Ironically, the day after I posted a message saying that I’d hurt my wrist, it got a lot better. So much for any sympathy that might have been headed my way!
However, I’m still wearing bandages, using heat patches and massaging it, while also doing the same for the other wrist, which I swear is only aching because it’s jealous of all the attention its partner is getting. But it’s not stopped me from working, thank goodness: so far today I’ve transcribed two phone interviews, started my next Rewind feature for SFX, tweaked a piece I scribbled for Judge Dredd Megazine, discussed amendments to an advertorial for Total Film and sent off some invoices. Phew!
I also watched The Pursuit of Happyness, which was mediocre, if you excuse Will Smith’s son Jaden being the Personification of Cute. Happyness is just a small part of my ongoing plan to watch every goddamn DVD I can get my hands on from now onwards; I know a lot about movies but it’s so easy to fall behind, and there are some crucial gaps in my knowledge for older films, too. Tonight I have Disturbia lined up, or possibly Goodbye Bafana (it depends on how I’m feeling). Tomorrow Rocky III arrives from my Amazon rental list (I’ve never seen it), and last weekend I saw Blood Diamond (which had a good message but got a bit silly at times – great performance from DiCaprio, however), Snakes On A Plane (rubbish, but I will admit that I laughed a lot) and Apocalypto (brilliant, except for the stupid quicksand bit because quicksand only exists in the movies and not in real life and you’d have thought the screenwriters would have checked something like that before being dumb enough to put it in the script).
On a classier note, last night I sat down to watch 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner. I really enjoyed it, particularly the moment when Sidney Poitier tells his father, “You think of yourself as a coloured man. I think of myself as a man.” Ouch… Oh, and knowing that Spencer Tracy died 17 days after the end of filming gave all his scenes with Katharine Hepburn an added poignancy, too, and his final monologue was unbearably sad because of this knowledge. I had a genuine lump in my throat when the credits rolled.
But, as is the way with geeks like me, it didn’t last long, because I called my friend Paul to talk about the movie and for a moment we had our wires crossed because last week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica was called Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, too.
Hmm. Which came first: my desire to see the 1967 movie, or me seeing the title of the episode? I fear I am easily influenced, even if I don’t always notice…