I saw The Road on Thursday. If you’ve read it, you know what to expect: bleak, gray, pointless road trip. If I hadn’t already read Cormac McCarthy’s book and dealt with my post-apocalyptic emotions, I think I may have had an anxiety attack; I found myself having difficulty catching a breath. The movie was somehow both sadder, because these characters were so real and believable, and more hopeful than the book, due to the magic of movie music and the addition of some slightly uplifting characters at the very end. The unreasonable hope that the father exhibits became clearer to me with the movie. If he weren’t a father, he would have let go long ago.
Last night, Chris and I watched Choke, another movie based on a novel, this one Chuck Palahniuk’s Choke. I haven’t read the book, and, although Palahniuk’s Fight Club was astounding and features a perfect cast, I’d heard nothing at all about Choke. Go see it. Brilliant dialogue, quite bizarre, Sam Rockwell.
I finished up the movie trio with Clueless, a movie I somehow missed when I was 22. Worth seeing, for its Emma references, Alicia Silverstone’s endless wardrobe changes and cute smile, and Paul Rudd. Paul Rudd. Paul Rudd. I do like that man. It probably helps that he always plays such a nice guy.
And the dishes have even been washed. Of course, I haven’t been outside since 2009…
