I really have to cut out this 120 dollar a month all in one time warner cable. "Who the hell are you to touch my niggers?" It's Mandingo, a movie about to burst with violence but for now, it's just master slave sadism. This movie was everywhere meaning along the subway walls in a monster ad campaign when I was riding that old F train to Arch Bishop Malloy High School. I'm shocked to see James Mason doing an accent job on the US South. "Marry a white girl, then no more black girls, can't have 'em." "Oh yes you can, saves her from having to submit and when she do you keep on your shirt and drawers..." "New Orleans, that's the place to go, they remove clothes there." Mason has his feet on the cute little black boy and now it's time for a horsedriven carriage ride. The slaves are a marchin' with their american flag leading the way. What am I watching here at 12:24 Thursday morn? Tomorrow, perhaps to the Guggenheim, all I have to do is find the invitation for the Moving Pictures Exhibit opening. "You got that old Mandingo buck, the best fighting niggers..." I see a Spartacus in the making... The hotel staff just dropped off the girls for the guys, little black girls pawed by the white men. You take the virgin, I don't want no hard work. Wap, slaps the no hard worker, a real surprise for her. "Yes master." This does play upon issues of inadequacy and domination. These guys need serious therapy, or serious acknowledgment. One of the guys is sickened by the others whipping tendency. The pretty skinny girl with the tightly cut hair looks compassionately back at him for being different, for caring what a white man does with his wenchy. His leg is somehow lame... Oh, it's getting romantic and except for their size the male and female could be compatible. "I like you, sir... please you..." Tears for both. Press the info button. 1975.

I liked Ghost World, an infinitely watchable film, nearly 'til the end, it's the sequel to Revenge of the Super Nerds Part One, which is better known as Crumb. (Thank you, Queens Library DVD Collection)

I saw the exact same portion, the last hour, of Polanski's The Ninth Gate, again tonight following my visit to Don Shaw's for some Latin Jazz playing, an experience that stands apart from my daily activity, as does the experience yesterday with Amachi...

Ah movies. What impressed me, and that's what the mysteries of 8 will consider here, was the Ninth Gate's ever changing landscape. It is an elegant film. Note that Lena Olin recieves suitably sadistic treatement, Polanski subtly stimulating the sadists with the details, her nudity beneath the cape, her flesh wobbling when Frank Langella kicks her away.

Do you expect me to believe The Ultra-Elegant Johnny Depp concerns himself with finding the book pieces for himself? I can't imagine, although he has a convincing response to his delightful female companion, Emmanuel. Okay, I'm posting now, I'm looking up info on her quirkiness. I rather enjoyed their interaction. In fact, I rather enjoy the film. Is that great filmmaking on a panderingly popular level? I love Polanski's film, Cul de sac. For reasons perhaps perhaps obvious to all but myself,
I feel very close to his work.