
...and see Russell Crowe at his dreamboat thuggiest in L.A. Confidential, Curtis Hanson's perfect-except-for-Danny DeVito's-overdone-narration adaptation of James Ellroy's classic of crime and corruption in '50s L.A, which starts a week run tonight at Central Cinema.
That was a long sentence. This is a short one. In other news, over a decade ago, L.A. Confidential enjoyed a nice long run at the Harvard Exit, which frequently screens foreign films, such as, say, Ma Vie En Rose. Perhaps the Harvard Exit's predisposition toward the foreign is what inspired the woman behind me to gaze up at the marquee—where LA CONFIDENTIAL was spelled out in block letters—and say, "Oh, I've been wanting to see Lah Cone-fee-den-TEE-AL!"
Thank you, anonymous lady, for doing something even more pretentious than the time I spent five minutes watching Eraserhead on pause. (I was 17, and I was sure that static black screen was building to something TERRIFYING. Sigh.)
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