if i was forced to cook in a turkish prison
--- the Buzz to here ---

10
Nov

“I watch a movie. I don’t watch James Marsden.”

— the ever-quotable A — speaking to me as we were walking back to the car after having seen The Box last night — vehemently pooh-poohing my suggestion that he should have allowed his mind to wander away from the film’s mind-boggling plot and just focus on the shattering beauty of its male lead. (Which, incidentally, is exactly what I did: I fancy myself a fairly sharp guy, and I was hopelessly lost about twenty minutes in, so I sat there for the full remainder of the film admiring the flawlessly symmetrical beauty of Mr. Marsden’s mutton chop sideburns — the story is set in the late ’70s, FYI — and had a perfectly wonderful moviegoing experience. A, on the other hand, got completely wrapped up in the madly warped storyline, and as a result, had nightmares last night ruminating upon what he called “this sick movie.”)