Today at the office I read Clive Barker's short story "Twilight at the Towers" and it reminded me that I fucking love Clive Barker. It made me want to go back and read all the Books of Blood, which I did when I was in my early teens. And also The Damnation Game, which I read around the same time, and which I'm pretty sure introduced me to the word "chitinous."
I saw Point Blank, the French film, two nights ago. Really very good. Best new action movie I've seen in several years. Reminded me that Americans just don't know how to make them anymore. I mean, compare this to the trailer for Abduction (which will probably be a hit but elicited groans of just absolute contempt in the last theater where I saw it play).
I also saw Play Misty for Me recently for the first time. Deeply upsetting. Like, pit of the stomach. Arguably the first modern stalker movie and Clint Eastwood's directorial debut, it's got a fairly ingenious and clever screenplay, and despite some dated shit (the awful romance montage in the woods, or whatever) is truly squirm-inducing to watch. You just loathe the Evelyn Draper character so much (or at least, I did). Also, Clint Eastwood at 41 was an impossibly handsome human being.
Got this from the Paris Review blog. Video is unremarkable but she's really good, no?