grayspike

Disregarding Tom Cruises antics and outbursts as well as those movie reviewers who couldnt get their minds around a Spielberg flick with rampaging aliens, we saw War of the Worlds last weekend. Once you get past no cuddly spacemen and no immediate gratuitous uplift, its a fine movie!

First, the obvious. The special effects are great. Theyre not overdone.

Second, Cruises character is an ordinary guy made extraordinary by circumstances. Each of us has a flee or fight mechanism. The situation determines which gets used. In Cruises characters screen torments how he reacted never strained credibility. Brutal as his choices sometimes were, he chose wisely.

Last, at its core War of the Worlds is a horror movie. From about 10 minutes in until the closing scenes, menace steadily builds.

The fear doesnt come so much from the invading aliens, but what humanitys likely response would be. What happened on screen to society is damn plausible in real life. That thin veneer of civilization some of us have heard about got stripped quick as it probably would if comparable calamities were to happen in our lives.

Whether its a reaction to our times or not, the only bunch who maintained its composure was the military. That struck me in particular because there was plenty of slaughtering going on.

A casual friend named Nacky accompanied me to the theater. Shed been away in Vermont over the last year. Tipping cows or chasing moose or whatever they do up there treated her well. She left skinny, sullen and unsure. She came back with womanly curves, pouty and possessed greater confidence.

Id always seen her as a living Gainsborough portrait. Now even more so.

The last trait she demonstrated through talking. A revelation! Before, getting Nacky to talk almost needed Gestapo tactics. Although she hasnt become what youd exactly call bubbly, shes more engaging.

Next night we went out for drinks. We pressed our luck. As bad luck would have it we ran into a mutual acquaintance. One from Argentina. They did not hit it off.

Pleasantries were minor between them. Theyre such different people. Nacky is introverted and happy to be taken as an afterthought. Or mascot. Or worse, pal. The Argentine is effusive. Since she has the looks, she demands being the center of attention. At her least, shes arm candy. At most, quite an energizer in bed, backseat, couch or convenient stairwell.

Once we went our separate ways, Nacky asked if I noticed how the two hadnt spoken to each other after hello. Yes and no. I was too busy bridging the dead air between them to fully notice.

Since this version of War of the Worlds came out so well, another movie studios should think about remaking is Bonjour Tristesse. The late-50s version is tame compared to the novella its based on. Now that we live in permissive times (the Suicide Girls site is proof of that in spades!), the books frankness can be transferred to screen. Back in the 50s women behaving in emancipated fashion were little tolerated.

Sadly, no actor in an updated version could be as dryly Continental as David Niven, neither are their actresses as uptight as Deborah Kerr nor as sexually wholesome as Jean Seberg. This story is set on the French Riviera. Seberg was from Iowa.

She was too radient to play louche.

A stringy French chick who looked normal swilling Champagne and smoking Silk Cuts shouldve been cast instead. Seberg, nowhere near a selfish gamine, didnt come across as scheming and vindictive enough.

She looked too Iowa.