Friday, December 24

Word to the wise: The movie Smokey and the Bandit is possibly one of the most painful films to watch that has ever been made in the history of cinema. I'm not sure, but it seems to involve bootlegging liquor in 1970s Texas, or car chases, or truckers, or CB radio... I'm still not sure. I took it to the bitter end last night--intermittently watercoloring and reading both Letters from a Nut and Susan Orlean's mildly clever The Bullfighter Checks her Makeup to keep from losing my mind--and I got a headache, but for some reason we couldn't find anything better to watch on TV.

For those who think I'm displaying anti-Southron Yankee prejudice, bear in mind at least part of one side of my family has lived in Florida since before the Civil War--War Between the States, War of Southern Aggression, War of Northern Aggression, The Late Unpleasantness, etc.--and let's not get into the debate over whether Florida is Southern. It was in 1845.

Never, ever, ever watch it, please, for the sake of your own sanity...the omnipresent banjo music, the endless car-chases, Burt Reynolds in that stupid hat, and the at-best mildly pretty Sally Field, who, despite being the Flying Nun, has all the humor and screen presence of a dessicated movie-lobby hotdog. There are few women who can be both beautiful and funny on screen, and unfortunately I think Sandra Bullock was probably about five when they made Smokey. And while I love a car chase as much as the next man, please, Burt, you have to break it up with, I dunno, witty banter, or at the very least some explosions and gunfire. I'm pretty sure that's what Aristotle said about car-chases in The Poetics. Oh, and lose the Deliverance soundtrack. I will say in its favor, I did rather enjoy seeing that car plow through those mailboxes...

Random thought: I wonder what it would be like if you made the Crito into an action movie.

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