General Movie Musing
Marge Gunderson is probably one of my favorite movie characters of all time.
On a similar note, any movie where the main character ends up with Frances McDormand in the end is a good movie.
Anybody else ever wish there was a real Jack Rabbit Slim? I’m really in the mood for a five dollar shake.
Speaking of Pulp Fiction, I’m always disappointed Kathy Griffith doesn’t get shot in that one scene she’s in. Have I ever mentioned that before?
They’ve been running those old Disney live action movies from the sixties and seventies on TCM lately. I caught the first twenty minutes or so of The Barefoot Executive last weekend. This is the one that starred a babyfaced Kurt Russell and a chimpanzee that predicted TV hits. Watching the opening credits brought back memories of all the Disney movies I saw as a kid. All of them seemed to open with a catchy, but unmemorable theme song, sung by the uniform and peppy Disney studio singers as the credits flash by in that same font Sherwood Schwartz used for his shows. Character actors like Richard Deacon, Harry Morgan, Mary Wickes and Dick Van Patten usually are somewhere in the cast. And they never featured any blood which always scored points with me as a young filmgoer.
When I was eight or nine, I was always afraid there would be something scary or bloody in any movie I went to see. I think this fear started after I saw Taxi Driver at an impressionable age. After that, my hands were always prepared to escape from the popcorn bucket to cover my eyes in case something gruesome was about to happen. Even so, this plan of attack never prepared me for Monty Python and The Holy Grail. I remember actually turning around in my seat and looking at the back rows of the movie theater with my hands covering my ears during the scene with the Black Knight losing his limbs and gushing geysers of blood. Was crying involved? I don’t remember, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
Movies still make me cry. I saw Captains Courageous a few nights ago and, yes, I did tear up when Spencer Tracy died. A movie that starred Freddie Bartholomew (You know, that slightly insufferable kid actor from the thirties with that upper class English accent) made my eyes wet. How sad is that? At least, I didn’t cover my ears.
On a similar note, any movie where the main character ends up with Frances McDormand in the end is a good movie.
Anybody else ever wish there was a real Jack Rabbit Slim? I’m really in the mood for a five dollar shake.
Speaking of Pulp Fiction, I’m always disappointed Kathy Griffith doesn’t get shot in that one scene she’s in. Have I ever mentioned that before?
They’ve been running those old Disney live action movies from the sixties and seventies on TCM lately. I caught the first twenty minutes or so of The Barefoot Executive last weekend. This is the one that starred a babyfaced Kurt Russell and a chimpanzee that predicted TV hits. Watching the opening credits brought back memories of all the Disney movies I saw as a kid. All of them seemed to open with a catchy, but unmemorable theme song, sung by the uniform and peppy Disney studio singers as the credits flash by in that same font Sherwood Schwartz used for his shows. Character actors like Richard Deacon, Harry Morgan, Mary Wickes and Dick Van Patten usually are somewhere in the cast. And they never featured any blood which always scored points with me as a young filmgoer.
When I was eight or nine, I was always afraid there would be something scary or bloody in any movie I went to see. I think this fear started after I saw Taxi Driver at an impressionable age. After that, my hands were always prepared to escape from the popcorn bucket to cover my eyes in case something gruesome was about to happen. Even so, this plan of attack never prepared me for Monty Python and The Holy Grail. I remember actually turning around in my seat and looking at the back rows of the movie theater with my hands covering my ears during the scene with the Black Knight losing his limbs and gushing geysers of blood. Was crying involved? I don’t remember, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
Movies still make me cry. I saw Captains Courageous a few nights ago and, yes, I did tear up when Spencer Tracy died. A movie that starred Freddie Bartholomew (You know, that slightly insufferable kid actor from the thirties with that upper class English accent) made my eyes wet. How sad is that? At least, I didn’t cover my ears.
Labels: fat cartoonist as a child, movies
posted by Tom at
2:14 AM
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