Painted Angels; An Uncompromising Reflection..Or Just Bitching.

If you are one of the 5 people that enjoys gloomy period pieces from the 90's filmed on a shoe string budget in the frozen tundra of Canada that make about a little more than the price of used Honda Accord, have I got the perfect movie for you. I was randomly searching Netflix Instant for something to watch other than the Discovery Channel's The Universe which keeps reminding me that one day the world will completely end, the sun will explode into a black hole and devour everything in its presence and the Earth will dry out after a cosmic explosion of sorts...something about anti-matter, but anyway, that was starting to hurt my brain. (Thanks for Nothing Columbia) 

So I chanced on this film called Painted Angels (1997) directed by Jon Sanders, starring the most forgettable oscar winner of all time; Brenda Fricker and Kelly McGillis. (You might remember her from Top Gun or as I do, harken back to that Family Guy episode where god leaves the iron on Ellen Barkin's face too long and puts her in the van with Kelly McGillis saying that they are going to the 80's, where they will be considered hot and Kelly has the face of a mule and shrieks 'Next stop Hollywood...Yaaahaww!~) Had to be there I guess...

So anyway, Brenda is the madam at a whorehouse in the Wild West and one of her ladies of the night gets shot in the head while daintily applying make-up (that's never eventually explained) this really upsets the other whores, including really amazing actress and perhaps only good part of this film, Bronagh Gallagher and they slowly realize that hey perhaps prostitution is not such a fun gig after all. 

It had plenty of potential but was disappointingly one of those films that focused too much on costume and production design instead of the actual plot, but if you are interested in 19th century abortion procedures, metal home-made douches and a lot of scenery chewing than by all means indulge yourself in this pseudo-porn. 

The cinematography is very Sven Nykvist, but that is perhaps the only tolerable thing about this film. Everything looks very authentic and 'in period', but the whole atmosphere wreaks of a low-self-esteem first-directorial attempt at cinematic reflection of sexual degradation. The men are all of course greasy, perverted, crass, and look like they probably don't smell very good, as if to accentuate the idea that these poor women have no right to their own bodies taped up in ill-fitting corsets and covered in gross amounts of powder rouge. 

After I finished watching this, I reflected on all of the things we contemporary women now have at our disposal, (the pill, midol, deodorant, venus razors, self-worth and filtered cigarettes) and I felt very lucky. I suppose this film stands to remind us all that if and when we do decide to start hustling, there were whores that really paved the way and made it much easier for us. Cheers girls. 

Then...I turned on Princesas (Fernando León de Aranoa) 2005...I don't know what's wrong with me. 

Hello Daddy, Hello Mom...Listen, Could You Raise My Allowance?

Ok, I wasn't coming into this with too  many hopes and dreams (never do when it involves Kristen Stewart) but I have to admit, seeing Dakota Fanning play jail-bate rock goddess Cherie Currie and Michael Shannon in David Bowie make-up was super intriguing. If you are at all surprised that I was disappointed then we can't be friends. Now, I'm not completely in movie-abortion mode, but when material is this juicy, I expect the dramatic interpretation to be so as well, as redundant as that seems. Let's consider who ruined it for me the most, and if you thought anything aside from Kristen Stewart, I would stop reading right now. And here's why. 

'Oh Totally, cat's cradle is the best game ever.' 

Let’s be honest, none of us can stand Kristen Stewart no matter how much silly awkwardness she has to offer society. That whole moody sallow pseudo-goth thing went out with Fiona Apple over a decade ago, and her hipster unabashed ‘oh I hate being so good looking’ demeanor is getting really old. To be fair, no one thought that the most androgynous thing on screen since that little girl in Fatal Attraction would grow up to be a bona fied pouty hottie defying convention with her A-cups and skinny jeans. Even the biggest skeptic like me had to admit she’s made strides in the sex-appeal category since Panic Room (2002), but since then, her general appeal has dwindled down to complete boner-killer status. Her most recent futile attempt in convincing the world that she’s a serious actress was in colossal disappointment ‘The Runaways’ where a an unforgivable decision by the casting agent assigned her to the role of legendary rock goddess, libertine, and general bad ass Joan Jett. I wasn’t buying. They gave her a badly quaffed mullet, a pair of oddly fitting leather pants, and a healthy dose of eye-liner thinking it was enough and Stewart would unleash that mysterious beast within we all hoped she hid well behind her brooding nervousness. Alas, all we got as an audience was a remix of screaming and whining like a Bella Swan on a bad amphetamine come down. I think it’s time for her to understand that she doesn’t have to try so hard to be unappealing, she’s a natural at it.

Jailbate is a fine line, and is something that is referenced ad-nauseaum in the film (I suppose it has to be considering it's the maine theme of the whole story) and is something that if treated delicately (no pun intended) can actually work (Lolita (1964) is a perfect example of this) and yes, you can do the whole actually teenagers playing sexually awakened teenagers, the only time I can think of this being done well is Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet which caused quite a ruckus back in 1969 when Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey were 16 and 14 respectively when they played the infamous star-cross'd lovers. It didn't feed into an kind of perversion or pedophilia and wasn't necessarily 'sick', just as The Runaways wasn't because it had superficially sidestepped and approached the very real concept of young girls coming into their sexual own and using that power and prowess as well as aggression to sell records rather than finish high school like most 15 year olds. This is why they are significant, not only in terms of feminism but in rock 'n roll. The band stood with the likes of The Ramones, Queen, and Deep Purple, all when they were not even old enough to drive. Their glam rock inspirations yielded memorable performances fueled by the coyishly sensual but raw lead of Cherie Currie combined with the edgy and violent sexual energy of Joan Jett. 

Alas, Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart play their sexuality like little more than they are, budding tweens at the brink of their sexual discovery, and seem more appropriate in a coming of age melodrama on the Hallmark Network about a girl's first bra. They are little more than kids, and anything but sexual. Dakota tries her best, but Kristen is still doing some kind of punk-rock Bella Swan and reminds me of those girls that work in Hot Topic at the mall who wear pleather Doc Martin lace up boots and body glitter. FAIL.