My Favorite Cecil B. DeMille Film

When I think of the image of a Golden Age Hollywood director, I think of Cecil B. DeMille in "Sunset Boulevard," orchestrating one of his Bible epics, and acting as a gatekeeper of moviemaking dreams.  DeMille was one of the most popular directors of the silent era, and a good chunk of the early sound era, specializing in epics.  Adjusting for inflation, he's still the most commercially successful director of all time.  I suspect that he's a big reason why epic films are considered their own genre in some circles.  It didn't especially matter, for some of his productions, whether the plot or the acting was any good, because the sheer spectacle was so well realized.  

However, when he got the right actor in the right role, playing a larger than life figure out of history or myth, DeMille could give them the spotlight like no one else.  My favorite screen Cleopatra has always been Claudette Colbert in DeMille's 1934 "Cleopatra" film. I've suffered through several underwhelming films about the life of Cleopatra, and was initially nervous about seeing one from the man who had made the 220 minute "Ten Commandments."  DeMille's "Cleopatra," however, only runs 100 minutes.  And it's absolutely crammed full of gorgeous production design, ornate costuming, and sumptuous decadence of every kind - with the best cinematography to show it all off.  Colbert had previously appeared in DeMille's "The Sign of the Cross," playing a femme fatale who was shown bathing in milk in a memorable scene.  She made an impression, not just because she was beautiful, but because she had such a strength of personality.     

"Cleopatra" was made right when the Production Code was starting to take effect, and Hollywood started cracking down on more licentious content.  DeMille, however, had enough clout that he could largely ignore these restrictions.  He could put mostly naked women onscreen, right in the title sequence.  He could imply that Cleopatra was getting up to all kinds of antics with Caesar and Marc Antony.  Colbert's Cleopatra is as sexy as any screen siren who ever appeared in a movie.  I don't remember any other performance in "Cleopatra," because Colbert so dominates every moment that she's onscreen, and DeMille ensures that you can't take your eyes off her.  Unlike some of the other screen Cleopatras, Colbert rarely plays her as a tragic, Shakespearian figure.  This Cleopatra is bright and vivacious and enjoys being a seductress.  Sure, she pulls off looking regal when the occasion demands it, but she doesn't ever become dwarfed by the scenery the way some of DeMille's lesser actors have.  

As a product of the 1930s, there is no attempt to be historically accurate whatsoever.  The movie is more of an Egyptian themed Art Deco phantasmagoria, with scene after scene of Colbert putting on amazing outfits, Hans Dreier's giant sets, and a cast of thousands.  It makes so much sense now, that the 1963 "Cleopatra" bankrupted 20th Century Fox trying to outdo Cecil B. DeMille.  There's one particular shot that I think is a good encapsulation of the movie's scale.  Cleopatra's seduction of Mark Antony takes place on her luxurious barge.  As Antony gives in to her advances, servants pull curtains into place to give them their privacy, and the camera pulls back.  And it keeps pulling back, past all the attendants holding fans and flowers, past the rowing galley slaves, until we see the full length of the ship and the opulence of its interior.

By the time DeMille directed "Cleopatra," he had made some of the biggest hits of the 1920s, mostly westerns and Biblical and historical epics.  His list of accomplishments is considerable, including being one of the first celebrity directors - almost certainly the prototype of the tyrannical perfectionist shouting at crowds of extras through a megaphone -  and contributing to the formation of the motion picture industry in Hollywood.  The critics never liked him much, but audiences loved him, from his earliest silent films, through his transition to the sound era, all the way to his final film - the one with Charlton Heston that still airs on network television every year for Easter.  And since I could never be accused of not loving populist films, I'm happy to make a place for him on this list.     

What I've Seen - Cecil B. DeMille

Don't Change Your Husband (1919)

Male and Female (1919)

The Ten Commandments (1923)

The King of Kings (1927)

The Sign of the Cross (1932)

Cleopatra (1934)

Union Pacific (1939)

Unconquered (1947)

Samson and Delilah (1949)

The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)

The Ten Commandments (1956)

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Reconsidering "Elvis"

Baz Luhrmann's "Elvis" biopic isn't really about Elvis Presley (Austin Butler) as a musician or as an entertainer.  It's about Elvis as a more mythic figure, as seen through the eyes of his longtime manager, Col. Tom Parker (Tom Hanks).  This Elvis is an embodiment of the American dream as it existed in the 1950s, a poor white singer who rose to superstardom by singing African-American music, and breaking the rules of the entertainment industry, before spiraling in his later years to a tragic early death.  Parker is positioned as the villain of the piece, the evil, greedy Svengali behind the scenes who ended up killing his golden goose.  Baz, as reliable a showman as ever, relays the story through 159 minutes packed with music, melodrama, and the best spectacle money can buy.  Some of it's laughable.  Some of it's brilliant, and the whole thing is a lot of fun to watch.

I admit I know very little about Elvis, except for the omnipresent pop culture figure he became in the '80s and '90s: a pompadoured, jump-suited, overweight crooner who was the frequent subject of supermarket tabloid conspiracy stories.  There were so many depictions of him secretly alive, it never really sunk in that he'd died young, at forty-two, and his career only spanned about twenty years, from 1956 to 1977.  Of course, those were turbulent and memorable years, and the film benefits from gleefully plowing through a ton of history at a breakneck pace.  Luhrmann's depiction of Elvis is very idealized, and very informed by present day mores.  Elvis's popularity is attributed squarely to his willingness to ignore the color line, and play black music and dance provocatively in an era when both were taboo.  He's shown taking influences from black Beale Street musicians, including Big Mama Thornton, and palling around with  B.B. King.  When Martin Luther King Jr. is assassinated, it affects Elvis deeply.   

Because the film focuses so much on the crimes of Colonel Parker, Elvis is put in the role of unwitting victim, especially in the final third of the movie.  Not only does he suffer years of financial abuse and manipulation, but all of Elvis's considerable personal and professional problems now stem mainly from his inability to get out from under the Colonel's thumb.  It certainly makes Elvis more sympathetic, but the filmmakers are clearly playing fast and loose with history.  Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge) and the rest of the Presley clan often feel like bystanders.  I can't bring myself to care much, however, because Baz and company are clearly not interested in presenting a standard Elvis biopic.  Everything here is streamlined, heightened, and exaggerated all out of proportion, from the very subjective, very unreliable POV of the Colonel.   They are printing the legend with no apologies, while at the same time trying to convey more cautionary messages about America and the entertainment industry and the illusory nature of fame.   

And if you can accept these constructs, it's easier to swallow the version of Elvis that we're presented with.  Austin Butler's Elvis is a starry eyed young rebel, willing to take a stand against the establishment, and loves his family and his fans best of all.  His faults are bluntly acknowledged, but quickly elided over.  Instead we get scene after scene of pulse-pounding musical performances.  Butler is given every opportunity to blow our socks off, and he doesn't waste them.  I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty more of him after this.  Tom Hanks as Colonel Parker, on the other hand, is cartoonishly bizarre, with a terrible accent and an alarming amount of facial prosthetics.  I kept thinking I'd get used to them at some point, but two and a half hours later, no such luck.  It's the worst performance I've ever seen Hanks give, and miraculously it makes absolutely no difference to how well the rest of the movie works.

As with all Luhrmann films, the art direction is absolutely divine, and nothing feels kitschy in the least - not even Las Vegas in the 1970s.  Contemporary artists are brought in to provide covers for some Elvis hits, with mixed results, but Austin Butler reportedly did all of his own singing, and is frequently mesmerizing onscreen.  I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the film's popularity turns out to be from Elvis Presley's old fanbase coming out of the woodwork to see a little of the old magic resurrected.

As for me, I think I have a better sense of Elvis's appeal, and got a glimpse of the way people saw him in the '50s and '60s, at the height of his career.  And it convinced me to join his crowd of admirers, just for a little while.  I honestly don't care much for his music, but it's impossible to deny he was one of the greats. 

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"Paper Girls" Rule

I'm not familiar with the Brian K. Vaughan comics that "Paper Girls" was based on.  However, I suspect that Amazon decided to produce a show about a quartet of preteen girls from 1988 having harrowing time travel adventures, in order to catch the attention of the "Stranger Things" crowd.  There's a lot of thematic and aesthetic crossover, even though these are fundamentally different stories.  "Paper Girls" isn't the crowd pleaser that "Stranger Things" is, but I found it much more satisfying to watch.

The action takes place the morning after Halloween in Stony Stream, a fictional suburb of Cleveland.  It's the first day on a paper route for Erin (Riley Lai Nelet), a sheltered Chinese-American twelve year-old who worries over her mother and younger sister.  She meets fellow paper girls  Tiff (Camryn Jones), KJ (Fina Strazza), and Mac (Sofia Rosinsky), who decide to band together to escape bullies and finish their routes.  Unfortunately, they become caught up in a conflict between rival groups of time travelers - the authoritarian Old Watch and the rebel STF Underground - and end up being transported to the year 2019.  While trying to find a way home, they meet an adult version of Erin (Ali Wong) and are hunted by an Old Watch officer called the Prioress (Adina Porter).

What I immediately appreciate about "Paper Girls" is that it isn't nostalgic and it doesn't have much interest in the idea that time heals all wounds either.  While all the business with the warring factions of time travelers is diverting enough, the heart of the show is about the adult and child versions of the girls all coming to terms with each other, and being honest about their faults.  Eventually we meet the adult versions of some of the other girls and their siblings, and some are better off, and some are worse.  The grown up Erin is estranged from her family.  Adult Tiff (Sekai Abeni) seems cool at first, but has her own set of problems.  Mac works through a bundle of personal issues and spoilers with her a drastically changed version of her older brother Dylan (Cliff Chamberlain).    

The four girls take the lead every step of the way, and the four young actresses do a fantastic job with some often difficult, emotionally fraught material.  Initially, I was a little worried that the girls seemed to fit into very common types - Tiff is African-American and smart beyond her years, and Mac is a foul-mouthed tomboy from the wrong side of the tracks.  However, all of them turn out to be very nuanced, interesting personalities, and it's great to watch them become friends, fall out with each other, make up, and generally act like real preteen girls onscreen.  My favorite scene in the show involves the four of them trying to figure out how tampons work.  Later, when KJ realizes that her adult self (Delia Cunningham) has made some different life choices than she assumed, it takes her time to process.  And the show lets her and the others have that time.     

Genre fans looking for easy action and spectacle might come away disappointed, because the series doesn't have a very high budget, and is much more concerned with its character drama than making its time travelers and their toys look cool.  However, there's something tremendously appealing about the imperfect, outdated effects and the occasionally too-literal comic book imagery.  It makes the adventure feel more kid-relatable, even if the content often touches on more adult subjects.  I should clarify that there's very little sex in the show, and only moderate violence, but a good chunk of time is spent frankly discussing sexuality, puberty, and adult relationships.  The handling of the more sensitive material is excellent the whole way through, especially when it's contrasting the adult versus the kid POV on various topics. 

"Paper Girls" was released with so little fanfare that I'd be stumping for it a lot harder if I didn't know that a second season is already in the works.   I thoroughly enjoyed it, and am happy to proclaim that this is one of the best comic-to-screen adaptations that we've had so far.  The four leads are bound to get more attention after this show, particularly Sofia Rosinsky and Camryn Jones.  And I didn't know I needed the image of Ali Wong piloting a giant mecha in my life, but I did, and "Paper Girls" gave it to me.       

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Meeting "Mrs. Harris"

I suspect that I feel mostly positive about "Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris," the first proper film version of the Paul Gallico novel, because I've already seen a pretty terrible adaptation of it.  Back in the '90s, there was a TV movie version of this story starring Angela Landsbury and Omar Sharif, which started out fine, but managed to royally bungle the ending.  Also, a TV movie budget couldn't really do certain elements justice.  The film version, starring Lesley Manville, also changes the ending, but perhaps for the better.

A gentle class-conscious comedy, "Mrs. Harris" takes place in the 1950s, when London cleaning woman, Ada Harris, becomes fixated on the idea of purchasing a haute couture gown.  When she receives a lucky windfall, it's off to Paris and the fashion house of Christian Dior, where Mrs. Harris has to navigate the complicated steps to actually acquire her heart's desire.  And she doesn't even speak French!  Dior's director Claudine (Isabelle Huppert) is hostile to Mrs. Harris's presence, but the much nicer accounts man Fauvel (Lucas Bravo), sweet model Natasha (Alba Baptista), and the intriguing Marquis deChassagne (Lambert Wilson) all come to her aid.  And she, in turn, comes to theirs.

The appeal of Mrs. Harris is her humble demeanor and her very English, very down-to-earth sense of humor.  Lesley Manville is immediately lovable in the role, and has no trouble convincing us that everyone Mrs. Harris meets just can't help being charmed by her.  It's fun watching her get excited about setting off on a real adventure to a faraway land, and getting everyone invested in her impossible quest.  However, there's always a sense of world-weary melancholy about her, and in several scenes Manville conveys a wealth of heartache while hardly uttering a word.  I like that the movie is all about the fantasies of romance and glamor and beauty, but is smart enough to examine and question the underpinnings of these fantasies.   

I've heard comparisons of "Mrs. Harris" to the "Paddington" movies, another feel-good British franchise that takes a stand for being kind and polite and believing in the best in people.  There has been, however, some welcome updating of "Mrs. Harris" as a character.  After all, her chief drive in this story is her pursuit of a piece of luxury clothing, something reserved for the rich and privileged.  So it makes sense that she should help her new friends rattle some class boundaries, stand up for the working stiff, and eventually learn to stand up for herself.  Of course, she helps to engineer a romance between two young people, and maybe saves Dior too, because this is that kind of movie.

Fans of fashion will appreciate the care that went into depicting the House of Dior as it existed in the '50s, along with a specific 1957 Dior collection.  The costumes were handled by Jenny Beavan, who worked on "Cruella," and clearly knows how to make clothes look amazing onscreen.  I would have suspected some sort of branding deal in place, except that Mrs. Harris's dress was specifically a Dior gown in the original book.  I can hardly be miffed about the company taking a perfect opportunity to put their name all over this movie.

"Mrs. Harris" is a Cinderella story at heart, about never being too old to go and chase your dreams.  Making those dreams a little more progressive and a little more modern minded doesn't do the movie any harm at all.  As I mentioned earlier, the ending has been changed to be a more typically happy one, but the film feels like it's earned it.  

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Rank 'Em: The Best Picture Winners of the '90s

Decade by decade, I'm ranking the winners of the Academy Award for Best Picture.  From greatest to least great, here's the '90s.

Schindler's List (1993) - Considered Steven Spielberg's masterpiece, for better or for worse.  After years of snubs and speculation about his status as a serious director, Spielberg made a film so overwhelming in its scope and subject matter that it was impossible for the Academy to deny its importance and quality.  I haven't seen this film in twenty years, but many scenes remain sharp in my memory.  Other strong nominees from this year include "Remains of the Day" and "The Piano."

The Silence of the Lambs (1991) - Achieved a rare, but well-deserved sweep of the major categories, and is still one of the few real genre films to win Best Picture.  The impact of "Lambs" on all crime and horror fiction has been significant, and Hannibal Lecter has become his own franchise in the years since this film.  The win was deserve, but note that this was the closest any animated film ever got to Best Picture.  "Beauty and the Beast" definitely would have had my vote.    

Unforgiven (1992) - Clint Eastwood was an Oscars mainstay for decades, and this is easily the year he most deserved his kudos.  I like the interpretation that this is Eastwood's final, elegiac goodbye to the movie western, and his last word on the subject of their mythic heroes.  Eastwood's performance is great, of course, but this also has one of my favorite Gene Hackman appearances, playing the villain.  Of the other nominees, "The Crying Game" and "Howard's End" are standouts.

Shakespeare in Love (1998) - Boy, those "Saving Private Ryan" fans know how to hold a grudge.  I've been defending the "Shakespeare in Love" win for decades now, no matter what you want to say about Harvey Weinstein's awards campaigning tactics.  It's a Stoppard script!  It's a perfect cast!  It's the first comedic winner since "Annie Hall"!  It was the right movie at the right time, and it's still a fabulous watch.  I refuse to apologize for being a fan or preferring this to Spielberg's gloomy WWII throwback.

Titanic (1997) - There's nothing wrong with a little quality spectacle, and James Cameron ensured that this was as spectacular as a disaster film could get.  Even if you find the Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio love story a little lacking, the massive scale staging of the sinking of the Titanic more than makes up for it.  Still, I prefer "A Night to Remember," and on rewatches I tend to skip the first half.  This was also a year of very strong contenders, and I would've picked "The Full Monty."

Forrest Gump (1994) - Like "Titanic," this is one of the cultural touchstones of the 1990s.  I saw it multiple times, simply because it was a popular success and firmly part of the mainstream consciousness.  There's been a lot of reconsideration of the film's nostalgic depictions of American history, and the Forrest Gump character, which is indicative of how quickly this is aging.  Other nominees, like "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Pulp Fiction" are holding up better.

American Beauty (1999) - I used to love this film, and I still have warm feelings toward it.  However, it paints a melancholy view of adulthood and adolescence that looks much less insightful now that I'm actually grown.  I appreciate the satirical elements more, though, and I've stopped feeling bad about enjoying Kevin Spacey's performance.  Also, "American Beauty" is significantly better than all the other nominees - a weird mix of titles from a year with no shortage of great films.

Braveheart (1995) - I have no interest in ever watching this again, but I can't deny that it's a very effective piece of action filmmaking.  Mel Gibson putting William Wallace's adventures onscreen certainly has more entertainment value than many of the other winners from this time period.  I just happened to like all the other nominees from this year better - "Apollo 13," "Babe," "Il Postino," and "Sense and Sensibility."  I'd pick "Babe" to win, edging out Jane Austen.

The English Patient (1996) - I can't take this film seriously anymore after that "Seinfeld" episode where Elaine suffers through multiple viewings, bored out of her mind.  There's an old fashioned romanticism here that I really have to be in the right headspace to enjoy.  This was also a very good year for Best Picture contenders with much better options - "Fargo," "Secret & Lies," and "Shine" among them.  Even "Jerry Maguire" would have been a more memorable pick.

Dances With Wolves (1990) - This hasn't aged especially badly compared to some of the other winners, but the three hour running time, the white savior narrative, and Kevin Costner's screen presence sure don't do it any favors.  The depiction of Native Americans is more tone-deaf than anything else.  It also doesn't help that this was the same year that saw Best Picture nominations for "Awakenings" and "Goodfellas," which are far better films in retrospect.    

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Why are We "Fishing With John"?

The Criterion Collection contains some fun content in addition to movies.  There are the occasional shorts, miniseries, and of course spine #100, the Beastie Boys music video anthology.  And then there's one of the few, rare television series, "Fishing With John."  It's one of those weird little media curiosities that could have easily fallen through the cracks, and I only watched it because it happens to be Criterion Collection spine #42.

Originally aired on Bravo and IFC in 1991, I think "Fishing With John" is best described as an absurdist fishing show.  There are six episodes, and runs roughly two and a half hours altogether.  I could see an unsuspecting viewer coming across this at random during those initial broadcasts, thinking it was a normal travel show that happened to feature some celebrity guests, and slowly becoming aware of the bone dry humor and steadily encroaching madness.  The host, John Lurie, is one of those talents who I've seen in a lot of things over the years - Jim Jarmusch movies mostly - but never could identify by name before now.  He's primarily a musician and artist, who has a lot of famous friends and colleagues, and managed to rope several of them into his fish-seeking adventures.

Each episode depicts a fishing trip, usually in an exotic locale. In one episode, Lurie and Matt Dillon go to Costa Rica and encounter the supernatural.  In the next, Lurie and Willem Dafoe go ice fishing in Maine and have a brush with death.  Little fishing is actually depicted, and successfully caught fish are rare.  The cinematography here is great, but also designed to look like it could have been shot by amateurs.   The aesthetic is very similar to the low budget, improvised mockumentary style shows that have gained popularity over the last few years, like "How to With John Wilson."  Initially I thought that "Fishing With John" might have actually been Lurie's genuine vacation videos with the narrator, Robb Webb, having been added later.  Thanks to Lurie's commentary tracks, I learned that everything was staged or improvised.  Also, John Lurie doesn't actually know anything about fishing.  

Most of the show's humor comes from Webb's off kilter description of events, which start with minor oddities, like "These are horses" and "These are real men doing real things," and then increasingly wander off into the wacky and bizarre.  Then there's the music, which was composed by Lurie.  In addition to a theme song that consists of Lurie droning the words "Fishing with John" in David Lynchian fashion, the soundtrack sometimes follows the narrator's lead and gets a little self-reflexive and meta.  One episode, where spooky things are supposed to be happening, brings in a choir that ominously chants about fishing, "The Omen" style.  And if you're only half-listening, lulled into complacency by the placid mood and natural beauty of the scenery, you might not catch the hysterical lyrics.     

Because I am a nostalgic soul, I love getting to see familiar faces like Willem Dafoe and Tom Waits existing onscreen in fairly casual circumstances thirty years ago, just messing around and complaining about the usual travel woes.  The last two episodes are spent with the late and much missed Dennis Hopper - chasing giant squid if the narrator is to be believed - and it's ridiculous and wonderful.  You can tell that Lurie is actually friends with most of his guests, and they're comfortable around him.  If Lurie had actually wanted to make a straight travel show like this, I'm sure he would have found some success.   

I've learned that there is a HBO sequel series, "Painting With John," that features more of Lurie's land-based hijinks in the present day.  A second season wrapped up earlier this year, so I'll have to go and take a look.  

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"The Boys," Year Three

Spoilers ahead.

Well, at this point you're either a fan of "The Boys" or you're not.  I've committed to watching the show for at least another season, but I think I've definitely reached the point of diminishing returns.  The show feels like it has set an end goal, which is to destroy Homelander, and now it's doing its best to delay doing that for as long as possible.  And this sort of thing drives me nuts.

This season follows essentially the same beats as the last one.  A new character is introduced, Soldier Boy (Jensen Ackles), a legendary superhero who has been MIA for decades, but may hold the key to Homelander's defeat.  Multiple episodes are spent building him up, and his inevitable confrontation with Homelander, only to end with an anticlimactic clash and Soldier Boy being put back on ice.  A couple of minor characters are killed, the various romantic relationships are threatened and mended, and way too much is kicked down the road, to be dealt with in a future season.  The Deep and A-Train get a little character growth, but not so much as to affect anything.  Hughie becomes an asshole, but straightens out pretty quickly.  Starlight finally quits the Seven, but probably not for good.  

Two new wrinkles that are actually consequential this year are that the Boys team temporarily get to use superpowers - no secret because it's a big plot point in the original comics - and Homelander becomes Donald Trump.  The second point is the more interesting development, because it acknowledges the reality that outright fascists with the right messaging and the right amount of hype can enjoy immense popularity and get away with just about anything.  There are MAGA spoofs and references all over the place this season, and the ending even literalizes one of Trump's most famous claims, that he could murder someone in broad daylight and people would still clap.  Most of Homelander's screen time is spent doing away with all the little safeguards that supposedly keep him in check, and consolidating his power.  He's still fun to watch and root against, but his endless escalations are getting tedious.  

You can tell where most of the show's attention is by what the marketing has been crowing loudest about - Herogasm.  The notorious superhero orgy referenced in previous seasons has been brought to the screen in truly NC-17 fashion this year, and it's…  okay.  There is a lot of nudity and kinky business onscreen uncensored, and some of it is funny, and some of it is outrageous, and I'm glad everyone seemed to have a good time with it.  There is more sexuality in general this season, including an earlier fight using sex toys as weaponry.  However, there's also still a notable prurience around sex in the show, where our main couples - Frenchy and Kimiko, and Hughie and Starlight - are never shown doing much more than cuddling.  That dichotomy worries me a bit.  

 

We're still living in a superhero obsessed culture, so there's still plenty for "The Boys" to skewer.  This year there's a full Vought-themed Disneyland full of rides and merch.  One of the better subplots involves A-Train trying to stop a racist superhero from harassing his old community without running afoul of Vought's PR demands.  However, this isn't "Watchmen," and there's not much depth to any of the commentary.  "The Boys" is first and foremost about getting good action scenes, black humor, and shock value out of the material, and any real grappling with heavier issues feels like an afterthought.  I liked where Hughie and the Boys were at the beginning of the season, trying to address superhero accountability from different, more structured roles as part of the government bureaucracy, but this quickly falls apart because the person in charge is another secret villain.     

I'm running out of patience with "The Boys" because it seems to have found a groove it is comfortable with, and I can see the show idling here for several more seasons, if it doesn't just go full "Walking Dead" and decide to never pay off anything that it's set up.  I like several of the actors and performances enough to stick around for a while, but the show's novelty has pretty much worn off, and even hardcore nudity doesn't seem all that much fun anymore.  

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