On DEMAND… At Last, A Legitimate Argument for Sloth

On DEMAND from Cox Communications

I’ve grown weary of movie theaters.  And why not?  Truth be told, I see little point in putting-up with broken seats, stale popcorn and having the back of my seat kicked by the poster-child for Ritalin, when (in theory) I can simply wait a few months and watch the same feature, in all of its high-def splendor, in the comfort of my bedroom; with the benefits of being in whatever state of dress (or rather, undress) that I choose, with the contents of my refrigerator at my disposal, and the ability to adjust the volume to my whim – not to mention pausing the viewing to my heart’s content as the needs of my (or my loved one’s) tiny bladder might dictate.  Plus, one can rewind whenever a scene’s inherent humor causes loud bursts of hysterical laughter to overwhelm the film’s dialogue.

On DEMAND makes sloth that much easier!

So, it was with only minor trepidation that I decided to (finally) check-out the On DEMAND feature offered by my cable provider (Cox Communications).  What joy!  Such delight!  In one blissfully dreamy weekend filled with delivery food and the freedom of wearing naught but a t-shirt from last year’s PK Bike Day, a pair of tartan pajama-bottoms and a well-worn terrycloth Frette bathrobe (the last only to answer to door to receive said food from the delivery driver) I was able to catch-up on a number of films that had seemingly passed me by.

I pressed-up into Sherlock Holmes, and was sucked-into the reimagining of Canon Doyle’s consulting detective as a degenerate bohemian comic-book hero.  Just when I think I’ve had my fill of RDJr, he goes and surprises me with another bravura performance.  Jude Law filled the shoes of Dr. John H. Watson to a particularly dashing T, and Rachel McAdams was radiant as Holmes’ love-interest/nemesis, Irene Adler (remember A Scandal in Bohemia?).

The Twilight Saga - New Moon

I channeled my inner tween and watched the first two films in The Twilight Saga (not half bad, though I far prefer Anne Rice’s storytelling of the vampire mythos to Stephanie Meyers’, as the latter’s gives me a case of narrative blue-balls).  And PS - there is a very fine line one walks between being a teenaged girl and a pervy old guy, and I've realized that if you're watching any of the Twilight films and have a penis, then you have crossed that line.  Hell, you've jumped over it, with a running head-start.  Take a note! 

The Hangover

Anyhoo, after the back-to-back Twilight-ing, I viewed the unrated version of The Hangover which had me laughing so hard I nearly gave myself a hernia and at one point did a spit-take involving some bottled water (Sammy was not amused).  FYI - this film has merited a long overdue post, but not for the reasons one might think.  Stay tuned! 

(500) Days of Summer

Best of all, though, was (500) Days of Summer – a true gem of a film that claims not to be a love story, but rather “a story about love” and had me hooked from the very first moment when the screen went black and showed the following message from the film’s co-writer, Scott Neustadter (to his real ex-girlfriend) "Author's Note: The following is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  Especially you, Jenny Beckman.  Bitch.”

(500) Days of Summer

And as incredible of a film as it is (and if you haven’t seen it – really, you should – all you have to do is go to On DEMAND, and you’re good-to-go) the thing that really got me was the soundtrack.  Musical rapture, this!  From the Manchesterian melancholia of Marr and Morrissey (á la The Smiths’ “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” and “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want”) and the nouveau psychedelia of “Vagabond” by Aussie-rockers Wolfmother to the airy whimsy of the film’s co-star Zooey Deschanel assuming once more her mantle as vocalist of the indie duo She & Him, and one of my favorite ballads of the aughts, the beautifully haunting “Quelqu’un M’a Dit” by the hauntingly beautiful Carla Bruni (yes, the Italian-French supermodel turned First Lady of France).

Sure there was the inspired dance number complete with animation and choreography to Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams” (not to mention the recurring narrative significance of “She’s Like the Wind” by late dirty dancer, Patrick Swayze).  But there were also some truly fantastic bits of film-making, such as the karaoke scene, the out-of-sequence narrative chronology, and the fantastically comical pastiche of Ingmar Bergman in black-and-white where Joseph Gordon-Levitt is in chainmail, playing chess, by the sea, with a cupid who checkmates him and calls him a bitch.

What a great way to spend a weekend.  And all for the price of one ticket a large soda and a popcorn at the local Cineplex!  And now, if you’ll excuse me, the latest installment in the Harry Potter series is calling-out to me.  Adieu!