2005-06-30

Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how much Blockbuster sucks? I am an individual with a high film-need quotient: I have no television, very little money and no social life to speak of (yeah, what of it?). I watch a lot of fucking movies. One might even call me a ‘film buff’, if one was inclined to receive a punch in the mouth. In this town, however, life as an FB ain’t easy: Portsmouth has no repertory cinema and not one single cult video shop; and so I am stuck with Blockbuster, where the employees have nametags instead of opinions and half the films in the so-called ‘New Releases’ section made their big screen debuts at the drive-in. Bah. I will concede that the whole three-films-for-seven-days-for-five-pounds deal is a very economical, but you have to select your movies from the equally-ironically-titled ‘Favourites’ section, which, as far as I can make out, contains whatever random unwatchable DVD remains physically intact after periodic carbon dating reveals it to be past even the most exaggerated conception of a ‘new release’. Featured prominently in the ‘Favourites’ section: Treat Williams! Dolf Lundgren! Rob Schneider! Low-budget soft core porn! Thankfully not all in one film! Mixed in amongst these gems is a ‘collection’ of classic films that comprises the following: two Alfred Hitchcock films (Rear Window and Vertigo, because everyone likes to see Jimmy Stewart hanging from stuff), one copy of Citizen Kane and a VHS tape of Casablanca. A while back I reached the point where I’d sat through as many Ashley Judd thrillers as one human being could be expected to withstand, and I’ve now made my way through about three quarters of the ‘Foreign’ section – not surprisingly, I’ve come across some genuinely brilliant films in the process, and seen enough naked Frenchmen to fill the Centre Georges Pompidou. I’ve even eyeballed and warily considered renting a Bergman film, but I’m just not there yet, you know?

At least tonight I get to break free of the blue-and-yellow cartel, as this evening is the debut of the latest in this year’s lineup of heartily disappointing summer blockbusters: War of the Worlds! In which Tom Cruise runs away from some giant computer-generated tentacles and Dakota Fanning wields her fearsome giant computer-generated lower lip. It’ll get me out of the house, anyway.