PS I LOVE YOU

P.S. I Love You, the movie your boyfriend refuses to see and your girlies all watched together last Saturday night with goblets of Arbor Mist. Wine and a group of girls could have gotten me through this movie, however, I watched it alone, sober.
After my viewing of P.S. I Love You I became nauseous and confused all day, asking questions in a high pitched whine; "Are American girls really that awkward?" "Why does Hilary Swank smile so often?" "Why isn't Jennifer Garner in this movie?" "Why does Gerard Butler die?"
A brief synopsis with plot spoilers: Gerry (Butler) and Holly (Swank) are a "down and out" couple living in New York City. By down and out I mean they can only afford a fully furnished apartment twice the size of mine. In New York City.

Early on Gerry dies of a brain tumor (this isn't much of a spoiler; it happens right away). Before this we get a snippet of what their relationship is like; Holly wants to figure out her life and make money while Gerry is perfectly content with himself. From the beginning anyone watching knows Gerry is too good for Holly. After he dies, Holly is in mourning: hanging out in her "filthy" apartment, watching black and white movies, burning a seemingly endless supply of candles, wearing Gerry's old clothes and throwing herself around. She even has a zit on her forehead! It's tragic to see Holly so dispirited.
If there is anything worse than toothy Swank's "sexy" widow, it's the awkward say-anything bartender, Daniel (Harry Connick Jr.) she leashes along to listen to Gerry stories and to make borderline rude comments.
Holly: How did your husband die?
Daniel: Brain tumor.
Holly: Nice!

He's so annoying and NOT cute!! When they first show him staring at Holly's neck during Gerry's wake, I thought, "OH. NO. They are NOT going to have romantic foreshadowing this early in the movie!" If YOU were married to Gerard Butler and he died, wouldn't you just take your own life? I mean, there's really nothing left for you. But so early in the movie they try and do this "chemistry" thing. Dumb.
If there is one thing you are going to get out of this movie it is these essential truths:
Women Don't Know What They Want and Don't Take For Granted What You Have. That's it. Put that on a needlepoint and hang it in the kitchen.
I admit, I cried. Of course I cried. Gerard Butler, the central character in the entire movie is only in select scenes, I barely saw him at all! And he died! He died!
Sometimes when I read a book with an unfair ending, Animal Farm for example, I rewrite the ending to make it more satisfying and bearable. In Animal Farm I added an epilogue where the house burns down with all the nasty pigs inside, Snowball returns, and the animals start the windmill again and live happily every after.
Sadly, for P.S. I Love You, there was no way to save the story with a new ending. You can't take back the not funny scenes with Swank and her friends. You can't make Gerry alive again. So I took the liberty of rewriting the entire screenplay and sending it to director Richard LaGravenese and anyone else who would listen. I asked them to consider not making my version a sequel but rather apologizing for the first one and releasing the new one as quickly as possible as a replacement. I have even offered myself as an alternate to the Holly character.
A synopsis of the plot: Gerry is a guy married to a girl, Holly. She dies within twenty seconds of the opening, no relationship development or anything, she just falls out of a window while whining to Gerry her life isn't good enough, she has no money, she has to buy designer clothes on ebay, wah wah wah. Gerry is really sad for about two seconds. Then he picks up a guitar plays a Pogues song, and drinks himself all the way back to Ireland where the real movie takes place; Gerry and his friend William playing music all over stopping to save children from vicious gangs of bloated English Protestants with primitive urban weapons (like whiskey bottles). The story is totally wild; a mix of Frank Miller, a Bollywood film, Guy Ritchie and funny like the funniest joke you ever heard. The Rock even has a bit piece in this film as a Catholic priest! Trust me, there won't be any stupid women struggling in boats. The only romance happens at the very end when Gerry and William are at a pub and Andrea Corr (from The Corrs) and Dolores O'Riordan (The Cranberries) are there rocking it. Gerry and William do shots with them, declare peace in North Ireland, and have a bunch of incredibly hot children.

THE END.

P.S. I love you Gerard Butler...

Westside Video

I roam the dusty skeleton that was once Westside Video.
"Are there any videos left?" I asked the two men responsible for shelling my favorite video rental store, hinting and hoping to possibly recover one rumored cardboard box of pornos known to haunt the basement. They shake their heads. No. Dammit. Probably ready got it in their truck.
Wall art ("graffiti") decorate the yellow and orange walls reminiscent of something Jonathan, or perhaps Omar. Where racks of comedy films used to be "ha ha ha ha ha ha" remains on the wall however, to my disappointment, the collage of photos has been taken. It feels like I walked in one of Westside video naked but with make up on.
"I owed this business at least forty bucks in late fees," I confess without prompting, "forty bucks I was supposed to pay by delivering a full Thriller dance performance." I continue to talk, "They had a party right before it shut down - I had twenty bucks. I bought a pile of VHS' this high," miming with my hands a tower of about 5 feet.
"I use to get my videos here for Christian Slater night. This was my favorite place... " my voice cracks and is cut off with a loud sob. "Why?" I look at the two men who were kind enough to let me inside to take pictures. They step back and exchange glances.
"WHY!?" I scream to no one in particular.
Dropping to my knees with my hands exalted above my head, "DEAR GOD, WHY!?!?!?" and proceed to crumple into a puddle of tears and wails where the documentaries used to be.

Valkyrie

The room is the perfect temperature. A french press of Women's Tea sits to my right, a full cup of it to my left. My stomach is full and with my Jay Rowan shrine within arms reach under lamp light I feel like writing this Sunday night.

I wanted to write about breast milk and how I tried it a few weeks ago and how it tasted like creamy stomach acid but I realize that's all I had to say on the matter, there is limited material on that topic.

There was a 4:45 showing of Valkyrie at the Old Mill today and Kevin and I walked there, taking our time, walking along the river, stopping at bridges to empty our heads of urban scurf. It's convenient to have a stretch of river to do such. Valkyrie was an awesome movie. A (failed) coup d'etat to assassinate Hitler during the end of World War II was put into effect by a conscientious group of patriots loyal to "sacred Germany," not the polluted Adolf Hitler Germany they knew would shame the German name in history.

A few main points highlighting the symbolic importance of the film was a scene midway through when Stauffenberg (Cruise) was requested by genuine villain Fromm to salute in the traditional "heil Hitler" fashion. Stauffenberg turns around slowly, clicks his heals abruptly, and throws his hand less arm above his head (his hand was blown off in a bombing while in North Africa) and yells "HEIL HITLER!"

Another scene was not the moment when Stauffenberg was executed by a firing squad and cried "LONG LIVE SACRED GERMANY" but right before that, when he stood facing the guns. Lieutenant Werner von Haeften, his assistant, stepped out of line and placed himself in between the firing squad and Stauffenberg as if to demonstrate his loyalty not only to the German name by taking the bullets but his honor for being under such a person of courage.

The Kitty Genovese Syndrome is a social occurrence when something horrible is happening and no one steps in to right it. Kitty Genovese was a women brutally, loudly and repeatedly robbed, stabbed, and raped in a suburban area and though people heard it and probably saw her assailant did nothing but belatedly call the police. Project Valkyrie was the Kitty Genovese syndrome in the reverse, it was the shame of inaction placed before fear of death. Kitty Genovese is Hitler's Germany, battered, robbed, raped, stabbed and murdered while the idling German citizens and military officials were her suburban neighbors - afraid, unsure like the rest of us standing on the sidelines waving flags for the winning team, the team of timid resignation. The team which wins when a dictator ruling on fear is in power.

I loved Valkyrie. Fabulous movie.