Best overheard quote of the weekend:
"And fourthly, she was all mussed up--like from making out."
Best magazine cover of the weekend:
Woody Allen on the cover of New York magazine with a lip-glossed, Lolita-ish Scarlett Johansson in a cherry-picked vintage swimsuit.
Best concert of the weekend:
Built to Spill at the tiny Troubadour club from the V.I.P. loft (ahem) with K-girl. They put on an amazing show--such passion, such intelligent beauty. I've decided a dream concert would be a BTS/Radiohead double bill. I'm an even a bigger fan now that I've found out that lead singer Doug Martsch and I have a keep-it-like-a-secret bond--we've had both detached retina surgery.
Worst film rental of the weekend:
Walk the Line. When I saw the trailer, something told me I wouldn't like it.
When I saw the Oscar hoopla, something told me I wasn't going to like it. Something was right. You see, it told the story of Johnny Bland and June Carter Ham. I was so bored, I hit the fast-forward button numerous times and still felt like I'd wasted time by watching it. While many compare it to Ray for the similar rags-to-riches, self-destructive musician bios, I felt Ray was superior in expressing the heart and soul of the performer--even though that film suffered from a lack of imaginative storytelling/direction, too.
I'm a fan of Johnny Cash and couldn't stand the pasteurized way his story was expressed on-screen. The only thing nice I can say about it is that it made me dust off my Cash's greatest hits CD. I'm also looking forward to his American V release. The tracks I've heard from it are heart-breakingly beautiful--stripped down sounds of a man nearing the end of his remarkable life's road.