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Friday, January 10, 2014

Admitting I'm Powerless

Time to come clean. I'm a film junkie. Without trivializing the real pain that accompanies serious addiction, it's also clear my movie habit sometimes really interferes with my life. I offer the following:

* Matters as mundane as the weather can trigger a film jumping into my consciousness. I'm driving this a.m. trying to land on a worthwhile subject for today's post - a light rain is falling. Out of nowhere, a little seen Nicholas Cage movie called "Weather Man" pops into my head. Come on, this is not normal, especially considering the quality of the film.

* Doing a crossword recently, I struggled remembering the name of a Supreme Court judge. I went through the high court - only eight names came to me. Understandable you say? Not sure you could come up with all nine justice names either? Fair enough. But a few days after, playing a board game, the name of ten Paul Newman films came to me effortlessly. Come on, this can't be good. I remember Mickey Rourke's film debut in "Body Heat" but can't remember my congressman's name?

* It's unusual for more than a few days to pass without me sneaking the name of a film into conversation. At book club meetings? All the time. At volunteer activities? This week alone I'm batting two for two - no exaggeration. Come on, this is clearly out of hand. And my non sequiturs are getting a bit jarring.

Around the same time I realized this would be the subject of today's post, I made a resolution. Decided to try making it 21 days without movies or movie conversations. Seconds later (I swear!), Sandra Bullock's film about rehab called "28 Days" arrived unbidden in my addled brain. Appropriate, right? But when my monkey mind jumped quickly to a scene from the apocalyptic "28 Days Later", I thought - come on, Pat, time to surrender to a higher power. That would be Morgan Freeman ( God in "Bruce Almighty"), right?        

1 comment:

  1. The ultimate film obsession: extended courtroom discussion of the panties belonging to young and voluptuous Laura Manion (Lee Remick) in Anatomy of a Murder, 1959. Now, try to keep that image out of your old fart brain and that taste off the tip of your tongue for 21 days. It's a strong, albeit not necessarily wise, man can banish the pheromones of youth, the Days of Wine and Roses, which by the way also stars an irresistible Remick, 1962. How Joe Clay (Jack Lemmon) could chose the bottle over that is a mystery that would perplex the speculative prowess of Hawking, himself entombed in a kind of bottle, as it were. Alas, doomed men we are; one movie image elicits to the next. Keep counting judges, or better yet count the stars, cinematic or celestial.