there are few movies that make me want to slit my own wrists. year of the dog was just such a movie. urban princess and i took one of our male friends to see it on saturday. he didn't think to ask what we were seeing, just agreed. dumb, dumb boy. he paid the price dearly. not only did i take the last veggie dog at the theater, i made him sit through the entire movie. i had high hopes for it. dead dog movies are always good for some tears, the only tears shed here were out of pain.
upon leaving i broke up with the broadway theater. how could they betray me with such a horrific movie?
last night, however, we got back together. i saw black book, and it was great. how i gage the success of a movie is how many times i look at my watch.
1-3 great.
4-5 color me bored.
6-10 sharpen my razor, it's suicide time.
black book was a two-glancer, and better yet i left the theater spit-free!
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4 comments:
To go from "great" immediately to "color me bored" isn't much of a transition. In fact, some might argue that it leaves an awfully small sweet spot - what's a director-type guy to do?
el viajerko, err, viajero: please note this is my scale, and i don't expect (or encourage) others to adhere to it.
Jerko? Such harsh words, does someone need a blog hug?
What's the geekish computer symbol for that? I know (> but that's not it. Help for the old and technicaly challenged.
**snicker**
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