There's a force trying to stop me and CHOKE.

I was almost positive that I was going to power through the final forty five minutes of The Last Temptation of Christ (70) yesterday afternoon. Came home from my job at the record label, tense and ready to power through these final, synthy, boring, religious moments. Ready to just keep my eyes completely open and let Scorsese's vision of Jesus Christ wash over me and than completely out of my system. I was ready I tell you, ready as anything ...

But I left the disc at work. I can't even imagine what would've prompted me to take the disc out of the computer and put it anywhere, but something, someone, somehow dug in to my wee little brain and planted the idea. Thus when I went to view the movie at a later time, I was shocked to find that it was absent, a fond memory sitting atop my co-worker's desk.

So, no final discourse on The Last Temptation of Christ (70), sadly, that'll have to wait until Monday. Sigh.

Instead I spent a solid portion of my night slogging through the recent adaptation of Chuck Palahniuk's Choke, a movie I really thought I would like. It features Sam Rockwell, one of my favorite actors and I'd heard fairly positive reviews about it. I'm not a Palahniuk fan, but Fight Club stands as a favorite of mine, and hell, maybe this film would take the twisted words of the writer and do with them what's been done before. And to a certain degree actor-turned-director Clark Gregg does that. He manages to adequately bring what I know of the story to screen, sex-addict tries to cope with his issues through love (or something) while graphically screwing every woman he meets along the way. I just don't know if Palahniuk's story is that interesting or that complete. This film just sort of rambles along through a series of disconnected sub-plots that idly pick at the main character's flaws and his attempts to find solace from them. By the third ending of the film I was so tired and bored and distracted by text messaging that I just called it a night - a rare action for me when it comes to movies.

My other beef with the film was the sentimental cord that ran through it. I can't imagine that the original piece of writing had the sort of mushy shmuck piled up in it like the film does. As if Gregg wanted to soften the blow of the sheer graphic nature of the piece by adding in a sappy storyline about love and the search for family.

The best parts of the film are the ones just mired in filth. The flashes of sexuality that plague Sam Rockwell's Victor Manicini everywhere he goes. His chronically masturbating best friend. The entire scene where Victor gets a hand job from his co-worker in the barn of his place of employment. There's dark, disgusting humor here, I just wanted more of it.

There's something to recommend here, it's just sparse. Sam Rockwell is always a pleasure to watch, but this just isn't the greatest of films.

Monday: I swear to god, The Last Temptation of Christ (70) finished