Randee Dawn

Behind the mask

At the risk of making life sound far more exciting than it has been lately (helping my man recover from pneumonia involved a lot of letting him sleep while I tiptoed around the apartment), I went off to another screening last night. This one for "Mildred Pierce," which has been remade into a 5-part miniseries for HBO. It's gorgeous, but probably 3 parts would have done it.

It was a fairly glam evening; HBO knows how to wine and dine folks, and lots of people who've worked with them end up showing up and it's like connect the dots -- oh, yeah! Jonathan Ames is here because of "Bored to Death!" Steve Buscemi is here because of "Boardwalk Empire!" Alas, no sign of Sean Bean -- "Game of Thrones" hasn't started yet.

There are exchanges, of course: There's lots of celebrity spotting, but you also have to endure an endless introduction to the picture while everybody down to the gaffer gets a salute and thanks from the director (a nice guy, but brevity being the soul of wit and all ....). There's a nice spread of food afterward (including three (!) kinds of desserts and fruit), but at least in my case, you have to stand for an hour on the red carpet and think of not-too-ridiculous questions to ask.

On the other hand, you also get to see the actors quite up close -- angles that the photos never achieve. So while doing your little silly interview you get to notice that one who has way too much makeup and false eyelashes and whose purple bra is peeping up from her low-cut dress. Or the one young lady who seems to have no pores at all on her face -- absolute porcelain -- but who also kept tweaking at her had-to-be-extensions. And then ... there was the one actress who had a different hairy issue to contend with. I wish I could explain it -- makeup people, got any thoughts? -- she was ... well, fuzzy. A fair amount of foundation, but both up close and from a foot or two away the fine hairs (and there were a lot of them) completely stood up on her face. Now, this is a beautiful woman. But last night, I had to wonder if she didn't have a touch of hypertrichosis.

That's what perfection is like when you get up close.

Very much a Win Win situation

Went to a special screening of the new Paul Giamatti/Amy Ryan film "Win Win" last night (and really, has there been a more ideally-suited, realistic pairing in casting history?) -- and I really can't recommend it highly enough. It's not annoyingly quirky like some indie films, and it's got a real moral center to it. The characters may do questionable things, but you want them to succeed in the end because you really, really find them likable and sympathetic.

Giamatti's a lawyer whose practice is swirling the drain, and a high-school wrestling coach whose team is doing the same. His wife (Ryan) and two young kids are great and loyal and believable, which keeps things from feeling too down. (This is a comedy, by the way -- he works alongside Jeffrey Tambor.) An elderly client needs a legal guardian, and Giamatti steps in to fill the gap -- but puts the guy in a home while collecting the guardian check each month, rather than take on what would be too much responsibility. When the guy's grandson -- a bleached-blond teen of few words who just so happens to be a wrestling prodigy -- shows up, the whole thing could come crashing down.

So well acted. So well written. So just -- delightful. And for anyone looking at the "R" rating, here's what it's for -- two uses of the F word. There's no sex, no violence (outside the wrestling ring). It absolutely should have been a PG-13 film at the very most, and any parent reading this with a young teen should feel perfectly fine with taking their kids to see it. And I hope you will. I hope you'll go. Totally worth the money -- it's the kind of movie and the kind of comedy you wish Hollywood was making, instead of drek like "Just Go With It." Well, somebody is making those films. Encourage them further!

It's probably not a good sign when, during the big mutual declaration of love scene in "Jane Eyre," the audience starts chuckling.

Went to a screening of the film last night, met some of the stars and the director (who eerily resembled Hugh Grant and insisted he'd never heard that one before). It's ... all right. Rather Gothic but somehow not very atmospheric. But the shots of the English landscape and moors are just spectacular, and you do get a sense of what isolation might have meant in that cold, windy place.

That said, men wore muttonchops and I just couldn't have survived. That's just one male facial hair expression I can't get along with. Well, that and the little tuft of hair just below the lip. What is that called?

Vroom

It's a little hard to enjoy Pixar's "Cars" after you've read Stephen King's "Trucks." The Pixar film -- which really isn't up to their usual standards -- feels like what the world turns into about 50 years after "Trucks" ends.

And while we're nitpicking a children's picture, a) where did that pile of leaves on the highway come from when there's nothing but evergreens as far as the eye can see? b) why would cars be captivated by the beauty in nature, when it would be more like them to admire the cleanliness of a well-turned out parking lot?

Just sayin'.