Wiendish Fitch

I do. Jodi Picoult loooooves to include Rape as Drama and some kind of illness, mental or physical, in her books (notice I said "and", there's rarely an "or"). By the by, I think Picoult should be used a guideline for how NOT to write sensitive subject matter, because she approaches it with the grace of a hammered elephant in a room full of glass collectibles.

X-Men: Dark Phoenix isn't as bad as critics made it out to be. It's somehow much worse. But there is one scene that's actually kind of effective (at least to me): Jean Grey, in full eeeeeeevillllllllll mode, mentally compels wheelchair-bound Charles to walk up the stairs to her, and it's appropriately grotesque and creepy. Props to James McAvoy's physical acting (and possibly any special effects that were used) for making this body horror scene work in an otherwise nothing movie.

Fuck you, Mary Lou Retton, and all your loathsome, enabling cohorts. I'm definitely old enough to remember the 1996 Olympics, and it took me way too long to appreciate the horrific, needless agony poor Kerri Strug was put through. Maybe I'm just a soft, cowardly, mediocre lump, but I will take having the ability to walk comfortably and normally over a gold medal any day of the week. Seriously, what if Strug had instead fallen or landed improperly and shattered her ankle beyond repair? Not winning the gold would have been the least of her problems! This was a great documentary, almost as good as At the Heart of Gold. I liked that they interviewed Rachael Denhollander, but I was sadly unsurprised at the harassment she suffered online when the story broke. Those assholes accused her of being just a "washed up gymnast who couldn't hack it". Um, dickheads? One could meanly argue that any former gymnast, successful or otherwise, is technically washed up (hi, Mary Lou Retton!), and anyway, Rachael Denhollander is a fucking lawyer. Sounds like she's doing just fine to me.

Cinema Paradiso is, hands down, my favorite film score ever. Thanks for the beautiful music, Mr. Morricone.

"Shipoopi", despite its giggle-inducing title, is probably one of the loveliest, most joyous musical numbers ever, definitely my favorite in The Music Man. I just love the aesthetic of the ladies' various pink dresses against the dark blue background. It's always controversial to cast a movie star in a role originated by a Broadway star, but I think casting Shirley Jones as Marian is one of the greatest lateral moves in cinema. Barbara Cook was a Broadway treasure, Jones was a Hollywood treasure, so the role doesn't lose anything. Unfortunately, now we cast people like friggin' Russell Crowe or Gerard Butler, grumble grumble....

This is a popular talking point on the TCM board, so why not discuss the (rightly) beloved musical The Music Man here?

Re: Astaire and Rogers From my understanding, they got along just fine for the most part. Did they get annoyed with each other sometimes? Sure, but you could get annoyed with the love of your life, so certainly a co-worker . They may not have been BFFs, but that's not a requisite for someone you work with, and I absolutely believe they had immense respect for each other.

They did address the whole "lying to Buffy (and by extension Willow)" thing in an episode during Season Sux, but absolutely nothing came of it beyond some raised voices. It was over and done with instantaneously. No consequences, no fallout, no catharsis, nothing. Great writing, Joss and company.

Good lord, she's literally half his age. Sister, Sister was no longer even on the air when she was born!

I've read some defense of Xander's aforementioned behavior, attributing it to him mourning Jesse (remember him?)'s death. I call bull on that.If we'd gotten to know Jesse better, and if Xander mentioned him more often throughout the show, maybe-MAYBE- they'd have a point, but Jesse is never mentioned again after the second episode of season one. After that, it's impossible for me to see Xander's dickish behavior as anything but pathetic "Nice Guy"-ing of Buffy.

I'll take it a step further: Asshole who left the noose? Go fuck yourself, because God knows no one else wants to.

Not to mention Foster has always enjoyed genuine respect, both in and outside the industry. Scott Baio, on the other hand, is a pathetic D-lister (at best) who gets into Twitter arguments with Wanda Sykes (and loses spectacularly). Bugsy Malone, BTW, isn't that bad, but Foster and Paul Williams's songs are the only reasons to watch.

My favorite Ian Holm performance was as the ostensibly sleazy lawyer in The Sweet Hereafter (one of the most heart-wrenching movies ever made). It was a richly complex and delicate portrayal that only the most gifted actors can pull off. We'll never forget you, Mr. Holm. And let me just add, fuck you, Parkinson's.

A million and a half years ago on TWoP, someone succinctly summed up Sandy's transformation, and it has stuck with me ever since: Sandy went from being a nice, pretty, presentable girl with a future to looking like a member of the Future Barflies of America Club... and all for a low class jerk who treated her like crap.

Seriously. While we're on the subject, why does Hollywood insist on casting people who are way, way, way too old to be the parents of young children? In Downhill (the recent and ill-advised American remake of Force Majeure), Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus play the parents of what appear to be middle-school kids... even though Ferrell is 53 and Dreyfus is 59. I know "change of life babies" are indeed a thing, and people are having kids later these days, but this is ridiculous! In the original film, the protagonists were a glamorous young couple with two very little kids, and the tension stems from their youthful illusions being shattered. It's easy to pooh-pooh Mrs. Doubtfire, but I'm going to give it this: Sally Field and Robin Williams were just the right ages to be the parents of young kids. They were neither distractingly young or ridiculously old. I appreciated how, in Lady Bird, Laurie Metcalfe's character acknowledges she was 44 when she had Sairose Ronan's character.