The Plumber. Peter Weir. 1979.

I’m not a Peter Weir fan. This was included on a double DVD set, and so I’m watching it now.

I hate talking about plot, but it’s so bizarre: It’s about a woman in a flat who gets a guy who presents himself as a plumber on the door. And then he spends much of the movie destroying the bathroom.

Is it supposed to be a metaphor?

I just found it all tedious. Even for a no-budget Australian 70s movie, it’s tedious.

I liked the ending.

The Gay Divorcee. Mark Sandrich. 1934.

Man, watching Astaire dance is a treat, but watching Edward Everett Horton act is, too. He’s just so perfect at what he does.

This is a fun movie with basely a plot. The actors do their bits wonderfully and there’s singing and dancing and laughter. And some of Cole Porter’s most gorgeous songs.

I can’t really fault this, but it seems to move oddly slowly for a mid-30s comedy. But the only thing I don’t love about this movie is the slightly creepy sequence where Astaire is chasing Ginger Rogers. But it’s not… that… creepy… OK, it is, but whatevs.

Let’s dance and sing and be happy.

The Man Who Knew Too Little. Jon Amiel. 1997.

I am super-drunk and I’ve been awake for at least eighteen hours, so don’t listen to anything I’m typing.

But I’m really entertained by this movie. I mean, it’s Bill Murray doing Bill Murray stuff! He’s Bill Murray!

It’s so silly! I didn’t know these kinds of movies in the 90s! It’s so 80s! In my severely reduced state, I found this to be a really entertaining movie.

I think for what it is, it’s quite good. But I can see that non-drunk people would find this a bit on the non-exciting side, especially in the last third.