I haven't seen Forrest Gump. I've yet to hear a reason why that should change.

I haven't seen Touch of Evil or Triplets of Bellville. That probably will change, sooner or later.

And back to the hot fellas discussion:

Clive Owen: Meh.

Tobey Maguire: I like watching him act and can easily see myself doing his Peter Parker or that jockey fella. But I have to avoid watching him in the DVD extras. Re: Peter Parker and MJ, he said something along the lines of, "She has to get past her need to be with the popular guys." Uh, no. She has to get past her need to be with guys who actually, you know, show up occasionally. Bring your personal issues to the set if they help your performance, but leave 'em off the commentaries, sweetie.

Jake Gyllenhall: Creepy pretty.

Matt Damon: I like him more with every performance. Still not at the stage where I need to lick him, but that's not out of the question some day.

James Franco: Hot like a hot thing full of chili powder. Mmmmm.

Colin Firth: Meh.

Guy Pearce: Way too bland.

Orlando Bloom: Mmmmmmmm. Yes, please.

Johnny Depp: Also, mmmmmmmmm.

Jack Davenport: Mmmmm, with a side of yummers.

Hugh Jackman: I've been of "I see why ya'll like him" opinion for ages. Liked his work, didn't feel the lust. Then I rewatched X-Men the other day and something clicked. Now I need to lick him as he reads Stoppard monologues to me.

Citizen Kane

I liked the structure of it, I think; finding out the man's life via his interactions with all these other people.

That's exactly why I love it....

I think Forrest Gump was the movie where Gary Sinise first revealed that, although he is not bald, practically every wig put on him during the course of a movie makes him look like he is.

As for Touch of Evil, I think that it's a movie easier to love if you read Cahiers du Cinema than if you don't. It is often hard to love a movie if its appeal lies only in form and revolutionariness.

I don't understand people who liked Cube. It seemed to me like a pretty typical gory horror movie. Also, don't watch the second one.

I thought it was a neat little examination of existentialism, in the trappings of a gory horror movie. I also appreciated the inventiveness of using the same set over and over again, without it becoming boring. (I wonder how the actors felt about it, though). I think I tracked the movie down because Nicole de Boer starred in it, and she was/had just joined the Star Trek: Deep Space 9 cast and I wanted to see an example of her work.

I loved Touch of Evil (although Charlton Heston as a Mexican stretched my suspension of disbelief). I especially appreciate the irony that as corrup as Orson Welle's character was, he was correct about the murder.

As for Touch of Evil, I think that it's a movie easier to love if you read Cahiers du Cinema than if you don't. It is often hard to love a movie if its appeal lies only in form and revolutionariness.

Well...I was a film major, so using myself as an example doesn't really disprove this, except that I love Touch of Evil on a totally gut level. I'd probably love it on an analytical level too, if I ever bothered to try, but my reactions to it were entirely of the "Hot damn, this is good" variety.

I think Forrest Gump was the movie where Gary Sinise first revealed that, although he is not bald, practically every wig put on him during the course of a movie makes him look like he is.

Ok. That made me laugh out loud and startle my office mates. See, I have a Gary Sinise thing and I thought he was hot even with the bad Lt. Dan wig.

Well...I was a film major, so using myself as an example doesn't really disprove this, except that I love Touch of Evil on a totally gut level. I'd probably love it on an analytical level too, if I ever bothered to try, but my reactions to it were entirely of the "Hot damn, this is good" variety.

Not in the least a film major, and this was exactly my reaction. A big visceral filmgasm, the movie-viewing equivalent of Deb's reaction to Joyce's Ulysses. I love that it actually stands up to thoughtful analysis, that it's full of meat and guts and spicy brains, but all of that is secondary to the filmgasm it gives me.

Also, Orson purposefully set that shot up for a day when the studio sent somebody down to check up on him. They were suitably impressed that he knew what he was doing.

Actually, that was a later scene, also a long, single take, set in the suspect's apartment. It's known as the "shoebox" scene, and covers something like 5-10 pages of script. After they wrapped a good take, Welles turned to the suits and said "We're now 3 days ahead of schedule" which got them to leave him alone (until the editing - like Blade Runner, there may not BE a definitive version of the movie).

I love Touch of Evil on a totally gut level. I'd probably love it on an analytical level too, if I ever bothered to try, but my reactions to it were entirely of the "Hot damn, this is good" variety.

Jess is me on this movie. Always in my top 5, and, despite having read many reviews and analyses of the film, I still couldn't tell you why except "coooool!"

A friend of mine saw the full version of Sky Captain and World of Tomorrow at SDCC, and basically just said wow, plain wow.

Plus the clips they had were very nice...

Why Touch of Evil is a good (& great) movie:

1) The opening tracking shot. The bomb is introduced (on the side of the screen, too, so pay attention, kids), throwing the plot into motion. As Heston & Leigh walk towards the border, discussing their marraige (and establishing most of what you need to know about them), the doomed car matches them step for step, building the tension (will they kill Heston & Leigh in the first shot of the movie? Hey, that's not a bad idea -- someone call Hitchcock.). You can almost miss the floozie complaining about the ticking noise in her head just before the car finally shoots forward - just beyond where it will kill Heston, Leigh, and a bunch of other innocent people, and explodes. Then the car explodes (in bad film stock, too, just like they would in any regular drive-in movie). Then, in a few minutes, Quinlan appears, all of that mass sliding out of the car behind that squinting, bulbous, evil, messy face like a caricature of malevalence.

2) Janet Leigh's first interaction with Uncle Joe, with the way that her 50s-fluff attitude suddenly meets a guy who's mean in a way that few noir movies could really convey. Uncle Joe & his group are out of time; Leigh is sure that she can't be hurt because, after all, she's white, middle-class, and American, not to mention married to a cop. Uncle Joe carries enough real menace to let her know that she's not in that movie anymore; in fact, no one is.

3) ToE's Tijuana, which is lit in such a way that it seems all giant facades and pitch-black alleys, like one of those nightmare paintings (what was that artist's name?) of the super-creepy dusky town squares. The movie lays claim to Tijuana as dreamspace, reality through the mirror, just as Mexico plays the part of America's Id throughout the movie. (Vargas: "This isn't the real Mexico. You know that. All border towns bring out the worst in a country.") Welles figures out how to have his cake & eat it, too, because the movie specifically plays off of the expectation that most of its viewers are going to hold racist opinions about Mexicans, and it pushes those buttons expertly. Whenever anyone from Uncle Joe's gang appears, they are the Mexicans To Fear, full of attitude and violence. But the movie nonetheless goes on to show that the crimes of Uncle Joe's gang are just run-of-the-mill crimes. It's the American sheriff -- the racist white ranch-owner -- Quinlan whose crimes are much more serious. (Vargas to Quinlan: "A policeman's job is only easy in a police state.")

4) The questioning of the suspect. The movie so directly subverts the audience's expectations that I couldn't even see it the first time. The confession, the evidence-planting, the proof of guilt -- it all takes place off-screen. The camera keeps shifting to a different room, following Vargas as he realizes what's really going on, that Quinlan's planting evidence. Who cares whether the kid did it? The ostensible plot A part of the movie is completely beside the real point.

5) Janet Leigh at the motel. Yeeks. Yeah, on one level, it's cheese. On another, it's the most nightmarish part of a nightmarish movie. Dennis Weaver's skittering hotel clerk is the worst-possible bystander, afraid to help & denying his responsibility. Welles puts Leigh in the most uncomfortable situation he could -- she's alone, constantly being leered at by Weaver, then Uncle Joe's guys show up & terrorize her before they drug her and possibly gang-rape her. When the girl whispers to her through the wall about what's coming, it's both hilarious (Reefer? Really?) and unsettling (why is she whispering? Where is the rest of the gang? Doesn't the whisperer come with the rest of the gang to hold her down & drug her?). Urgh.

6) The final scene. Quinlan is confronted with his crimes by his sidekick Menzies, and the crimes are, like I said, worse than Uncle Joe's, because Quinlan's crimes are against himself and his friend's trust, as well as justice itself. Although it makes no technological sense that Vargas should have to scuffle along to listen in, it makes perfect emotional sense. After all, Heston's been scuffling along the edge of this movie the whole time, trying to figure out what makes Quinlan tick. This is all taking place in Tijuana, too, which is Id-land, where nightmare logic works. The industrial site that Vargas creeps through looks like something out of Bosch, and Vargas hasn't kept his hands clean -- he's currently having a loyal friend betray another, while ignoring/avoiding his wife in his quest to be right. It's only when Quinlan & Menzies (and Vargas) cross back into America that they leave the dream logic & get to the really dirty stuff. Quinlan realizes that his friend is wearing a wire and shoots his best friend/sidekick, then wanders down to the filthy river to clean the blood off his hands (and to try to kill Vargas). He's shot instead, and Marlene Dietrich, the only other person (than the man who he's just killed) who loved him, is left to pronounce his epitaph: "He was some kind of man. What does it matter what you say about people?" Damn straight. Quinlan's more of a man than a monster, and the movie is powerful enough to show that Quinlan deserves the audience's sympathy as much as its contempt.

There's more, but I gotta get back to work.