So now I’ve seen the very last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Gotta say the final season drags more than a bit, because of a near absence of the lighter “Monster of the Week” episodes that, in most seasons, roughly alternate with those that advance the “Big Bad” storyline.

Didja notice that in season 7’s title montage the final shot, for a change, is not of Buffy?

The opening of Serenity has been postponed from April 22 to September 30. Joss Whedon says:

April got crowded with a lot of titles aimed at a similar demographic, and the studio [Universal Pictures] decided September was a clearer corridor for the film to make the kind of impact it should.

I felt a bit silly for not recognizing Jonathan Woodward when he played the vampire in Buffy 7:7 “Conversations with Dead People”. He looked familiar but I thought it was only because he resembles young Bill Murray. Then in the commentary Jane Espenson, a frequent writer for Mutant Enemy shows, mentions that he was in Firefly (“The Message”). Both episodes begin with his character in a coffin, and end with his death by chest trauma. (He’s also in Angel, apparently as a member of W&H’s staff in the last season.)

66 (out of 144) episodes of Buffy have a scene at a dance club called The Bronze, and the producers took advantage of it to showcase local bands. In 7:8 “Sleeper” the musician of the week is Aimee Mann, who again looks like someone I’ve met, if only I could remember who . . . .

I saw The Incredibles again today, this time from the front row as the show was rather crowded. Not a bit stale; kudos to Brad Bird, writer and director. The second time, of course, I noticed what is not quite right: wood looks like plastic; stone is always strangely lit; and while most of the characters’ movements are spot on, ordinary walking is subtly but distinctly off. (I seem to be especially sensitive to variations of rhythm.) Still there are many moments, notably in the jungle scenes, when it’s hard to believe I’m not looking at something solid.

Meanwhile, my housemate was at Bridget Jones: Still Neurotic elsewhere in the ’plex. She reports that I did well to skip it.

隠し砦の三悪人 (Hidden Fortress) (1958, dir. Kurosawa). Good fun. — I don’t understand Japanese, but noticed that the princess seemed to use her title hime as pronoun.

Rio Bravo (1959, dir. Hawks). Drags some. — When I saw this years ago on AMC(?), the presenter told the story that, when Howard Hawks started to pitch the plot, John Wayne quickly recognized it as one they had made before (which I think I had also seen, though its title now escapes me) and asked, “Do I get to be the drunk this time?”

Les Quatre Cents Coups (The 400 Blows) (1958, dir. Truffaut). My One True Ex warned me that it’s quite boring. I watched some of the beginning, and a bit near the end, and concluded that she was likely right. — The translation of the title is unfortunate: coups here is better rendered as strokes, and anyway the phrase really means, roughly, every trick in the book. — Most movies on DVD have twenty or thirty scene-markers; this has only six.

Ohayô (Good Morning) (1959, dir. Ozu). Amusing slice of suburban life. — Someone says “sayonara” and I think, is this the first time I’ve ever heard a Japanese use that word?

Orfeu Negro (1959, dir. M.Camus). Pretty but unsatisfying: the drivers of the plot – Eurydice’s nemesis, and Orfeu’s love for her – are never motivated. — I was surprised to understand so few words of a Romance language; and more surprised at the frequency of the pronoun você. Is tu as dead in Brazil as thou in the Anglosphere?

The Immaculate Collection, Madonna videos of the Eighties. It turned out to include only two that I hadn’t seen a hundred times (“Borderline” and “La Isla Bonita”), plus a staging of “Vogue” that’s even sillier than the familiar one. I was hoping it would have “Justify My Love” which was deemed too racy for MTV. No luck. — When she wore that sheer top in “Vogue”, where did her nips go?

An Ideal Husband (1999, dir. O.Parker). Not all of Oscar Wilde’s plays, I find, are as fluffy as Earnest. Excellent performances, too.

I forgot to mention last week that my One True Ex dragged me to see Stage Beauty (2003, dir. R.Eyre), a comedy about gender issues during the Stuart Restoration. It’s a treat.

. . is totally swell. I shall have to see it again.

Fannish notes: In one brief shot we see what looks like the personal fliers of L Neil Smith’s Pallas. Two bystanders could be Lee & Kirby, or not.

Witness for the Prosecution (1957), from a story by Agatha Christie, is of course clever; though the byplay of the convalescent barrister and his nurse is a bit tiresome.

South Pacific (1958). I thought I’d enjoy it more. The plot is a bare sketch of a frame on which to hang the songs, which are stale. (Has time treated Michener’s book any better?) Notable use of color filters for effect, sometimes bizarre; the one point where I find it really successful is where reality crashes into a daydream and the filter suddenly goes away.

Vertigo (1958) lives up to its reputation.

Bell, Book and Candle (1958) is amiable fluff.

The Horse’s Mouth (1958) featured Alec Guinness (age 43, playing sixty-some) as an obnoxious painter. Rather predictable.

Peter Gunn (1958), a tv series about a private eye, remembered mainly for Mancini’s theme. Out of curiosity I put it on my Netflix list. The first disc holds eight half-hour episodes; I watched one and that was enough: nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times. My housemate watched one more episode, and then we packed it up to return.

Gigi (1958), a musical with Leslie Caron, Louis Jourdan and Maurice Chevalier: disappointingly thin. — I wonder how many movies have three French leads (or two and a half: Caron’s mother was American) speaking only English.