What a stinker is Sleepy Hollow. Although we've enjoyed several earlier Tim Burton efforts, this one served, barely, merely to divert from the heat. Bad production values--bad costumes, bad "village of Sleepy Hollow," and utterly silly-looking headless horseman. Peculiar accents were served up by many. For the most part, the actors aren't really to be faulted, having striven valiantly against the script. The score was intrusive and bombastic; it could have come from a stock library, it was so generic. Speaking of the heat, seldom has the Statesman at its worst published anything so irritating as the little feature entitled "With no AC, it's a cruel, cruel summer," wherein the heroine feature reporter serves up her horrible sufferings of two days without what she's used to. Quel horreur! As catching up continues, the best piece in the London Review of Books is a profile of Tomi Ungerer and a discussion of some of his work. I completely agree, as a lover of military marches, the German marches beat most of them, with the exception of some of Sousa's and his American contemporaries. Evidently his children's books have been subjected to a sort of blacklisting in this country, following publication of some of his more "adult" fantasies. I had not realized that he was Alsatian or that he now lives in Eire, following an interlude in Nova Scotia.