Friday, August 12, 2005
Movies I Have No Intention Of Seeing, #13
The Skeleton Key
starring Kate Hudson, John Hurt, Gena Rowlands
directed by Iain Softley (The Wings of the Dove, Hackers, Backbeat)
So I'm watching the baseball game yesterday right, Angels vs. A's, tied for first place in the division. Game tied, two out in the bottom of the ninth, the A's have a man on third. Just get the last guy and we go to extra innings, great. So the pitcher throws a pitch that's called a ball. He doesn't like the call, so he gets kind of pouty, which makes him kind of distracted. Then the catcher throws the ball back so he can make the next pitch and the pitcher misses the ball which rolls toward second base. The guy on third runs home, scores, A's win 5-4.
I mean, come on. It's, like, the most routine part of any game ever, the cather returns the ball to the pitcher after a pitch is made and the pitcher catches it. Did I mention the teams were tied for first place? And the Angels were up by like 8 games three weeks ago? Did I get to the part where the pitcher drops the return throw from the catcher and loses the game? Did I? Can you believe that shit? I can't. I can't.
Kate Hudson is in this movie about a big creepy house in the dark, swampy South. Scary old people. Scary little kids. Big fat "twist ending". This movie strikes me as something that was fed into and then shit out of the giant Genre Processing Machine, with the levers set for "Gothic Horror". The quality of the cast is supposed to make me think twice about the recycled samey-ness of the plot, set design, character types, camera work and (lack of) lighting. But if you start with the top of the bill... yeah, Kate Hudson was good in Almost Famous, but she squandered all that goodwill by making the worst romantic comedy in two generations, How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days. And that's saying something, because I've also seen the also-McConaughey-befouled J-Lo disaster The Wedding Planner. That 10 Days movie was way worse than that. I've forgiven my wife for a lot of stuff, including naming my youngest son "Eustace" and that time she tried to stab me with an ice-pick when I was sleeping, but making me watch that movie is something she's still trying to live down.
There are lots of things about being a gay man in America that wouldn't appeal to me. I'll be honest, it's mostly the dude-sex that puts me off. But by and large, I think if I had been born gay, I can surmise (as a generalization) that at least I wouldn't give a shit about sports. That way when I kick my poor, undeserving dog it would be out of frustration from something important like the denial of my full civil rights or something instead of the fact that some guy can't catch the return throw from the catcher. They do that, what, like 200 times per game? And 162 games per year. And every time they're warming up in the bullpen.
All he had to do was catch it. Maybe the guy at the plate would have hit the next pitch out for a home run and they would have lost anyway. Fine. Whatever. Shit happens. But to drop the throw and lose like that. Gah.
Man. I'm getting all worked up again. I'd better let the dog out before something bad happens to her.
Look, see whatever you want. Why am I in charge of planning your weekend entertainment? The guy dropped the return throw. I've got a lot of shit going on right now.
No scales today. Figure it out on your own. Jesus.