DVD shenanigans, and the lengths I go to for milk

[heystasa]

Today, after a big day of uni, I went into the city to buy some Hitchcock DVDs from JB Hi-Fi. One of them was Rope, my favourite film from last semester, and a just all around amazing movie. Not so well known as some of his others, but so, so good.

So, just now, while going through my uni bag, I see the DVDs in there, and decide to take a closer look at the cases. I pull out Rope first. I smile. I look closely. I notice the weird font. I notice the picture of Jimmy Stewart. I have a bit of a giggle at how incredibly subtext-y the picture of David dying is. I notice the sticker in the top left hand corner with a picture of Alan Jones and informing me that he recommends this movie.

I explode into laughter.

Alan Jones. Has a recommends series.

And it wasn't just stuck to the plastic, either, it's on the case itself. I mea-- I don't even, like, why? What does Alan Jones have to do with anything? And, I mean, I never even hear anything about him except when he's said something crazy or incredibly offensive. It's a lovely picture of the man, but I honestly don't care about Alan Jones's taste in movies. This is the strangest marketing strategy.

Also, come to think of it, isn't Alan Jones massively homophobic? To the point where many people think he's rather in denial? Yet he's recommending a film that contains extremely obvious and unignorable homoerotic subtext that Hitch thought was so integral to the piece that he worked it in despite the restrictions of the hyper-conservative Hayes Code.

I'm sort of tossing up whether or not to remove the sticker. On the one hand, I want my Hitchcock all nice and sleak and unsullied, but on the other, the thing is hilarious.


I actually went to JB because I wanted both Rope and Vertigo, and I wasn't sure I'd get them both anywhere closer. I wanted Rope because I love it, and Vertigo because I'm so in love with Hitchcock in general right now, and I'm presenting and writing on it for Modes of Viewing this semester and want to watch it this weekend. Both star James Stewart, who is qucikly becoming a favourite actor of mine. But I'll talk about that another time. Possibly at length.

So, I went shopping for my two highly thought of, brilliant pieces of classical cinema, directed by one of the most famous, influential, brilliant directors in cinematic history. So sophisticated are my tastes! So impressed anyone seeing me with them must have been! However, Vertigo being on a 'buy 2 get 1 free!' shelf, I also left with Spiderman 3 and The Fast and the Furious.

I think that's much more impressive really.


Then, it was time to go home. But! I needed milk! I like the three litre bottles of lite white, but you can't buy them at the grocery shops nearby.As Mum will be staying with me this weekend, I considered it sensible to make a point of getting a bottle. However, rather than stop on my way home to go to Coles, I thought, well, that huge Woolies is across the road. It's bound to have some!

I was surprised when I first learned of the existence of the huge Woolies, three years ago. What a strange place for a grocery shop, I thought. Right in the middle of the city, on the main street of Sydney, with no parking around. When I discovered that the groceries were on the bottom level and there were no trolleys, my confusion only increased.

However, I've long since accepted its existance, and, things being as they were (that is, my feet hurting a little and me not wanting to try to catch a bus from that bloody corner if I went to Coles), I went in. I only need a bottle of milk, I thought, that's no biggie.

So I go in. The place is surprisingly crowded. I see a man with a 2L carton of lite white, and feel a bit of warm recognition at having sighted a relative of my target.

So I look around. I can't see any fridges from where I'm standing. Weird. You'd think they'd be near the front. I wander in towards the nearest wall obscured by shelves, thinking the must be down there. But no. I keep an eye out for passing staff to ask, but no one presents themselves. I move to the back of the shop. It's a chemist section. I pick up a handbag sized can of rexona cotton deodorant, and stand on my tip toes to reasses the situation. I see the escalators. The milk must be on another level. Weird.

The signs over the escalators tell me that groceries are down, and strangely, bedding, homewares, toys, etc are up (would not that make this shop a Big W more than a Woolies?). There's a security grad nearby, so I double check with him.

"Excuse me?" I say

"Yes, love," he replies.

"Milk?" I ask. "Is--"

"Down," we say together, me pointing, him nodding.

I thank him, and descend.

The bottom level of the giant George St Woolies is just as crowded and smushed as the floor above, though the items on the shelves are more obviously groceries. I stand in front of the escalator and look around. Behind me, rows and rows of shelves. To one side, an entrance to Town Hall station, the other, obscured from view at this angle by shelves. A ways in front of me is are the fruit and vegies. No obvious signs of milk, or staff members to ask. I laugh.

But then, I realise that the walls in front are all refrigerators. There's a sign over the one in the corner that says "Fresh Dairy". Yes! I think! The milk must be there! Granted, I can't actually see any bottles of milk at this point, but they might be on the other wall of the corner that I can't quite see from here. So I wander over.

As I approach, it becomes very clear that the great minds of Woolworths have put the Fresh Dairy sign over the orange juice. The fridge on the other corner wall is yogurt and custard. I laugh again. As I turn, I notice a staff member putting a cardboard box on a cart. I stop to ask directions.

"Excuse me," I say again.

"Yes?" he says, smiling and straightening up.

"I'm after milk." It's quite obvious through my tone that I can't quite believe I'm having this conversation.

He explains that I need the fridge right down the end of the wall. You can't quite see it from where we are, but if I follow the fridges to the end, I'll get there. I thank him, and venture out again.

The situation is hilarious to me, so some stray laughs sneak out as I trek along, but no one seems to notice. (Everyone is in such a hurry here. In this weird, underground place. No windows, no trolleys, everyone stopping in only briefly). I can't quite belief I've had to ask direction, twice, to nip in to the shops for a bottle of milk. Finally, I reach the end wall. And there, there is the milk!

Woohoo, I say. I look at the fridge. There, I see the lite white, there, I see the three litre bottles. Nowhere, however, do I see the three litre bottles of lite white.

Oh come on, I laugh, a little desperately.

I must reassess. Usually, I would never buy Woolies brand milk. I like to support Dairy Farmers. But, I am here specifically to get a 3L bottle. I could go to Coles, as was my original plan, but I did go through all that, and I don't want to have to take the little deodorant back to its shelf in the surprisingly large pharmacy section.  I pick up a Woolies brand bottle, look for a 'made in Australia' line, and read the ingredients. I pick up a bottle of lite white and compare. They seem to contain the same things.

Stuff it. I think. One time won't hurt. So I trek over to the cash registers, and buy the Woolies milk, the little deodorant, and two packs of green extra. I ask the lady the easiest way back to Pitt Street, and take my leave via the escalators. A bus arrives at the stop just as I do, and I nurse my book bag full of DVDs and my big bottle of very cold milk on my knees the whole long ride.

As I empty the grocery bag at home, I notice that the Woolies milk is three dollars cheaper than lite white. But, I ask myself, what is the worth of the bit of my soul that I've just given away.