Wednesday, March 12, 2003

"between impecunious asses
spot the cunning vicissitude."
- fridge magnet poetry courtesy of Devukha…so classy
So, on Monday night, despite feeling like I had died, been pulled through a mangle and spat out all…mangled into the ninth circle of hell that is Working While Emotionally Drained and Sleep Deprived, I gritted my teeth and went off to the NFT to see Alan Parker's The Life of David Gale as a guest of one of our lovely trustees (who happens to be Up There in the BFI and NFT). Despite feeling so tired I thought I'd be sick, I thought the film was great – "more twists and turns than a pair of tights at the end of a night out clubbing" were my words to jealous non-attending colleagues the next day.

Kevin Spacey is, always, amazing and infinitely watchable, Kate Winslet could have been better but then again only has to be a listening post for Spacey’s flashback storytelling and then wailing in slow motion a few times when the story requires some feminine distress. Laura Linney is also v. good in the film but plays a slightly bizarre part – you gotta see it to understand what I mean, but she's good in it nonetheless. It's a clever thriller but little more than that – it's tense and well plotted but has a few holes in the story and character developments, that clearly came about for the sake of the tension and suspense.

Whatever the flaws, it's a good film and it was free and because it was a special preview, Michael Parkinson came on stage to interview Alan Parker with clips of his other films! Waaah! They're old mates, apparently, so there was much jovial banter. We thought we'd blagged enough out of the NFT for the night so slunk away without crashing the Double Parking reception held afterwards.

In other news, after working late yesterday and feeling absolutely fucking green by the time I got off my heavily delayed train, I went to bed at 8.30pm. 8.30pm Blinking flip. I clearly needed the rest, since I’m actually able to stand up and focus my eyes today.

In other news, Devukha has joined the world of blogging, spoiling us like a particularly extravagant European ambassador with some elegant Fridge Magnet Poetry. Why he hasn’t been published yet is still a goddam mystery; the Webmonging genre really needs some new PR.

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