been thinking about the fact that i know more about this rather inconsequential (at least to my life) annoying eccentric madman who obsessed about dirt much more than i need to..
the trivial madnesses that plagued him, the affairs he had with starlets, well- quite frankly why should i care?
and yet i did see the film.. and sat through two hours of watching leonardo hire people, fire people, buy airlines, make films, seduce girls, buy them, wash hands, shave and do what other multi billionaires do in their spare time- do multi billionaires have anything but spare time?
the quintessential american idol - the white rich womaniser around whom the world centers blind to all but his own fetishes. the portrait made him into a hero, glorified his madnesses, caricatured the women (except cate who didn't allow that to happen to katherine hepburn).. all that acclaim for scorcese but to me at heart just another 'rain man' meets 'the princess diaries' meets 'a beautiful mind' meets 'schindlers list' meets 'legally blonde' meets 'amadeus'.. in that the outsider makes it big with heavy violins playing in the background.. madness is so high glam just as long as its on screen.
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