The Queen, or how Helen Mirren killed my Bonercrazy love for her.

I liked THE QUEEN okay. Here's what killed it: I didn't much care for the stag bit, but I get it, it works as a metaphor for her (last of her breed) or Diana (the hunted), whatever. But then to spend so much time establishing who the Queen is, and then to have Blair's character defend her, and then on top of it spell it out at the end makes it kinda ruins the whole thing. But ribbons on top are what get academy nominations, I guess. Mirren deserves her Oscar, and it's a shame Michael Sheen was robbed of his nomination. The film also understand that it's fascinating to watch extraordinary people do mundane things, because it presents the illusion of a window.

Mirren looks a lot like my grandmother in it, though. Since EXCALIBUR, and through such films as AGE OF CONSENT, CALIGULA, and THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND HER LOVER I've had a thing for her. But dressing like a family member kinda ruins it. Thank god I met Mirren beforehand. I borrowed the DVD from my neighbor. He voted for the film across the board, which I found out after I gave him my verdict. I told him that I liked it a lot, though, so I think that helped.

I gave my wife a new oral trick last night. She's crazy for it. I knew I had to hold some things in reserve. She wanted more of the same tonight. Which I gave her. But I've got to hold some shit in check, and so I have to deny her some things in the future. Variation, you've got to have some things up your sleeve. Speaking of, THE PRESTIGE this weekend.