Sometimes, when I’m getting money from the ATM I feel like Detective Riggs (Mel Gibson) from Lethal Weapon 2.
Because that’s the film that started out with Riggs and his about-to-retire partner (Danny Glover) in a parking structure, next to a car with a bomb in it. Time was ticking, they had to cut the wire, and they weren’t sure which one to cut. There was pressure, some sweat was beading down their forehead, and everyone was all eyes — watching and waiting. Watching and waiting.
It’s how I feel when I’m trying to get money out of the ATM.
Do you watch HBO’s Six Feet Under?
Are you familiar with Brenda’s psychotic brother Billy (Jeremy Sisto)? He’s come in and out of the quirky hour long cable drama as an artist, then a psycho-sister loving artist, then a pretty normal shaved head on my medication artist, then a lost-in-love with Claire artist who stops taking his pills, then a psycho-sister loving artist.
Really, it’s bookended really well. Nice job, Six Feet writers!
This past weekend, though, while walking around with my dog at the Laurel Canyon dog park up on Mullholland Drive — Billy was out and about with a character we have yet to be introduced to on Six Feet Under (which I suspect has something to do with the fact that real life AND television are not one in the same)…his puny little rat dog.
This isn’t about you. It’s about me.
It’s about the fact that when I watch HBO’s Entourage there are three things that enter my head. That, for one, I would never pay to see a movie version of Aquaman. That, two, I would probably never cast Mandy Moore as the female lead in such a movie. And thirdly, that I’ve got the saddest, most depressing entourage on the face of the Earth.
For example, on HBO’s Entourage consists of their leader (a hot actor), his brother (a B actor, but an actor nonetheless), his manager (a manager) and their friend Turtle (comic relief). Each of them fill a certain missing spot in a group — covering social aspects (women, et al), business aspects and levity. It is the food pyramid of entourages and I tip my hat to their well-oiled machinery.
What combines the look of the movies 2001 and THX 1138, the sterility of a hospital E.R., the pure fear element that all small American Heart Association blood vans instill in the public, the sheen that you see on dice included in the game Monopoloy, the overpowering smell of a thousand (opened) fashion magazines, employees dressed like plastic surgeons, with faces that have most likely gone under the knife, with the kind of organization and small typeface fonts included on anally shelved items that make your head spin?
And it scares the living crap outta me.