Ah, the old “summarize your complex inner self in 50 words or less trick” (how I do fall for it every time). If you’re here, chances are you know me already. (Why else would you care what some random wannabe movie blogger has to say?) But in case you haven’t had the pleasure, I’m 30/f/S.C. (in Internet lingo) and I fancy myself — I enjoy a good fancy now and again — something of a movie critic. I have absolutely no fancy film degrees, no training, no experience, no legitimate qualifications whatsoever … except that I like to write and I spend a lot (and I mean A LOT) of time at the movies.
Some may say I’m unqualified, but I prefer to think I’m unspoiled by too much book learnin’. Read on and you be the judge. Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org … unless you’re trying to sell me “Vigara” or “Vidocin.”
“The fact is I am quite happy in a movie, even a bad one. Other people, so I have read, treasure memorable moments in their lives: the time one climbed the Parthenon at sunrise, the summer night one met a lonely girl in Central Park and achieved with her a sweet and natural relationship, as they say in books … What I remember is the time John Wayne killed three men with a carbine as he was falling to the dusty street in ‘Stagecoach,’ and the time the kitten found Orson Welles in the doorway in ‘The Third Man.’” ~~Walker Percy, “The Moviegoer”