06 février 2005

Neighbours

No, not the televisual masterpiece from Down Under: I'm talking about the real McCoy here, I'm talking about the very people who can make your life hell on earth, those who could make you become paranoid, those who could get you to believe that the whole building has been conspiring against you and thinking up plots to make you go totally bonkers and leave the building. Preferably in restraints.

But they're not gonna get me. I'll fight. And even when they start hoovering again right at the moment when the name of the culprit is being revealed or when Clint Eastwood whispers something extreeeeeemely sensual to Meryl Streep, at 10:30 at night, I'll stick to my sanity. I will. I will. I will.

Talking of repeating things, is it me or can we safely say that Martin Scorsese suffers from a bizarre obsession that means all his leading characters must repeat things until I go mental (because it seems I'm the only one who's bothered)? I thought that was just a mobster thing, and that I would be OK going in to see The Aviator (excellent film, terrific acting, bloody good direction all-round). I should have known. Howard Hughes had an obsessive compulsive disorder and yup, that's conveyed, among other freaky stuff, by Leonardo DiCaprio mumbling the same sentences over and over. Definitely didn't ruin the film for me, but it sure has me wondering. Will Scorsese end up in a straitjacket, going "You talkin' to me? D'you f**k my wife? Come in with the milk. You talkin' to me? D'you f**k my wife? Come in with the milk. You talkin' to me? D'you f**k my wife? Come in with the milk."? But then, who will be there to film him?