Anger ventilated often hurries towards forgiveness; anger concealed often hardens into revenge.

The sunshine on the water. Eaglehawk Neck, Tasman Peninsula. January 2011.

What’s that you say? Five questions about motion pictures you sure?

Why sure…

What is your favourite movie of all time and why?

A hard one, as it depends on my mood. If I had to pick a short list, it probably include Unforgiven, The Godfather, Cool Hand Luke, Das Boot, The Life of Brian, Halloween, The Thin Red Line and Three Colours: Red.

One of those, for lots of reasons…

What was the best movie you saw this last year and why?

Toy Story 3. I didn’t get around to seeing a lot of movies last year, but I’m not sure that it matters. Who would have thought that an animation would be filled with such pathos and the tale of a bunch of toys so utterly ’human’?

Who’s your favourite director and why?

Like the favourite anything, it depends! Krzysztof Kieślowski seemed to be a great combination of storyteller with an utterly fantastic eye for a shot. I think that Dekalog is about the best thing ever made with a video camera.

What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?

Halloween. Note to filmmakers: real terror is about what you don’t show, not what you do.

What’s the funniest movie you’ve ever seen?

The Life of Brian is a funny one. It is a hard one though, as inevitably what was hilarious the first time around is ground into dust after it has been copied eight-thousand times. [See: Flying High/Airplane; Top Secret and The Naked Gun…]

The view from the beach set against the ‘dog-line’. Eaglehawk Neck, Tasman Peninsula. January 2011.

Comments

Kris McCracken said…

GONE!

17 May 2011 at 14:56

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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