The Two Williams (and a Bette)

When I was an undergrad, I was taking a class at the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts, and one of the dudes who worked at the museum was German, and he would constantly refer to our instructor and another woman who worked at the museum as “Da Two Soozunz.”  For some reason, this is unendingly funny to me.

Hence the name of the post, which is decidedly less funny and clearly something only I and Steven will get.

Kiss my rump.

Anyway, I spent my weekend with William Castle and William F. Claxton.  Why, you ask?  Well, I had a piece due at Fused Film, as I said, and I was having trouble deciding what to write about, so I chose to write a double feature review.  Now you are wondering what that double feature was.  Well, it was a true Peanut Butter and Nutella double feautre.  Two great tastes all mixing together: Bug (1975) and Night of the Lepus (1972).

There is not a lot I can tell you without giving away the absolute mastery that is my review*, but I will tell you that I hardcore loved both of these films.  In fact, I loved them so hard that I wanted to shove the DVDs down my pants.  In even more fact, these movies rocked my face right off.  No, seriously, my coworkers are looking at me all funny because I am currently managing to type at my desk right now sans face.

In other news, last night I stayed up too late.  You see, usually with horror, you can count on a good ninety minutes.  So I have gotten used to that running time.  But last night when Steven and I put in Dead Ringer (1964), I expected to be able to go to bed at the regular time.  As a result of this lack of sufficient sleep, I am a little weird.  I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, “Missy?  Weird?  Never.”  I know it’s tough to imagine, but the other day, I posted something on my other blog about my head floating off into space and being filled with peanuts, and since then I’ve been thinking about how that could happen and what it means that other planets have the ability to eliminate the allergy to peanuts.  And trust me, it’s weird in here.

Anywho, what was I talking about?

Dead Ringer**.

You all know that I love Bette Davis.  Scroll back up to the top if you’re confused.  Read the address of this website if you’re confused.  Bette Davis is my chica.  She’s my star (have you seen The Star?).  I heart that bitch like you would not believe.  So I am more than happy to announce that Dead Ringer is fucking good, y’all.  I mean, let’s face it, Bette is in some bad fucking movies.  She is.  (I just watched Watcher in the Woods, and it totally fucking sucked, and I was so bored, and I just wanted her to yell at someone, but she didn’t, and then I wanted someone to die, but it was a Disney movie, so I should have known what I was getting into, but I didn’t, and now I can’t un-see that, and I feel all weird inside.)

But in Dead Ringer she kills herself, but she’s still alive, and that sounds confusing, but it’s not, and you’d get it if you saw it, and I am huge fan of the run-on today because it just sort of suits my mood, so I am going to go with it.  Oh, and Karl Maden is like the sweetest fucker ever, and then in walks Peter Lawford, and you’re all like “I’m just a fella, a fella with an umbrella,” except he isn’t.  He’s all bloated because he spent those 18 years drinking too much, and he was in some not-great movies too, and then you realize that Bette Davis is going to kiss Peter Lawford, you start to feel dirty, but then you realize that she doesn’t want to, and you’re like “Phew. Okay,” and you feel better, but then he sort of almost kind of kisses her boob, and you’re like, “Whoa, Bette Davis does not have boobs after 1960,” and your brain starts to implode, and then he jumps off of her and they have a stand off, and the movie gets more awesome, so you are able to let go of that, and your brain doesn’t implode, so it’s okay again.  And then it all takes a turn, and it’s a twist and a turn and a turn and twist, and it’s only the most awesome thing you’ve seen since The Anniversary only probably not that awesome because that was the most awesome thing in the history of history.  And then it’s over, and you’re all like, “I fucking heart Bette Davis.”

And I’m spent.

*I make no promises about my reviews.  They may, in fact, be completely sucktastic.

**Spoilers abound!

EDITED TO ADD: Her name is MARGARET not MARGOT!  Whoever the douchebag is who posted this video must have only seen like two Bette Davis movies: this one and All About Eve.  Pshaw.  And they call themselves fans.  (In other news, All About Eve is so good that I could pee in my pants just talking about it.  In other, other news, Dark Victory is even better.  Jesus-fucking-Christ, is it just me? Or is Bette Davis seriously fucking so amazing that my brain is imploding all over again?)

EDITED TO ADD AGAIN: I really want to go home and watch Dark Victory now.

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~ by acaseofyou12581 on April 26, 2010.

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