¶ Matins: Vantage Point at ten-twenty, at the Orpheum. In the evening, a MMArtists in Residence recital at Grace Rainey Rogers.

¶ Tierce: Perhaps I want to reconsider the movie? Nah, I always disagree with Manohla Dargis.

¶ Sext: The Manohla-meter worked! I had a super time. In fact, I watched the last fifteen minutes standing up. Ack-shunnn!

¶ Vespers: I’ve decided to stay home. I wouldn’t want to be looking for a slip-and-fall attorney.

Oremus….

¶ Matins. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to go back downtown to see a show. I haven’t been to the Angelica since before the holidays. I tell myself that I’m waiting for warmer weather, but you wait: I’ll be complaining that it’s too hot to walk farther than across the street.

And by the time I screw up the courage to see The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which I’ve been avoiding at the Angelica ever since its run there began, it’ll be out of the theatres.

¶ Tierce. At ten past nine, Kathleen looked out at the snow and said, “You know what?” I didn’t have to answer. The snow meant that the car service would not be picking her up this morning and ferrying her to the financial printer near Grand Central. True, it’s not a difficult commute by foot, involving no more than three blocks out of doors, but when you’ve been working until one-thirty in the morning you’d rather sink into the back of a Town Car and get there when you get there.

The printer, who arranges these things, regretted a half-hour delay. The car-service drivers, who generally own what they drive and take care of it as well, are staying home in Jersey.

Last week, a friend exclaimed, “I thought you’d be sure to see In Bruges.” Now, there’s a film that I ought to go down to the Angelica to see. But I look out on the snow and think, you know what?

¶ Sext. Any critic who professes to dislike Vantage Point has been in the business too long, and needs a break. And will people please stop talking about Rashomon! Kurosawa’s movie is about the elusiveness of truth. Vantage Point is not. Yes, there are multiple points of view, but with each iteration the story grows richer and more intelligible, not less so. The cast is so strong that it seems unfair to single anyone out, but Dennis Quaid is superb as a damaged Secret Security agent, while Ayelet Zurer proves herself as a magnificent femme fatale. More tomorrow.

I was so shaken up — this is an action movie in which car chases don’t seem relatively violent — that I walked straight home, endeavoring not to slip on the slush. Whether I go to tonight’s concert at the Museum depends on conditions. I’m not risking my neck for a bit of Beethoven!*

* Maybe I’ll take the bus.

¶ Vespers. Much as I hate missing a concert for no good reason — and the weather and my fatigue are not good reasons — I’m coddling myself this evening, trying to convince myself that it’s only prudent to stay off the slippery sidewalks. Kathleen, who has been working late all week, thinks that she can come home for dinner, and I’ve got a yen to order in Chinese. We’ve got lots of movies to watch, although I don’t know that Kathleen will be keen to see Parker Posey and Melvil Poupaud in Broken English.

I’m also trying to wrap up a page for Portico, on Breakable You, Brian Morton’s most recent novel. It’s much bleaker than the two others that I read, with plenty of loose ends and undeveloped material. And yet it was a delight to read. I waived customary objections to eked-out endings.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 22nd, 2008 at 1:00 am and is filed under The Hours. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.