In the last week, I have seen three movies, totally because I realized that I'd seen absolutely nothing that was nominated for anything and because these three movies were playing at the (slightly) cheap(er) and very convenient theater. Plus, did I mention? My bank balance was looking satisfactory.
Movie #1: The Descendants
I don't think this is a spoiler, because it's all in the friggin' trailer to the movie, but this is a film in which George Clooney becomes a Better Man and a Good Dad when he finds out his comatose and soon-to-be-taken-off-life-support wife had been cheating on him. I have three things to say about this film.
First thing: the beginning twenty minutes or so of it are so freaking slow and boring that had I not been sitting in the middle of a row, I might seriously have thought about getting up and leaving, which is something I never, ever do. After that, however, it picks up and I ended up quite enjoying it. I'm not sure Clooney is a great actor, but he does hold your attention on the screen. Second thing: this is exactly the kind of movie that always gets nominated for an Oscar. It's supposed to instruct us or illuminate for us the human condition, blah blah blah. I read an interview recently--I think it was Brad Pitt talking about why he chose to star in Moneyball, even though he's not a baseball fan--and the point was made that somewhere in the 80s or 90s, it became mandatory for the characters in a film to Grow and Change by the end of the film, and Moneyball was more of a throwback to the 70s kind of movie, where the character stays the same but maybe the world around him/her just shifts a little, and that was the appeal. Well, Brad's friend George's movie is a stunning example of the Grow and Change cliche. I mean, there's absolutely no surprise to the ending. (slight spoiler) Do we really think his little family is *not* gonna pull together and become closer and more functional? Do we really think he's *not* gonna make the noble business decision that's good for the people of his state, rather than the one that'll net him a huge amount of easy money? The only interesting twist to that is that the noble business decision also screws the guy who was screwing his wife, so at least there's a little depth there. Third thing: if I had known this movie was by the guy who did Sideways, I'd have never have gone to it, because that, along with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, is one of my top two acclaimed movies of recent years that I hate with the fiery passion of a million suns. So, yeah, it's a good thing I didn't realize! Final Grade: B.
Movie #2: Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close
Another movie that is exactly the kind that always gets nominated for an Oscar, this one because it's supposed to be terribly touching and sad and uplifting and blah blah blah. It didn't touch me at all, yo. I could not have cared less about the kid in it and his healing from his beloved father's death in 9/11. The kid was obnoxious and unsympathetic. And I say this as someone who sobs every time she watches The Sixth Sense*** which it pinged for me slightly, even though there's no similarity between them other than being about a weird fatherless boy in pain. I am really over people with mental differences (this kid is supposed to be maybe Aspergers, maybe not) as protagonists just because their weirdness allows the film-maker or author to then do things with the plot that they couldn't if the character was "normal." (Know what other film I fucking despise? Forrest Gump. Yeah.) I also realized when watching this movie that there's probably never been a Tom Hanks movie that I've seen that I actually liked, though I will admit I've managed to avoid some of his most popular movies. This is not due to any dislike of Mr Hanks per se, not as a person or as an actor. I think I just don't like his taste in scripts! Finally, and this is probably a spoiler, but I have a plot question. When the kid meets The Renter, is that a set-up by his mother/grandmother so he'll have someone to watch over him on his search, and I'm supposed to infer that when his mother later reveals that she knew what was going on all along? Because otherwise, it makes no sense that his grandmother was out in the middle of the night. I mean elderly Jewish ladies from the Old Country are not known for being party animals. I mean, as far as *I* know. Also, the fact that The Renter was mute was another example of a ridiculous plot contrivance. I realize that's the fault of the author of the book, and not the filmmaker, but whatev. Final grade: C-.
Movie #3: My Week With Marilyn
I liked this one the best. No "message" but it was charming and touching and the acting was very good. I think they did a good job of showing just how fucked up Marilyn was while still making her sympathetic. And it was short. And the makeup/clothes/scenery were cool. And I would definitely read the book this one was based on. Maybe it was just more my type of film than the other two, but I enjoyed it. Final grade: A-
That's it, kids!
xoxo
***I was writing this review in my head the other night on my way home and I could not think of the title of this movie. It was on the tip of my brain and driving me insane and I couldn't wait to actually get home and look it up. So I texted Mr Indemnity "Dude! Help! What's the name of the movie about the kid who sees ghosts and Bruce Willis is his dead shrink?" But because I was trying to text with my gloves on, I accidentally texted it to M2 first. Twelve hours later when she finally checked her texts, she wrote back "Dude! It's the sixth sense. The ONLY good movie by m night shyamalan." Which frankly was hilarious. I will also say Mr Indemnity did *not* make his usual dig about how if I had an iPhone I could have looked it up myself. He's slipping!
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Monday, January 17, 2011
iou and overdue
It occurs to me that since I have now finally seen both of the holiday season movies that I really wanted to see, I owe you all some reviews. However, since they've been out 6 weeks at this point and thus you've already read the reviews and/or have seen them yourselves, that would be a waste of all our time. So lets do just a few brief Andrea-type observations, shall we?
The Fighter. I had read somewhere before the film actually came out that Amy Adams had just given birth when they started filming and so was not at her prepregnancy weight. Sure enough, there she was bartending in her little crop top with a wee bit of belly chub showing. She looked adorable and sexy, of course, and actually it added to the verisimilitude. I am not the first to say it by any means, but it is a problem in Hollywood movies that female starring roles are always played by women who often look too good, too perfect, for the actual role. Would a townie girl bartender with a hint of a drinking problem look like an actress who hasn't touched a non-vegetable carb or a gram of fat in the past six years and who does two hours of Pilates 7 days a week? No, she would not. So yay for a tiny bit of belly chub. Now on to the male belly chub, a whole different other problem. I wouldn't have even registered this that much if I hadn't have been lifting weights. In the couple scenes where Mr Wahlberg has fallen into depression and temporarily given up fighting, he's gotten fat, In fact he is shown with his shirt off to prove the point. Well. In his fighting scenes, when he is ripped and lean, I'm guessing he's down to 9-11% bodyfat. And in his getting-fat scenes, with no abs at all any longer visible, he's probably 20% bodyfat. And I'm thinking how many weeks apart did they shoot those scenes, 'cause it'd take a serious amount of eating, drinking, and sitting on your ass to raise your body fat 10%? If they hadn't shown him with his shirt off, they coulda finessed it with clothing, but I don't think that was a fake torso. Or maybe it was. Maybe they have awesome makeup artists.
Black Swan. What a freaky movie. I have to say I could relate to her little breakdown in some ways (without the weird quasi-incestuous mother situation, the starvation, or the pressure of a starring role in anything) but if I *were* going to finally go all the way off the deep end from *my* pressure, you people know it would involve repeatedly checking my strange rash in the mirror, imagining it bleeding, thinking something was happening to it... When I've been in a real panic episode, it's had that flavor. Heh. My other comment on that film? I want all her practice clothes, all the little shrugs and wrap sweaters and layered camis and leg warmers and those sweater UGGs (which are the most impractical shoes ever and UGGly, but I still heart them.) Those dance clothes are adorable.
xoxo
The Fighter. I had read somewhere before the film actually came out that Amy Adams had just given birth when they started filming and so was not at her prepregnancy weight. Sure enough, there she was bartending in her little crop top with a wee bit of belly chub showing. She looked adorable and sexy, of course, and actually it added to the verisimilitude. I am not the first to say it by any means, but it is a problem in Hollywood movies that female starring roles are always played by women who often look too good, too perfect, for the actual role. Would a townie girl bartender with a hint of a drinking problem look like an actress who hasn't touched a non-vegetable carb or a gram of fat in the past six years and who does two hours of Pilates 7 days a week? No, she would not. So yay for a tiny bit of belly chub. Now on to the male belly chub, a whole different other problem. I wouldn't have even registered this that much if I hadn't have been lifting weights. In the couple scenes where Mr Wahlberg has fallen into depression and temporarily given up fighting, he's gotten fat, In fact he is shown with his shirt off to prove the point. Well. In his fighting scenes, when he is ripped and lean, I'm guessing he's down to 9-11% bodyfat. And in his getting-fat scenes, with no abs at all any longer visible, he's probably 20% bodyfat. And I'm thinking how many weeks apart did they shoot those scenes, 'cause it'd take a serious amount of eating, drinking, and sitting on your ass to raise your body fat 10%? If they hadn't shown him with his shirt off, they coulda finessed it with clothing, but I don't think that was a fake torso. Or maybe it was. Maybe they have awesome makeup artists.
Black Swan. What a freaky movie. I have to say I could relate to her little breakdown in some ways (without the weird quasi-incestuous mother situation, the starvation, or the pressure of a starring role in anything) but if I *were* going to finally go all the way off the deep end from *my* pressure, you people know it would involve repeatedly checking my strange rash in the mirror, imagining it bleeding, thinking something was happening to it... When I've been in a real panic episode, it's had that flavor. Heh. My other comment on that film? I want all her practice clothes, all the little shrugs and wrap sweaters and layered camis and leg warmers and those sweater UGGs (which are the most impractical shoes ever and UGGly, but I still heart them.) Those dance clothes are adorable.
xoxo
Saturday, December 18, 2010
i'll take potpourri for 400, alex
I would love to tell you all about the horrible, horrible mistake I made in a.) going to the mall today b.) by way of public transportation when c.) I didn't really have to, but suffering builds character. Or something like that.
Isn't that amazingly accurate? Besides the whole taking the play out of a player, Lothario business, that is. But nothing says "epitome of femininity" and "quiet beauty" like a woman who ends a sentence with the word mofo. Amirite? You know I am.
I will just say that my trip home was like the prison bus to the 18th power. There was a pack of guys who I could only charitably characterize as an entire halfway house given a pass to go Christmas shop(lift)ing. There was also a woman who was a friend of at least some of them, with her two children. With my earbuds in and my iPod set to "cochlea damage", I could still hear her children screaming. Not screaming with crankiness. That would be understandable, given that, judging from facial expression, 80% of the adults on the bus would have indulged in such if it were socially acceptable for persons over the age of five. No, these children were just being loud. I wanted to turn around and suggest to the mother that she teach them about the concept of indoor voices, but god knows you don't want to mess with people who are buddies with a good quarter of a work release program. Oh! On the way *to* the mall, there was a guy smoking on the fucking bus. He claimed he didn't know any better because he is from South Carolina and he couldn't read the no smoking signs 'cause he's "50% legally blind." Whatever that means. Seriously, you cannot make this shit up.
But while I was in Macys evilly-lit dressing room, trying things on I had absolutely no intention of buying once again, I examined my thighs closely in the nasty mirror to see how my cellulite is doing. (Shut up.) I must say, I am very pleased with my right thigh progress. The left is lagging. And neither could be characterized as "20 year old girl thigh" of course. But I am far more pleased than I have any right to be. Plus, even with my clothes on, you can see my quads are just popping. There's my effin' genetic endowment colliding with the leg press machine. You comin' home, you gonna have to slide, mofo. Ha!
In totally unrelated matters, I took an online quiz which purported to tell me which Jane Austin character I am. Here are the results:
42-50 points: Jane Fairfax (EMMA)
A sweet and trusting nature is both the making and the undoing of Jane Fairfax. She is the epitome of femininity and demure countenance, matched with an intelligent brain and an artistic though understated flair. All good, right? Except that this creature attracts and is attracted to the kind of man who falls wildly in love, almost in spite of himself, and perhaps before he is ready. Jane's open nature is far too trusting and she might not notice that she's falling in love with a Lothario until it is too late. That said, her strength of character and her many allures might be just the thing to take the "play" out of a "player", but at what cost to her happiness?
Best matched with an outgoing, friendly, center-of-attention type who will balance her quiet beauty, like Frank Churchill, Henry Crawford or Mr. Bingley.
A sweet and trusting nature is both the making and the undoing of Jane Fairfax. She is the epitome of femininity and demure countenance, matched with an intelligent brain and an artistic though understated flair. All good, right? Except that this creature attracts and is attracted to the kind of man who falls wildly in love, almost in spite of himself, and perhaps before he is ready. Jane's open nature is far too trusting and she might not notice that she's falling in love with a Lothario until it is too late. That said, her strength of character and her many allures might be just the thing to take the "play" out of a "player", but at what cost to her happiness?
Best matched with an outgoing, friendly, center-of-attention type who will balance her quiet beauty, like Frank Churchill, Henry Crawford or Mr. Bingley.
Isn't that amazingly accurate? Besides the whole taking the play out of a player, Lothario business, that is. But nothing says "epitome of femininity" and "quiet beauty" like a woman who ends a sentence with the word mofo. Amirite? You know I am.
Oh, and I would like to tell you about the last half of that awful movie, because again, suffering builds character. Let's just say Naveen Andrews soon enough becomes a deranged opium addict which kills his pretty, so even the eye candy fails, and that there's an obligatory, dreary girl-on-girl scene when Maya and Tara make up, plus further totally unbelievable plot points, only a tiny bit redeemed by the death-by-elephant execution. If you ever get the urge to rent this mess, hit yourself in the head with a brick instead. It will be less agonizing.
Finally, M2 passed along this link, which I hope works after the last miserable FAIL. Very clever. Though I do feel a little guilty about the lulz, considering I am the woman who used to bring manuscripts to writing group with such scintillating titles as "Yeah, Like I Know What to Call This Thing." Which, honestly? I'd pick that up at Borders and at least read the back cover.
I'm tired. Over n' out.
xoxo
Friday, December 17, 2010
kama sutra, the movie
A few weeks ago when she was loaning me the hot stone video and also returning one of my DVDs she had, M2 also loaned me Monsoon Wedding. I've watched it a couple times and really enjoyed it. It's sort of a romantic comedy, but more tilted to the serious side. Cute chick flick. It's also interesting because it takes place in Delhi, so there are all the cultural pieces and the different wedding customs, plus the wedding in question is a semi-arranged marriage, so there's the "how could anyone DO that?" for us Americans. (It provides quite a relatable explanation for that. The bride is a modern young woman who's been having an affair with a married TV host and she both sees the writing on the wall that a.) he's never getting a divorce and b.) she's going to keep going back to him, and she's ready to settle down, so she sees this marriage as a way to make a clean break and a fresh start in a new life.) But this, my friends, is not the movie I am here to review. It's just backstory to explain why I looked up the director of this film I quite enjoyed and thus netflixed Kama Sutra.
One would think that what is basically a fairy tale about pretty people in beautiful clothes having sex in exotic historical settings would have to be at least watchable, but one would be sadly mistaken. Putting aside the horribly stilted dialogue which is an offense to me as a writer, we have the problem that, of the four main characters, there isn't one that I don't fucking hate.
We have the two young women, Tara (the princess) and Maya (her servant), who are supposedly raised as best friends together, but who apparently seethe with jealousy about each other. Maya is jealous of Tara for, y'know, being a princess and having nice things whilst she gets hand-me-downs, while Tara is jealous of Maya for being more beautiful and talented. (Sidebar: both these girls are pretty, but in my opinion equally so, and neither is the stunningly unbelievable beauty Maya is portrayed as being. Maybe this would all be more believable if they cast an actual unattractive girl as Tara.) Tara publicly spits in Maya's face when she catches her prince/king husband-to-be checking her out, so Maya gets revenge by seducing him the night before the wedding. ARE WE LIKING EITHER ONE OF THESE CHICKS YET? Ahem.
Then we have the prince/king himself. I think he's supposed to be the villain so the fact that I hate him? Uh, good job? He's also portrayed by a young Naveen Andrews (Sayid from Lost) so at least he does bring the pretty when he's nekkid and fucking these girls in various Kama Sutra-like positions. So there is that.
Which brings us to the court sculptor that Maya has an affair with. He is nothing so much as a 16th century hipster douchebag. First he seduces her with "brilliant" philosophical insights like, "I used to worship in temples till I realized the rocks, the trees, the hills are all sacred." Then he dumps her because she's harshing his art and creativity, man, and he's got to be freeeeeee. At least he's in a loincloth, not skinny jeans.
Oh, and a fifth lesser character? His friend, the retired courtesan who runs a courtesan school and takes Maya in? She is full of brilliant insights too, teaching her pupils gems like "men like when you pretend to love them" and "men despise that which they can get too easily." (Whoa. Is that my problem? Dude.) But I don't hate her so much as the writers that put those gems in her script, so my urge to slap her every time she comes on scene isn't quite as strong.
I made it about halfway through this film before falling asleep, but to my shame, I didn't mail it back to netflix this morning. So I'll probably masochistically finish it. Just to see how much worse it can get. Oy.
This has been a public service announcement.
xoxo
One would think that what is basically a fairy tale about pretty people in beautiful clothes having sex in exotic historical settings would have to be at least watchable, but one would be sadly mistaken. Putting aside the horribly stilted dialogue which is an offense to me as a writer, we have the problem that, of the four main characters, there isn't one that I don't fucking hate.
We have the two young women, Tara (the princess) and Maya (her servant), who are supposedly raised as best friends together, but who apparently seethe with jealousy about each other. Maya is jealous of Tara for, y'know, being a princess and having nice things whilst she gets hand-me-downs, while Tara is jealous of Maya for being more beautiful and talented. (Sidebar: both these girls are pretty, but in my opinion equally so, and neither is the stunningly unbelievable beauty Maya is portrayed as being. Maybe this would all be more believable if they cast an actual unattractive girl as Tara.) Tara publicly spits in Maya's face when she catches her prince/king husband-to-be checking her out, so Maya gets revenge by seducing him the night before the wedding. ARE WE LIKING EITHER ONE OF THESE CHICKS YET? Ahem.
Then we have the prince/king himself. I think he's supposed to be the villain so the fact that I hate him? Uh, good job? He's also portrayed by a young Naveen Andrews (Sayid from Lost) so at least he does bring the pretty when he's nekkid and fucking these girls in various Kama Sutra-like positions. So there is that.
Which brings us to the court sculptor that Maya has an affair with. He is nothing so much as a 16th century hipster douchebag. First he seduces her with "brilliant" philosophical insights like, "I used to worship in temples till I realized the rocks, the trees, the hills are all sacred." Then he dumps her because she's harshing his art and creativity, man, and he's got to be freeeeeee. At least he's in a loincloth, not skinny jeans.
Oh, and a fifth lesser character? His friend, the retired courtesan who runs a courtesan school and takes Maya in? She is full of brilliant insights too, teaching her pupils gems like "men like when you pretend to love them" and "men despise that which they can get too easily." (Whoa. Is that my problem? Dude.) But I don't hate her so much as the writers that put those gems in her script, so my urge to slap her every time she comes on scene isn't quite as strong.
I made it about halfway through this film before falling asleep, but to my shame, I didn't mail it back to netflix this morning. So I'll probably masochistically finish it. Just to see how much worse it can get. Oy.
This has been a public service announcement.
xoxo
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
welcome to december misc
1.) Well, I experimented and it is possible to put my phone on silent and still have the alarm work. On the other hand, after I told my kid that I would kill him if he texted me at 4 am again, last night he emailed me to tell me we're out of Q-tips. So it's all a win-win.
2.) Every time the commercial for "The Fighter" comes on TV, I get all excited and tell D I can't wait till it comes out. My excitement has proved infectious and he thinks it's really cool that it was filmed in Lowell, etc. (Perhaps not infectious enough that I can convince him to see it in the theater, but where there's life there's hope. Or some other platitude.) Anyway, I was lying in bed this morning with those kind of random thoughts that flit through one's head flitting through mine, and it occurred to me that while it is a boon to have Wahlberg, Affleck, and Damon as big box office stars so that they can keep having movies set in eastern Massachusetts (all of which I am compelled to see) with leads who don't fucking butcher the accent, they're getting older. Which is to say, we need a new crop of Massachusetts boys as up-n-comers. Someone's gonna have to carry the torch so that in fifteen years the Boston Crime Film genre doesn't die out and leave me with nothing to see at the movies. God. Someone get on this.
2a.) Why doesn't Maura Tierney get roles in those movies? Is she typecast as a TV actress or is it just that she's too old by Hollywood standards to act opposite Affleck/Wahlberg/Damon? I always liked her when I used to watch ER. She's a good actor, and pretty in that "normal person pretty" way.
3.) I made the traditional after-Thanksgiving turkey soup, but I had so much leftover turkey (see: emergency preparedness extra turkey breast, which btw, caused M1 to say "only you, Andrea" which, yeah) that it is kinda like turkey sludge. Delicious though!
4.) The shoes I wanted for my bday were on sale for about half price on Zappos so I bought them. We're also getting a surprise bonus in our paychecks this week (for me $100, which is about $65 net) so I suppose I shouldn't feel guilty for treating myself.
That's all I have to say about any of that. Namaste. Bitches.
xoxo
2.) Every time the commercial for "The Fighter" comes on TV, I get all excited and tell D I can't wait till it comes out. My excitement has proved infectious and he thinks it's really cool that it was filmed in Lowell, etc. (Perhaps not infectious enough that I can convince him to see it in the theater, but where there's life there's hope. Or some other platitude.) Anyway, I was lying in bed this morning with those kind of random thoughts that flit through one's head flitting through mine, and it occurred to me that while it is a boon to have Wahlberg, Affleck, and Damon as big box office stars so that they can keep having movies set in eastern Massachusetts (all of which I am compelled to see) with leads who don't fucking butcher the accent, they're getting older. Which is to say, we need a new crop of Massachusetts boys as up-n-comers. Someone's gonna have to carry the torch so that in fifteen years the Boston Crime Film genre doesn't die out and leave me with nothing to see at the movies. God. Someone get on this.
2a.) Why doesn't Maura Tierney get roles in those movies? Is she typecast as a TV actress or is it just that she's too old by Hollywood standards to act opposite Affleck/Wahlberg/Damon? I always liked her when I used to watch ER. She's a good actor, and pretty in that "normal person pretty" way.
3.) I made the traditional after-Thanksgiving turkey soup, but I had so much leftover turkey (see: emergency preparedness extra turkey breast, which btw, caused M1 to say "only you, Andrea" which, yeah) that it is kinda like turkey sludge. Delicious though!
4.) The shoes I wanted for my bday were on sale for about half price on Zappos so I bought them. We're also getting a surprise bonus in our paychecks this week (for me $100, which is about $65 net) so I suppose I shouldn't feel guilty for treating myself.
That's all I have to say about any of that. Namaste. Bitches.
xoxo
Friday, November 26, 2010
to reiterate
For those of you who don't read the comments (i.e. everyone), let me just say again that not only did frying my turkey not involve any visits to the ED or calls to the fire department, it also resulted in the most delicious turkey EVAH! How could I have doubted myself and/or all those people who gave this contraption five stars on amazon? It did take 45 minutes to drain and clean the damn thing, but even so, it was *still* worth it.
Other highlights of the day included being hustled at Scrabble. The Benevolent L: "Oh, okay, I'll play, but I'm not good at games, and you've got a much bigger vocabulary than me," followed by "Oh! I won? Really?" D enjoyed Scrabble with us as well, and lemme tell you, getting him to socialize and actually have fun? That made my day, above and beyond all the other pleasures. Oh, and we also watched Winter's Bone, an excellent movie that is not really up there in "uplifting holiday entertainment" but I guess it does make you thankful that you're not growing up in the Ozarks with a father who cooks crank and then goes missing and a mother who's so mentally ill she's almost catatonic, that you don't have an uncle named "Teardrop", and that you don't need to shoot and skin squirrels for dinner. So there is that! And the young actress who plays the lead is just transcendent. Highly recommended.
Hope you all are enjoying spending today digesting and/or contributing to WalMart's profits or something, whilst I work (boo!).
xoxo
Other highlights of the day included being hustled at Scrabble. The Benevolent L: "Oh, okay, I'll play, but I'm not good at games, and you've got a much bigger vocabulary than me," followed by "Oh! I won? Really?" D enjoyed Scrabble with us as well, and lemme tell you, getting him to socialize and actually have fun? That made my day, above and beyond all the other pleasures. Oh, and we also watched Winter's Bone, an excellent movie that is not really up there in "uplifting holiday entertainment" but I guess it does make you thankful that you're not growing up in the Ozarks with a father who cooks crank and then goes missing and a mother who's so mentally ill she's almost catatonic, that you don't have an uncle named "Teardrop", and that you don't need to shoot and skin squirrels for dinner. So there is that! And the young actress who plays the lead is just transcendent. Highly recommended.
Hope you all are enjoying spending today digesting and/or contributing to WalMart's profits or something, whilst I work (boo!).
xoxo
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
all about eve
Mr Indemnity gave me this on DVD awhile ago for reasons I don't remember. Somehow he had a spare or something. No idea. I'm old. So, anyway, I had never seen it before and was happy to take it to peruse at my leisure.
Well, over the last few weeks I've seen most of it, though not in chronological order. You know how I am about watching movies in bed. Let's just talk about first impressions. God, does this movie bring the snark. I think it's instructive to watch old films, just so you don't start thinking sarcasm was invented somewhere around 1975 or that hipsters were the original discoverers of cynicism. Bette Davis looks older than the 40 years old she was supposed to be in the movie and the 42 she actually was. Anne Baxter seems dowdy to me even when she's no longer meant to be and I don't know if that's because those early 50s clothes and hairdos are just inherently dowdy or because I just don't think she's so pretty for whatever reason. Marilyn! I didn't even know she was in this, so imagine my delight when she popped up at the party. Is there a young actress these days who could play "vacuous sexpot bimbo" and hold the audience's attention with charisma, not just boobs?
I will report back at some point, I suppose, when I've watched the film in its entirety and in order, with more cogent criticism. But right now I'll just say that "seemingly innocent person who turns out to be evil as shit" is one of my favorite tropes, so I'm enjoying this!
xoxo
Well, over the last few weeks I've seen most of it, though not in chronological order. You know how I am about watching movies in bed. Let's just talk about first impressions. God, does this movie bring the snark. I think it's instructive to watch old films, just so you don't start thinking sarcasm was invented somewhere around 1975 or that hipsters were the original discoverers of cynicism. Bette Davis looks older than the 40 years old she was supposed to be in the movie and the 42 she actually was. Anne Baxter seems dowdy to me even when she's no longer meant to be and I don't know if that's because those early 50s clothes and hairdos are just inherently dowdy or because I just don't think she's so pretty for whatever reason. Marilyn! I didn't even know she was in this, so imagine my delight when she popped up at the party. Is there a young actress these days who could play "vacuous sexpot bimbo" and hold the audience's attention with charisma, not just boobs?
I will report back at some point, I suppose, when I've watched the film in its entirety and in order, with more cogent criticism. But right now I'll just say that "seemingly innocent person who turns out to be evil as shit" is one of my favorite tropes, so I'm enjoying this!
xoxo
Monday, October 4, 2010
in which i review The Town
I greatly enjoyed this movie, but I tend to like all those Boston crime movies, as well as Dennis Lehane books, on general principle. My main quibble with the film was that the locations of the particular crimes in it seemed predicated more on what would be picturesque and well-known to the viewing audience than on any semblance of reality. I mean, if you were planning on knocking off an armored car, would you do it in the North End which is impossible to drive out of under the best of circumstances, never mind when under high speed pursuit? But, y'know, a robbery in, say, Malden with easy access to major highways wouldn't exactly have the same cinematic cachet. Ah, well.
One of my major surprises in the movie was that Blake Lively can actually act. I have never watched an episode of Gossip Girl, and so my impression of her was as just a bimbo. (Possibly because her nickname on gofugyourself is "Boobs Legsley" due to her predilection for wearing very short and very lowcut outfits to every event, a fashion faux pas. One or the other, people, one or the other.) But she does very well in her small but pivotal role was the very pretty, very very white trash ex-girlfriend of Ben Affleck (and sister of his partner.)
And speaking of Ms Lively? Do you remember a post on here last spring, in which I expressed my fascination and horror over the black-tipped French manicure that the woman sitting next to me on the Blue Line was sporting, a manicure whose overall effect was to suggest she had dirt beneath her fingernails? Do you remember my pronouncing this the ultimate white trash fashion statement? Well. In the scene where Ms Lively is in her hospital bed at the MGH, recovering from her DWI, she has that same manicure! I was ready to hand the costume designer (or whoever was responsible) the Academy Award on the spot. A tiny detail that most people wouldn't even notice and that some who did wouldn't grasp the significance of, but perfect. That is what Ms Lively's character would ask for at the nail salon, no question. Brilliant.
Okay, I think that's all I've got to say about that. Other than: did you ever think about how much cash there must be in Fenway Park at any given time? Me neither!
xoxo
One of my major surprises in the movie was that Blake Lively can actually act. I have never watched an episode of Gossip Girl, and so my impression of her was as just a bimbo. (Possibly because her nickname on gofugyourself is "Boobs Legsley" due to her predilection for wearing very short and very lowcut outfits to every event, a fashion faux pas. One or the other, people, one or the other.) But she does very well in her small but pivotal role was the very pretty, very very white trash ex-girlfriend of Ben Affleck (and sister of his partner.)
And speaking of Ms Lively? Do you remember a post on here last spring, in which I expressed my fascination and horror over the black-tipped French manicure that the woman sitting next to me on the Blue Line was sporting, a manicure whose overall effect was to suggest she had dirt beneath her fingernails? Do you remember my pronouncing this the ultimate white trash fashion statement? Well. In the scene where Ms Lively is in her hospital bed at the MGH, recovering from her DWI, she has that same manicure! I was ready to hand the costume designer (or whoever was responsible) the Academy Award on the spot. A tiny detail that most people wouldn't even notice and that some who did wouldn't grasp the significance of, but perfect. That is what Ms Lively's character would ask for at the nail salon, no question. Brilliant.
Okay, I think that's all I've got to say about that. Other than: did you ever think about how much cash there must be in Fenway Park at any given time? Me neither!
xoxo
Friday, September 10, 2010
classics revisited
As you may know, because I say it all the damn time, Rosemary's Baby is my very favorite movie. You may also remember my remarking on how the first time I actually watched it on DVD, previously having only seen it on TV and thus edited, I realized it was a lot more explicit than I thought it was. And of course I eventually bought it on DVD. I bet I've seen this movie at least twenty times. I've been re-watching it this week, mainly because D and I had rented Paranormal Activity after I'd read something that compared it to the classic "demon/Satan" movies: Rosemary's Baby, The Exorcist, and The Omen. Well, whoever wrote that was on crack because the movie sucked--I couldn't watch more than 15 minutes of it before giving up--but it made me want to watch an actual good Satan movie.
Now when you have seen a movie twenty times and you know not just the plot, but every scene and much of the dialogue, it gives you time to examine and ponder other things. I was excited on this go-round because RB begins in late summer/early fall 1965 and right now in Mad Men, they're in late spring 1965. So I can compare the clothes in a film from the actual time period to what the costumers are doing on Mad Men. (Because I like clothes. You know that.) Mia Farrow has the most incredible wardrobe in RB, which is one of the reasons I love the movie. Little above-the-knee shift dresses, the plaid maxi skirt and turtleneck in the scene that takes place while Guy, offscreen, is making the deal with Roman, her little pigtails in the laundry room scene, and then the famous Vidal Sassoon pixie cut. Very different from Mad Men, because Mad Men takes place in the workplace, while Rosemary is a young, artsy hip housewife. Though wouldn't you like Peggy on Mad Men to get a Sassoon Mod haircut? She's been flirting with that whole hipster scene anyway. But, anyway, back to RB.
I found a plot hole, or at least something that wasn't addressed in any way, that I'd never considered before. There's a scene where, on their moving day into the "Bramford", they're unpacking a couple plates and sitting on the floor of their living room, empty except for a lamp, to eat takeout for dinner, and suddenly Rosemary looks at Guy and says, "Let's make love!" So he snaps off the lamp (they haven't got curtains yet either, yo), they strip their clothes off, and then they're in each other's arms, making out. Okay, then later in the movie, when Minnie is nosily poking around their apartment, Rosemary tells her that one particular room will in the future be the nursery, because as soon as they're all settled, they are going to try to conceive. And then, still later, after Guy has made the deal with Roman and Minnie to let his wife get knocked up by Satan in return for career success, he tells Rosemary he wants to start trying to make a baby and he's already figured out on the calendar which nights she should be fertile.
Is anyone catching what I'm getting at here? 1.) They are planning when to start trying for a baby, so they *haven't* just been willy-nilly letting nature take its course up until then. 2.) Even if Rosemary's getting knocked up by the Prince of Darkness, it's gotta happen when she's actually fertile apparently; his super demonic sperm apparently doesn't trump nature 3.) Rosemary can't be on the Pill because you need to stop it before you start trying to conceive (or you probably aren't gonna *be* fertile, all those people who have kids after missing one pill notwithstanding) but 4.) when they're getting it on in their empty apartment, they apparently do not have any condoms or a diaphragm or whatever other barrier methods were available in 1965--they're NOT hunting through boxes before throwing themselves into each other's arms.
So what the fuck have they been doing about birth control? This is going to bother me now.
xoxo
Now when you have seen a movie twenty times and you know not just the plot, but every scene and much of the dialogue, it gives you time to examine and ponder other things. I was excited on this go-round because RB begins in late summer/early fall 1965 and right now in Mad Men, they're in late spring 1965. So I can compare the clothes in a film from the actual time period to what the costumers are doing on Mad Men. (Because I like clothes. You know that.) Mia Farrow has the most incredible wardrobe in RB, which is one of the reasons I love the movie. Little above-the-knee shift dresses, the plaid maxi skirt and turtleneck in the scene that takes place while Guy, offscreen, is making the deal with Roman, her little pigtails in the laundry room scene, and then the famous Vidal Sassoon pixie cut. Very different from Mad Men, because Mad Men takes place in the workplace, while Rosemary is a young, artsy hip housewife. Though wouldn't you like Peggy on Mad Men to get a Sassoon Mod haircut? She's been flirting with that whole hipster scene anyway. But, anyway, back to RB.
I found a plot hole, or at least something that wasn't addressed in any way, that I'd never considered before. There's a scene where, on their moving day into the "Bramford", they're unpacking a couple plates and sitting on the floor of their living room, empty except for a lamp, to eat takeout for dinner, and suddenly Rosemary looks at Guy and says, "Let's make love!" So he snaps off the lamp (they haven't got curtains yet either, yo), they strip their clothes off, and then they're in each other's arms, making out. Okay, then later in the movie, when Minnie is nosily poking around their apartment, Rosemary tells her that one particular room will in the future be the nursery, because as soon as they're all settled, they are going to try to conceive. And then, still later, after Guy has made the deal with Roman and Minnie to let his wife get knocked up by Satan in return for career success, he tells Rosemary he wants to start trying to make a baby and he's already figured out on the calendar which nights she should be fertile.
Is anyone catching what I'm getting at here? 1.) They are planning when to start trying for a baby, so they *haven't* just been willy-nilly letting nature take its course up until then. 2.) Even if Rosemary's getting knocked up by the Prince of Darkness, it's gotta happen when she's actually fertile apparently; his super demonic sperm apparently doesn't trump nature 3.) Rosemary can't be on the Pill because you need to stop it before you start trying to conceive (or you probably aren't gonna *be* fertile, all those people who have kids after missing one pill notwithstanding) but 4.) when they're getting it on in their empty apartment, they apparently do not have any condoms or a diaphragm or whatever other barrier methods were available in 1965--they're NOT hunting through boxes before throwing themselves into each other's arms.
So what the fuck have they been doing about birth control? This is going to bother me now.
xoxo
Friday, September 3, 2010
the usual friday misc, hurricane edition
1.) I am watching what is probably the most depressing movie ever made. It's called "Lilya 4-Ever" and is apparently a Swedish film. (A Swedish film depressing? Nahhhh.) Anyway, it's about Lilya, a teenaged girl in the former USSR, whose mother moves to America with her gangster-looking boyfriend and leaves her daughter behind, promising to send for her, send money, etc. She is nominally in the care of her aunt, an old witch who immediately moves the girl out of the cheerful little flat she'd been living in with her mom into a nasty, filthy hovel, 'cause who's gonna pay the rent on the nice place? After a bitchy teacher mocks her "great potential", she drops out of school. She befriends a slightly younger boy who is basically living on the streets because of his crappy family life, and lets him crash in her hovel. That's as far as I've gotten, because you know reading subtitles in bed puts me to sleep. But what is going to happen to her is that she gets sold into prostitution. I know this because the reason I even heard of this movie is that it was mentioned by several people on jezebel in a discussion of sex trafficking. Anyway, I have to say my suspension of disbelief was tweaked at the thought of a mother blithely abandoning a fifteen or sixteen year old to fend for herself, but duh. The reason they make depressing films like this is because this shit really happens and people ought to think about it.
2.) Does anyone know anything about podcasts? I am fascinated that the free podcasts I download from iTunes to do my c25k to magically disappear from the iPod when I am done with them. At first I thought, oh, because you're supposed to do three days of each week of c25k, the podcasts self-destruct (haha) after you've listened to them three times. But then, one week I only listened to that week's podcast twice because my first day of that week I had an iPod problem and had to do the timing of the c25k myself, and it *still* disappeared like magic from my playlist when I'd done the third day. Like it's watching me or something. Oooo. Can someone technically smart explain to me what's going on here?
3.) So, is a tree gonna fall on my house tonight or what? I won't say I didn't have some concerns about that when they first started whipping everyone into a frenzy about it on the news, but then I heard we're only getting 40 mile per hour wind gusts which is nothing. We get those all the time. I will say, the Benevolent L left me voicemail yesterday, and when I called her back and got her voicemail and left a flippant little comment about having to worry about the whole tree-falling business, when we finally spoke, she wanted to talk about my feelings about that. Oh L, you've been my friend for almost 35 years and you still don't always get when I am joking. I think I need to carry around Irony Alert! signs, but how's that gonna help me over the phone?
4.) I need some Manny news! I better go check out what the interwebs are saying this morning.
Don't let a tree fall on you! Kisses!
Addendum: Manny's flying his personal barber to Boston, so he'll have a new look for tonight's game. Manny Hair Watch, Day 2, out.
xoxo
2.) Does anyone know anything about podcasts? I am fascinated that the free podcasts I download from iTunes to do my c25k to magically disappear from the iPod when I am done with them. At first I thought, oh, because you're supposed to do three days of each week of c25k, the podcasts self-destruct (haha) after you've listened to them three times. But then, one week I only listened to that week's podcast twice because my first day of that week I had an iPod problem and had to do the timing of the c25k myself, and it *still* disappeared like magic from my playlist when I'd done the third day. Like it's watching me or something. Oooo. Can someone technically smart explain to me what's going on here?
3.) So, is a tree gonna fall on my house tonight or what? I won't say I didn't have some concerns about that when they first started whipping everyone into a frenzy about it on the news, but then I heard we're only getting 40 mile per hour wind gusts which is nothing. We get those all the time. I will say, the Benevolent L left me voicemail yesterday, and when I called her back and got her voicemail and left a flippant little comment about having to worry about the whole tree-falling business, when we finally spoke, she wanted to talk about my feelings about that. Oh L, you've been my friend for almost 35 years and you still don't always get when I am joking. I think I need to carry around Irony Alert! signs, but how's that gonna help me over the phone?
4.) I need some Manny news! I better go check out what the interwebs are saying this morning.
Don't let a tree fall on you! Kisses!
Addendum: Manny's flying his personal barber to Boston, so he'll have a new look for tonight's game. Manny Hair Watch, Day 2, out.
xoxo
Sunday, June 6, 2010
beauty in america
If you'd like to watch a documentary about all the shit I'm always going on about, here you go!
If you have Netflix, you can watch it instantly right now. Uh, yeah, instantly and right now are the same thing. I knew that. N E Way, while I will agree with some of the reviews that it does jump around a little too much and that many of the points covered we all already know, I still thought it was interesting. Most interesting? The 12 year old 6 foot tall model whose story is woven through the whole film and who is washed up by age 15. That's how you have perfectly firm and flawless skin without a trace of womanly fat: be twelve! Let's have adult women's "aspirational" images be of girls who haven't quite finished puberty yet but who are made up to look 25, and then we can wonder about why most of them are insecure about their bodies. Want to know why she's washed up at age 15? She's got 37 inch hips and without shaving off bone, they probably aren't getting smaller. Also interesting? The panel of douchebros who are interviewed throughout, expressing just about what you would expect from the worst of a bunch of douchebros in a pack--namely the most objectifying and obnoxious remarks about women and their looks that you would imagine--and they still get laid. Apparently. It's the Tucker Max phenomenon. One does admit he has a small dick, which is hilarious.
But the best part? At fashion week (I think) the filmmaker asks a bunch of celebs what beauty is, and who should pop up but Anthony Kiedis. He tells the filmmaker (a chunky, balding black man) that he is beautiful, 'cause he's got a gentle, soulful handshake. Oh, Anthony. Then at the very end, the filmmaker reflects on how honestly touched that compliment made him feel. I think this goes to my earlier post. If I met Anthony, I probably wouldn't be disappointed, because he seems like a sweet guy. A sweet, stoned all the time, surfer dude type guy, but nevertheless!
xoxo
If you have Netflix, you can watch it instantly right now. Uh, yeah, instantly and right now are the same thing. I knew that. N E Way, while I will agree with some of the reviews that it does jump around a little too much and that many of the points covered we all already know, I still thought it was interesting. Most interesting? The 12 year old 6 foot tall model whose story is woven through the whole film and who is washed up by age 15. That's how you have perfectly firm and flawless skin without a trace of womanly fat: be twelve! Let's have adult women's "aspirational" images be of girls who haven't quite finished puberty yet but who are made up to look 25, and then we can wonder about why most of them are insecure about their bodies. Want to know why she's washed up at age 15? She's got 37 inch hips and without shaving off bone, they probably aren't getting smaller. Also interesting? The panel of douchebros who are interviewed throughout, expressing just about what you would expect from the worst of a bunch of douchebros in a pack--namely the most objectifying and obnoxious remarks about women and their looks that you would imagine--and they still get laid. Apparently. It's the Tucker Max phenomenon. One does admit he has a small dick, which is hilarious.
But the best part? At fashion week (I think) the filmmaker asks a bunch of celebs what beauty is, and who should pop up but Anthony Kiedis. He tells the filmmaker (a chunky, balding black man) that he is beautiful, 'cause he's got a gentle, soulful handshake. Oh, Anthony. Then at the very end, the filmmaker reflects on how honestly touched that compliment made him feel. I think this goes to my earlier post. If I met Anthony, I probably wouldn't be disappointed, because he seems like a sweet guy. A sweet, stoned all the time, surfer dude type guy, but nevertheless!
xoxo
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
babies, the movie
I've tried twice in the past 24 hours to write a review of this and given up. I have no idea how to say some of what I want to say without sounding like a douchebag who buys into the whole "noble savages" shit that pissed me off so much in Avatar or who is romanticizing abject poverty. Be that as it may, I am now going to persevere. And if you're reading this, I did!
In case you've been under a rock or something, let me tell you the premise of the movie. It's a documentary about the first year of life of four different infants, one American, one Japanese, one Namibian, and one Mongolian. There is no plot, no narration, no subtitling of the non-English dialogue. It's just babies. To like this film you need to a.) love babies and b.) find the cross-cultural stuff fascinating. In other words, you gotta be me, basically.
The American parents were from San Francisco and named their child "Hattie." That's all we need to say about that, right? You get the picture immediately. The Japanese couple seemed young, urban, and hip. The mom (and all her girlfriends) looked effortlessly chic and stylish in every frame; the dad spent an entire cell phone call shaking a rattle in front of the baby faithfully and ceaselessly to keep her amused without actually ever paying attention to her, which was pretty funny. The Mongolian family lived in this incredible yurt. From the outside, it looked like a tent. Um, with a big-ass satellite dish. Inside, it was beautiful, with all these gorgeous woven carpets and pretty furniture, most of which looked like it wouldn't fit in there when you saw the place from the outside. Not to mention Legos, cell phones, and two liter bottles of Coke. But they've been a nomadic people for a millennium or so, right? I guess you get damn good at tents. The father seemed to be off away working most of the time, so the mom was working awfully hard, taking care of cattle and goats and an infant and a toddler who tormented the younger brother with great delight at every opportunity.
But the Namibians? The father--in fact, all the adult males--seemed to be off too, herding or whatever it is they do. Meanwhile, the women seemed to be living this pretty chill lifestyle. Maybe it was just the editing, but we only saw one scene of the mom grinding grain. The rest of the time they were hanging out outside, chatting and laughing with their friends, sharing food amongst each other, keeping an eye on the kids (who were also keeping an eye on each other), nursing the babies including (I think, it was hard to tell) each other's. I don't mean to minimize that these people had *nothing* materially; certainly no satellite dishes and cell phones there. But everyone looked well-nourished. Everyone looked relaxed and happy and like they had each other's back. The Namibian baby was the smiliest little kid you ever saw. It really makes you think something is missing in modern industrial Western life. These women were not working 8 and 10 hours a day. They were not commuting. They were not spending hours a day cleaning house or fucking mowing their lawns. They were not being neurotic about OMG, is it alright to feed the baby now? OMG, the baby just put a handful of dirt in her mouth. OMG, the baby's french-kissing the dog (she did, it was hilarious). I'm sure they must worry and stress about something, because that's human nature, but there just did not seem to be the constant level of tension that most of us go through our privileged little lives with. Again, it might just be the editing, but these women were not yelling at their kids or seeming overwhelmed by them. (The diaper-less baby poops on your leg? You wipe it off. No harm, no foul.)
Part of it is probably the sense of community and that it seems like there's always someone there to help you out or be helped. But part of it has to be the lack of material stuff. The vast majority of our worries in this consumer society are driven by needing stuff, needing enough money to pay for our stuff, envy over other people's stuff or shame at not having the proper stuff, having worry and angst implanted in our brains by the media so we can be sold more stuff. It's so clear when you look at it, but so hard to do anything about. I mean, I am a hopeless case, too imprinted by now. If I lived in a tent, I'd want the satellite dish and the Legos. You?
xoxo
In case you've been under a rock or something, let me tell you the premise of the movie. It's a documentary about the first year of life of four different infants, one American, one Japanese, one Namibian, and one Mongolian. There is no plot, no narration, no subtitling of the non-English dialogue. It's just babies. To like this film you need to a.) love babies and b.) find the cross-cultural stuff fascinating. In other words, you gotta be me, basically.
The American parents were from San Francisco and named their child "Hattie." That's all we need to say about that, right? You get the picture immediately. The Japanese couple seemed young, urban, and hip. The mom (and all her girlfriends) looked effortlessly chic and stylish in every frame; the dad spent an entire cell phone call shaking a rattle in front of the baby faithfully and ceaselessly to keep her amused without actually ever paying attention to her, which was pretty funny. The Mongolian family lived in this incredible yurt. From the outside, it looked like a tent. Um, with a big-ass satellite dish. Inside, it was beautiful, with all these gorgeous woven carpets and pretty furniture, most of which looked like it wouldn't fit in there when you saw the place from the outside. Not to mention Legos, cell phones, and two liter bottles of Coke. But they've been a nomadic people for a millennium or so, right? I guess you get damn good at tents. The father seemed to be off away working most of the time, so the mom was working awfully hard, taking care of cattle and goats and an infant and a toddler who tormented the younger brother with great delight at every opportunity.
But the Namibians? The father--in fact, all the adult males--seemed to be off too, herding or whatever it is they do. Meanwhile, the women seemed to be living this pretty chill lifestyle. Maybe it was just the editing, but we only saw one scene of the mom grinding grain. The rest of the time they were hanging out outside, chatting and laughing with their friends, sharing food amongst each other, keeping an eye on the kids (who were also keeping an eye on each other), nursing the babies including (I think, it was hard to tell) each other's. I don't mean to minimize that these people had *nothing* materially; certainly no satellite dishes and cell phones there. But everyone looked well-nourished. Everyone looked relaxed and happy and like they had each other's back. The Namibian baby was the smiliest little kid you ever saw. It really makes you think something is missing in modern industrial Western life. These women were not working 8 and 10 hours a day. They were not commuting. They were not spending hours a day cleaning house or fucking mowing their lawns. They were not being neurotic about OMG, is it alright to feed the baby now? OMG, the baby just put a handful of dirt in her mouth. OMG, the baby's french-kissing the dog (she did, it was hilarious). I'm sure they must worry and stress about something, because that's human nature, but there just did not seem to be the constant level of tension that most of us go through our privileged little lives with. Again, it might just be the editing, but these women were not yelling at their kids or seeming overwhelmed by them. (The diaper-less baby poops on your leg? You wipe it off. No harm, no foul.)
Part of it is probably the sense of community and that it seems like there's always someone there to help you out or be helped. But part of it has to be the lack of material stuff. The vast majority of our worries in this consumer society are driven by needing stuff, needing enough money to pay for our stuff, envy over other people's stuff or shame at not having the proper stuff, having worry and angst implanted in our brains by the media so we can be sold more stuff. It's so clear when you look at it, but so hard to do anything about. I mean, I am a hopeless case, too imprinted by now. If I lived in a tent, I'd want the satellite dish and the Legos. You?
xoxo
Sunday, February 28, 2010
all's right in the universe
They showed "White Wedding" on VH1Classic this morning, so obviously that's an omen that I'm gonna have a good week. They also played that "maniac" song from Flashdance. Can I just say, that movie has a lot to answer for to women of my generation. I mean, aside from the fact that we all left the theater and immediately went home to cut the necks out of all our sweatshirts. Talk about wish-fulfillment fantasy. Even for those of us who could neither dance nor weld, it planted the idea that there was someone out there just like us who could, and was doing it in a too-cool-for-school loft that was light years more awesome than our crappy apartments. Yup, there was someone out there living a life that was so much cooler than ours. The response? Yo, put some more Kahlua in the blender, and do you wanna do some lines? I mean, it wasn't like anyone was gonna learn to dance or weld***. But you could abuse substances in a shirt with the sleeves cut out. Sigh.
I was also going to tell you the amazing true story of how I got my badge back (!) yesterday but I'm running late.
Namaste, bitches.
xoxo
***I did, however, know how to solder, which is sorta like welding for beginners, if you ask me.
I was also going to tell you the amazing true story of how I got my badge back (!) yesterday but I'm running late.
Namaste, bitches.
xoxo
***I did, however, know how to solder, which is sorta like welding for beginners, if you ask me.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
hey sista go sista soul sista go sista
I can't spell the French lyric, but I remember what a scandal they were to a bunch of sixth graders. That same bunch of sixth graders thought the lyric in Bennie and the Jets was "she's got electric boobs..." Ah, puberty.
Hey, kids! It is 4:50 pm and my electrician never came by for the estimate and never called. Once again, people are refusing to take my money. The new vet's office I want to take Evil Kitty to never returned my call either. Do people not *want* business? How can you run a capitalist system like that? But I did give the upstairs hallway another coat o' paint. Without any loud music. Because I wanted to be able to hear the doorbell and/or my phone. In case the electrician remembered that I'm alive and that I would like to write him a big check. Sigh.
After dinner I shall do more things upstairs and there will be rocking out. Hand to god.
In other news, did I tell you? I'm going to the Buddhist chanting thing next Tuesday. I'm pretty excited about that. Secondly, I got two new yoga videos from amazon today, which I would totally be trying out if I didn't eff up my back last week. Should I just slather on some arnica and go for it anyway? Thirdly, did you know Jay-Z is coming to the "Banknorth" Gahhhden this summer? Anyone got a fourteen year old I can borrow? Because I don't think old white people like me are allowed in if they aren't chaperoning teenagers, and I would really like to add to Mr Carter-Knowles' fortune so he can buy some better basketball players. Or something. Lastly, speaking of Mr Carter-Knowles and that song of his that's stuck in my head, as I was telling Mr Indemnity yesterday, the video for Run This Town is very post-apocalyptic Mad Max-ish, and I would really, really like someone in academia to write a paper on how that movie, besides introducing the world to Mel Gibson, has been a seminal influence on rap videos. Actually lastly, do not feel bad for Mr Indemnity that he has to listen to me go on about this stuff. He owes me for all the many hours of relationship advice I've given him over the years. "If you're havin girl problems, I feel bad for you, son..." Ha!
Even my electrician problem has not destroyed my very good mood! Because, y'know, I'm on vacation. True fact.
xoxo
Hey, kids! It is 4:50 pm and my electrician never came by for the estimate and never called. Once again, people are refusing to take my money. The new vet's office I want to take Evil Kitty to never returned my call either. Do people not *want* business? How can you run a capitalist system like that? But I did give the upstairs hallway another coat o' paint. Without any loud music. Because I wanted to be able to hear the doorbell and/or my phone. In case the electrician remembered that I'm alive and that I would like to write him a big check. Sigh.
After dinner I shall do more things upstairs and there will be rocking out. Hand to god.
In other news, did I tell you? I'm going to the Buddhist chanting thing next Tuesday. I'm pretty excited about that. Secondly, I got two new yoga videos from amazon today, which I would totally be trying out if I didn't eff up my back last week. Should I just slather on some arnica and go for it anyway? Thirdly, did you know Jay-Z is coming to the "Banknorth" Gahhhden this summer? Anyone got a fourteen year old I can borrow? Because I don't think old white people like me are allowed in if they aren't chaperoning teenagers, and I would really like to add to Mr Carter-Knowles' fortune so he can buy some better basketball players. Or something. Lastly, speaking of Mr Carter-Knowles and that song of his that's stuck in my head, as I was telling Mr Indemnity yesterday, the video for Run This Town is very post-apocalyptic Mad Max-ish, and I would really, really like someone in academia to write a paper on how that movie, besides introducing the world to Mel Gibson, has been a seminal influence on rap videos. Actually lastly, do not feel bad for Mr Indemnity that he has to listen to me go on about this stuff. He owes me for all the many hours of relationship advice I've given him over the years. "If you're havin girl problems, I feel bad for you, son..." Ha!
Even my electrician problem has not destroyed my very good mood! Because, y'know, I'm on vacation. True fact.
xoxo
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
noble savages and so forth
Finally--finally--got to see Avatar in 3D IMAX last night, so I have been de-thwarted. Unthwarted. Free from thwart. Definitely the venue to see this movie in. The visuals and special effects were awesome. The plot, well, derivative doesn't even begin to cover it, and the bad guys might as well be twirling their moustaches and tying maidens to the railroad tracks, 'k?
And it suffers from a lot of the problems that bad, lazy science fiction writing suffers from. All the info-dumping at the beginning, where two characters have a spirited discussion of stuff they both already know, so that you, viewer, will know it too. And perhaps only a pet peeve for me, but I am totally thrown out of my suspension of disbelief when two aliens are getting it on and start kissing. Lazy, lazy writing. Alien foreplay ought to be a little more alien. You can look to the non-human animal kingdom and throw in some grooming or biting of each other and not even have to stretch your imagination. (1...2...3..."Oh, Andrea, it's only a movie.")
But my main problem with this movie is the whole "noble savages" trope. It's so offensive to portray the indigenous people as all good and pure and in touch with nature and so much more morally superior to us. I was trying to explain this to Mr Indemnity and he was like, "Well, it's better than portraying them as gooks to be killed" and I was like, not really. It's the flip side of the same card. It's objectifying them. It's making them Other, not real people with the same wide range of emotions and behaviors and thoughts as any of us. (So Mr Indemnity pointed out the indigenous people in this movie are 8 foot tall blue aliens and thus not just like us, at which point I gave up. *You* all will get my point and not torture me with specious argument, I'm sure. Symbolism. We've all heard of fuckin symbolism, haven't we?)
N E Way. I realize a lot of this stems from liberal guilt. In the movie, it's okay for the natives to make fun of Jake Sully, tell him he's like a baby and an ignorant child, and nickname him their word for moron. But would we as the audience think it was just as okay if they put Neytiri on a spaceship and made fun of her and called her stupid because she didn't know how to run a computer or use a fork? No, of course not. But liberal guilt will tell us we're supposed to be subliminally embarrassed because we no longer as a society know how to track a wild animal through the forest by smell or we're supposed to be willing to make reparations through shame because maybe someone made fun of Pocahontas for not being able to use a fork 400 years ago.
Okay, I'll stop dissecting the popcorn movie! It was fun. See it in IMAX if you haven't already. Plus, Michelle Rodriguez is so pretty and so badass. "You're not the only one with a gun, bitch." You'll be entertained.
xoxo
And it suffers from a lot of the problems that bad, lazy science fiction writing suffers from. All the info-dumping at the beginning, where two characters have a spirited discussion of stuff they both already know, so that you, viewer, will know it too. And perhaps only a pet peeve for me, but I am totally thrown out of my suspension of disbelief when two aliens are getting it on and start kissing. Lazy, lazy writing. Alien foreplay ought to be a little more alien. You can look to the non-human animal kingdom and throw in some grooming or biting of each other and not even have to stretch your imagination. (1...2...3..."Oh, Andrea, it's only a movie.")
But my main problem with this movie is the whole "noble savages" trope. It's so offensive to portray the indigenous people as all good and pure and in touch with nature and so much more morally superior to us. I was trying to explain this to Mr Indemnity and he was like, "Well, it's better than portraying them as gooks to be killed" and I was like, not really. It's the flip side of the same card. It's objectifying them. It's making them Other, not real people with the same wide range of emotions and behaviors and thoughts as any of us. (So Mr Indemnity pointed out the indigenous people in this movie are 8 foot tall blue aliens and thus not just like us, at which point I gave up. *You* all will get my point and not torture me with specious argument, I'm sure. Symbolism. We've all heard of fuckin symbolism, haven't we?)
N E Way. I realize a lot of this stems from liberal guilt. In the movie, it's okay for the natives to make fun of Jake Sully, tell him he's like a baby and an ignorant child, and nickname him their word for moron. But would we as the audience think it was just as okay if they put Neytiri on a spaceship and made fun of her and called her stupid because she didn't know how to run a computer or use a fork? No, of course not. But liberal guilt will tell us we're supposed to be subliminally embarrassed because we no longer as a society know how to track a wild animal through the forest by smell or we're supposed to be willing to make reparations through shame because maybe someone made fun of Pocahontas for not being able to use a fork 400 years ago.
Okay, I'll stop dissecting the popcorn movie! It was fun. See it in IMAX if you haven't already. Plus, Michelle Rodriguez is so pretty and so badass. "You're not the only one with a gun, bitch." You'll be entertained.
xoxo
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
i might need to give in
So, if you're keeping track you'll remember I stopped reading the Globe in protest when they like tripled the price. Meanwhile I also let my subscription to EW lapse. You know what that means, doncha? It means I have absolutely no freakin idea what movies are out, what they're about, or what's supposedly good, other than what gets talked about *a lot*, like Avatar or Precious.
Well, I was at M2's house yesterday afternoon to give her a massage, which basically we chatted through. (I will self-promote here and say M2 told me it was the best massage I'd *ever* given her to date. I was a little skeptical, considering we did talk all the way through, but who am I to argue with the client? Want one of my new business cards? Ha!) One of the things we were talking about were what movies she and Mr M2 had seen since we last spoke and which ones she thought I would like--she and I and our friend G having much the same tastes in such things. And I hadn't heard of any of them, basically. She was like, "OMG, what happened to my movie buddy?!??" But, really, I never saw that many movies--well, okay, I do rent a fair number--I just used to read *all* the reviews, so I used to be able to discuss them intelligently.
I might need to capitulate and resubscribe to EW, because now I feel left out of the cultural zeitgest, and I seriously won't bother to seek that stuff out online. The Globe, however, is never ever getting my business again. I mean it.
xoxo
Well, I was at M2's house yesterday afternoon to give her a massage, which basically we chatted through. (I will self-promote here and say M2 told me it was the best massage I'd *ever* given her to date. I was a little skeptical, considering we did talk all the way through, but who am I to argue with the client? Want one of my new business cards? Ha!) One of the things we were talking about were what movies she and Mr M2 had seen since we last spoke and which ones she thought I would like--she and I and our friend G having much the same tastes in such things. And I hadn't heard of any of them, basically. She was like, "OMG, what happened to my movie buddy?!??" But, really, I never saw that many movies--well, okay, I do rent a fair number--I just used to read *all* the reviews, so I used to be able to discuss them intelligently.
I might need to capitulate and resubscribe to EW, because now I feel left out of the cultural zeitgest, and I seriously won't bother to seek that stuff out online. The Globe, however, is never ever getting my business again. I mean it.
xoxo
Monday, November 30, 2009
convergence of topics
I lied about being done with blogging for the month, but the convergence of topics was too good to pass up. Plus, I'm obviously not going to do anything useful today, so I figure I should just run with it. I did pull all the blue tape off before I went to work, though. That's useful. Anyway.
Mr Indemnity told me in email that he went to see The Bad Lieutenant this weekend and Fairuza Balk, who has a small part in it, reminded him greatly of me. I didn't know who she is. So I said, hey, let me google her and see if Mr Indemnity is on crack.
Mr Indemnity told me in email that he went to see The Bad Lieutenant this weekend and Fairuza Balk, who has a small part in it, reminded him greatly of me. I didn't know who she is. So I said, hey, let me google her and see if Mr Indemnity is on crack.
Sorry that picture is so small. The larger size pic was on a slideshow on askmen.com and I couldn't save it. But you get the idea. Cover her mouth up in that picture and, yeah, there's some resemblance. She, I, and Renee Zinswanger all do the squinchy-eyed thing when we smile. Also, she's 5'3 with big boobs, so appropriately Andrea-sized. I'm willing to concede Mr Indemnity wasn't completely on drugs when he saw that movie.
So I imdb'd her, and found out she's been in a lot of movies and TV shows I've seen and liked, but apparently not big roles, since she's totally below my radar. But also? A very young Fairuza Balk was a ZZ Top video vampire vixen! I mean, what are the odds?
See for yourself! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSHhAkVreiw
xoxo
Monday, October 19, 2009
adventureland
Can I start by saying that there is something seriously wrong when you can watch a movie for a good five minutes and be totally unaware that it is, instead of the present day, set in 1987, because all the 20 year olds in it are dressed exactly like any hipster 20 year old you'd see on the street today? (You damn kids develop your own fashion trends***, and oh yeah, get offa my lawn.) It took the appearance of Ronald Reagan addressing the nation on TV for me to realize this was in fact set in the 80s. I also watched the entire movie to the credits before I realized that the female lead is in fact that chick from the Twilight movie, but I'll chalk that up to my recent usage of prescription drugs. She looked awfully pretty in Adventureland and I can't really swear to that from Twilight, but maybe the whole sparkly vampire thing distracted me from her good looks.
But, speaking of which, while the fashions in Adventureland were faithful to the mid-80s as I remember them, it always cracks me up that in these modern day movies and TV shows set in that period, they won't *really* give the female lead/hot girl actual 80s hair. Supporting characters, sure, but it's as if the stylists believe that no one today could get past the horror of teased bangs to actually find a woman pretty, so they cheat. Trust me, in the real 1987, Em's hair would not have been the tastefully slightly-wavy 'do she has in the movie.
Okay, sartorial issues out of the way, let's discuss what else is missing in 80s verite. While they get the extremely casual attitude towards drinking and driving, the sexual mores, and the omnipresent pot usage right, they're missing a vice. Smoking. Other than one character who smokes a pipe as an affectation, none of these 20-somethings smoke in this movie. In the real 1987, that'd be unrealistic to the extreme.
So, what'd you think of the actual movie, Andrea? Oh, yeah. That. It was good. Light and pleasant entertainment. Worth renting.
xoxo
***If Mr Indemnity is reading this, he's gonna call foul, because he knows there's this little waitress at the Gulu that I have a girl-crush on simply because every time I go in there, she's wearing something that I myself wore in 1987, and she's adorable. I'm always, "Oh! I had shoes just like that!" and "OMG, I had those jeans! I wonder if they're vintage..." Of course, we did not pair those fashion items with tattoos and facial piercings in 1987, but close enough.
But, speaking of which, while the fashions in Adventureland were faithful to the mid-80s as I remember them, it always cracks me up that in these modern day movies and TV shows set in that period, they won't *really* give the female lead/hot girl actual 80s hair. Supporting characters, sure, but it's as if the stylists believe that no one today could get past the horror of teased bangs to actually find a woman pretty, so they cheat. Trust me, in the real 1987, Em's hair would not have been the tastefully slightly-wavy 'do she has in the movie.
Okay, sartorial issues out of the way, let's discuss what else is missing in 80s verite. While they get the extremely casual attitude towards drinking and driving, the sexual mores, and the omnipresent pot usage right, they're missing a vice. Smoking. Other than one character who smokes a pipe as an affectation, none of these 20-somethings smoke in this movie. In the real 1987, that'd be unrealistic to the extreme.
So, what'd you think of the actual movie, Andrea? Oh, yeah. That. It was good. Light and pleasant entertainment. Worth renting.
xoxo
***If Mr Indemnity is reading this, he's gonna call foul, because he knows there's this little waitress at the Gulu that I have a girl-crush on simply because every time I go in there, she's wearing something that I myself wore in 1987, and she's adorable. I'm always, "Oh! I had shoes just like that!" and "OMG, I had those jeans! I wonder if they're vintage..." Of course, we did not pair those fashion items with tattoos and facial piercings in 1987, but close enough.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
sugar
It took me over a week to watch this movie, but not because it wasn't good. No, it's just that it's 90% in Spanish, so unless your conversational Spanish is up to it, you kinda have to read the subtitles. And it is a known and proven fact that reading the subtitles while I'm in bed leads to sleep in fifteen minutes or less. Nevertheless, early this morning I managed to finish watching the whole film.
Now, this movie involves two of my favorite blog topics, baseball and the DR. I guess anyone who's even a casual baseball fan has heard of the "baseball academies" in the Dominican and the obsession with the game down there, but most of us have never thought much of the thousands and thousands of kids who are good enough to get a shot but not good enough to be Pedro Martinez or Big Papi. What happens when you plunk down a nineteen year old kid from some backwater village who speaks maybe ten words of English into the middle of (backwater) Iowa to play A ball? For example, Sugar, who is introduced to ordering French toast off the breakfast menu his very first morning at extended spring training is then doomed to ordering French toast for many days (phone call home: "How's the food?" "Okay. Kind of sweet.") until a kindly waitress brings him three kinds of eggs on the house and teaches him what they are. ("These are scrambled...scrambled...")
Anyway, the movie avoids the typical heartwarming sports movie cliches where our protagonist wins the big game against all odds, etc, in favor of a more realistic take. On the more negative side, all the main characters are portrayed by non-actor (and ball-playing) Dominicans and while the kid who plays Sugar does okay with his role, he doesn't have the charisma or presence to really carry off the scenes where so much is supposed to be shown through the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, not the dialogue.
But, all in all, worth watching if you're interested in baseball, immigration, examination of the American Dream, and so forth and so on.
xoxo
Now, this movie involves two of my favorite blog topics, baseball and the DR. I guess anyone who's even a casual baseball fan has heard of the "baseball academies" in the Dominican and the obsession with the game down there, but most of us have never thought much of the thousands and thousands of kids who are good enough to get a shot but not good enough to be Pedro Martinez or Big Papi. What happens when you plunk down a nineteen year old kid from some backwater village who speaks maybe ten words of English into the middle of (backwater) Iowa to play A ball? For example, Sugar, who is introduced to ordering French toast off the breakfast menu his very first morning at extended spring training is then doomed to ordering French toast for many days (phone call home: "How's the food?" "Okay. Kind of sweet.") until a kindly waitress brings him three kinds of eggs on the house and teaches him what they are. ("These are scrambled...scrambled...")
Anyway, the movie avoids the typical heartwarming sports movie cliches where our protagonist wins the big game against all odds, etc, in favor of a more realistic take. On the more negative side, all the main characters are portrayed by non-actor (and ball-playing) Dominicans and while the kid who plays Sugar does okay with his role, he doesn't have the charisma or presence to really carry off the scenes where so much is supposed to be shown through the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, not the dialogue.
But, all in all, worth watching if you're interested in baseball, immigration, examination of the American Dream, and so forth and so on.
xoxo
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
so, what do we think about roman polanski?
As anyone who has been a careful reader of this blog (or anyone who is a friend of mine and listens to a damn thing I say) is probably aware, Mr Polanski is the director of my favorite movie of all time. And I was sorta vaguely aware that he had had sex with a very young teenage girl and that was why he couldn't come back into the US. But, really, I wasn't all that up to speed on the details: I figured it was "statutory rape", not "rape." Not that I'm excusing anyone for having sex with a thirteen year old, mind, but I guess my (again vague) thoughts about the matter were more along the lines of "oh, those wacky Europeans and their dissolute ways" and "oh, the 70s, such a weird and different time."
[I think it's very hard for people significantly younger than me, people who weren't teenagers in the mid to late 70s, to understand how much more adult we were allowed to be. I lost my virginity when I was 15 and, at the time, I felt like, yeah, I was a young adult, not a child. I had a job. I'd been basically getting myself anywhere I needed to go the vast majority of time, alone or with friends, on foot or by public transportation since I was 13. With both my parents working, I took myself to my dental and medical appointments. When my grandmother was ill and recuperating from surgery, I was expected to help take care of her, and I did. When I was fifteen, I was treated like I was smart and responsible enough to be...smart and responsible. And so I was. (For the most part.) And with the being expected to act like a young adult, came the perks of being treated like a young adult, both societally (easily able to obtain birth control without parental permission, frex) and personally (like my future in/ex-laws, without a second thought, buying me mixed drinks when I was 16 and we all went out for dinner.) None of that was unusual. It really was a different time with different attitudes. So, what I'm saying is, my vague impression of the Polanski situation was, well, if she was 13 but he thought she was 15, no one in 1976 was denying that 15 year olds had sexual feelings, and while I personally would have thought the idea of having sex with a 40 year old guy was absolutely vomitous when I was fifteen, that doesn't mean everyone felt that way...]
Except! Except now, in reading the facts, I realize that my understanding of the case was totally wrong. It doesn't matter how old she was or how old he thought she was. He drugged her. He forced her, even though she repeatedly told him no and asked him to stop. It doesn't matter if she was 13 or 16 or 25 or 45. He raped her. He's a rapist. Case closed. No excuse for that. Throw him in jail.
Except! Except I find myself deeply conflicted on what I feel about putting these old men in jail proves or solves or accomplishes. I feel the same way about the FBI and Whitey Bulger...I mean, I *know* he's murderous scum, but really? Really? We still want to expend all that time and effort and money to catch him and put him away, knowing if we do, he'll die, sooner rather than later? I dunno. I guess I don't feel the need to exact revenge and punish people as much as I feel the need to protect society by putting away people who are still actually a threat. Do I think Roman or Whitey is gonna do anything anyone needs to be worried about at this point in life? No, not really.
But in any case? The fact that the guy made good movies doesn't enter into it. That he shouldn't go to prison because he's an important artist? WTF?
Okay. That's all I've got to say about that. for now.
xoxo
[I think it's very hard for people significantly younger than me, people who weren't teenagers in the mid to late 70s, to understand how much more adult we were allowed to be. I lost my virginity when I was 15 and, at the time, I felt like, yeah, I was a young adult, not a child. I had a job. I'd been basically getting myself anywhere I needed to go the vast majority of time, alone or with friends, on foot or by public transportation since I was 13. With both my parents working, I took myself to my dental and medical appointments. When my grandmother was ill and recuperating from surgery, I was expected to help take care of her, and I did. When I was fifteen, I was treated like I was smart and responsible enough to be...smart and responsible. And so I was. (For the most part.) And with the being expected to act like a young adult, came the perks of being treated like a young adult, both societally (easily able to obtain birth control without parental permission, frex) and personally (like my future in/ex-laws, without a second thought, buying me mixed drinks when I was 16 and we all went out for dinner.) None of that was unusual. It really was a different time with different attitudes. So, what I'm saying is, my vague impression of the Polanski situation was, well, if she was 13 but he thought she was 15, no one in 1976 was denying that 15 year olds had sexual feelings, and while I personally would have thought the idea of having sex with a 40 year old guy was absolutely vomitous when I was fifteen, that doesn't mean everyone felt that way...]
Except! Except now, in reading the facts, I realize that my understanding of the case was totally wrong. It doesn't matter how old she was or how old he thought she was. He drugged her. He forced her, even though she repeatedly told him no and asked him to stop. It doesn't matter if she was 13 or 16 or 25 or 45. He raped her. He's a rapist. Case closed. No excuse for that. Throw him in jail.
Except! Except I find myself deeply conflicted on what I feel about putting these old men in jail proves or solves or accomplishes. I feel the same way about the FBI and Whitey Bulger...I mean, I *know* he's murderous scum, but really? Really? We still want to expend all that time and effort and money to catch him and put him away, knowing if we do, he'll die, sooner rather than later? I dunno. I guess I don't feel the need to exact revenge and punish people as much as I feel the need to protect society by putting away people who are still actually a threat. Do I think Roman or Whitey is gonna do anything anyone needs to be worried about at this point in life? No, not really.
But in any case? The fact that the guy made good movies doesn't enter into it. That he shouldn't go to prison because he's an important artist? WTF?
Okay. That's all I've got to say about that. for now.
xoxo
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