Someone I met recently said she’d just seen “Hustle & Flow,” that she’d liked it a lot, but that it needed subtitles. I saw it last night, liked it a lot less, but didn’t think it needed subtitles. Once I got accustomed to the hustle and flow of the accent — which I understand is authentic Memphis African-American English — it was relatively easy to follow, and of course there’s no mistaking those m-f-bombs, no matter what the accent. It (the accent) was one thing I liked about it, one of a nice scattering of journalistic touches that tells you the writer knows his stuff.
Terrence Howard was another thing to like about it. Isn’t it thrilling to see an actor having a great year? You look at that face, and think: That’s a movie-star face. Why hasn’t anyone noticed until now? Maybe he had to grow into it.
The music? Was ludicrous. I like hip-hop as much as the next middle-aged white girl, but come on. How do recording engineers not burst out laughing when they hear some of this stuff? The central song we see produced in the movie, “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp,” is nominated for an Academy Award. It’ll most likely win, too. I can’t wait to see the audience-reaction shots when that one rolls out. Maybe Reese Witherspoon will bob her head along.
And that’s about all I have to say about the Oscars. Every year since Kate was born, I think, “Next year I’ll see all the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars are awarded” and every year I fail. When you add the baby-sitter surcharge, I just don’t care enough; there’s always one stinker. This year, for me, and your mileage may vary, it’s “Munich.” My severe Steven Spielberg allergy makes my head swell whenever I get near a theater showing one of his films. I regret missing “Capote,” though, and of course “Brokeback Mountain,” but I’ll get around to them.
Washed the dog today. He hated it, as all dogs are required to do. He fussed and objected and glared at me when it was all over. And an hour later? He loved me again. Ask yourself: What if someone dragged me through a very uncomfortable physical experience that left me smelling all wrong and my skin itchy? How soon would I feel like being nice to that person again? Inside of an hour? Not bloody likely. Dogs really are man’s best friend.
Later: OK, that gay-Western montage was funny. Settling in for the rest of it now. Feel free to turn the comments into your playground.