Last weekend we spent a lot of time watching movies, and all of them turned out to be very good. There’s nothing like a long weekend catching up on Netflix and DVR recordings. It’s even better when you don’t regret the time spent watching what you watched.
On Friday, my wife came home with frozen White Castle hamburgers and onion rings, and we watched Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie this funny. It’s a good-natured stoner buddies on the road movie that was perfect for a Friday night. It didn’t seem appealing when I saw the trailer last year, but it had me laughing. And, man, those burgers are good, even frozen.
On Saturday we watched The Buena Vista Social Club, a documentary about Ry Cooder bringing a large ensemble of brilliant and largely forgotten cuban musicians back to the studio and then on tour. Ruben Gonzales hadn’t played a piano in over ten years and most of the musicians had faded into obscurity, but the music they created together is nothing short of magic. I’ll need to buy the CD.
Next came Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, a fascinating film about Chuck Barris, the creator of The Newlywed Game, The Dating Game, and The Gong Show, who according to his journals on which the movie was based also worked as a CIA assassin. After that came The Yes Men, a documentary about a group of guys who built a fake website satirizing the World Trade Organization. Occasionally, people would email thinking they were the real WTO and ask them to come speak. They oblige. The results are hysterical.
The most interesting film was Less than Zero. I’d read the book a few years back, but somehow missed the movie when it came out in the late ’80s. The movie, of course, is nowhere near as good as the book, but seeing it today just made me sad. Not because of the subject matter (rich kids gone bad) but because of the way Robert Downey Jr’s fine performance as the doomed Julian so perfectly foreshadowed the trajectory his life would take. He became that character – so hopeless and desperate to clean up his act, but never able to do so. Occasionally, while flipping through channels, I’ve seen bios that focus on his persistent drug problem, but I never paid much attention until seeing this particular example of life imitating art.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
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