Dubious Porter

Of the many things I love - and those who know me know I tend towards the effusive - two of those things are Cole Porter and Bill Harris' blog Dubious Quality. I often sing Porter's music on walks (and, yes, pretend to tap dance) and read DQ (which, happily, are the same initials as Dairy Queen!!!) daily.

So, it was strange to see the two collide today. Vicky had just downloaded the soundtrack to the movie De-Lovely (thanks to Itunes!); I was ready to sop that up... and then I read Bill's review... and thought you should as well:


I like the music of Cole Porter. And I think Ashley Judd is a little volcano. So I went to De-Lovely with high hopes.

Among my hopes, there were no survivors.

This film is the cinematic equivalent of a man sitting in front of a mirror, combing his hair three hundred times. Consecutively.

Cole Porter was bisexual, and in a remarkable twist, the script was written by Jay Cocks. With the deft touch of a man carrying a giant boat anchor, he manages to capture the most annoying elements of both the straight world and the gay world. There are many people in this film, and you will hate them all. The only question is when.

In my case, about twelve minutes.

Every actor in this film gives the worst performance of their career. Many of them no longer have careers. From this moment forward, they will travel to auditions and be greeted with hissed cries of "Unclean!" Perhaps a charitable colony could be established for them, far away from cameras of any kind.

In the first hour I saw possibly the most annoying wooing scene in cinematic history, with both Kevin Kline and Ashley Judd performing with all the nuance of a game show host. As the scene ended, the screen darkened and only hoofbeats could be heard. I longed for a masked rider on horseback to burst onto the scene, brandishing a sword, and behead them both.

The second hour, as people die, offers a more hopeful note, but it is left unfulfilled, as people die neither quickly nor often enough.

Let me advise you strongly to buy a glass container of the kind often used to house fire extinguishers. Place in it a liter of gasoline and a pack of matches. If at any point in the future you think that you might want to see this film, break the glass, pour the gasoline on your clothing, and set yourself on fire.

You'll thank me.