V for Burger King

(Spoiler alert! I briefly allude to the ending to V for Vendetta. So don’t read if you care. But don’t worry; the movie isn’t that good—you should just reread Alan Moore’s Watchmen instead. You’ll be much happier.)

So we saw V for Vendetta last night. Natalie Portman was alright. If she keeps it up she might work off her karmic debt for making me watch her in the Star Wars movies. But I just couldn’t get into the movie. One of the things that bothered me was the Guy Fawkes mask—I think V was supposed to be creepy, but to me he just looks like the Burger King guy. I kept waiting for him to make a classic football play...

Futuristic terrorist?

Or purveyor of tasty delights?

YOU make the call!

I should’ve known something was up, given that Alan Moore pulled all mention of his name from the credits. (it’s credited as “based on the graphic novel illustrated by Blah Blah”. Not a good sign.) Alan Moore is basically God—albeit kind of a bastard God—so if he’s not happy with the movie, odds are we won’t be either. I wonder if he was unhappy because it read as pretty straightforward good vs. evil, even despite the Portman torture sequence. I read Moore as being more interested in the disconnect between people’s intentions and the consequences of their actions, as when people with good intentions do deeds with evil consequences. But that feel didn’t come through in the film. It would have been a better ending if all of the protesters had gone right up to Parliament to invade it, and V unknowingly blew them up. Or if the soldiers shot all the protesters, then were blown up themselves. Somehow, everyone should have died. Even Baldy-Lou Natalie.

The whole movie left me wishing there was a way in this post 9-11 world to film Watchmen. (It also left me kind of jonesing for a Whopper, but that’s another story.) I know Warner Bros. has the rights, but I’d be amazed if they made the movie anytime soon. How can you make a fictional movie that features a terrorist attack on New York City?

So, fine, I’ll just wait until Michel Gondry’s next movie comes out instead—I think there’s a clip of it here.

Ethics question of the day: my cat has been not-so-patiently waiting for me to finish my lunch. I’m taking a break on it, so I set it on the floor and let her lick it for a while. Would it be gross if I ate it after she was done? I mean, my entire apartment is covered in a fine layer of cat hair and spit (hers, not mine), so does it really matter?

In other news…I now have orange hair. I went to my gal B to get it bleached platinum, but apparently you can’t bleach permed hair, or it will all fall out. (Remember Richard Pryor’s routine, where he has various things going.. ‘fuckit’? That’s how I imagine it would go—fuckit, whoosh!). So B tried to see how light she could get it without using bleach, and now it’s orange. Really. Some would say strawberry blonde, but I call it like I see it. I’m not liking it—I thought I did at first, but the more I see it, it makes me think of my old really bad dye jobs in grad school. Like the dirtiest copper penny in the world. And don’t forget the extant perm, because permed hair + orange = Little Orphan Annie.

I am a sad, sad Glare.