Feb. 23rd, 2003

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Things are better now. Not great, but better (for me, anyway; one of my apartment mates was robbed for some serious coin. I've left her a note, asking if there's anything I can do; she's good people, and I'd hate to see her leave over this.)


Odd- I've gotten three emails from ex-fellow film students this last week, asking if I'm going to see Lost in La Mancha. (Well, not so very odd- I've seen every Gilliam in the theater since Time Bandits) My answer was and is:

Although I know Terry Gilliam gave his cooperation and permission to the filmmakers, and I'm certain it's a fascinating film in its own right, I'm giving this one a miss; in a world where Michael Bay, say, can shit out a new bangfest every eighteen months or so, I really don't need to sit there and watch Terry Gilliam fail. If it concerned the making of Orson Welles' Quixote, then perhaps: Welles had had his triumphs and losses, and is- justly- remembered as being among the greatest of directors; he ran his race. Gilliam still goes to bed every night and wakes up every morning thinking, "Why aren't I making this?"- and contemplating that is not happy-making for me.

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