Ok, I'm definitely starting to feel tired. It's not the actual 'watching a movie' part that's wearing. If anything, I'm loving movies more than ever, and remembering why I got into this business in the first place. But it is the challenge of fitting in the regular job, getting to and from the flicks, and making sure to post up each day before the midnight hour strikes...
It's a good thing I'm single without kids, otherwise I know I'd be driving someone - other than myself - a little mad. Before we started, I'd psychologically prepared for two constants and not much else for summer 2010: a movie a day and a morning workout (so that the time spent shedding 35 pounds since January would not go in vain over the same time period upcoming). So far, only half of the equation is being fulfilled.
Tomorrow, I promise to do an hour of cardio when I wake up. I swear. I must. Dear God, please.
It was fitting that today's screening was for the Dirty-Harry-goes-to-England-and-morphs-into-Michael-Caine geriatric thriller Harry Brown. I know how Caine's character feels in the picture above. Drained, tired, determined, though, to get the job done. I have 88 movies to go. Caine's Harry Brown also had a certain number to dust off before he could sign off.
In the film, Harry's a widower and ex-marine compelled to annihilate a select group of street thugs after they brutally murder his fellow old guy and only friend. What's distinctive here is the film's unhurried pacing. This isn't some sprightly Liam Neeson in a race against the clock to save his kid from sex slave traders, or Charlie Bronson taking out the umpteenth sleaze urchin in the 7th sequel to Death Wish. It's old man Caine with emphyzema, slowly taking step by agonizing step to put down a half dozen of the grimiest dirt bags on film. He's not a sure-shot Clint Eastwood. He's a guy who wheezes and geezes and sits a spell at the hospital before a half-sputtering charge to kill the last cronie. It's not a pretty thing to watch, but I give Caine and the film full credit for making one feel the aching strain of his efforts. Even if my sore rear end wasn't adding to the effect, I'd recommend it to indie action junkies.