It's been a while, but as the old cliche goes, better late than etc etc.
I have a confession to make: I'm a Criterion whore. I've got it bad. As addictions go, books and DVDs are costly. Not just in financial terms, mind you, but in terms of physical cost. See, I moved into a new place back in May. Fantastic apartment complex near PV Mall. My apartment is HUGE. My room-mate (an old friend) is easy to live with, and I can walk to work in less than 5 minutes. Life is good. Although I should mention that moving in was a colossal bitch. Our apartment is on the 3rd floor. Moving 2 couches and 2 mattresses up 3 flights of stairs is bad enough, but moving 27 boxes of books (all me) and 3 boxes of DVDs (also all me) was sheer hell. Especially in the Arizona heat. If I were a heroin junkie or a coke fiend, at least moving my stash around would be easier than my current drugs of choice. Insult to injury: I don't have enough bookshelves to hold all the books I currently have, so they're ringing the walls of my bedroom. My room is so completely and utterly trashed it looks like New Orleans post-Katrina. If FEMA ever decided to go into interior design, they would have organized my room.
Enough digressions, back to the topic at hand: I AM a Criterion whore. Ever since I picked up their 2-disc set of Clouzot's Wages Of Fear (which was incredible), I've been slowly collecting them. The other day on break at work, I looked through one of their catalogs and counted up how many I have. The number is around 41 DVDs right now, most acquired in the last year. Its not so much the fact that I have a lot of disposable income (I don't), its the fact that I'm willing to put myself through mild/severe discomfort to finance my so-bad-its-good-habit. Just yesterday, I got paid and took a portion of my paycheck to Zia records and picked up 4 more: Heaven Can Wait, A Nos Amours, Equinox, and Kind Hearts + Coronets (I'll post a review of Equinox after this post).
As of yet, none of the films have been a dud. Granted, some of the Cassavettes flicks in their boxset was a little slow-going at times, but still worth the effort. And every couple of weeks, I end up acquiring a film from them that completely short-circuits my brain with its unquestionable awesomeness. Last week, I saw my first Powell and Pressburger film, The Red Shoes, and I'm still in a state of slow recovery from watching that film. Incredible, IN-FUCKING-CREDIBLE film. I currently lack the vocabulary and necessary eloquence to properly convey how much of an amazing film it is. The few times I mention it to people I know, I do it in terms and with facial expressions that would embarass the hell out of the most earnest born-again Christians.
So the moral of the story, future readers (seeing as I probably have none currently), is that your faithful scribe here is an out-and-out junkie, albeit a junkie lacking the dangerous bad-boy/enfant terrible aura of the typical junkie. At least I'm not a tweaker; god only knows we've got plenty in this state already. You know its getting bad when pawn-shops in Old Town Scottsdale hang NO TWEAKERS sign over their counters. In OLD TOWN SCOTTSDALE, for Fonzie's sake. Not exactly a hive of scum and villiany.
P.S. Anyone reading this: go see this movie if you haven't already.
I have a confession to make: I'm a Criterion whore. I've got it bad. As addictions go, books and DVDs are costly. Not just in financial terms, mind you, but in terms of physical cost. See, I moved into a new place back in May. Fantastic apartment complex near PV Mall. My apartment is HUGE. My room-mate (an old friend) is easy to live with, and I can walk to work in less than 5 minutes. Life is good. Although I should mention that moving in was a colossal bitch. Our apartment is on the 3rd floor. Moving 2 couches and 2 mattresses up 3 flights of stairs is bad enough, but moving 27 boxes of books (all me) and 3 boxes of DVDs (also all me) was sheer hell. Especially in the Arizona heat. If I were a heroin junkie or a coke fiend, at least moving my stash around would be easier than my current drugs of choice. Insult to injury: I don't have enough bookshelves to hold all the books I currently have, so they're ringing the walls of my bedroom. My room is so completely and utterly trashed it looks like New Orleans post-Katrina. If FEMA ever decided to go into interior design, they would have organized my room.
Enough digressions, back to the topic at hand: I AM a Criterion whore. Ever since I picked up their 2-disc set of Clouzot's Wages Of Fear (which was incredible), I've been slowly collecting them. The other day on break at work, I looked through one of their catalogs and counted up how many I have. The number is around 41 DVDs right now, most acquired in the last year. Its not so much the fact that I have a lot of disposable income (I don't), its the fact that I'm willing to put myself through mild/severe discomfort to finance my so-bad-its-good-habit. Just yesterday, I got paid and took a portion of my paycheck to Zia records and picked up 4 more: Heaven Can Wait, A Nos Amours, Equinox, and Kind Hearts + Coronets (I'll post a review of Equinox after this post).
As of yet, none of the films have been a dud. Granted, some of the Cassavettes flicks in their boxset was a little slow-going at times, but still worth the effort. And every couple of weeks, I end up acquiring a film from them that completely short-circuits my brain with its unquestionable awesomeness. Last week, I saw my first Powell and Pressburger film, The Red Shoes, and I'm still in a state of slow recovery from watching that film. Incredible, IN-FUCKING-CREDIBLE film. I currently lack the vocabulary and necessary eloquence to properly convey how much of an amazing film it is. The few times I mention it to people I know, I do it in terms and with facial expressions that would embarass the hell out of the most earnest born-again Christians.
So the moral of the story, future readers (seeing as I probably have none currently), is that your faithful scribe here is an out-and-out junkie, albeit a junkie lacking the dangerous bad-boy/enfant terrible aura of the typical junkie. At least I'm not a tweaker; god only knows we've got plenty in this state already. You know its getting bad when pawn-shops in Old Town Scottsdale hang NO TWEAKERS sign over their counters. In OLD TOWN SCOTTSDALE, for Fonzie's sake. Not exactly a hive of scum and villiany.
P.S. Anyone reading this: go see this movie if you haven't already.