Re: "Bug" over the top!
- From: "Avoid normal situations." <byend.removethisbityousillyperson@xxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: 29 May 2007 22:32:07 GMT
nick <nickmacpherson05@xxxxxxx> wrote:
On May 28, 9:51?pm, denn...@xxxxxxxxxxx (Dennis M) wrote:
This Reynolds wrapped mess is being BBQ'd on Yahoo Movies, a D+ with over
1,000 entries. I think a lot of people like me who never review movies on
there were compelled to chime in on this one.
Can't imagine why any professional critic would give it an A or a B unless
they were allowed to do a lot more to Ashley Judd than look at her naked
bod in the film.
To be charitable, Bug might work better as a play or better or as a
made for HBO or Showtime release where the closed in paranoia, limited
sets and over the top performances would exist in a more suitable
context.
For the record, I'd just like to say that I liked _Bug_, too. I didn't think
people made psychological horror stories anymore. Definitely not the same old
thing done the same old way, and it's not just about people getting tortured,
either.
--
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alt.flame Special Forces
"The New Cross Palais de Danse was still open. Next night I took Lily
Chandler, a girl in whom I had a fifty-one per cent controlling interest, to
the Palais. It was a long room with a gallery running around the top. Chicken
wire had been stretched below the gallery because of a habit of people
throwing things down on the dancers. A five-piece band was blowing its way
through the wartime standard tunes. The room was packed with civvies,
soldiers, sailors and airmen, with windows closed and blackouts up, the
atmosphere was stifling. I spent that evening waltzing, foxtrotting, and
chatting up Miss Chandler. I can still see the bobbing heads of the dancers,
and the reflected spots from the revolving glass ball above me. Every dance in
those days ended with the waltz 'Who's taking you home tonight', and everyone
would sing it sotto voce as they glided around. While I was doing this, the
last bloody tram was leaving, so I had to walk Miss Chandler back to 45
Revelon Road, Brockley, a matter of two miles. The raid was still on. We
walked back through deserted streets; occasionally fragments of A.A. shells
would whoshhhh down and splat on the pavements, they do say if you were hit
by one of our own A.A. fragments you could have your rates reduced. Lily was
wearing black, I think she had a premonition about me. As we approached Malpas
Road a stick of three bombs fell about a half mile to our left, but they
passed directly overhead and Lily and I lay down against a wall. While we were
down there I tried to make love to her. 'Don't be a fool,' she said. 'That was
close,' she remarked. I'm not sure whether she referred to the bombs or me. I
spent some half an hour kissing her good night in the door-way, and tried
everything, but she kept saying 'Stop it' or, 'Don't come the old assing with
me.' So I walked another two miles back to my house, bent double with pain and
sexual frustration.
"My week's leave was spent in 'sitting in' with local gig bands, seeing
people from the Woolwich Arsenal (where I had worked before the War),
drinking, and walking home bent double with sexual frustration from 45 Revelon
Road, Brockley." -- Spike Milligan, _Adolf Hitler: My Part in His Downfall_
.
- References:
- "Bug" over the top!
- From: RichA
- Re: "Bug" over the top!
- From: grifty
- Re: "Bug" over the top!
- From: nick
- "Bug" over the top!
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