Quicksand offered filmmakers a simple recipe for excitement: A pool of water, thickened with oatmeal, sprinkled over the top with wine corks. It was, in its purest form: "My gosh, we're sinking! Will we escape this life-threatening situation before time runs out?" Those who weren't rescued simply vanished from the script: "It's too late—he's gone." The alternative was no less random: Surviving quicksand has always required more good fortune than skill. Is that a lasso over there? A tendril from a banyan tree, perhaps. It is brought to mind as the children and I saw the Socerer's Apprentice -- the newest and coolest version of quicksand and ther serendipitous escape.
Speaking of quicksand, Maureen is married.
