Maybe it was my insomnia. Or my Chihuahua's. Whatever the cause, neither of us could tear away from Wild Guitar recently aired on TMC. For the first half-hour I just sat slack-jawed not only that this movie was being telecast, but that it ever got made or saved. Then, when I regained control of my thought processes, I knew I should stop watching, but it was too late. It must be what crack addicts experience: You know it's rotting your brain, and you just want more. In addition to this addictive quality, if you still miss the raw sexuality and sheer athleticism of Peggy Fleming, as I do, there's a not-to-be-missed scene that could have been shot in Grenoble, albeit six years later. I guess Wild Guitar was just ahead of its time, on the ice anyway. I gave the movie a 2 out of 10, but my scoring belies my action. I watched it through to the final credits.
Review of Wild Guitar
