Safe-House? Stay Home.

Ok. I’ll admit it.  I surrendered to the hype.   I don’t like to think I follow the crowd, but the propaganda publicity finally got to me. 

I couldn’t watch late night, or daytime (in-between the PBS station that captivates my grandchildren) television in the past few weeks without seeing the handsome Denzel Washington on set plugging his latest new movie.  And that other guy….Ryan Reynolds, too.   Both actors star in a CIA conspiracy-thriller billed as one of the greatest action-packed suspense movies of its time. 

So… on opening day I ran to my nearest theater to catch the matinee I saw Jay Leno dub as an “edge-of-your-seat” action spy story, Safe House.

Despite my affinity for Jay Leno, “Don’t believe everything you hear,” is what I have to say.  Don’t get me wrong.  I L-O-V-E action flicks.  Suspense.  Political-thrillers.   Even some “necessary” violence.  But this picture?  If you MUST see it, I’d say, “save it for DVD…or Blue Ray,” or whatever it’s called now.

The HUGE body count is just too many to be believable.  And you don't have too long to wait before another shoot-out, car chase, stabbing, explosion, bludgeoning or face-kick comes along.  And, of course, the stars only end up with a minor scratch or two on their cute little mugs.  But they do leave behind a trail of dead bodies, cars wrecked beyond recognition, with CIA and FBI big-wigs and local law enforcement scratching their heads in disbelief.  Duh.

Denzel (yes, we’re now on a first-name basis), as usual, plays his cool self and does it well.  However, Reynolds?  He seems so unaffected and barely changes his facial expressions.

And another thing.   I know the picture screens are getting clearer and sharper, but I wish someone would tell Ryan Reynolds to wax his nose.  No. I don’t mean his nose-hairs, but the hairs ON his nose.  I couldn’t help but notice the peach-fuzz on his face shining in all those close-ups.  Am I being too “picky” (no pun intended)?

Real Reality

The verdict is in…Not Guilty.  The Casey Anthony trial captured the world’s attention as if it were a reality show.  It WAS a reality show, without all the editing and film left on the cutting room floor.  True reality despite the lies, imaginary characters, and accusations of incest.

I wasn’t on the jury, so who am I (we) to say.  Even the alternate juror (he’s the only one talking, so far) agreed with the Not Guilty decision. 

Ms. Anthony lived up to her latest ink… Bella Vita. But will it be a beautiful life?  Where is she to go?  She’s fingered her family and friends…burned her bridges.  Doubt she can get a job.  She’ll have to get outta town. Seems as if the only alternative will be to sell her story for some big bucks and go into obscurity.

Stranger than Fiction

You may think I am strange, but I just love watching crime shows.  Oh, I don’t mean Hollywood’s hour-long melodramas featuring whoever the current hunk or starlet (do they even use that word Starlet anymore?) happens to be. 

I’m talking real-life people who temporarily, or more-often, permanently go berserk. Or, most-likely, were ALWAYS strange but no-one ever seemed to notice! 

My Friday and Saturday nights are often filled watching 48 Hours, 20/20, Dateline, Cops, and America’s Most Wanted (have to check-in to see if any faces showing up on my computer from those silly dating sites are being hunted by modern-day cowboy John Walsh). 

Then there is late night on the History Channel delving into daily prison life of some of the most hardened criminals.  And don’t forget the interesting stories about the gangs in our big and small cities across the country.  I just LOVE watching this stuff.

Week after week tales of murder and deception bombard my TV.  It’s enough to make ever the sweetest, most innocent person a bit suspicious.  THAT’s where I get my suspicious nature. lol

This 4^th of July weekend I’ve been paying special attention to the Casey Anthony trial in Orlando, Florida.  I’ve been interested since the beginning and have followed most of the sensational headlines and quick snippets here and there.  But for the past two days, I have been listening intently to the closing arguments.  And just now, Judge Perry’s instructions to the jury.

In case you’ve been in a coma for the past 3 years, Casey Anthony has been accused of murdering her 2-year old daughter.  This trial has everything.  Murder, Lies, Abuse, Lies, Sex, Lies, Affairs, Lies and, did I say Lies?   It’s amazing how the story has spread its tentacles.  It has reached out to include unbelievable tales of friends of Casey Anthony, her mother, her father, her brother, her boyfriend and even the imaginary Zanny the Nanny. 

Not sure how long the sequestered jury will take to render a verdict, but I’ll be listening.  Life is stranger, and definitely more interesting, than fiction.