Match Point, etc.

Fittingly (or not, I don't know), I went out to the movies on the night of the Golden Globes ... to see Match Point.

Happily, this is not a tennis movie. All the plot summaries I found online set it up to seem like tennis was a big part of the film. And, metaphorically, I suppose it is; but it's primarily a backdrop and a motif for other things that are happening, rather than a major part of the film (it's not Wimbledon is what I'm trying to say--and while that is a good movie, it's not what I was looking for this time).

It's a fairly grim plot with some absolutely brilliant dialog, and for my limited experience with Woody Allen (The Front, remember?), this did not surprise me. For others more acquainted with his comedy (I am not one of those), it might go over badly. But I loved it. It's grim and gritty and beautiful.

And yes, it helps that Jonathan Rhys Meyers is in every scene. Some reviews I've read have described his character as being less emotional than he should be. I think he's just right; he's sick, torn, brutal, guilty, and falling apart. And it's just fantastic.

And for reasons that would be more evident if you've seen the film, this got my mind going on the issue of legitimacy--especially in regards to Shakespearean villain, Edmund. I think it would be wonderful to write and/or read an adaptation of the Edgar/Edmund/Gloucester relationship in a modern or alternate universe context and see what could be done with it. With or without the connection to Lear, I don't care; but I think Edmund is interesting enough without pulling in the main plot of King Lear.

... I know, I know. One project at a time, right?

Yesterday I also went to CVS (for pre-show goodies, which are cheaper than in-house goodies), and they had a BOGO on any Coke product with Diet Black Cherry Vanilla Coke as the free-b. The flavour reminded me of a rum-n-coke, to be honest; and I'm still debating whether that's good or bad ...

Other reflections I keep having: I don't often wear my contacts, once or twice a week, which is not nearly as often as I should. Every time I do wear them, however, I find myself staring at things. And I think this is what gaining "vampiric sight" would feel like (if such a thing actually existed, mind you)--suddenly seeing things that you never see otherwise. A little squirrel running across a power-line; sitting on the T, watching people sitting inside their apartments through un-curtained windows; every twig and branch of a tree on Beacon St. in sharp relief against the sky; or tiny separate pin-points of Christmas lights that usually seem like a continuous bright white blur. And it makes me think I ought to wear my contacts more often--except for this awful habit of staring at everything with near-foolish wonderment when I do.