Time to catch up on another old movie that it's very
unbelievable that I have never seen, especially considering that film-watching
is one of my favorite activities. One
major obstacle is that I never watch movies on network television. TV edits movies for content and timing, and
they never let you watch the credits.
Plus, they paste their station logo onto the screen, usually on the lower
right, and it's always a major visual distraction to me. I hate this practice. Never once have I ever been watching TV,
when, just as the identity of the murderer is about to be revealed, I suddenly
think to myself, "hey, what channel am I watching?" I don't care.
Nobody cares.
Thank goodness for TCM.
They occasionally put their logo up, but only for a moment and generally
only twice during a movie – I can live with that. Other than that, films are shown as
originally seen in the theatre, as far as I know. Recently, as part of their Movie Camp
series, they broadcast "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
How could I possibly have not seen a movie that came out in
1977, written and directed by a guy everyone over the age of 5 has heard
of? I don't know. I was 12.
And probably head over heels for Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. No offense to Richard Dreyfuss.
You have to admire the special effects in this movie. They seem way ahead of their time. Because that is one heck of a spaceship. And this was back when Lucasfilm/Industrial
Light and Magic was barely off the launch pad, so no help there.
I'm a very left-brained person – an organizer; analytical. I like things to make sense, and everything
in its place. So this movie drove me
bonkers. I tried to hang in there; I
really did. But by the time we get to the
mash potatoes, I'm really not getting what's happening in Roy's mind. And when he starts throwing dirt and bricks
in the kitchen window – that's it. I
would have done the same thing his wife did – load up the kids and drive away,
never to be seen again. Not that I
missed them much – they seemed very exchangeable for any other family unit in
suburban America.
Then, poof! We're driving
to Wyoming where Roy miraculously hooks up with Melinda Dillon's character, and
everyone's wearing gas masks, and there are helicopters flying around chasing
people. And what's with the French
guy? Is he Canadian? Like from Quebec? He doesn't seem snotty enough to be from
France.
There just seems to be a lot of moving parts here, for a movie
based on a Disney tune.
I did think the space aliens looked adorable. But if you read one of my earlier blog
entries, you know how I feel about space aliens. They are not to be trusted. No matter how cute they are. (Okay, ET maybe.)
Of course, after the film ended, there were the two TMN Movie
Camp hosts, who gushed over it like it was the Second Coming. Everything about it was apparently brilliant
and all film students should watch it 100 times over until they too have
learned enough to become brilliant filmmakers.
I admit the finale made perfect sense to me. Since Richard Dreyfuss spent the
entire movie acting like a total space cadet, he might as well become one. It's all for the best, because when his wife
sees what he did to the house, she's going to be pissed...
One Thing That >50 Me Has Learned Along the Way...
Everyone should know how to change a flat tire. Yes, you too, ladies. Because if you own a car, or regularly rent
one, chances are, you're going to get a flat at some point. Be prepared for it to be raining, or dark, or
in the middle of Nowheresville. In one
case, I wasn't exactly stranded alone on Mars, but I had a ton of
baggage sitting directly over the space-saver compartment, and a screaming,
carsick cat to deal with. It was a major pain to change that tire. But I was grateful I'd taken
the time to learn. So either know how to
fix a flat, or hire a chauffeur-driven vehicle – guess which one's cheaper? Sometimes you get lucky – I once made it into my
own garage before my front driver's side sank into the pavement. I'm now a legend with at least one CAA
responder. He nearly wet himself when he
discovered I'd run over a spoon.
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