let's get the seven lines. (bookshop) wrote,
let's get the seven lines.
bookshop

  • Mood:
WAH.

I just stayed up all night in order to watch Ernest Lehman's The Sweet Smell of Success this morning.  ALL NIGHT without sleep, mind you.

The movie rocked.  Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis. Oh my god, there was so much slash between these two characters, and Tony Curtis looked even hotter in this than he did in Spartacus, I swear, and then as if all this sublimated sexual tension isn't enough, Burt Lancaster tells Tony Curtis at one point:

"I'd hate to take a bite out of you--you're a cookie full of arsenic."

In that sultry, Burt Lancastery way.

sda;jfsdld;sajlfkdja;lfj.

Dude. So. I'm FIFTEEN MINUTES from the end of this asdjfkjf;ksl movie, which, by the way, is utterly fantastic and a must-see for anybody who loves All About Eve and other classic biting tales of theatre and showbuisiness, and I've just reached the climax, when our cable quits.  Completely.  And the doorbell rings.

WAH.

This is worse than when patchfire and primroseburrows and dancingrain and I saw Prizoner of Azkaban and the movie reel burned a minute and a half from the end of the film. 

Movie buffs, share my pain, for woe, I am exhausted, and dying to know what happens at the end. :(
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