Less said says more

Movie week. I saw a great film Gerry on Sundance Channel the other night. Two hikers lost in the desert search for water and the highway (not necessarily in that order) while having infrequent and alarmingly ordinary conversations. The gaps of silence may confound film critics, but all mountain bike viewers understand. Silence allows time to check out all the rideable desert landscapes in Death Valley and to imagine being lost with a bike and Camelback out there. As the film winds down, you just know not to expect a miracle, and during the dismal epilogue you get off the couch to start a 48-hour hydration ritual. Four. (Photo source: sundancechannel.com)


Us cross hostelers and guests gathered for opening night of Hostel at Pembroke Friday. From the second row I watched a movie that thankfully bore little resemblance to our own hostel experience. A Quentin T without the trademark clever twist, "Hostel" shows the mechanics of torture without inducing the fear or mystery found in good horror. It seems to point out sick greedy human nature but uses way too much stock dialogue among unlikable characters to do so. Hosang’s fantasies about what stood behind the forbidden doors at Ironmaster’s Hostel scare me more. One point five. (Photo source: bloody-disgusting.com)