paragiraffe

I was so glad only the crappy Aeon Flux came out this weekend because it gave me the opportunity to catch up on a couple of indie flicks. (I didn’t even need to see Aeon Flux—that they didn’t screen it for critics was evidence enough—but I was right anyway.)

Speaking of critical acclaim, I saw the fantastic Capote on Friday night. I have to admit, it made me feel like a figurative literary idiot. I’ve never read In Cold Blood (not a requirement to enjoy this movie, though), and I didn’t know he was friends with Harper Lee. You should also know that Truman Capote was flamboyantly gay and somewhat of a liar. Philip Seymour Hoffman is Capote and is the movie, and his Oscar nomination for best actor is a lock. A win? We’ll see.

I also saw George Clooney’s baby, Good Night, and Good Luck. His masterful mixing of new and archival footage is the most striking part about this movie. In fact, during test screenings, some audience members felt the McCarthy character was overacting, when it was actually McCarthy himself. The acting was good, and the subject matter was interesting.

If you’re forced to choose between them, I’d go with Capote.

Good night, and good luck.

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