On Karla

"Karla, the Hollywood movie about killers Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo, earned close to $172,000 on Canadian screens last weekend, with 32 percent coming from Quebec, industry sources say" in this morning's paper. "It placed 12th out of 35 films in release. Karla made nearly $10,000 per screen in Toronto ahead of King Kong and Brokeback Mountain. Starring That '70s Show's Laura Prepon as Homolka, the low budget movie opened to negative reviews."

Memo to self: When every reviewer in the country says a movie's a bomb, it's... a bomb. DO NOT GO TO SEE THESE MOVIES. Like the Quantum Pictures flick on Homolka, which retells the murderous tale in made-for-TV fashion and lots of gross sex scenes (and I mean the ones between Homolka and her ex hubby).

There's nothing new, no insight whatsoever -- just as Homolka has given us no insight. Turns out that life, and death, and art, are sometimes like that. Without depth or perception.


ADDENDUM Jan. 30: A confession. I laughed. Yes, when Paul Bernardo (without a speck of ketchup on him) encased the sawed-off bits of a dead teen girl into cement, I laughed. Bernardo doesn't want anyone to find the chunks, but one of the blocks has a foot poking right out of it.... Final proof that unrelenting horror is too much for the merely human brain: a laugh is essential to sanity. And to the long-suffering movie-goer.