and did we actually once sleep here?
Darin really wanted to see Dogma, a Kevin Smith film. I was lukewarm on the notion, because Chasing Amy just annoyed the hell out of me. I couldn't understand what everyone thought was so great about it. The dialogue grated on my ear, the direction was terrible, and the story--a romantic comedy about a man who falls in love with a lesbian--might have been interesting had she actually been a lesbian.
But it was Tuesday afternoon and we said, What the hell.
I am not that much of a Kevin Smith fan post-Dogma. I am a much bigger fan of Ben Affleck and Matt Damon after the movie--they were both wonderful as the renegade angels who find a way back into heaven. But Kevin Smith's films are an argument for the Hollywood "collaborative" moviemaking method: someone's got to say, "Kevin, you need to cut." The dialogue goes on endlessly and repetitiously, there are entire scenes and characters in the movie that are completely pointless, and I haven't the slightest idea what I was supposed to get out of the experience, other than a vague notion that I hadn't wasted the past two hours. And that part was debatable.
Dogma is the story of two renegade angels who get kicked out of heaven for talking back to The Man (or The Woman, as the case may be). They discover a way to get back into heaven--a loophole that depends on everything about the Catholic faith being absolutely true. The film does not, to its credit, ask you to accept that everything about the Catholic faith is true; it simply posits Catholicism as one of the initial premises of the story. (Kind of like you have to be able to buy that medical science can allow two men to switch faces, as in Face/Off--if you can't buy that, don't watch the damn movie.) You don't have to know anything about Catholicism before watching this movie: all of the premises are spelled out. Over and over and over again.
Heaven is not too happy about these two angels returning, because, after all, God threw them out; if they get back in, that means God isn't infalliable and therefore creation will vanish in a puff of logic. So God sends Metetron (Alan Rickman) to order the last known descendant of Christ, Bethany (Linda Fiorentino), to stop the angels from fulfilling their mission. She gets sent the prophets, Smith-film regulars Jay and Silent Bob (Jason Mewes, Kevin Smith), and the 13th apostle, Rufus (Chris Rock), to help her out.
It's a much better idea than it is executed film. There's all sorts of stuff in there that isn't pursued--the idea that Lucifer, who's been trying to end creation all this time, doesn't want to be shown up by these angels and might want to stop them as well is simply dropped--and a whole bunch of entirely annoying stuff that's in there for no reason. Okay, maybe Salma Hayek as the Muse-turned-stripper is in there for a reason, but it ain't no story reason. (And it sure isn't an acting reason either.) Scenes drag on endlessly and in some cases pointlessly. The angels are great--both of us found ourselves wishing Smith had spent more time with them, simply because Affleck and Damon sell them so well. Fiorentino is totally wasted as the main character, who's mostly a non-entity.
I think Darin liked the movie better than I did, because he's willing to credit the Interesting Quotient of the idea and the way the first half of the movie is so much better executed than the second half. I found myself restless through a lot of it.
Darin flew out to Chicago this past weekend with Mitch to attend Nevin's wedding. I didn't go to the wedding because a)I'm tired all the time and don't want to be a drag and b)despite all the fancy maternity clothing friends have loaned me, I just don't feel like dressing up a whole bunch at the moment.
They almost didn't make it out to Chicago because O'Hare was snowed in. They did, however, make it in time to make the bachelor party Friday night.
I told Darin on the phone, "Remember: no hookers and no booze."
"Oh, honey, all these rules."
(In fact, Nevin's bachelor party consisted more of playing video games than anything else--which is pretty much Nevin's idea of a good time, which is the right way to hold a bachelor party.)
Saturday Rob flew into Burbank in order to drive up north with me--the last time I did the LA to Cupertino drive by myself my car broke down outside of Bakersfield and I was, to understate the case, wildly hysterical during the experience. Darin could just imagine what I'd be like in the same situation while pregnant, so he asked Rob to drive with me.
Mike also came into LA for the night, on his way from Phoenix to Munich. Al and Brent came over to visit with Mike, so I had a house full of men while Darin was gone. I'd often heard that pregnancy attracts some men, but I had no idea.
Sunday Rob and I drove up north. Correction: Rob did the driving. He wanted the thrill of driving a Mercedes. I suspect the thrill wore off after about mile 100 and another 300 miles of cows stretched before him. I was happy I only requested one stop along the way: I'd been worried I might require multiple stops.
At Rob's house Rob, Laura, and I watched several recordings of Brimstone. Eventually I couldn't keep my eyes open a moment more...so I got back in the car and drove to Mitch's condo.
Darin and Mitch returned from Chicago on Monday. They were both totally exhausted from a weekend of fun and games, both at wedding-related functions and with old friends. Darin went to bed at 8:30 (if that doesn't tell you how tired he was, nothing will).
Darin and I spent Tuesday heading to old haunts--Kepler's in Menlo Park, Lee's Comics, Century 16 Movie Theaters. The area feels both familiar and strange at the same time. We remember where most things are...but not all. We can't remember where all the major thoroughfares are or what their names are. It's so strange. I lived on the Peninsula for 13 years before moving to Los Angeles--you'd think everything would be imprinted a little more severely.
Case in point: Both Darin and I have the same feeling about staying at Mitch's condo, which was Darin's and my condo for 5 or 6 years before we moved to Los Angeles. But when we're there we don't think, Oh, hey, we used to live here. We think, Hey, Mitch's place. It doesn't feel familiar. For example, I couldn't remember where I used to set up with my Powerbook.
The answer to the last question: Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts, is retiring after 50 years. You think maybe Charlie Brown will finally get to kick the damn ball?
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com