dodged the segment about a fading pop star – named Sorrow. Maybe to Sarah Michelle Gellar, this looked good on paper. But seriously, Sorrow? This should go on my Raúl Cries Uncle list because I just couldn’t go through with it. I’m not that strong.
So yeah – January 2013 movies posted on Feb 16. Well at least it’s not February 28.
1 – Freakonomics – Nerds make infotainment
2 – My Week with Marilyn – Redmayne bugs me
3 – Coco Before Chanel – Does Tatou age?
4 – Gaslight – suave manipulation handbook
5 – Little Women – was Jo happy?
6 – Elmer Gantry – is fervor faith?
7 – Garden State – bit too cute
8 – Contagion – hysterical hypochondriac fodder
9 – The Hobbit – I liked it!
10 – Hanna – Atonement director surprises
11 – Out of the Past – noir on overdrive
12 – Thor – Not too bad
13 – Captain America – surprisingly charming heroics
14 – Bottle Shock – tradition vs passion
15 – 2046 – couldn’t finish it
Yes you read that right. I could not finish 2046. It’s beautiful. And confusing. Maybe I’m too dumb to get it or maybe too impatient. Probably a little of both. Even though I really shouldn’t put a movie I didn’t finish on the list, I feel the number of times I tried to watch the damn thing merits a spot.
For your consideration: Joe Keenan’s 1988 screwball comedic novel Blue Heaven for the screen. But how? When to set it? With whom?
After Mr. Lousy’s reading list was published, followed by the shocking (to Lousy) revelation that Doris W and I had dined with the book’s author Joe Keenan, I dug around the house for my own dog-eared paperback copy, which I found nestled between some film review compilations by Pauline Kael.
I re-read the novel (personally autographed – I had no idea that I’d brought it to dinner!) for the first time in 20 years, and perhaps as my copy spent at least a decade on a shelf fermenting with Pauline Kael, I have been wondering why the story never found its way onto a screen.
I do believe that this came up during dinner, though I don’t remember the specifics being discussed. Joe Keenan has gone on to have a career writing for TV, so surely an adaptation must have been floated at some point, and just as surely he himself must have been considered to write or supervise the script. What happened?
It’s the screwball comedy that the eighties never rightfully got. Until the late nineties, I doubt a gay screwball comedy would have gotten produced. Ellen and Will & Grace had some paving to do, and even now, Steven Soderbergh couldn’t get his Liberace pic a distributor (too gay) and had to turn to HBO to get it produced. I imagine cable is where I would prefer Blue Heaven to take shape: where the story could stay truest to form.
And by true to form, I wonder if that means setting it in the eighties. I can envision an easy update to 2013, a 25-year jump from 1988, the year it was originally published. But will it lose any charm? Or could the late eighties give it a good shot at a fun period piece without sending it over the top into campy nostalgia?
1980s-specifics that struck me upon re-reading Blue Heaven:
Cocaine! While rather casual in use, the drug does factor heavily into the denouement with The Duchess. Ecstasy too!
No smart phones. Any shift to the present day would entail some re-writes to carry plot twists that would have been cut dead by ubiquitous smart phones, not to mention Skype.
Italian mafia. This seems a little dated even for ’88, though we hadn’t even been subjected yet to The Godfather III, which sort of put the nail in the coffin for me. Now a Mexican drug cartel might work better, but making the dynamics comedic would be daunting.
The art and the fashion: both are outlandish and satired in the book. The outlandishness and satire would need new targets for art and fashion, which really wouldn’t be a challenge, for although both are always changing, both always offer a generous field for target practice.
One NY 1980s-specific not found in the book was any mention whatsoever to AIDS. When I turned up in NY around 1990, it was completely inescapable. Maybe AIDS doesn’t have a place in screwball comedy, and maybe in 1988 gays needed a respite, but in retrospect, the absence of any reference is striking, more so now than then.
I do believe at our dinnerJoe Keenan brought up casting, though I don’t know that he made any specific recommendations. Now they would all have to be shifted at any rate. Maybe some of the same players, but in different roles to account for the quarter century elapsed.
Some characters would need to be cut for time, but some simply can’t be sacrificed. So please consider who might take on:
Gilbert – The part has the now typed, put-upon, barely-coping-surrounded-by-disfunction, grimacing-but-going-along-with-it Jason Bateman from 2003 written all over it. Who’s the 2003 Jason Bateman in 2013?
Philip – Someone has to make a selfish and lazy character magnetic, if not likable.
Moira – Who can cackle with cruelty and still present a winning smile? This one is key.
Claire – I’m going to nominate Melissa McCarthy right outta the gate.
Vulpina – This role can be more cartoonish and demands that presence.
Gunther – See note on Vulpina.
Philip’s naïve mother: Ditsy like Goldie Hawn but not cloying like Goldie Hawn.
Philip’s mafioso stepfather: Murderous, affable, and attractive.
The Duchess!!! (really two characters): I refuse to consider Eric Stonestreet from Modern Family, though I think he would draw an audience. Too easy. Let’s be inventive here!
Freddy Bombelli: the ancient mob boss controlling three families. I don’t want Al Pacino. I don’t need any reminders of The Godfather III. How about Alex Rocco? He’s actually a Godfather veteran (though not of the full trilogy, thankfully), and he played a similar role in the series finale of Party Down. In fact, please review this clip in which he does a Jewish variation on Bombelli, complete with near expiration:
*
As far as directors go, can ban the Glee gay who is branching out in all sorts of horrible directions? Part of me wants to see if Peter Bogdanovich could recapture the glory of What’s Up Doc, because despite nearly everyone else’s opinion to the contrary, I still find it a wondrous ode to 1930s Hollywood screwball comedy. If not him, then let’s see what Tina Fey could pull off. She has proven with 30 Rock to fully accomplished in rapid-fire dialogue set off in pointedly preposterous scenarios, not just week after week, but year after year. Or maybe David O. Russell? He could take the nuttiness of Flirting with Disaster a step further, and though he’s awful to his actors, he’s brilliant with them.
I want to line this up right now! And Mr. Lousy, in case you are thinking of a sequel, bear in mind that I have not yet read Putting on the Ritz or My Lucky Star. They’re newly arrived and waiting on the bookshelf. Next to Pauline Kael.
Bin-hunter and general gleaner Mister Museum recently walked out of the thrift store with gold on his hands: promotional books for low-rent films that ran at his sleazy hometown’s sleazy theater, the Myers, which was demolished in 1977, not long after it resorted to showing children’s films for matinees and porn at night.
Fuck me. This simply could not be improved upon. Janesville, Wisconsin at its peak.
One such film, which strangely falls between these two categories, is Roy Boulting’s Twisted Nerve, a 1968 import of British trash sparkling with seedy sexual compulsions, sickening role play, a nefarious murder plot, and of course, Down’s Syndrome.
Yes, Martin has problems, even worse than this shot suggests, but he’s got a plan!
The film features Hayley Mills jumping from her Disney roles in Pollyanna and The Parent Trap into go-go boots and sordid exploitation, plus Hywell Bennett as a menacing man-boy with a penchant and, let’s face it, a flair for feigning mental retardation. Add in Billie Whitelaw as a sexually transgressive mother and there’s nothing left to do but sit back and let Bernard Herrmann’s score take it away.
Perhaps you know the whistling from the film.
*
Or from Tarantino’s Kill Bill, with Daryl Hannah’s Elle Driver co-opting the tune as well as the shrill stalking.
*
Youtube is currently running the film in its entirety. Don’t miss out!
So this is how it ends. I think my December is a fairly good reflection of all the movies I like – classics, documentaries, heavy dramas, smart comedies and those movies I just never got around to before. I thought about coming up with something insightful and clever about my movie habits. But I don’t feel like it. I’m feeling very optimistic for 2013 and dwelling on 2012 seems antithetical to that purpose.
I will say this – I’ve never kept track of how many or which movies I watch. I always knew I saw more than most but even I am surprised to find that I watched 134 movies. That’s 11.16 movies a month, 2.58 movies a week. I’m surprised I’ve managed to do anything else. Because I know I also watch an awful lot of television and I’d like to think I read a fair amount. As a holiday bonus, I’m listing the books I read this year too. So here it goes – the last list for 2012.
120 – Street Fight – politics + race = scariness
121 – Trespass – Schumacher must stop
122 – 50/50 – not too goofy
123 – Waltz with Bashir – harrowing, frightening, gobsmacked
124 – Mulan (Disney) – cute little dragon
125 – Hitchcock – fun, light, entertaining
126 – Looking for Richard – Pacino’s gross ponytail
127 – The Killers – Lancaster is foxy
128 – Shaun of the Dead – smart, funny z-story
129 – State and Main – so that happened
130 – Lincoln – DDL is god
131 – Skyfall – best Bond cinematography
132 – This is 40 – it kinda is
133 – Life of Pi – reading the book
134 – Central Park Five – depressing power abuse
My Books – 2012 – Don’t Judge, It’s Just a List
1 – My Lucky Star/Joe Keenan
2 – E-Myth/Michael E. Gerber
3 – James and the Giant Peach/Roald Dahl
4 – Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?/Mindy Kaling
5 – The Graveyard Book/Neil Gaiman
6 – Spain/Rick Steves
7 – Tale of Sand/Jim Henson
8 – Shenzhen/Guy Delisle
9 – The Hunger Games/Suzanne Collins
10 – Moneyball/Michael Lewis
11 – Neverwhere/Neil Gaiman
12 – Divergent/Veronica Roth
13 – The Book Thief/Marcus Zusak
14 – Matched/Ally Condie
15 – Insurgent/Veronica Roth
16 – Eat, Pray, Love/Elizabeth Gilbert
17 – American Gods/Neil Gaiman
18 – A Discovery of Witches/Deborah Harkness
19 – Act Like a Man, Think Like a Woman/Steve Harvey
20 – World War Z/Max Brooks
21 – Shadow of Night/Deborah Harkness
22 – Fifty Shades of Grey/EL James
23 – I Feel Bad About My Neck/Nora Ephron
So about 2 books a month. Again, I don’t really know how much other people read but I feel pretty good about that number.
Overall I think 2012 was a better year for movies than 2011 and I generally liked the books I read this year. There are always some stinkers but I finished them all and liked more than I disliked. You can’t really complain about that.
So I have some more work to account for. Also, I have some penance to do for not trying very hard in the face of difficulty.
The Butterfly (Le Papillon): Overly sentimental French film from about ten years ago. Some choice moments between a repressed elderly man and a lower-class child he embarks on an unlikely road trip with. Best exchanges were when one or the other was saying inappropriate things for their age and the other character was left to fumble for a response.
Mad Men: I’m pacing myself through s3. They seem to have begun a new way to close each episode: they finish up with something dreamlike or a conversation that would sum up a theme in a roundabout way – and then cut to a truncated scene with trivial dialogue before rolling closing credits. What is up with that? Just keeping us on our toes?
An X-Men cartoon: I apparently tried to watch this before, forgot about it, and tried to watch it again. Most cartoons are for kids. This was not an exception.
The Stand: I recalled this Stephen King mini-series far more fondly than I re-experienced it. It feels cheap and badly dated for the nineties. I enjoyed Laura San Giacomo as the conflicted damned soul and Rob Lowe as the selfless deaf mute. That last one had to have been a stretch. I wanted more of society collapsing and less silliness concluding with the literal Hand of God saving the day.
Face/Off: I have already discussed my failure in completing this assignment. Abandoned at about the 15:00 mark.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: I quit after three minutes. This was in the middle of my impatience phase. I promise to go back. I saw this in its original run at the theater, though I believe I was bored then as well.
Ghost Fever: Sherman Hemsley passed and I attempted to pay my private respects by watching this eighties show about him as a cop chasing ghosts. I fled after ten minutes.
Creepshow 2: More Stephen King disappointment. I love the original Creepshow and feared this one for good reason. It’s cheap, poorly written, and juvenile, perhaps purposefully, save for all the gore and tits. Still, the gore and tits were most effective in the second installment about potsmoking youths looking for a good time in an off-season lake and finding a very bad time. I cop to liking that installment. I had to resort to housework for the other two parts to push myself through.
The Man Who Fell to Earth: Well, I have never been a big fan of Nicolas Roeg, and this was really a slog for me to finish, but I’m glad I finally checked it off my list. Kudos for the director for managing to get cock shots from David Bowie, Bernie Casey, and Rip Torn! But even I need more than that, and the rest was mostly repetitive and overly indulgent. Maybe the biggest disappointment of the month.
A Town Called Panic: More unfinished business. Too frenzied for me. Sorry, Mr. Lousy.
Slacker: Dismissed after fifteen minutes! I really love Tom Linklater, but not here! I had always heard this was fantastic and a harbinger of greater things to come. I found it extremely uneven and even more unfunny. It smelled like British comedy to me. We know how I feel about that.
Planet of the Vampires: I watched this one from a commenter’s suggestion. It was indeed better than Queen of Blood, but I maintain the latter is more suggestive of Alien. Also, the ending had a wonderful twist that Raúl had not seen coming! Go Mario Bava!
The Group: I watched this twice! Once alone and once with company. It’s slow and all over the place, but fuck is it good. Sidney Lumet knows how to work with actors even when he is making a mediocre adaptation of a Mary McCarthy novel. Attention: Jessica Walter is here, as is a gorgeous Candace Bergen and some lesser known actresses who give great performances. Also, Larry Hagman is on hand as a cad. My first viewing foretold his passing. The second was a sort of tribute. He and Candace Bergen’s closing scene is loaded and years ahead of its time.
Guys and Balls: I watched this as a gay feel-good movie as counter-effect to Making the Boys, about the making of the play/movie, The Boys in the Band. Almost everyone in it died from AIDS in the eighties and I felt despondent, strangely guilty, and in need of a ray of sunshine. This German film about a gay soccer team fit the bill. It was highly formulaic and irritatingly optimistic. In short, it wasn’t very good but I needed the comfort. Mr. Lousy knows how that goes.
A not-as-brief-as-I’d-like rundown of my Netflix streaming. Note: Hulu Plus and Amazon Prime almost merit their own summaries.
Deep Impact: This has not made much of an impact. I’ve been on this one for two weeks and still have almost an hour to go. I just don’t care about anyone in the movie and the apocalypse preparations are more tiresome than timely.
Theremin: Holy fuck this documentary was a surprise. I had no idea how the theremin originated, nor what kind of fantastical life its creator led. There is a Cold War/Soviet Union twist to this story that baffles the mind. Plus, Theremin himself maintains his enigmatic self straight through to the end.
The Walking Dead: I am closing in on the halfway mark of the second season. I have to be in the mood for dread, which is really all I get from the series, so I haven’t plowed through it like I have with other cable shows that I’m a late arrival to. This is a good thing.
The Sarah Silverman Program: I’m still in s1. I’ve watched scattered episodes before, so some are being re-experienced, though I don’t think viewing them in the context of the whole series makes any difference. It’s funny but a little too mean for me. I appreciate the songs.
Louie: I enjoy it, but not nearly as much as I’m supposed to. Louie feels a little too mean as well, though his meanness sometimes gets directed toward a showcase of Louis C.K.’s own self-assessed patheticness.
Wilfred: What’s with all the mean-spirited comedies that I’m watching one after the other? This one is probably on the chopping block. I tire quickly of mean best friends and people who put up with them, even if the best friend is an Australian comedian in a dog outfit.
The Brother from Another Planet: This one I’m enjoying far more than I did The Man Who Fell to Earth (slog!), though I have to watch both slow-moving films in installments. I’m about midway through this John Sayles film.
Black Widow: I saw this in the eighties and didn’t remember much. Why?!? It’s really a terrific film about female drive, envy, friendship, and multi-layered betrayal. Theresa Russell never really impressed me, but I like her here a lot, sort of a mash-up of Kathleen Turner with a shade of Shirley MacLaine. She jumps from sophisticated socialite to Southern new money to Malibu Barbie™ with each new conquest/prey, with an undercurrent of single-minded ambition. How can ruthlessness and regret stand so closely? And Debra Winger – this is one of her best roles. The character and the actress are perfect complements to the Black Widow, Theresa Russell. Bob Rafelson managed to make a fantastic film noir in the middle of the eighties! This isn’t as good as his Body Heat from 1981, but what is? This came as a rare pleasant surprise in my revisiting old movies. I would absolutely put the scene of Theresa Russell swimming nude in a pool and extending her hand out like the poisonous reach of a jellyfish into my top ten femme fatale moments. And I have a lot of femme fatale moments!
The End: Burt Reynolds stars and directs. I also saw this one decades ago, though maybe not in its entirety. A few things stood out in my adult viewing. One, Burt Reynolds really is a good comic actor, and he really knows how to share with other actors on the screen. Two, the pacing is way off, with some comedic scenes stretching twice as long as they should. Three, some of the unfunny segments are also shockingly racist, particularly one with a Mexican “beaner.” While not wincing, I did enjoy all the co-stars. I am making a mental note of discussing this further.
Moog: This doc on the Moog synthesizer is boring the fucking daylights out of me, and I’m not even to the thirty-minute mark, meaning that this is in contention for a spot on Raúl Cries Uncle, as in I may not force myself to finish it. The clever, winking opening credits gave me such hope for a contemporary look at a beloved artifact, but Robert Moog himself cannot hold the screen for more than ten seconds before he turns into one of the more unpleasant drones that his creation has the capability of making . He’s like my industrial ed teacher whose lack of presentation actually gave birth to a lack of interest in how things work. Moog and my industrial ed teacher were good at making things, but not inspiring the casual listener. Note: Moog is actually more engaging discussing Theremin!
Reel Injun: I am about a third into this documentary about representation of American Indians in American cinema, and am becoming more engrossed as I go. I can’t tell if this is arranged chronologically or by theme. I’m hoping for TV to get some time alongside films.
Equilibrium: I stopped after about three minutes with a brainless shoot-em-up opening that made me think I’d fallen upon a lost eighties action movie, not the smarter sci-fi Michael Fassbender film that I’d banked on. It’s in the endangered pile.
Nikita: I’m halfway through a rocky s2, but the midpoint seems to have picked up by changing the game and introducing some new though predictable alliances. Eps 12 and 13 have nearly made up for the bad season (shoot-em-up scenes ad nauseam that may have cut short my patience for Equilibrium) thus far, though I’m still pining for last season. I have hope. Mr. Lousy, you should give this one a go once you’ve run your course with Alias.
Archer: Now this is a spy show that knows what it’s doing! Thank you again, Mr. Lousy, for steering me here!
Doris W.
mrlousy
Raúl Zingle
