the subtle mirroring of the drugs trade

Film My intellectual absence from the blog (in the sense that there haven't been too many blocks of text since the new year) can be attributable to me fulfilling my New Year's Resolution pledge of watching The Wire. It's enthralling, as addictive as the drugs that it dramatises (almost). Sit down to watch the odd episode and I'll find myself watching three. The cold snap helps. Why go outside and freeze when I can watch McNulty drunkenly chatting up another "broad" or the subtle mirroring of the drugs trade with the police department which is supposed to be stamping it out.

We'll talk some more about this in the future. Beyond that, I have a feeling that I'll (as a sequel to the Hitchcock thing) be watching all of Woody Allen's films in order. I think I've promised this to myself before, but for some reason lately I've been bumping into plenty of articles about his work online and looked across to the dvd cases (arranged carefully in chronological order on a bookshelf) with some nostalgia. A typical article is this retrospective from Emily Gould which magnifies the charms of Manhattan:

Regardless, the depth of identification you (fine okay I) feel watching jerks fall in love can be so intense it’s jarring. And when those love affairs fail to end happily — and no matter how many times you’ve seen the movies, those failures somehow have the power to surprise again and again — it is possible to become super bummed out.

"What's new pussycat?" "Don't drink the water..."