Nothing says "I didn't sleep well" like flailing around Livejournal before noon.

But the sleep deprivation was for the sake of productivity: polishing two short stories*, nerves about dancing tonight, and working on my video proof that Julian Sands eats kittens.

It's beginning to look like a THIRTY-MINUTE REVIEW, which seems like more than this movie deserves, but I have a three-minute sequence just detailing this guy's obsession with whimpering women, and there's hours more where that came from. (Oh, just FYI, the uncut footage of whimpering, where I just slapped it all up to see how long it would be if I let it run? Over TEN MINUTES.)

Also, I vacillate wildly between thinking this movie is a huge failure as a horror/drama or a huge success as a camp comedy. Part of this is the music, which is so much better than this movie deserves that it's sort of painful. Dear Ennio Morricone, if you don't want me to be invested, cease being awesome!

See, just writing this entry I changed my mind from "Man, he has issues with women up the wazoo" to, "But it's SO HILARIOUS we can't possibly be meant to take it seriously," to, "I just DON'T KNOW."

I'm afraid he's totally serious. He seems like he's really into his "art", you know? One of his soundbites about this movie talked about how rats and insects really are telepathic. I'm just saying.


*And some word count on the novel, but man, that's not REMOTELY polished. That's shoving the plot-boulder forward by inches.

So I've been trying to impress upon everyone I know (and strangers on the subway) that Il Fantasma dell'opera is a crazy movie. As if the making out with rats hadn't convinced you.

While compiling the Review of Doom, I ran across this clip and realized, I don't have to try any more. This does all my work for me.

PS. THE WIG OH GOD THE WIG.