Watched Bitter Moon last night. Hugh Grant was outstanding as a slightly pompous, sexually inhibited but frightfully polite, upper middle class English man. It's nice to see him break the mould every once in a while, and I think he really got to grips with such a difficult part. Roman Polanski's second wife also had a role, it seemed to be mostly rolling around on the floor with no knickers on. And crying. When her obnoxious American lover, who had attended the Warren Beatty school of drama, but scraped through with a Danny Devito in acting, started banging on about the 'carnivourous flower between her legs', I couldn't help wishing that it would turn cannibal, and eat both of them.
"Bitter Moon" is rated R and contains graphic sexual scenes, shock tactics and really bad lines.
Exactly.
Going home to Wales tomorrow. Taking my better half along. He's allergic to cats, so he may not survive the week.
I don't know what he's going to make of my mum. She's got sciatica in her leg at the moment, and when it strikes, can't stand still, but prefers to pace a circuit around the front room, a bit like a sexually frustrated lion at the zoo. Couple this with being on tranquilisers and very strong painkillers, which mean she's either floating like an albatross upon the breeze, comatose, or crying, and, well, you have all the makings of a TV drama series for BBC2.