(The Rows and Columns of) My Little Black Book
I'm keeping a movie diary.
I would call this post “The Moviegoer” after the Walker Percy novel, or the semi-forgotten Scott Walker album which borrowed its name, but I don't go to the movies as much as they come to me. In fact, I haven't seen a movie in a theater since the tiresome but not terrible Aquaman. Then again, it's only the first month of the year and one in which studios typically dump their duds while folks catch up on the Oscar nominees.
Usually I start projects like this only to lose track of them after a couple of weeks. So far, I've managed to keep up, in part by saving the damn thing as a bookmark. Remember those? It's early days yet, but I feel good about seeing this through. Unlike last year's failed Shakespeare-a-thon, the movie diary doesn't dictate content but only records it.
I'm not sure exactly why I'm doing this, except that AB is keeping one too. I also derive a mild satisfaction from seeing all that time (mostly) well spent. Plus, I expect it will be fun to remember that I watched The Stunt Man in January, that its complexity, its meta-narrative, its gonzo I-can't-believe-a-major-studio-paid-for-this sumptuousness practically demands a second viewing.