"I thought you said you wanted a twelve inch pianist!" "Ah ha ha- Shut up!"

It's a good day, so I'm going to start off on a happy note.

I want to allow Roman Polanski back on to US soil so we can deport that little bastard.

The Goblin Queen reviewed Polanski's latest offering, The Pianist, last night.

While I'm sure Katie's review is spot on, I haven't seen it, I have no desire to see it and I will not see it.

Some of you may assume from my apparent dislike of the director, Roman Polanski, that I am a prude who is holding against Polanski the fact that he cannot step on US soil or else he will be arrested for rape.

"That's not fair! He is an artist! And it was a long time ago. Besides, who hasn't had Quaalude-fueled sex with a thirteen year old girl at one point or another? Is it his fault he happened to be 43 when he did it?"

Ho ho.

You might think this, but you would be wrong.

No, I do not hate Roman Polanski for turning the wonderfully-named Quaalude -- a play on the phrase "quiet interlude,"
the drugs intended effect -- into the rather less reputable Quarapeaminorlude.

I hate him for The Ninth Gate.

Tell me, have you ever been reading a book that was starting to go really well, and then found out that the last fifty pages were missing? That in fact those fifty pages had never been written? That the author simply thought it would be a fun gimmick to just end the story at random?

Neither have I, but I'm assuming it would feel somewhat akin to the way I felt after watching The Ninth Gate.

An initially slow movie, it eventually ramps up and becomes a rather interesting story about a rare books dealer trying to find an authentic copy of a book that opens the gates of Hell. It sounds schtick-y, but it's not. It's done a lot better than most of the other "Devil and Hell" movies that came out in the late nineties (the exception being The Devil's Advocate. I don't care what you think about Keanu Reeves- Charlize Theron is hot and Al Pacino makes a fantastic Satan).

Anyway, it finally gets really good at the end, and the viewer starts thinking it's a damn good movie as he or she waits for the endgame.

It doesn't come. You think you're about there when- Cut to cheesy special effect, Roll credits.

When I saw that, I waited through the entire credits sequence, to see if maybe it would be interspersed with extra scenes that would make the whole movie make sense and resolve the whole thing, a la Wild Things.

No. Just credits. Then the end of the tape.

I knew then that Roman Polanski is a Bad Man, and I resolved to never, ever forgive him for this travesty of a movie, for this act of cinematic blueballing.

I do not care how good his movies are, or how many awards he gets; I will never, ever watch another Polanski movie. Not ever again. That farce of an ending has soured me for life, and I will do everything in my power to prevent other people from watching his movies.

This man is a crime against story, art, structure, cinema, and nature.

Oh yeah, and he also fucked a thirteen year old.