2001-07-06 - 8:30 p.m.
Do you know how cool the Supersuckers are? They�re the only band I know of that can trick you with what you think is the lead-in to a cover of "Bela Lugosi�s Dead" and then gradually segue into a cover of "Rock and Roll Part II" instead. Or was it the other way around? I was too drunk to remember clearly.
Anyway, that�s how cool the Supersuckers are.
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Aaaah ... At last, a chance to update. Neither my Id nor my Superego was terribly interested in Diaryland this week--my Superego was getting all Arbeit Macht Frei on my ass and wouldn�t shut up about how production was running several days behind schedule and I was the only one who could make the magazine ship on time, while the ol� Idster figured that since there was a holiday smack in the middle of the week no one else would be working and so obviously the entire week should be a holiday, shouldn�t it? My brain still hurts a bit from it all, so this entry will be more fragmentary than most.
A quick note to any parents who are reading this: If your children are very young, think reeeeallll hard before taking them to see A.I. This is not a kiddie movie. It�s a Kubrick movie with Spielberg�s name on it, and except for the last 30 minutes or so--which are pure unadulterated Spielberg in all his hoked-up glory--it�s about as dark as a mainstream summer-release movie gets and if your kids� freakout buttons are easily pushed you�ll be carrying them shrieking out of the theater. Would you take your five-year-old to see The Shining?
Actually, I�ve seen some parents who probably would. Years ago I went to see Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and fuck-all if some dimbulb soccer-mom type didn�t sit right in the front row with her six-year-old daughter. As expected, the little girl started screaming bloody murder 10 or 15 minutes into the film, whereupon the mother grabbed her by the arm and stomped back up the aisle muttering, "I can�t take you ANYWHERE, can I?" I wanted to kneecap her.
But back to A.I. Except for the last half-hour, I liked it. And if you prop your eyelids open with toothpicks so you won�t blink and keep your attention focused on the screen during the Flesh Fair scene, you�ll see my friend Alex--one of numerous multiple amputees and little people hired as extras and fitted with artificial robot limbs. He�s the one in the chef�s hat.
It just goes to show that Hollywood really hasn�t moved very far away from its carnival-freak-show origins after all. I swear, if Johnny Eck were still alive he�d have no trouble at all getting work.
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I have more to write about, but on second thought I think I�ll hold off on the rest till tomorrow. I doubt anything more exciting will happen between now and then.
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