Bonnie and Clyde

September 2nd, 2007




Bonnie and Clyde are the names of the cats we’re currently staying with, so there was no way around rewatching Arthur Penn’s 1967 classic. The film is still horrifying and hilarious in its casual depiction of murder, love, and grand theft Ford Model T, and it’s this last part I found most curious: Bonnie and Clyde provides the blueprint for a gazillion crime-spree romances to follow, and the car already occupies a central role, as if American lawbreaking in the 20th century wasn’t even possible without the automobile — even when there weren’t roads to drive on. You know Ms. Parker and Mr. Barrow are doomed when their escape vehicle is hit by a hand grenade, and the final machine-gunning riddles not just their bodies but also their “death car” with bullets. This movie has led to many ruthless but gentle mock machine gun executions of our feline friends.

Bonnie and Clyde. Arthur Penn, 1967. *****

Twitch City

April 13th, 2007

Most people seem to know Molly Parker from Deadwood, but to us she’ll always be the stripping drummer in that movie Paul Auster disowned. In this late nineties TV series set in a dinky Toronto apartment, she’s the hapless girlfriend of Curtis, a cereal-munching talk show addict shut-in played by Don McKellar, who also co-wrote the show. Twitch City undermines the wholesome Friends sitcom formula with a serious slacker attitude; the first episode revolves around who has to go out and buy the cat food. Curtis is refreshingly selfish and cynical, and much of the plot rests on the increasingly absurd parade of roommates who pass through, including a bunch of neo-Nazis, a sprawling Portuguese family, and a gang of criminals storing psychedelic cookies. In the midst of the satirical hip, there are flashes of real sweetness between Parker and McKellar. Like the Rex Reilly show Curtis tapes and rewatches compulsively, Twitch City is wicked addictive. All 13 episodes are out on DVD.

Twitch City. Bruce McDonald, ****