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the colours in your head


Ajantrik, Wrath of God

Jon and I have a Tuesday afternoon movie tradition of sorts. That is, he is taking a class on Sound-Era Cinema, and one of the three weekly screenings is during my massive chunk of free time on Tuesday afternoons, so I tend to go with him. This week, the movie was Ajantrik, an Indian movie about a man and his taxicab.

[Jon interjects snippily: You could essentially say the same thing about Taxi Driver.
Alex replies: But Travis Bickle had a mohawk! And a GUN!]

I can't actually tell you anything about the movie, as I fell asleep during the first fifteen minutes and only woke up when Jon poked me intermittently, but the little I did see showed me that there were some truly beautiful shots in there. As well as a great cacophony of strange Indian musical instruments. And lots of talking to the taxicab.

The important issue, though, is that we have at last found a movie that I will sleep through and Jon will not. He even managed to stay awake for the entirety of a second viewing of it, and is so enamoured of this strange man's love for his cab that he is writing a paper on it. I suppose there must be a plot of sorts, but I wasn't able to catch it. Jon staying awake for this is an important step, I must say. We stopped going to screenings at the Brattle when I got annoyed at him for napping through every single film we went to see, intermittently awaking to suddenly say, "What happened?" The entire movie, Jon. As I mentioned before, he slept through The Ring. Perhaps his newfound affinity for waking life points to new and important things in his future. Whole 10 hour stretches without napping, even.

Now, having merrily taken pot shots at my boyfriend on the blog he doesn't read, I must turn to a far more important topic: Withnail and I. I usually become strangely balky when people recommend movies to me, but I finally sucked it up and put it in my Netflix queue (current content: 85 titles. Ah well.) I watched it today, with the lovely company of M.selle Liza, and came upon the following findings:

- Withnail and I is a wonderfully hilarious movie.
- I'm feeling too lazy to actually review it, but rent it. Now. If you like British movies.
- Both Liza and I are strangely attracted to Richard E. Grant. Probably because he is skinny, tall, British, and ambigiously gay. We have vastly dissimilar tastes in men, but we occasionally have bizarre overlaps.
- Most things are funnier when said in a British accent. Especially if the person is drunk.

Now, having written basically nothing, I am going to bed. I need to find a subject to interview about Valium culture in the 50s-70s before 7 tomorrow, and both my parents are inaccessible. Any ideas?


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