I saw 2 1/2 movies this weekend. Two of them were quite bad. The decent one is still in progress, as I've been watching it in fits and starts while sewing.
We went out and saw Rush Hour 3 on Saturday. Yes, on purpose. Hey, we liked the second one, it was slick, funny and fast. Guess we should've quit while we were ahead. Not that we didn't get some laughs out of it, but it was ponderous, stupid, and the laughs were a bit forced. Honestly, if we could've just had 90 minutes of Roman Polanski riffing on violence in American cinema, it would've been a marked improvement. And how sad is that, when Roman Polanski is the funniest one in a comedy with two famous comedians?
We also rented something called "Played." It was astonishingly bad. It waffled between ripping off Tarantino in the L.A. setting, and ripping off Guy Richie in the London sequences. Also the plot was transparent and the characters were stupid. I happened to be sewing while it was on and got up to use the bathroom in the last five minutes. When I came back, the SP had switched it off and gone into the construction zone where he was slapping mud on the walls. "Who died?" I asked. "Pretty much everybody," he said disinterestedly.
The third movie is "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer," based on a German novel of the same name. I'm about halfway through it, and it's already been grimmer than the gangster flick, wittier than the comedy, and smarter than either. It's also quite strange and disturbing. The look of it resembles the Branagh "Frankenstein" or perhaps Les Miserables (more grime and gore in the same era). It's not exactly compelling but it's at least got me curious. I'm pacing it out for times when I can sit and hand-stitch and pay a reasonable amount of attention. It may not add up to anything--the ending is perportedly ludicrous--but I'll let you know.