It's Absolutely True

A group of attractive college students find themselves caught in a serial killer's meta scheme in 1998's Urban Legend. A successful Scream knock-off, it has a ridiculous plot but is a bit entertaining, featuring a nice cast.

The main cast includes Alicia Witt (Gersten Hayward from Twin Peaks), Jared Leto, Rebecca Gayheart, Tara Reid, Joshua Jackson, and Michael Rosenbaum. An impressive roster of supporting performances includes Brad Dourif, Robert Englund, Natasha Gregson Wagner, and John Neville.

For some reason, I knew early on who the killer was. It wasn't like I figured out, I don't think. I just knew. I must have heard about it somewhere but I have no memory of doing so. Maybe I listened to and half-watched a Rifftrax of the movie. Maybe I actually saw it and somehow just blocked the memory. I was certain who the killer was even as I watched the killer do things that ought to have been physically impossible for the particular performer.

I could make a long list of ridiculous things in the movie. My favourite was Alicia Witt's goth roommate who's chatting with who she thinks is a guy, a potential hookup, on an archaic instant messenger via dial-up modem. It's really the killer, of course. In every scene, this girl wears black lipstick except this scene so she can tell the killer, "I'm going to get ready. What room are you in?" before leaving the computer to go across the hall to the bathroom so she can "get ready", a process that involves the sole task of applying her lipstick. When she returns to her dormroom, a mirror is plainly visible in the background. When she sits back down to her computer, the reply is of course, "YOURS". Too bad she didn't have to apply eyeliner, she might've gone all the way to a salon for that.

X Sonnet #1821

Considered plops of cream were sour thoughts.
Replace electric grills to make a light.
A quiet day displaced the talking bots.
A fuzzy tape replaced a bluer sight.
Ignore the pudding name it's really jam.
For making little hill you get a peak.
Upon the sandwich find the porker's ham.
The city mouths proclaim the soundly meek.
With no reflection, words were left to dry.
Contagion blooms for cagey light above.
A watching ghost was cruel and forced a cry.
The hand would scratch and tear its pretty glove.
Without a watch, the pocket tightens guts.
The river's lined with grim and creepy huts.