Slow Saturdays in DC

There's a lot to do in DC, but right now, while Curtis looks for a job, we're generally lying low on the big-night-out thing. Don't get me wrong, we're going out and doing things, particularly searching out restaurants and visiting the free stuff (monuments, museums), but we're being careful with money, and trying to keep our adventures to a minimum.

Besides enjoying nights in, I'm pleased that we have IFC Saturday nights. Last Saturday, the offerings were Affliction

Reservoir Dogs

and Bad Lieutenant

Which, alone, was great. But add in one of my favorite movies of all time, if not my favorite, and it was a great night . . .

Tonight, the greatness continued. First, there was Chapter 27, which I'd never seen, but was glad I had the chance to do so tonight. Later, Bully is on; I saw that, and it's quite disturbing. Thirteen is also on, and while I find that movie terribly entertaining, I don't think it's quite the chilling gaze into the dark soul of American Teens it's supposed to be.

But, now, there is The Usual Suspects.

And I love this movie. It always reminds me of Tracy, although it is not, as Curtis thought, her favorite movie. That would be The Godfather.

I also just like the shock at the end. There are many critics who find the twist at the end too "cute," and I get that. But I don't care; I still love that movie. The first time I saw it, I'd been talked into watching it by someone whose taste in movies I found questionable at best, so I sulked through the entire thing, unimpressed and somewhat bored. The second Chazz Palmintieri looked at the fax sheet, though, I started to pay attention. I watched it again, I believe immediately after watching it the first time. And every time I've watched it since then, to this day, I start to smile when he looks at that fax. Even though I know what's coming.

I also like thinking about the career arcs of the actors in it.

Benecio Del Toro, for example. I'd never seen him before, and found his mushmouthed slickster Fenster attractive and charming. Then I saw him in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which piqued my interest. His "Viva Las Vegas" montage in Snatch locked me in. Then he was in the heavy-handed Traffic and 21 Grams, and I let out a sigh.

And then there's Kevin Spacey. These were his glory days: this movie, Se7en, LA Confidential. Then American Beauty, which really didn't age all that well . . . and then came K-Pax and Pay It Forward, and, God help me, The Life of David Gale. 

Of course, there's Stephen Baldwin. He was in this movie. And then he was in Bio-Dome. And that's all I have to say about Stephen Baldwin.

Next week, it's Another Day in Paradise, a movie I've never seen; Dancing at the Blue Iguana, an entertaining little ensemble piece about strippers, chock-full of stars; and The Notorious Bettie Page, a movie we borrowed from Carolyn. Pulp Fiction is also on, and I believe I'm the only living human being who does not think Quentin Tarantino is a genius. But that's another blog post.

February 26th, I'll be at a wine-and-cheese party at a friend-of-a-friend's house. And either later that night, or perhaps the night before, at a midnight showing, I will be at a theatre in DC, watching one of the best worst movies ever made.