You see, my plan for Christmas, to keep me from getting hit with mega-depression, boo-hooing, and the usual "my life is a disaster" feelings (as my life is a disaster) was to make sure I spent every day with people. I had this covered really well as I was going to be Chez
Anyway, I finally dashed off to the Streatham Odeon to see Harry Potter and the Really Long First Half, which was fine but irritatingly done in digital projection. Doesn't anyone care that they're just basically watching a giant TV screen? I mean, if people are going to sit there and text people on their phones and talk loudly during the show AND I can see the pixels on the lamps in the tent, what's the point of seeing this in a movie theater? I came home and felt ultra worn out but dragged myself through writing up the really wretched non-ballet Nutcracker I saw two weeks back. This was the one I described as "Kate Bush's Christmas Acid Trip." I only wrote it up because I've realized, basically, it was the single worst show of all of 2010: thus, its name must live on in ignominy. Butterfly Wheels: you are the baddicle of the year.