hours

This weekend seemed strange. It felt like some extended period of waiting. I am going a bit stir crazy, too, feeling cooped up. But it is solely my fault. It's just that in summer I am not so inclined to be out and about.

I joined Netflix. I have been viewing lots of films. Yesterday I watched THE HOURS. Meryl Streep was wonderful, as always. Her character, also, was deep, so she had a lot to work with. I wish that I could make the same claim for Nicole Kidman as Virginia Woolf. Her portrayal of the depressed Woolf consisted mostly of squinting at some vague point a few feet in front of her pinched face. I had fun imitating her later. She also liked to hold her head at a strange stiff angle. I think that Ed Harris was supposed to be unbearable to watch, but he was unbearable more for his overacting. When Julianne Moore appears as the elderly mother of Ed Harris's character, the makeup job is so bad that she looks far more like a burn victim than an aged version of the woman we saw earlier. I kept studying her, trying to find it a convincing transformation. Couple that with Nicole Kidman's prosthetic nose, and what do you have? And then there was Philip Glass's maudlin score that just intruded all over the place. How on earth did Nicole Kidman win an academy award for this? Yikes.