From October 5-October 18, I saw 24 feature films, a gobsmacking average of 1.71 per day. And I have dutifully written a review of each and every one of those. And I’ve done it while mired in the busiest single project I’ve ever had at work.
In short: I am mentally exhausted.
(“Oh, the po’ baby! He had ta bwog more than wonsa day!”)
And because I am mentally exhausted, I am going to take a bit of time off of blogging. A week, let us say, to regroup and regain the ability to think. Because frankly, I’d like to start writing about anything that isn’t film again, and I don’t think I can do that right now.
Which is not to say that film writing will be gone: no, indeed! In fact, as a teaser to bring you all back, let me promise that next weekend I’ll have a review of Clint Eastwood’s WWII drama Flags of Our Fathers…no, shouldn’t promise a review of a film I haven’t seen. Well, if I do see it, I can promise to write something unthinkingly hagiographic, even if the film consists of nothing but Ryan Phillippe slapping Jesse Bradford in the face with his cock for two hours. Go Clint!