Entries from July 1, 2007 - August 1, 2007
Sea Isle City
I write this with a throbbing right arm. I spent half an hour in the early evening, skipping stone in a tide pool. Skipping isn't the right word for what I was doing. It's more like whipping the entire right side of my body, and releasing a stone from my hand, spinning it clockwise until it hits the surface - about fifteen feet right in front of me, or just to the left - and then it either takes three or four giant leaps - maybe 30 feet in total, or it dances across the surface in an arc from left to right, perforating the surface of the water a dozen or maybe two dozen times.
I inherited many things from my father. My dark complexion, for instance. Some say, I also have his charm. He tried to teach me two things when I was young, chess and skipping stones. I'm a terrible chess player. But give me a rock that resembles the RAZR cell phone in shape and weight and I can make that thing glide. Despite my charm and the bilkability of my rich countrymen, I haven't figured out how to turn my talent into a mid-six figure income.
I always promise that I will start updating this blog regularly. Please hold me to it. I'm on vacation but soon afterward I should start sharing my very important opinions on matters like Scott Thomas Beauchamp and other very very important things.
Michael Brendan Dougherty
|
1 Comment
| 
Email
Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati
The Touch of PTA
I know I was just a bit harsh on Transformers. There were all sorts of references to the original cartoon in the movie - but where was the song? Fortunately, Paul Thomas Anderson realized that any movie is better with "The Touch" and any movie is 100x better if it is sung by Marky Mark.
Speaking of Paul Thomas Anderson. I want to publicly renounce my opinion of Magnolia, formed when I was seventeen years old. (I know you've all been waiting for this.) It's really not "mind-blowing" or "amazing." Everyone drops the f-bomb as frequently as the screenwriter/director. The film emphatically does not deliver on the expectations set by it's incredible opening. It embraces the failure by covering the whole of downtown L.A. in frogs. And I'm supposed to be satisfied with one tear streaked smile at the end?
Michael Brendan Dougherty
in Culture
|
6 Comments
| Email
Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati
Transformers: A Review
A friend whose taste in movies runs from dubious to all out awful asked me if I would like to see Transformers tonight. "I have a day off tomorrow," I thought, "so, why not?"
I cannot recommend this film, for reasons I will outline shortly. I don't feel all that qualified to comment on the film itself which featured CGI metal things (pictured above) grunting incomprehensibly at each other. Sometimes hurtling themselves at each other. There was some sort of "cube" at the center of the story. And Shia LaBeouf - whose name cannot be spelled. I contented myself with watching the collection of eyes, lips, taut skin and "hotness" pictured below.
I cannot recommend this film because I cannot recommend exposing yourself to its enthusiasts. At today's 8:00 pm screening in theater 1 at the Ballston Mall in Arlington, I sat about 8 rows from the screen. In my row was a twenty-something blonde dweeblet. I've met five-year old boys at theme parks overdosing on pixie sticks and Mountain Dew who had more self-awareness than this guy. Literally for a full hour of the film he squealed or grunted with ecstatic delight at every.line.of.dialogue. And he was loud. Sometimes he anticipated lines and said shouted them with his teeth clenched and his fists pumping. Both fists.
His friends seemed to be excited to see the movie for the first few minutes as well - but gradually began to sink into their chairs. What a downward spiral this chap faces: he needs a girlfriend to instruct him not to act like a bright shiny nerd-nugget but his behavior prevents him from ever landing a girlfriend capable of shame. I hesitate to imagine the state of his Jim-Lee era X-men comic book collection. I wanted to reach out to this misguided young man but I'm pretty sure the authorities would not have been able to pry my hands off his throat until after he died.
Michael Brendan Dougherty
in Culture
|
4 Comments
| Email
Share this: del.icio.us | Digg | Google | Ma.gnolia | Reddit | Stumble Upon | Technorati
