OK, we'll admit it: there are films out there that we here at a wasted life have problems watching
simply because of the creative personalities involved. We really find it
difficult to watch a Leni Riefenstahl (22 Aug 1902 – 9 Sept 2003) film, be it one she made or one
she acted in, without feeling repulsed by the fact that we're being
mesmerized and amazed by an unapologetic major player in the propaganda
machine of the Third Reich and a close friend of Adolph Hitler – hell,
had he but snapped his fingers, she probably would have given him a
blowjob with feeling. (Who knows, maybe she did.) Likewise, Lex Barker
(8 may 1919 – 11 May 1973) sort makes us feel nauseous: We can't see a film he's in without thinking
"That child molester!" (See: Crane, Cheryl: Detour (1988),
pp. 182–187.) If he did it once, he surely did it again – and that
concept sort of makes even his six-pack repulsive. And then there's
Charlton Heston, a liberal in his youth who became a brain-boiled and
vocal right-wing conservative once he got too old to get an erection;
it's hard to watch any of his films – even the more than occasional
classic he took part in – without feeling at least an occasional pang of
disdain and disgust.
is rumored to be on its way to remake hell, so a second viewing seems in order – especially since the first (and last) time we saw it was the year it came out, way back before we even knew what men and women really do when they take a shower together naked.
* Go here for the real recipe for Alice B. Toklas fudge, not brownies. It tastes great!