Procrastination Junction, W. Va.
It's nearly three in the morning, and I haven't slept. I have a presentation this afternoon, and a lecture at 10am, and yet... somehow... I... find it inexplicably more satisfying to be reading comics than writing about the economic dynamics of vulnerability in Somalia. This has less to do with the subject - which I am actually really interested in - and more to do with my sheer laziness and stubborn belief (repeatedly disproved though it is) that sleep is optional for full functionality.
Currently listening to a nice, mellow mix from KC. Any combination that features Justin Timberlake (c'mon, admit it, noone doesn't love JT) AND Cat Power has got to be a winner. Throw in some Belle & Sebastian and some White Stripes and it's practically a shot of methadone.
Does anyone remember that song, The Trapeze Swinger, from that lukewarm movie, you know the one I'm talking about, with Dennis Quaid and Scarlett Johannson and Topher Grace? That song was the best thing about the movie.
Sam Beam = Nick Drake + raspberry marshmallows.
While I still remember, let me vent about Scarlett Johannson for a bit. Everyone and their dentist seemed to be talking about what a terrific actress she is. Around that central idea of her awesome acting skills were all these other fluffy clouds of positive reinforcement: she's professional, she's well-liked, she's healthy/curvy/not-freakishly-skinny, she's Woody Allen's latest protégé, she's wholesome. Dammit, she's so likable it makes Debbie Reynolds look like a Mogambo.
Why, then, do her movies all suck?
I was unfortunate enough to catch the ridiculously titled Love Song For Bobby Long on a long-distance flight a few years ago, but gave her the benefit of doubt: she was young, it was a John Travolta movie, it was a John Travolta movie. But Lost In Translation, for all the hype, was a real letdown. All the pieces were there, and fit in prettily, but it was too smooth, too slick. And our girl was just... there. Which describes the extent of her contribution to the witty silliness of Scoop. I desperately wanted to like her, but apart from "It was marked down" (the fabulous red swimsuit), her lines all fell flat. There were a couple of extremely forgettable movies sandwiching her more high-profile ones (I haven't watched Match Point, by the way). The Prestige was terrific, but I'd attribute that to plot, the disjunctive narrative technique, and the combined awesomeness of Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Rebecca Hall, Michael Caine, and the surprisingly unforgettable David Bowie. And it's harder to mess up in a supporting role in a horror/mystery movie than in a lead role in a comedy/drama.
So yeah, Scarlett Johannson is a bit... blah.
Now that we've settled that little matter, time to tackle Somalia! Somalia, here I come, as soon as I make myself a cuppa tea.
Currently listening to a nice, mellow mix from KC. Any combination that features Justin Timberlake (c'mon, admit it, noone doesn't love JT) AND Cat Power has got to be a winner. Throw in some Belle & Sebastian and some White Stripes and it's practically a shot of methadone.
Does anyone remember that song, The Trapeze Swinger, from that lukewarm movie, you know the one I'm talking about, with Dennis Quaid and Scarlett Johannson and Topher Grace? That song was the best thing about the movie.
Sam Beam = Nick Drake + raspberry marshmallows.
While I still remember, let me vent about Scarlett Johannson for a bit. Everyone and their dentist seemed to be talking about what a terrific actress she is. Around that central idea of her awesome acting skills were all these other fluffy clouds of positive reinforcement: she's professional, she's well-liked, she's healthy/curvy/not-freakishly-skinny, she's Woody Allen's latest protégé, she's wholesome. Dammit, she's so likable it makes Debbie Reynolds look like a Mogambo.
Why, then, do her movies all suck?
I was unfortunate enough to catch the ridiculously titled Love Song For Bobby Long on a long-distance flight a few years ago, but gave her the benefit of doubt: she was young, it was a John Travolta movie, it was a John Travolta movie. But Lost In Translation, for all the hype, was a real letdown. All the pieces were there, and fit in prettily, but it was too smooth, too slick. And our girl was just... there. Which describes the extent of her contribution to the witty silliness of Scoop. I desperately wanted to like her, but apart from "It was marked down" (the fabulous red swimsuit), her lines all fell flat. There were a couple of extremely forgettable movies sandwiching her more high-profile ones (I haven't watched Match Point, by the way). The Prestige was terrific, but I'd attribute that to plot, the disjunctive narrative technique, and the combined awesomeness of Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Rebecca Hall, Michael Caine, and the surprisingly unforgettable David Bowie. And it's harder to mess up in a supporting role in a horror/mystery movie than in a lead role in a comedy/drama.
So yeah, Scarlett Johannson is a bit... blah.
Now that we've settled that little matter, time to tackle Somalia! Somalia, here I come, as soon as I make myself a cuppa tea.
