Dear, Dear 'Diary'
Inner poise has been massively compromised by arrival in mail of two complimentary copies of the Collector's Edition DVD of Bridget Jones's Diary. Plus-size mailing envelope had official MIRAMAX logo as return address and everything. Reason for package is inclusion of self's own film review of Bridget Jones's Diary as Special Feature on DVD. Am not kidding! As am geeked out, please allow me to share image-captures taken from Special Features menu:
Was delighted and surprised last fall when was contacted by Miramax with request to include review. Surprise was partially due to company's interest in review despite modest grade of B– given to film in question. However, must report that Miramax has been dream to deal with, contracting to print whole review word for word (rather than excerpts out of context), and advertising website URL right on DVD. Had figured, too, that review was to be part of massive collection, so am further shocked to see self amidst list of only five, which also includes Roger Ebert and Peter Travers!
Feel like Oscar nominee. Except insofar as: all-nighter has led to bad breath, baggy eyes, and half-outfit of old sweatpants and, for some reason I don't remember, only one sock. (Wonder where other sock has gone?) Currently resemble character from Quest for Fire, plane-crash movie, or similar. Must obviously tend to self in preparation for papparazzi onslaught. Must double-check how to spell "papparazzi." After which, must shit-can dissertation and set self instead to exclusive work-diet of writing B– reviews for Miramax films. Wonder if was rash to publicly wish Commentary Pulitzer on Frank Rich just last night; would not want to jinx self!
Then again, before ego swells into shape of Hindenburg, should focus on DVD MovieGuide review of DVD, which features much carping about inclusion of reviews in general, plus capper line, "The authors are ... and Nicholas K. Davis from something I've never heard of called 'Nick's Flick Picks.'" DVD MovieGuide reviewer obviously not feeling pop and sass of review. Is okay. Will call Lisa Schwarzbaum or Anthony Lane later this afternoon (after sock is found) and commiserate, talk shop, etc.
Love Miramax, Chocolat notwithstanding. Love Bridget Jones's Diary, when Renée still spoke in her loud voice and approximated physical proportions of homo sapien. Love mail. Love DVD. Is truly top technology.
Labels: Nick in Print