So I always imagined Anthony Lane as being one of those snarky Dan Savage types, but it turns out he's just British.

I mean, look how well groomed he is:


And he has a wife, though I swear he thought 8 Women was one of the best movies, ever, but I suppose you can chalk that up to being British, too.

So anyway, we caught the New Yorker festival showing of Duck Soup at the DGA auditorium. The beneficent New Yorker gave away free water and Milk Duds (Milk Duds!), but the dogmatic DGA took them away at the door. (The New Yorker people suggested we hide them in our bags).

The movie was good, but I just don't think I'm a big Marx Brothers fan. I liked it a lot more than A Night at the Opera.

Afterwards, Anthony Lane just barely fended off one of those comment whores, but scored major points by conspicuously checking his watch and interrupting with "So, what's your question?".

And then there were more Milk Duds.


(I have a bunch of backlogged reviews, but most weren't really notable. A couple notes, though. Save the last half-hour The English Patient wasn't as great as everyone seems to think. It's sad, too, because the one thing it does really well, its epicness and depth of importance, was the one thing absolutely lacking in Cold Mountain which I desparately want to be one of my favorite movies, but it's just not good. Let's hope next time Anthony Minghella can pull both halves off.

Also, Moonstruck was really good. Who knew?)