Angels in America was pretty wonderful, though I don’t remember what happened in the last hour. (did they cure AIDS? don’t tell me!) I actually passed out before it was over, because some old fraternity brothers were over at my apartment and we were playing the Angels in America drinking game.
You know the one. It’s where you all sit around, and each of you picks an actor. (i had emma thompson) Any time that actor appears onscreen disguised as a secondary character – for instance, when Emma appears as the angel instead of the nurse – you have to drink. It’s all, “Oh shit, dude! I think that Puerto Rican watch salesman is actually Meryl Streep. Drink, you faggot!! No offense to homosexuals and all, right, cause AIDS is a serious disease and its effects on the gay community are anything but trivial. Even today, AIDS has left the heterosexual attitude toward sex like a raw wound, its edges too remote to meet and scab over and – wait, hold up. I’m positive that black labrador puppy is Mary Stuart Masterson or whatever her name is. Now finish that hard lemonade or I’ll punch your dick in!”
And then, after everyone’s drunk a round separately, we all drink another together and scream, “ANGELS! ANGELS! USA!!” and we laugh and laugh and laugh like beautiful cherubs. Brilliant fucking movie, great pisser of a play. Totally deserves to be in the canon and shit.
