Skip to main content

Movie Review: The Box

    Wow! I just watched a freakazoid movie on TV. The name of it is The Box, with Cameron Diaz.  Most of you have probably already seen it but here's the recipe. A strange guy brings a box to a couple's home in Virginia. He leaves the box on their doorstep. Inside the box is a smaller box with a glass cover. Underneath the glass cover is a red pushbutton. There is a note with the box that indicates a Mr. Steward will drop by at 5PM the following day. Well, Mr. Steward does indeed drop by.
      Mr. Steward tells Cameron Diaz that if she pushes the button within 24 hours, he will give her a cool million in cash, but alas, one person she does not know, somewhere in the world, will die. Sort of the ultimate chain letter. The writer certainly has your attention at this point. Of course, moral dilemma or not, it wouldn't be a show if they didn't hit the button. We are a few minutes into the movie at this time and it hasn't started to get freaky at this point, trust me.
     I'll pause here to prevent giving away too much. This movie is basically a well-disguised horror movie with relatively mild blood and mayhem. It is, whether you like it or not, a compelling mystery. By the time it was half over I had made and discarded half a dozen theories about the mysterious owners of the box.
    Because I don't like scary movies, I can only give this show 2.5 stars out of 5. I have to admit, for mystery and intrigue alone, for someone who likes freaky movies, it deserves a 4 stars out of 5 rating. Watch it if you like. Don't expect a lot of laughs.
     CE Wills.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The White Chicken Mystery

    The other night I happened to come home very late. It was the middle of the night and I was driving up a steep mountain road. Near the top I saw something white in my headlights. It was standing in the other lane, standing very still. It was a large white chicken. It was probably a rooster because I thought I could see his comb as I whizzed by at my customary pace. He never moved a muscle. This is weird, don't you think?      After a couple of days to consider this phenomenon, I have come up with some plausible answers for his bizarre behavior. 1. He was conflicted whether or not he should cross the road. 2. He was feeling cocky and decided to play chicken with the traffic. 3.He was being hen-pecked at home and had decided to end it all. 4. Someone had egged him on to do it. 5. He had just watched the movie Fantastic Four and decided to try to stop a truck the way that Ben Grimm did on the bridge. 6. He had driven himself crazy wondering if ...

Egg Art

     Hey, everyone. One of the odd customs in America is the Easter Egg Hunt. Here at the Green Retreat, we do a hunt every Spring. I just ran across some of the pictures from this years hunt and it is obvious that an artist had sneaked into our midst. The orange egg is a rendering of one of the Angry Birds of gaming lore. If I were a bird and had to pass an egg that size, I would be angry too. Ha, ha.      We typically will dye about 10 dozen eggs and people get quite creative with their quotes and colors, as you can see. Many of the eggs are a bit risque for these pages. After having a few laughs, we hide the eggs. All of them are never found, which is cool. It is amusing to see old men (me) and all ages of folks, walking around with a basket on their arm. Some of the hiding spots are dastardly. Like eggs hidden in the guttering downspouts and ten foot up a tree. The kids are perhaps the most devious at hiding the colorful orbs, goi...

The Biscuit

    Hey, everyone. What a relief that Christmas is over, huh? I don't think it was meant to be the way it is.     I started thinking about the so-called good 'ole days today. My wife says that at her house, they would take a left-over biscuit and shine their shoes before church. I one-upped her by saying, "Oh, yeah? I ate the biscuit when everyone got finished with it. And I was grateful for it." Truly, though, you can and people did, shine their shoes with a biscuit. Hey, they were greasy little buggers.     Speaking of greasy little buggers, I remember when everyone had wells and were very conservative about water, particularly those of us who had to crank a handle up and down to get a bucket of water. There was no daily bath. (No showers in those days, mate.) About twice a week we took a bath and here's the recipe: The oldest kid took a bath first, then the next oldest etc. You can see why younger siblings hated the older. Bathing in the...