Hope in the Hospital

Hey all, day 3 in Sacred Heart Riverbend/Overlook Hotel I came in on Friday with a platelet count of 8 and I've been here ever since with CT scans of stuff and waiting for CT scans of stuff and I'm finally starting to get used to the bed.

But this is not the ideal weekend by any stretch. Energy is very low so I've got to cut this short.

I'm still here people. I'm still here.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Anatomy of a Murder

Anatomy of a Murder (1959)

Dir. Otto Preminger

Starring: James Stewart, Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara, Arthur O'Connell, Eve Arden


It's a kooky little courtroom drama that pushes some pretty big buttons. I know! Cinema nice guy Jimmy Stewart playing loveable small-town lawyer defending creepy Ben Gazzara for murder? All this and no surprises, but, really, there are a few.

For starters there's never a doubt that Gazzara's Lt. Manion killed the guy -- he walks into a bar with a luger and shoots a bartender who had raped his wife: "I've got the unwritten law on my side," he says. When his lawyer Paul Biegler (Jimmy Stewart) tells him there's no such thing and he's got to come up with something better you can see the confidence drain out of Manion and then bounce up again in anger and deviance. He's a tricky little thinker, Manion, and Biegler, all nice-guy exterior, is a big manipulator of people and sees his chance to manipulate Manion into an insanity plea. Loveable + creepy = cynical dream team.

Manion and "10 guys who made the grade" behind him

There's no way Biegler can win, but he wants the challenge of seeing if he can get a jury to buy into Manion's lie. Innocent by reason of insanity? So very thin, so Biegler plays up the nice guy, the local guy, the every man, who fishes for trout and is beloved by his co-workers even though he can't afford to pay them.

You're paying me in fish again this week ... aren't you?

On the occasional weekends he even plays jazz piano with Duke Ellington.

He's just an ordinary guy. Unknowingly the prosecution helps Biegler out with this by double-decking the prosecuting legal counsel with the addition of Asst. State Attorney (and cross-examination pit bull) Claude Dancer, played by George C. Scott. It's two against one and America loves the underdog, friends. What was the prosecution thinking?

4 men trying to come up with a "nice" term for "panties"

The drama is not so much proving innocence or guilt, but which one of these guys, Biegler or Dancer, is going to win the pissing match. Will the jury dig Dancer's confidence and the fact that he's right 90% of the time? Will they like that he's actually got evidence on his side and a nasty character witness?

Because what does Biegler have other than his small-town gosh oh gee charm? His defendant is a punchy jerk with a short temper and his wife, Laura, is an unreliable party girl, who goes out dancing even while her husband's in stir.

"The kind men try to take advantage of ... and do"

There's no physical evidence to work with (although Biegler gets lucky later) and character witnesses all seem confirm the worst about his client.

So he puts Mrs. Manion in a girdle and glasses, which hardly looks natural --


And brings out the cute dog --- look how he carries the flashlight, isn't that the sweetest, most unnecessary addition to this testimony?


And things go well --- Biegler introduces things like spermatogenesis and rape ("How can a jury disregard what they've already heard?""They can't") to sneak in his side case, the "unwritten law" that Manion loves so much and that a jury might still hook onto --- until a cell mate of Manion's blows everything to hell. Then it's time to bring in the big guns.

That I'll leave for you to see. All's well that doesn't really end well for Biegler, but somehow you feel he gets what he deserves.

Alternative viewing options: Just watch the first 20 minutes for examples of rubber catch bags


And a whole collection of field wear. Is that a Pendleton shirt?

The Thank You Post

I'm sitting here, eating some very tasty granola ---- "Li'l Hateful, you don't like nuts and raisins. What made you open the bag?""I was curious.""And now?""Now I'se in heaven." ---- wrapped up in a hand-woven prayer/lap rug with the rice bag across my lumbar spine and a Topsy Turban on my head, and I'm thinking:

I've got some very special friends.

Yeah, seriously, granola. I took a chance, Deep Fry, because it's not usually my thing unless it's in a foil-wrapped bar and there are kooky little marshmallows in it. But, boy-o, am I glad I chanced it. I feel like a complete mook to have gone this long without eating real, un-sugar processed granola. Then again, like Sara, who got me to eat her candy prunes, I'm thinking I only like this because it came from you and a bag bought at Trader Joe's would disappoint.

Thank you to everyone who has been chipping in through the PayPal and otherwise. I'm seriously trying not to use it for medical bills, but they tallied up January and it's not pretty. I have used about $30 to buy (2) Topsy Turbans for when I start the abraxane ... although I'm wearing them now because I'm tired of brushing my kinky wiry hair:


Good times. It will all work out. It will all work out.

Indications

By the way, if it's any hint at all the recovery is still happening --- yes, that post was about a bowel movement.

And my pants have been on backwards for the past 5 hours.

Where do I even begin?

Okay, so the amount of phone calls coming through last night (People! We were trying to finish The Wire! Did they bring in Wee-Bey from Philly?) means that I'm not doing a very good job at keeping everyone in the loop.

But when you're asking a brontosaurus named Ray to please go pick up some ice cream and then that bastard doesn't even come back with your money ... well, you get a little distracted by mundane day-to-day hallucinations.

Friends, my sodium dropped this weekend. Something is always dropping, yeah? So combined with the pain medication, I was intensely out of it all weekend long. What was Saturday? Right, I went to work. You know, scary, but there it is. I spent my energy at work and when I got home I dropped like a bag of dirt never to rise again. Even now, I'm still really tired, but not like before, and I'll tell you why ............... but maybe you don't want to hear it.

Like chocolate pudding?

So, yeah, has anyone out there been constipated for an entire week? 7 full, complete, interminable days. Show of hands. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Come on. Okay, so you know where I'm coming from on this. The rest of you get to use your imagination. You're not the lucky ones.

As I'm sure you're aware, when you can't go, it backs up and each day you add to "the pile" means another day of having to truck it around in your gut. This can seriously restrict your movement and if you like food, like I do, it puts a crimp in your happy levels because it puts a kibosh on wanting to add/eat. You're not hungry if you're still holding on to dinner from last Wednesday, ya know?

I had 7 full days of nothing. It went in, but it wasn't about to come out again.

So I took Senacot and Miralax, both with a chaser of Mylanta. By Saturday I was onto an enema. (no, really, desperate times, friends...) Sunday I moved right into a Powerball of Miralax and prune juice. Nothin'.

Last night --- me cranky and my parents and cousin/roommate at a loss on how to help and me at a loss on what to ask them for --- mom and cousin suggested another go with the Powerball. Man, prune juice is just not appealing even with Miralax .... which is also somewhat unpleasant. To help get that nasty sucker down I used a straw.

EUREKA!!

I feel like a real live real person now. Look! Look! I just pinched myself (ow) and I'm enjoying coffee! I know what day it is! I just paid a bill! (ow again)

Overnight the world has changed and will change again. That's not a bad thing.

I'm going to work in my "office" now and see what went on yesterday. Man, I hope I didn't screw things up ....

Having a good day? Skip this then.

Platelet Count: 7

That was on Monday. We went to the hospital and I spent all day getting a transfusion of IVIG and platelets, which shot the platelet count up to a whopping 35.

35. That's as good as I get for a day in a hospital bed watching basic cable?!?

It's not the cancer, friends. The cancer I can handle. I'm going in for radiation this week to shoot out some particularly bad spots on my lumbar and (hopefully) also take out some issues in my upper legs so I don't walk like a Weeble anymore. The cancer is still doing its thing, but it behaves accordingly and can be dealt with accordingly.

It's the platelet count that's screwing me. Steroids have apparently lost their effectiveness (I was taking them up through Saturday and still tanked on Monday), we still don't know if Rituximab is working, I was turned down for nPlate, which I wasn't entirely keen on anyway, and a transfusion looks like it's no more than a Band-Aid fix.

Or maybe this will be a weekly thing. Every week I spend a day at the hospital getting pumped with some stranger's blood and it'll buy me time to ... to ... eh ... yeah.

I just don't know.

Dark days without any idea what will happen tomorrow. I'm not physic (misspelling intended --- ain't you all never seen Harper?) and I don't pretend that I've ever been able to see into the future, but everyone likes to plan a little, right? You want to be able to think: "I can put in those anemone bulbs if the weather stays like this" with the idea that you're planning and predicting the weather to stay like this, albeit not fully seeing entirely whether or not the weather stay like this.

I'm rambling. It's the fatigue. I'm so tired I have to take a nap after putting on socks. I'm going to finish this and move to the chair in the Red Room where I'll be workin' on my back at the HO. hahahahahahaha.

I will one day take a picture of the home office (aka: The HO), but the camera tells me that "the battery is exhausted."

I know how it feels.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars Episode VI - Return of the Jedi (1983)
Dir. Richard Marquand
Starring: Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams (whoo!)


Yeah, we've all seen it. They're building a new Death Star, Luke's got finish his Jedi training, Jabba blah blah blah, cheering as Ewoks get exploded --- you don't need me to tell you about the basics. We threw this on to follow The Empire Strikes Back (1980) as part of the natural progression of all things Star Wars, but I've never really liked it much compared to the others. That means I could sit back and let it wash a little more over me without getting too involved.

And then I went and got involved anyway.

Like, why is it that the first paragraph of that opening is all about Luke and Han and no mention of Princess Leia?!? She's running things at the rebel base and making big decisions and, flippin' A, she's even got Jedi skills!

Nothin. We've got to talk about the men and it just keeps getting worse.

Triumph of the White Costume Design

So we start on the new Death Star, right? And all of the obvious comparisons to Nazi Germany are there --- Stormtroopers, the way they line up by section, the uniforms. I mean, der. We're not new. But as Darth Vader is threatening poor frazzled weapons contractor guy, it occurred to me that there's no reason to work for these people. Not that there were legit reasons to work for the Nazis other than keeping yourself from getting camped, but based on the World War II movies I've seen there were some perks to rising in power.

But what the hell are the perks on the Death Star? Where are the cabarets? Where are the stolen works of art and the shiny metals? There's not even a Death Star Youth. And what kind of people do they hire anyway? Certainly no women.

They laugh alike, they walk alike,
at times they even talk alike, you can lose your mind...

Apparently you just need to be a Boy, Bland, British, and Brown-Haired. So Leni Riefenstahl need not apply.

Let's contrast that to "vile gangster" Jabba the Hutt.

Hair stylists? check. Good times? check.

It was the style at the time.

Okay, so maybe the women are hookers or singers, but it's work and it comes with drinks and dancing. And the men are bounty hunters or guards, so it's not any better for them really. Besides, it's not like he's beating you with a whip or making you march around in a uniform. Jabba doesn't even care what you look like. Heavy? Come on in and chicken dance all you want, sweetheart.

God love 'er

Okay, so on both the Death Star and Jabba's place you can get killed on a whim. I'm not going to deny that. You bolt that sheet metal on too loose and Darth Vader will snap your neck. Deny Jabba a little lick of your face and you get eaten by a monster. Meh. The difference is you have a much better time before your exit at Jabba's than you do on the Death Star.

Even R2D2 seems okay with his job serving drinks on the barge. No complaints from him until that whingey C3P0 knocks him over.

Cocktail? Canape?

Now, I know what you're going to say. Princess Leia. Let's get back to Leia and her metal bikini.

Luke, geez ... this is awkward

Sure, when Luke comes in she tries to hide behind Jabba's frog bowl (with no success) because who wants to be on display like that in front of your brother? But so what? She kills the guy! She kills Jabba! With her own girl power!

Friends, that's what I'm saying. That's where the power is. It's Leia and natural strength, not these men with their Death Star nonsense and big machines to prove their galaxy macho-ness. She doesn't need a light saber or blaster to take out her enemies. She doesn't need a space station with a laser probe. She just gets up there and does the job.

Leia is twice the Jedi of Luke, I don't care what anyone says. She's got moxie and her rebels take out the Death Star --- HER rebels, friends. Not Luke's. Or Han's. Those guys just work for her, same as anyone else.

By the way, does it seem kind of unfair to anyone else that the galaxy relies on 15 guys in tie-fighters to release them from the clutches of the Empire? All these places celebrating at the end after doing f-all to help out and you know someone on some planet's going to want to take over. It'll be anarchy or another empire.

Unless Leia takes charge.

You GO girl.

Okay Fine

I can't stop you. If you want to help you can help. Geez. Get off my back. It's harder to hold the tide then let it wash. From now on I'm the rock, not the waves.

I don't know what we need, so I'm going to tell you what we have and you can make your help plans from there. How's that? I think that's good.

So a lot of talk has been made of financial assistance. Here's where we're at: I still have my job and it's regular so I still have my health insurance. That is not changing for now and based on the starting up yesterday I think the transition to home is going to be just fine and there's no need to use that ugly D word anymore except with regards to getting a parking placard for the card. I'm relatively regular with paycheck and insurance. This has also helped my stress, you have no idea.

I'm on track to pay off last year's medical bills by April. This is kind of taking into consideration a tax return, which should be good since I've got a lot to write-off. We have Turbo Tax, but I publicly thank the big brother for the loan of the accountant. Anyway, that's 2010 taken care of. Haven't seen what the bills will be for 2011 yet because it's just started, so let's not talk about that either.

I'm canceling credit cards too and I predict that wearing fewer clothes (or the same flannel pants more than once) is going to reduce debt. Truly.

Hey, I know, here's one for you. I'm at a loss when it comes to food. I'm just not getting the "little meal" concept down very well. I need to boost up my appetite, but keep an eye on quantity and preservation, since it's stuff that gets tapped into a little at a time. Mal can have the big portion and I take mine in several little portions throughout the day/following day. Easy fixin' and low maintenance are the keys I guess --- archival foodstuffs. So far that's left me with potato buds and Ensure energy drinks. It's time to branch out.

There. We are all happy now. Are you happy now? You are happy now. I am happy now. Oh! Time to put on the flannels and get ready for work!

Wrong-Way Hateful

Platelet Count: 88

Normally that would be pretty good, except that I was pounding steroids like Barry Bonds all weekend and that number should have at least topped 100. Not satisfactory, but better than 20, yeah?

Okay, well, you want to be updated. I don't blame you. I've got 4 hours in the chemo room, why not use it? Sure ... here it comes:

Treatment is not going well. Pain levels are increasing and new pain keeps rearing its ugly head. This is not the desired result of chemo that's supposed to be regressing lesions. Add to this, there are now "abnormalities" in my liver. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat. I'm officially off the chemo as of last night and waiting for a CT scan (Thursday) and an MRI (Friday) to see where we go next. This stuff is just not cutting it and is probably making everything worse. Coming soon: probably one of the hair-loss ones. Meh, bring it on.

What about the platelets? Geez, I just don't know what to tell you there. This Rituximab needs to start doing its flipping job, end of story. Otherwise it's this junk called nPlate and there are risks with that. Anything that requires 4 pages of release forms can't be good, but I have to jack up the platelets so the chemo can knock 'em down or this isn't going to work.

Not good news, no. Sorry. I should have warned you that it sucked.

So, there you are.

Now, listen you my people, I know you want to help. I know you want to visit. I know you want to be there for me and make things better for me and keep up my spirits. Just knowing that makes me happy. Truly. You don't have to do anything, my friends. Just knowing that you're there, just knowing that you're in my corner and that you care and that you're thinking about me, is enough. I'm scared, worried, tired and my bones hurt like a mutha, but knowing you're there gives me comfort even on the worst days.

The drugs are kicking in through the IV, so I've got to close this down before I start babbling ... oh, wait, too late ...

Today begins the work from home schedule and that has taken loads of stress off my plate. Tomorrow will be tomorrow and we'll just see what happens. Yes?

Yes.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Fear in the Night

Fear in the Night (1947)
Dir: Maxwell Shane
Starring: Paul Kelly, DeForest Kelley, Ann Doran, Kay Scott


First off --- how much do I love the distribution company? Anglo Amalgamated. Where do you come up with a name like that? Well, we're an amalgamation of different anglo-types ... I know! We'll call it...

Going crazy at home -- sure, you'll want to keep the tie on

Okay, we watched this because it has DeForest Kelley. So what? We like Star Trek here. There, I said it and I'm kind of ashamed, but not really ... but kind of. Anyway, it also looked like a somewhat decent B noir and it is. There are some fun little twists in it, nothing too shocking, but fun all the same, and how cool to see Bones in younger man's, non-space clothes. He's not bad looking.

Dammit Jim ... I mean, Cliff

But his Vincent Grayson is a little weak and whingey. He's killed someone or he dreams he's killed someone, or maybe it's two people, but he hasn't left his bed and yet he seems to have evidence in his pocket and knows how to find the murder house, which is pretty weird for a dream, but his brother in-law the cop doesn't want to hear it, no matter how much Vince stretches the linen in his shirt. So most of the movie is Vince trying to figure out how he killed someone in a dream, and that's a one-trick pony, friends. Thank God it only has to dance for an hour.

"Honey, next time you suggest a double-date with my brother
I'm going to sock you one."

There's murder, mayhem, some issues with a used car, and lovely Ann Doran who later went on to torment son James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause (1955), and that's pretty cool. That's Paul Kelly driving and Kay Scott behind him, and, no, they're not having much fun.

"Hello, I need my agent on the line, stat."

I swear I've seen Kay Scott in something else, but her movie list is pretty short at imdb.com and I haven't seen any of the other pictures. Skirts Ahoy! No. Still, her name in this is Betty and she is, let's face it. She's too good for that soppy Vince, who likes to brood around all day in an undershirt when he's not fainting.

All said, it's got some fun moments, some stolen set pieces from A pictures recreated in a none-too-shabby B picture style:

The psychological mirrored room ooooooooooooooh,

Vince getting cornered in a shadowy staircase oooooooooooooooooh,

and this fantastic telephone montage.

Who doesn't love a good telephone montage? Not as much fun as a cocktail bar montage, but pretty close.

To Do: blog, eat ice cream, blog, watch movies...

Sorry, it's been a long week. I haven't even watched a lot of movies, just short stuff like this:


Things will be scraped together. No worries.

Coming Soon:
The Archival Clothing Field Bag Review (or Revue! since the aim is entertainment)

I'm Goin' In

In 4 hours I will be checking into the Overlook Hotel for an infusion of Rituximab.


Is this or is this not the purdiest hospital you've ever seen? The insides are like a ski lodge. I can't wait to see the rooms.

No. Really.

So, I gots to get this stuff called Rituximab. If you're at work Jo will look it up and find the worst side effects, but don't be scared, she just likes to see the spectrum. Click HERE for the lowdown from the Mayo Clinic. They put it in a little at a time so they can gauge the reaction, so it can take anywhere from 6 - 24 hours. They said sometimes they have to stop it and then you're in for the long haul because you don't get out until it's done and the longer your body fights it, the longer it takes. Great to hear when you've got an over-active immune system.

But do I bring comfortable clothes? Will they give me coffee? Is it basic cable or do they have Turner Classic Movies? Questions with vague answers ("You could." "If you have special food from home you can bring it in." "It's a little better than basic."), so I'll just stock up on stuff from here. I'm bringing soft socks and my DS -- 24 hours is a long time to go without Mario Kart and Bookworm -- and the crapped-out mini Dell, which runs while plugged in and may at least get me Netflix and maybe email.

But, yes, once more it's a slide into the unknown. Will I be home tonight? Wednesday? No idea. All of a sudden stuff happens and you just have to go with it and see what comes out in the end. Cancer is funny that way.

To prep we spent last night on the couch watching silly television: Monty Python (the "Full Frontal Nudity" episode is highly recommended), Peabody and Sherman, Felix the Cat, Fat Albert ----- boy, Filmation at its best there. The characters had expressions that changed n' stuff. Far superior to Archie and Friends.

Anyway, all is well. All is well. That is all.

Oh! And you all need to watch In the Heat of the Night (1967).


I love when Best Picture winners really are great pictures. I could watch this again and again and I'm bruised from kicking myself for not watching it before. Man, and I don't even like Rod Steiger! "Poor Jed is dead..."

Whoops

Platelet Count: 14

Get out your programs, calculate, 314 - 14 = I've somehow misplaced 300 platelets since last Monday. Praying to Saint Anthony did not find them again.

Monday sucked a bit, health-wise, but Tuesday I'd been feeling really well and happy and full of energy. It was liked I'd suddenly peaked over the worst of the side-effects and could finally move on. We went out for dinner, we watched a middling-good movie and I got a couple of nights of really good sleep. Wednesday I woke up feeling the same way. It was panning out to be a good day. But I'd had a couple of nosebleeds so I called the cancer center, because that's what they tell you to do, and they brought me in for a blood draw. My regular people weren't there so I had a new nurse and the oncologist on call ... not good.

Nurse calls us back and says "It's a good thing you came in. Your platelet count is 14,000." So you know the first thought I had was: "14,000! That's AWESOME!" and then it kicked in "...oh wait .... that means 14."

So I've got steroids for the next couple of days and the nosebleeds have stopped so no trip to the ER for a transfusion, and my pain goes down with the steroid rush, so that's cool too. No percocet regimen today. Regular doctor is back tomorrow and I have an appointment with him at noon, so we'll see what he says. I'm not stopping this chemo. I want this one to work and I'm not going to let these flippin' platelets ruin it.

But, hey, there is a silver lining now that I looked at the blood count print out the nurse gave me (which the doctor never gives me ... what's he hiding?) and everything else, including white and red is not only normal, but pretty close to good normal. The white is 10.10 (normal range is 4 - 10.80) and red is 4.74 (normal is 4.25 - 4.87).

Whoo hoo! So no getting sick eating from those bags of chips in the Internet Department. I can continue my Liz Lemon-type work-food grazing without fear of transmitted childhood illnesses.

***

A public thanks to the ladies of Ladies' Night --- Oh My God. That's all I'm sayin' and if you want to know more you've got to talk to the folks at Sweet Basil. The ladies brought the night over to the house so we didn't have to go out (providing me with the comfort of handling some medicinal weird moments in private) and it was fantastic fun! I love Ladies' Night. I don't know what I'd do without it.

By the way, the cousin/roommate was the BOMB again yesterday. He made us cake and coffee and provided a funky soundtrack to our chatting and then he did the dishes! Dude! What would this be like if I was still living alone in that crappy little house on West 11th? But I need suggestions. What is the male equivalent to a spa day? I owe him. Man, I wish we had a dog track.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: The Bedroom Window

The Bedroom Window (1987)
Dir. Curtis Hanson
Starring: Steve Guttenberg, Elizabeth McGovern, Isabelle Huppert

yep, they're looking out the bedroom window

Okay, so I know what you're going to say: "Li'l Hateful, you've watched some cheesy movies in your time, but what the hell is going on here? Steve Guttenberg?!?"

Friends, one word: Diner.

Oh yeah, and did you see his guest spot on Party Down? He's a genius. But, alas, not a complete genius because he's only as good as his material. Put him in crap and it's still crap. But put him in something somewhat decent and he's somewhat decent. He's somewhat decent in The Bedroom Window.

don't you love her coat? I love her coat

The cousin/roommate, who refused to dual review this on personal and religious grounds, said it didn't suck, but it wasn't great. He called it Cinemaxy.

It is a bit, but it doesn't suck. It's Curtis Hanson and you can see a little of the eye behind L.A. Confidential here. But, no, it's not a great movie.

So Steve's Terry Lambert is schtooping Sylvia, the boss's wife played by Isabelle Huppert. After some naughtiness Terry gets up to pee and Sylvia hears screaming and goes to the *bedroom window* (ahhhhhh there's the title) and sees Elizabeth McGovern get attacked outside the apartment. Terry misses the whole thing, but agrees to be Sylvia's proxy to the cops so Sylvia doesn't have to out their affair to her crazy husband, who likes to toy with Bugsy Siegel's gold-plated automatic .45 while sitting sprawled at his desk in the office.

Anyway, Terry screws it up and things don't go well after that.

worried? confused? friends, he's both for most of the picture

Terry isn't too smart and isn't too dumb, but he's a little too cocky and it gets him into trouble with everybody. Of course he's going to try and play detective (because he's cocky) and he's not going to succeed (because he's not too smart). Played by someone a little more earnest and Terry would be kind of boring. As it is, Steve is believable and and you wait for him to screw up, because you know he will just like a real person. He's less a movie character and more like some guy you might have been sitting next to in 11th grade algebra who cheated off you, but would give you half his lunch in payment. He's nice, just not too bright. Sure, he has his moments, but for the most part he drifts through these situations hoping they'll sort themselves out and then when they don't and he tries to "fix it" they get worse.

And he's no match for the ladies.

"How can I turn this zeetuation eento my favor ...
I know, screw over Terry. Seemple"

Isabelle Huppert is a sly and devious Sylvia. "She knows what she's doing," says Elizabeth McGovern. Oh hell, yes. She's quick to throw Terry under the bus and he's dopey enough to drop. So much so you want to slap him around. But this is good. It's an odd relationship they have and you don't wonder why she'd sleep with him --- seems like a nice enough guy, kind of a dip, but he's willing to buy French wine and be romantic --- but you do wonder why he puts up with her nonsense.

At the line-up where things start to not add-up

Elizabeth McGovern is Denise, a barmaid who gets attacked outside *the bedroom window* (title again!) and survives, but can't ID the attacker and didn't see who was watching from the window, although she figures out pretty quickly that it wasn't Terry.

awww she's so cute

Denise is a good character. I mean, Elizabeth McGovern has a lot of moxie anyway, and that's why the roommate and I rented this a long, long time ago (my roommate, Mollie, also kind of looked like her). She's someone you could hang out with at a bar and so is Denise. She starts the movie as a victim, but she's not an idiot. She spots Terry as an idiot and Sylvia as a beast, but they don't listen to her so she lets them be idiot and beast. But, she says, they'd better put that guy away that attacked her or she's going to say something to somebody.

However, unfortunately for her character and the movie's credibility as a whole, Denise does have the somewhat cinematic stupid idea of trapping the guy herself. Unlike Terry, you don't want her to fail, but it's bound go wrong to because this is Hollywood. I mean, you know Terry's going to screw it up somehow, but you don't want Denise to fail. She's good people.

tastes like ... eeuuw chalk

So she puts on some hooker clothes, a wig, indulges in some saucy behavior and shoots pool with this guy--


Remember him? I'll help out you non-nerds: "Mr. Potato Head! Mr. Potato Head! Remember you told me to tell you when you were acting rudely and insensitively? Remember that? You're doing it right now."

Wargames was my first date movie .... heh ....

Anyway, set pieces, it's got a few, like this creepy beginning. What the f...?!?

Zombie George Washington is coming for YOU

That's the first shot of the movie! Okay, blind guy ... Terry doesn't see what happens ... killer has albino eyes ... ah ... no ... no it's not going together. It's just creepy.

There are a few shots of the bar where Denise works. It's this place called Edgar's, which has Edgar Allan Poe-inspired decor:

Oh yes ... very cool

Sylvia and Terry try to sort things out in the Baltimore Aquarium and that's kind of fun. They both look good in fish lighting.

"Why are zeese feesh not een butter?"

And, top it off! The best moment of the film: Wallace Shawn steps in briefly for a turn as the bad guy's canny lawyer.

Guilty, Your Honor? It's INCONCEIVABLE!

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Black Belt Jones

Black Belt Jones (1974)
Dir. Robert Enter the Dragon Clouse
Starring: Jim Kelly, Gloria Hendry, Scatman Crothers

ooowhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Okay, so first of all, what the hell happened last night, refs? Musberger? I mean, I know the sun shines out of Cam Newton's behind, but I didn't think he was savior of the universe. I'm surprised we were able to sack him THREE TIMES after hearing how that was impossible. Anyway, we didn't win, but we tied it up at the last minute, which was satisfying after all the crappy calls. Man, if I can spot holding it's got to be obvious.

So, I'm trying to watch movies that will give me strength. My days now consist largely of doing stuff in between naps. Everything requires a rest period -- this blog will likely require a rest period -- and I'm looking for physical inspiration in my media viewing. The Ducks kind of had it there for a little while, but Black Belt Jones has it to the max, friends.

Don't miss and hit your hot Jensen Interceptor, BB

It was interesting to watch a Blaxploitation movie after having seen so many of the Amitabh Bachchan "Vijay" films of the same period. There are a lot of similarities between Blaxploitation to action Bollywood and it was interesting to draw the parallels. I mean, really, you take away the sex and the salty language and add a few songs and Amrish Puri and you've got a Bollywood.

It's even got the sunset romance moment --
a song here would be perfect

Think about it, movies where whitey gets payback would be very appealing in post-colonial India. I'd definitely be inspired. Hell, I am now. Let's go kick whitey ... oh wait, that's me. Fehhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

But, even on top of the Black Power plot here is a juicy subplot of Girl Power. First of all, do I love anyone right now more than Gloria Hendry? She is my idol. I want to be Gloria Hendry. I want to look like her, talk like her and whoop ass like her.

Want a piece of me, suckah? You just try it

Live and Let Die was a shaky start, sure, but she more than makes up for it in Black Belt Jones. She kicks everyone's ass in this movie, even Black Belt's, and she does it all with this quiet little voice. "Where's Pinky?" "Mama, you get out of here." "I ain't your mama. Now where's Pinky?" followed shortly by the somewhat startling threat "I'm gonna make you look like a sick faggot." Whoa! And then she DOES! She drops 5 guys all while in a mourning dress and tights! How can you not want to emulate that?

It'll work. I saw this in Five for Hell...

Then we have this weird center section where Black Belt and Sydney (that's Gloria) plan to break into some Mafia guy's winery. But does Black Belt go to the karate school to get help? No way. He uses four girls that he's been training for the circus? Vegas? the Olympics? I don't know. Whatever. He gets help from four girls, including one named Pickles, who practice on a trampoline outside his beach house.

They break in, get the money and run those white guys into the ground. You go, girls!

Karate + New Orleans music = funeral? You betcha

Jim Kelly is great in action as Black Belt, although he's not much of an actor. But that's okay. He's got the Bruce Lee noises and the moves and he's very polite. I liked him. It was good to see him crack down on the gumbahs. (I know those are my people, but that's how much I loves this movie. We was askin' for it, yeah.)

Stereotypes? Yes. A little shaky on the plot? Yes. Some white cop barking "But God DAMMIT, man"? Yes. It's got everything and more. Scatman shows up for a little while to argue with this woman ("Papa, I'm gonna slap the black off you") and then there are the Bogarts. You'll just have to see for yourself what a Bogart is.

It's even got Isaac, your bartender.

What do you mean you want a Mai-Tai, mutha-fuc....?