Our first choice for a Saturday movie nite while Auntie Becca sat on Maya was "Brokeback Mountain" which opened here this weekend. But it sold out quicker than the plates of rum balls at a Baptist pre-Jesusmas bake sale. So we finally caught "Walk the Line" and I'm glad we did. I'll never be a Joaquin Phoenix fan (his brother, River, got 71% of the natural talent in that family), although he works his fanny off throughout a rather standardized biopic story arc. In fact, the entire flick feels like a nontheless interesting retread of the formula used last year in "Ray". Reese Witherspoon, however, impressed me more than ever. She's the embodiment of perkiness generally, but here showed more range than I've seen. My rating - a strong B - probably is a smidge influenced by my own love of Johnny Cash.
I would be remiss if I didn't join the choruses of tribute to two great Americans who died yesterday. Richard Pryor walked a tough road, as did Eugene McCarthy. They both had guts, they both inspired millions in completely different ways, and they both won my admiration long ago. We need another of that type of McCarthy, given how many of the Joe McCarthy clones we've got running around these days. And Pryor's groundbreaking comedy still could shock some of the shlock out of today's so-called "edgy" entertainers. They both will be missed.
Before I focus on large men in tight pants roughhousing, I have to mention how little I'm surprised by Drudge flinging some Santorum at "Brokeback Mountain" in an attempt to rile up the anti-gay cowboy Conservatives. His posting from yesterday claims that Wyoming's cowboy history included no gay ones and how tourism from Europe to Wyoming is increasing because of the movie. So Europe is full of gay cowboys? I know the GOP attack monkeys love to accuse Old Europe of just about everything. But THAT's a new one by me. Rock on.
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