Deprivation

I'm craving for more award shows. If Jeremy Renner's Sgt. James is an adrenaline junkie, then I'm an awards show junkie, a complete snoz for the embarrassing/funny/cringe-inducing star moments, the glitz, the awkward stars, the tense openings of the envelopes, the run-on tributes, and best of the all, the glorious (I actually spelled glourious at first. Damn Tarantino) film montages.

Funny how I always turn to my blog when it's homework time again. Somehow writing on my blog "justifies" not doing the hw. Very bad.

Anyways, the the SAG awards were two weeks ago, the BAFTAS aren't until for another two weeks. That's an entire month between the two. Grrr. I wholeheartedly wish someone could have taped the DGA awards and put it up on youtube for Oscarmaniacs as myself.


Spent the whole weekend cooking and watching movies instead. Curried potato-leek soup with apple slices, peach-mango guacamole (sounds fancy, but not really. I just brought a jar of peach-mango salsa from Whole Foods and emptied it into the guacamole), crepes with whipped cream and blueberry compote. Wanted to make sweet potato fries as well, but decided to save them until next week. Whole Foods opportunities don't come along very often.

Also read some more David Sedaris [/love].

Movies: Sid and Nancy, half of Far From Heaven before the DVD went berserk on me, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and Angels in America.

Sid and Nancy - Nancy is so intensely unlikeable, without any redeeming qualities whatsoever (I would have taken bitter wit, style, refreshing no-bullshit attidude, fearlessness, beauty, teasing allure - just about anything - but all I got was a clingy, dumb, chubby chick. Just didn't work.

Angels in America - better than most of the movies I've seen. Award for Best Example (of utilizing a television series' length to its full extent, instead of as an excuse to drag out a plotline.) Mike Nichols, Pacino, Streep, Emma Thompson, Jeffrey Wright, Mary-Louise Parker, plus a bunch of little-known actors that knocked me out cold.

Typical prestige piece, you say? NEVER. Angels in America has a sexy, fast-thudding pulse, a movie that pants with emotion and wit. Four hours of TV felt like a quarter of the length, so absorbed I was into the seamless chapters, each story and couple as strong and compelling as the next. (No Julie and Julia here, folks) Un-freaking-believably eloquent script by Tony Kushner. As every great piece of cinema has, a few WTF moments here, pure visual bliss there. Couldn't stop watching. An absolute privilege to watch.