Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day
cleanskies

weakness for DTV and supernatural dreams

Constantine was great! The melodrama! The grumpiness! The dubious logic, punctuated regularly with explosions! And the thing with the bees! And that bit where Tilda Swinton turns up in madhouse fetish dancewear and tramples on Keanu's head! Oh yeah ... it was like a late-night DTV, but at 6.30pm, and big! I suppose they aren't DTVs now VHS is obsolete. DTDVDs? Bit of a mouthful. DTC? That's where I saw The Prophecy 1 through 3, and Urban Legend (Jason Connery's finest moment). But that's not very fair to Satellite. Or terrestrial; I saw Cast a Deadly Spell (the hard-boiled adventures of Harry Lovecraft, PI) on ITV, and that's not just the bst DTV ever, it's one of my favourite films ever.

Seen another couple that rate a mention recently -- both with the series-pilot feel so many of them aspire to. Anonymous Rex is a bold attempt to adapt Eric Garcia's daft Dinosaur-Noir novels which largely depend for their humour on the fact that it is pretty much impossible to visualise a dinosaur in a human suit. Except when you're looking at Billie Piper. It wasn't well written or plotted, but found grace in a great animation sequence with plasticine explosions and plastic dinosaurs and some decent chemistry between the guy from the Highlander series* and my favourite Baldwin (Daniel). His pale grey eyes are so creepy! Sky had it in the UK, so, hmm, don't know when it'll resurface. The Breed, though, is currently on Sci-Fi channel's regular play list, so presumably cheap as chips. Straightforward vampires-in-fetish-gear stuff, but set in a crazed kafkaesque future-world of bleak small-towns and Gilliamish science-miltary bureaucracy. Stars a eurotrash coat-swirler, a bluff black guy, and a background cast assembled by someone who likes the strange ones.

Woke up this morning from an odd dream about doing magic by cutting out appropriate lines from an old red cloth-bound Complete Shakespeare and inserting them into cuts in a raw potato. As the ink dissolved, the magic happened. The previous night I dreamed about running laps around Oxford (a specific route through the streets, quite long) armed with a cricket bat, carrying my peacock rucksack. I had to do a certain number of circuits before dawn, and things kept getting in my way ...

That Casanova guy doesn't actually have freakish Elijah Wood style blue eyes after all, I realised, while watching Quatermass. They must have put contacts in him to make him match Peter O'Toole's dreamy baby-blues. I was disappointed by the end of Quatermass. It's not very Kneale, but I was hoping they would set the alien in resin and call it art at the end. Probably would have taken too long.

* Apparently not. It just looked like him.
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