One of the stranger contradictions in my life is that I don’t like to read non-fiction books (unless they are written and read to me by Rob Lowe) but I love to watch documentaries. Odder still, I don’t like to watch fiction (for lack of a better term) movies because I think a lot of them are too long, poorly written, rely on too many gender/racial/sexual stereotypes, and don’t feature enough Matt Dillon.
Now that I’ve cut the cable and got The Netflix (and enough with your stupid Netflix/Qwikster bellyaching and/or unfunny jokes. They screwed up. We get it. You’re not funny.), I have a bevy of movies at my fingertips. Since I don’t ever see movies in a theater (see reason I don’t like fiction movies and add not enjoying having movie seats jammed into my kneecaps), I have a lot of catching up to do. However, Netflix has fuckall for fiction movies that look remotely interesting, though I have to admit I’m one boring weekend away from watching something called “The Ramen Girl” starring Brittany Murphy. I’m pretty sure Netflix has all the movies starring people I’ve heard of that never actually got released because they suck so hard. That might be a project for me — watching the shitty movies starring people I’ve heard of.
So yes, between “Friday Night Lights” binges I’ve been filling my eyeballs up with documentaries. Some of them good, some of them not so good. And, since I’ve spent the last two paragraphs telling you why I should not be allowed to review movies, I will offer you my thoughts in 12 words or less.
Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop: Tall, smart, funny, angry, red-haired man with a guitar. Yummy.
The Universe of Keith Haring: No new information, but I enjoy listening to people talk about Haring.
Helvetica: Design nerds talking nerdily about typography.
Black White + Gray: Patti Smith has a grey moustache and I love her for that.
Art & Copy: Smart ad people say dumb things about communism, smart thing about ads.
The September Issue Anna Wintour’s a bitch. Grace Coddington rules. Still never read Vogue.
The Eyes of Tammy Faye Baker: Remembered more from reading Mom’s National Enquirer’s than I probably should have.