The Postman Revisited

Rowan 38 came to me in a dream last night - ok, that tells you how exciting my extracurricular activities are lately - and it resembled a montage of really bad Kevin Costner movies - the Postman, Waterworld, Robin Hood - where dishtowels strapped around one's waist passed for a skirt; Wyatt Earp, where a prostitute in a brothel was never without a veiled shmata on her head, Bull Durham where Susan Sarandon channeled Flashdance with the wide sleeve, and Tin Cup, where Golf Club Covers substituting for neck ornaments would certainly be applauded.

I awoke from this nightmare in a sweat, fear - Rowan 38, directed by Kevin Costner, ah! I calmed myself. I remembered that with every Costner stinker, along with the bad clothes, bad haircut and the horrible English accent, there's always a bright lining - Alan Rickman as the Sheriff, Dennis Quaid as Doc Holiday, that long, wet kiss monologue from Bull Durham, the wolf in Dances with Wolves. All is not lost in Rowan 38, but as a whole, style definitely took precedence over wearability, and I'm not so sure it's real style or rather stylization. The Postman, Waterworld, very stylized, high concept films - but, bad story, bad script, bad acting. I give you Rowan 38.

And, something else came to me - R, I may not be half wrong. I never said what would come first - the disappointment or the sex - following dinner with an ex - many times the disappointment comes later. And, I'm not talking about disappointing sex, for after all, the only reason to have dinner with an ex is either to go back to the well, or make sure the well is still full, and to reaffirm that we are still as cute as we think we are. If disappointment weren't sure to follow, we never would have broken up with the guy in the first place.