I forgot to tell you about the movies I've watched in the past two weeks (as if you give a shit)

Two weeks have come and gone without any evaluations of the movies I've watched. So, I'm going to unload on you now. Get ready, baby. I know you've been waiting with baited breath. If that means you've been holding your breath, I'm sorry that my inertia has caused your untimely death. My maid is sending a wreath as we speak. I've had a lot of mixed drinks tonight, so bear with me if this post is all rambly-tambly and makes very little sense. I'm typing with an ink pen clenched between my teeth in a vaguely cigarette manner of clench and bad music on the stereo, just to put you in the mindset, and I'm in no shape to do anything about either of these developments (now the music is good, it took me a long time to type this sentence). Last night I was watching a documentary about the Concorde on PBS at 1 a.m. and they were interviewing various dignitaries (Robert McNamara, Henry "I make Dick Cheney look like Cesar Chavez" Kissinger, various French and British engineers, pilots, and high-ranking aviation officials). Then they spoke briefly of the anti-Concorde environmental activists, whose opposition was never clearly explained. (It was a very Concorde-friendly documentary. The activists' main beef seemed to be that the sonic booms would keep people awake at night, which seemed to be kind of a lackluster argument, but everybody loves sleeping, am I right?) Anyway, the most active activist they kept referring to seemed to be deceased, though they interviewed his children, who were still involved in protesting Concorde up to its final flight. One of the children was Josephine Wiggs, better known as the former bassist of the Breeders. How fucking weird is that? And they never mentioned that she was in the Breeders, even though they also interviewed The Stranglers because they had a British hit single with an anti-Concorde song. You see the oddest things when you don't have cable and are a reclusive drunk. Anyway, I watched these movies some time in the last 14 days:
Bubba Ho-Tep (Don Coscarelli) Who would have thought that a movie about Elvis Presley (after swapping identities with an Elvis impersonator upon becoming disillusioned with fame) (or is he really an Elvis impersonator who lost his shit) and a black man who thinks he's JFK teaming up to fight a reanimated Egyptian mummy soulsucker in a west Texas nursing home would be, at heart, a movie about older people trying to keep their dignity when their health is failing? This is a subject that, however omnipresent, seems to be completely underutilized in our culture's art and entertainment. How many times have you seen the elderly being condescended to and patronized in nursing homes, restaurants, hospitals, businesses, etc.? If I'm lucky enough to live a long life, and I hope I am, I'm also a little worried about the bullshit I'm going to have to deal with when I get old from assholes who think just because someone's sick and hard of hearing they need to be addressed as though they were four years old. This movie, despite losing some of its momentum halfway through, is a nice little reminder to the rest of us that a lot of old people are not, duh, stupid. It's also nice to see real, hand-crafted special effects instead of that CGI bullshit.
The Dead (John Huston) Huston's last movie is kind of awe-inspiring. It's an adaptation of the final story in James Joyce's "Dubliners," and a peaceful acceptance of the approach of death that's mostly admirable. Huston was on his last legs with emphysema, even directing some scenes sucking on oxygen, when he filmed this mostly plotless story of a society dinner party and the soul-searching it causes in one couple in attendance after the party has ended. I think it stands as one of the best Huston films. He's made a lot of shitty movies. There are reports that Huston wasn't even on the set for some of his bad films, using the location as an excuse for sight-seeing and hunting, letting his assistants take over for him. Still, he's made some great, great movies, even if he was too erratic to be a truly great director. If you haven't seen "Fat City," for example, you're missing out on some really excellent stuff. This is one of the good ones.
Bird (Clint Eastwood) I detest bio-pics, filmed biographies, stories of famous people's lives. These films are absolutely, without a doubt, the worst, the lousiest, lies, horseshit. They have no value. They have nothing to teach us about human nature, or even about one person's actual experience on this planet. They perpetuate the myth that every human's being life can be reduced to a two-hour greatest hits of special occasions and accomplishments. This movie avoids most of those problems. It's deeply interested in a twenty-year period in one man's life and the music he played, and though it has a handful of flaws, it feels like life instead of legend.
Yellow Submarine (George Dunning) For some reason, I'd never seen this until last weekend, but it was a good time. This movie is really, really dated, but if you've done any psychedelic drugs recently, it might have a little bit of resonance (though it also perpetuates myths of its own, like the one that psychedelic drugs are always a wonderfully enlightening, light-hearted, and fun way to spend an evening, even though, in my experience, the enlightening to frightening ratio is about 50/50). The animation is excellent, the Beatles' songs are (mostly) good (especially George Harrison's, who kicks the shit out of his compatriots' offerings), and the kaleidoscope of '60s imagery manages to stay interesting until about the last 15 minutes.
To be continued...
I've got seven more movies to talk about, but I'm starting to get bored, which means you were bored hours ago. See you later, sexies.

Your friend,
Steve Guttenberg