March Movie Madness

Can one ever get bored of watching movies? It's not likely in my household, but after the overload I've subjected myself to over the past few days, it might be the case. Now that the Oscars are over, all of the nominated films from last year are making their way into the video store. Of course, with little else to do, I've become quite a regular at Rogers. Thrilling, I know.

This past weekend, I watched A History of Violence, which I quite liked. It was like a tidy little morality play only with more gore. The script was tight and clean, but I thought William Hurt chewed the scenery and Maria Bello was kind of miscast. I also watched Good Night, And Good Luck (man that comma bothers me), which I loved, loved, loved. It's full of such good tension brought on by tight shots and constantly burning cigarettes, the performances are subtle yet nuanced and the script, oh, the script, so good.

Then, yesterday I went to see Capote in the theatre. Now seeing so many of the films that were nominated for Best Picture, I'm still so stunned that Crash took home the prize. All three of the films I watched over the weekend were better acted, better scripted and better shot than Crash. But whatever, it doesn't matter.

But the one thing that drove me nuts about Capote? Philip Seymour Hoffman's bloody dirty fingernails. You're telling me that Capote, so obsessed with his clean cut looks, well dressed physique and impeccable grooming, would wander around Kansas with the dirtiest fingernails I've ever seen on film? I don't think so. Was there no makeup person around to take a look at his hands and perhaps take a nice swipe under the nails and tidy them up? It drove me crazy. And yes, it's probably a sign of the prednisone. Hey, at least I can recognize the OCD before it gets really bad. Heh.