The lost All That Jazz review

Remember how I said I was going to review every movie I watched until the end of April?

Well, I was going along fine until I lost my draft of my review of Bob Fosse's All That Jazz.

Poof. It's simply gone.

I think I know what might have happened. When I was making my little post-posting tweaks on the Oscar recap piece I wrote yesterday, something weird happened where it was creating a new iteration of the draft every time I made a change. Eventually I had half a dozen drafts in there. I went back and erased them ... and today I see no evidence of the draft I had been working on before that.

So instead of starting over, I'm just going to say fuck it -- no All That Jazz review.

Which is a shame, because I thought I was saying some interesting things. I just don't want to recreate those interesting things from scratch. It's been nearly a week now since I've seen it, and time is money, people.

(Is time money on a blog? I don't know, it sounded like a good thing to say.)

It's also a shame because this is the best movie I've seen since I started writing these reviews back in January. (Slightly better than Thomas Vinterberg's The Hunt.)

So you can consider this a firm endorsement of All That Jazz, if not an actual review. I couldn't believe what a vital, self-critical and honest piece of art it was, edited with conspicuous greatness and acted flawlessly by Roy Scheider. I might even use the M word ("masterpiece").

However, that's all you get. No plot synopsis. No further specifics of what I loved about it.

When you lose the paper you were working on in school, you don't have the luxury of just walking away. You have to start over again -- unless you just decide you want to flunk the course, which seems a rather rash response to this admitted tragedy.

On a blog, I can and will just say "fuck it."

So: Fuck it.

And: See All That Jazz, dammit.