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The only remaining cast member on the ninth season of Law & Order: Criminal Intent will be newbie Jeff Goldblum.
As much as I loved Julianne Nicholson's Wheeler, they never gave her much to do and Logan had never been able to keep a partner on this series, so her decision not to return after having her second child sucks, but is reasonable.
But for the show to clear out Erbe, D'Onofrio and Bogosian is just fucking bonkers. CI, like SVU, gets its ratings from characters, unlike original recipe L&O, which switches people up all the time and no one cares. (It's also the lowest-rated of the franchise. INTERESTING.)
D'Onofrio, for his part, spent this truncated season phoning it in anyway and can go back to support roles in indie films, but I fear for Erbe, whose Eames is so, so good, but she's played her so long she might not be able to recover. Bogosian, of course, has a whole ’nother career.
What a disaster.
NEW YORK A subway debacle had made us edgy. We went to Starbucks because that's what you do in every town but mine—and also in mine, but I refuse—and we were headed back to the god damn subway when I heard a TINKtinktink and felt something bounce against my foot. I looked down.
"Did someone just throw a rusty nail at me?"
It skittered to a stop, four inches long, bent and dusty brick red. A tetanus shot to the face if I'd been three seconds earlier. (Scratch that: death from infection. Like I could afford a medical emergency in the US. To quote Ben Lee: "Ship my body home.")
We looked up. A pigeon sat above a doorway. Logical conclusion: the bird kicked or dropped it.
It felt like a sign.
It feels like a sign.
On the plane from Newark the next day I cried for an hour. It was a small plane and it was mortifying. I had a beer at one in the afternoon. It cost $5USD. Birthday beer. I've been saying I don't care about turning 30, but my subconscious feels differently, apparently. Or else it was just the fallout from 10 days of running around, working on three different things at once, too many people, strange beds and no privacy. The final third of the trip encompassed six states and three provinces in four days.
I'm talking about this in case I fucking freak out. Or get stabbed in the eye by something falling from the sky. Warned.
And she had a terrible handshake, which is a thing with me. But she is really, really thin. Like double-digits thin. So, on account of her movie changing my life, I have given her the only Handshake Pass I will ever hand out. Because everything Miranda July does is incredible.
I also talked to her on the phone, her 1,234th interview for Me and You, and at the end I said "Please keep making movies" and it took her aback, because Miranda July is also humble.
I just found out she's going to be at TIFF, which makes for two Heroes (the other is Diablo Cody) I have to look out for. And that's TWO issues of Bust I have to tow around. Bust is terrible.
What a month.
- Got a new job in the same place as my old job, part-time
- Played too many shows in New Brunswick, still the worst province
- Finally got new glasses, eight months after breaking them
- Went to, but didn't end up testifying in, court
- Watched the first three seasons of Law & Order: Criminal Intent
- http://www.myspace.com/dancemovie
Jodie Foster does, in fact, have a project lined up.
(Note that the headline is about Mel Gibson, disgraced actor and noted nutjob, while Foster, a two-time Academy Award winner whose last film opened first at the box office and is a woman director, gets shoved to the dek. Fuck you, Variety.)
I guess I could become some sort of drug addict. But I can't afford it.
Seriously, though, I just had another surreal, straight-out-of-a-sitcom moment that I wouldn't believe in a script. And there was nobody around. Which is a relief and also leaves me with a feeling of intense alienation.
There's no TV where I am right now.
Because the CBS marketing department puts together promo photos like this:
BECAUSE THE CASES ARE COLD. GET IT?
The actors are like, "We are grim not because of the murders, but because we know how bad this is." Kathryn Morris, who looks as if she's one whip-pan from bolting, is all, "I've worked with Spielberg twice, you know, but even he would consider this level of symbolism distasteful. And that guy put a dance number in The Color Purple!"
Here's a smaller version of the entire thing; thank god someone had the good sense to cut it off at the torso at some point:
At least it's been renewed for a seventh season. Silver ice linings! (Icicles?)
Last Friday I was up until 7am Saturday. BULLSHIT. I found some sleeping pills on sale for $4.99. They seem to be working. I'm evening out. But you're only supposed to take them for a couple of days -- I thought I was tired enough to go without last night, but was proved wrong by 3am.
There's probably some medical/psychological reason for all of this but you know I'm not going to find out. So it's Nytol until the next thing.
Seriously, Tori circa 1993 or what?
