"I'm sorry, sir, you'll just have to take a bath..."

On a recent trip to Birmingham, AL, I had occasion to stay at the Comfort Suites in Fultondale, AL. I was there with a friend to see the second round of the Honda Superbike Classic at Barber Motorsports Park in Leeds, AL. As with anything a Barber, it was resplendent.

We checked in to the hotel on Friday evening. There was much confusion about our room, and despite my confirmation materials, they didn't have the room I requested. In the end, after some haggling and hand-wringing, they gave us a room close to what we were after.

Saturday morning, I went to take a shower. There was no way to physically turn on the shower. I could run the water and fill the tub, but the pull-up actuator which diverts the water from the tub spigot to the shower head -- was missing. So I called down to the front desk:

"Yes, hello... I'm in room 318, and I can't take a shower [insert above explanation of why here]."

"Sir, I don't think any of the rooms have that little thing you're talking about."

"So what do I do?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I guess you're going to have to take a bath..."

"You can't be serious."



"Yes, sir...."

It was eventually rectified, but the hilarity of it all shan't be forgotten.

Sound v1.1

One of the best musical performances I can think of, isn't really performed by a musician -- or a singer. He's an actor. The distinction is unimportant, I suppose. And really, I guess by virtue of performing in this feature, he's a singer.

I think one of the most underrated pieces of film of the last decade is Moulin Rouge. It's not that it wasn't well received. It won two Oscars, after all. But I think it deserved more.

Ewan McGregor's (EM) performance in this film, as well as the soundtrack, is just stunning. Nicole Kidman's performance was admirable, but EM just left her behind.

Aside from the music, Baz Lurhman's portrayal of this story is a sensory assault. At least for me. There are so many subtle elements in this film that, for me, are a sledgehammer. The operatic moon, the bald composers poring over the musical score, the way the camera pulls back during one of the songs to reveal the Parisian skyline -- pure artwork.

I've just spent the last hour and a half (not that you'd have any way of telling) perusing YouTube, looking for examples of the elements I think are most poignant. I can't. There are too many. But it's such a staggeringly beautiful film for me, I really have to watch it alone.

There's something uncomfortable about being in the presence of others while tears are streaming down my face.

Maybe it's more Sight and Sound 1.1 than just Sound 1.1.