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Charlton Heston

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(Warning: This is a Harry-Knowles-like remembrance (contains melodrama and nostalgia galore). Click here for Harry's Harry-Knowles-like remembrance of Heston.)

Growing up, I watched Planet of the Apes on TBS at least once a year. Although it's been parodied so much in our culture that it's lost its meaning, I can still remember the strangeness of the film, the weirdness of the chimps walking, the blank look of Taylor's mate, and the shock at the end of the movie.

Later on, as an undergraduate, I fell in love with Touch of Evil, discovering it, luckily, in the DVD re-edited based on Welles's memo.

So, I was sad to see Heston in Bowling for Columbine, old and flaky, hunched over in his easy chair, and I was sad to hear that he's died.

Some nice pieces:
I've never loved Mahnola Dargis's reviews, but now I feel a kinship.
A nice story about Heston and his pants.
Excerpts from Heston's letters to the LA Times editors.

What's Not to Love?

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Joe Queenan's review of Paris Hilton's The Hottie and the Nottie, which descends into a discussion of the worst movie ever made, actually makes me want to see what Queenan crowns "the worst movie ever made," Heaven's Gate, based on his description of the film:

"This is a movie about Harvard-educated gunslingers who face off against eastern European sodbusters in an epic struggle for the soul of America. This is a movie that stars Isabelle Huppert as a shotgun-toting cowgirl. This is a movie in which Jeff Bridges pukes while mounted on roller skates. This is a movie that has five minutes of uninterrupted fiddle-playing by a fiddler who is also mounted on roller skates. This is a movie that defies belief."
It has been moved to the top of my Netflix cue.

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