Movie That Can't Movie

Clever marketing I'll give them that. That's about all I'll give them.

So where do I begin ...I threw up, and I came home shaking. And no this wasn't from a night of heavy drinking. I don't drink anymore but after seeing Mother! I wish someone had stuck a bottle of vodka up my ass. So many things bother me about this absolute garbage presented as art, (and I should know, I wrote my graduate thesis on Warhol). So, let's start with the big one: ripping off so many filmmakers I can't even count. I'll take you through the short list. The obvious one is Polanski, in particular Rosemary's Baby, then the body horror sub-genre created by one David Cronenberg which was totally bastardized. The pseudo-realism of Michelle Gondry, and the female protagonist suffering and being unconscionably passive a la Cassavetes (who is one of my favorite filmmakers).

'What have you done to its eyes!?' The iconic ending of Rosemary's Baby proving that the real horror is on the face of the person reacting, therefore there is no need to actually show it. What the human mind can imagine is always worse than any horror you can show. Again, epic fail Mother!

Horror movie that took forever to horror was not so much a fright or a smart unraveling of a mystery like say Get Out, which breathed new life into a dying genre. This was just torture. I paid Aronofsky to torture me for 2 hours and three showers couldn't shake that shit off of me. 

This blog post might not make much sense but that's how disoriented I am. Fuck this movie, seriously. I know that Aronofsky has a penchant for religious symbolism and imagery but pick a fucking lane. You either utilize the symbolism or you go full monty on the blood and guts. This was the latter as if I was watching a film student ripping off the SAW franchise. To say that this was an unpleasant experience is an understatement, but back to the religion stuff. There's a shit ton of it and he's spreading it thick like cement; he's layering it like a parfait; pick a metaphor. 

This was in the trailer so it's fair game. Really driving the Garden of Eden metaphor all the way home. 

One thing that my friend and I agreed on was this whole idea that Aronofsky seems to be obsessed with is the parable from the Old Testament where God is apparently drunk on the job and keeps creating societies that he disapproves of, boom comes a flood, and clean new start. That's actually explored and nuanced (somewhat sloppily in his prior film; Noah), but that sentiment is crammed down our throats so hard with a chimney sweep's brush. Apparently Aronofsky has never heard of nor is familiar with the concept of subtlety. I really can't go further into it without revealing the plot and the marketing department made so sure that they weren't going to give away ANYTHING to trick people into shelving out 12 dollars to see CENSORED CENSORED of fucking CENSORED CENSORED. Here are a few biblical themes that I'm just going to shuffle for you just to confuse you because I'm confused and I don't want to be the only one: Cain and Abel, immaculate conception, Sodom and Gomorrah, Jesus healing the blind, lots of Jesus actually; garden of Eden, forbidden fruit, original sin, there's some myth of Sisyphus sprinkled on it as well. It literally just builds until even the most well versed graduate student in Divinity would go; fuck this shit. 

Director David Cronenberg in between takes with his star James Woods on the set of the film Videodrome; which this film steals heavily from and as a Cronenberg superfan, it's infuriating. 

Want to watch a competent film with religious allegory check out Fellini's Satyricon, Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures, Todd Hayne's Poison, ANYTHING by Ingmar Bergman, or even some episodes of 'Lost' will do. 

Another thing that really pissed me off was that Aronofsky decided to throw out structure all together. You really would think that this was some bullshit made by a first year film student at a bottom tier film school (sorry film schools). Movie takes two and a half acts to movie and most of the first 110 or so minutes are following Jennifer Lawrence with a shaky hand held, camera making me more nauseous than watching Blair Witch on the big screen. It was done so much ad nauseam that I actually got to study her cool updo's and french braids pretty well because there was little else to do. 

Again, I really can't go into the plot, and if I did, you wouldn't see the film, but how about this; take my word for it. I'll even throw money into the pot. Don't see this movie. Or do, you might be a masochist, whatever. 

The golden rule of filmmaking that was first coined by the late great Billy Wilder and echoed by filmmakers worth their salt for generations is; 'respect your audience'. You're not making a film for yourself, you're making it so others will see it otherwise, what's the damned point? Aronofsky apparently didn't get that memo. 

In Memoriam: Curtis Hanson, The Quiet Intellectual

Curtis Hanson

In case you missed it (you probably did, what with the first Clinton/Trump debate coming up and the riots in Charlotte, and of course Brangelina splitting up), filmmaker Curtis Hanson passed away last week. Now that last sentence makes me sound profoundly shallow, but I try to have tunnel vision into what's going on in pop culture, and I'm sure I'm late AF to the Brangelina party, just like I missed the Hiddleswift split party, and it's too late for my Best/Worst dressed list for the Emmy's (Sarah Paulson took my breath away). 

Alas, this is not to be overlooked. Not very prolific, and always a bit under the radar, Curtis Hanson has not made many films; most of which, like him, flew quietly under the radar with one exception; L.A. Confidential (1997) which sweeped 9 nominations at that year's Oscars and lost all of them (save for one; Kim Basinger for Best Supporting Actress) to Titanic (just threw up in my mouth a little bit, it's fine). 

Poster art for L.A. Confidential

A little backstory about the film; it's based on the novel by James Ellroy who writes pulp fiction novels, for those of you who don't know the term past the Tarantino movie, let me enlighten you. From the time of writers like Raymond Chandler and Charles Jackson, there have been pulp fiction novels. They're kind of like the B Movie of books. They are seedy, salacious, and over the top; dealing with murder, a hot girl (a Femme Fatale for the expert), and a caper of sorts. They are a great read because they are somewhat easy to digest; they aren't exactly Dostoyevsky. But Ellroy took it to the next level and coupled that camp with the dingy, seedy (again), and deliciously fucked up world that is Los Angeles in the 50's. It's an insider's view; kind of like the back end of the website to the glamour facade of Hollywood; and entire industry and culture built on lies, prostitutes, dirty deals and crooked people. That's basically what the film is about. The film is probably as close to the book as an adaptation has ever been, and that's why it's confusing as hell, even for someone like me. Who's that, why is he doing such and such, wait, I though that was the good guy, wait, who even is that? Those kind of questions run through your mind constantly but you can't help but be swept away in the writing, the performance by now some of our favorite actors...among them; Guy Pearce, Kevin Spacey, and (arguably) Russell Crowe; and most of all, this nostalgia that most of us don't even remember because we didn't live through it. 

James Ellroy. He could not look like more of a pulp LA writer if he tried. 

Me? I'm a sucker for Old Hollywood. I don't know why I had to make that public and put it in writing, because most people are already saying to themselves; duh!. But hey, let's make it official. I won't go into the convoluted plot that is nuanced brilliantly and beautifully by Hanson, because as I said he had a whole filmography under his belt, among them lesser but still great films like 8 Mile and Wonder Boys. He wasn't exactly an auteur, just a really competent filmmaker. And with L.A. Confidential, he rose to being an amazing filmmaker. And some of us just need that one diamond in the rough to seal our legacy. And that he did. 

-How did you know I was a cop?
-It's practically stamped on your forehead. 

In 2005, it was my first year in New York, I had just transferred to NYU where a professor took a liking to me (not that kind of liking ...I don't think) and happened to be on the Board of Review which meant he got to go to a lot of pre-release screenings, of which I accompanied him to many times. One of them was for Hanson's more blah films; In Her Shoes, a totally forgettable Cameron Diaz vehicle capitalizing on Sex and the City culture, with a weak script and boring plot. Even for a sub-standard chick flick it blew, but I went because I was promised there would be Q&A afterwards. But I didn't know that my professor was on first name terms with Hanson, and invited me down after everyone left so that I could talk to him. I really didn't know what to say except ask him questions about L.A. Confidential's aesthetics, themes, etc. So basically I sounded like a pretentious film student, which I kind of was at the time, but whatever.

Anyway, I think it's important to acknowledge his passing, but moreover his body of work, which yes, was hit and miss, but I believe every director, even some of the best have misses under their belt. He was a very astute and competent man, and a very talented and perhaps deeply intellectual person which you definitely saw come out even in his sub-standard films. He was that quiet New Yorker type who strove desperately to make the films that he wanted, but unfortunately didn't always get his way.

Below, some trailers and scenes: 

What Silver Linings Playbook is Really About

Tiffany confronts Pat at her sister's dinner when she realizes she's in a sea of bullshit. 

Marketed as a romantic comedy, by the rogue director David O. Russell, that should be a clue right there. He's not exactly a by-the-numbers filmmaker. This is definitely his crowning achievement even though I absolutely love I Heart Huckabees. This might be a little difficult for me to explain because I can relate to a lot of it but here we go. 

Set in Philadelphia, a place not exactly known for dealing with mental illness by any other means than a stigma, and coming from LA where everyone is therapy'd out to the point of paralysis, I saw the script as exactly what it was. Two brilliant actors play the two 'romantic leads', who meet at first, hate each other and by the end of the movie they're in love. Common rom com trope yes? But that's not the point of the film. 

Woody Allen might stick his neuroses in every single film he directs, but those are sadly a bit dated when people were still on Judy Garland cocktails and everything was a bit Valley of the Dolls. It was a very black and white time. Either you were nuts, or you were sane, and if you were the former you had all the pills in the world to choose from, which usually made things worse. Perhaps the last film that accurately portrayed mental illness was One Flew Over a Cuckoo's Nest, which is literally set in the insane asylum, ironically where the protagonist (Jack Nicholson) is pretending to be crazy to do time in an asylum rather than prison. There you have the schism between the 'sane' and the 'insane'. Still a bit black and white, but so full of pathos and honesty, that it still holds up today. 

For these two, the best type of therapy is not in a doctor's office. 

Let's examine Silver Linings because its a film full of grey areas, and it's in those that we figure out what the movie is actually about. Pat (Bradley Cooper) is just getting out of the looney bin after 8 months because he assaulted the man screwing his wife. He's now obsessed with being 'sane' and finding a silver lining, and getting his life back together, which in itself are all insane notions considering that a psychotic break usually does not allow you to go back to everything just as it used to be. I had a friend like that. No names, but she thought she saw the light, and because she did her Master's degree in Social Work made it her mediocre mission to chain-smoke a pack a day, rearrange the furniture in her Hollywood apartment literally every single day (we were living together at the time) to keep herself busy so that she wouldn't think about drinking or getting back with her ex-boyfriend. She loved to analyze people and I was definitely one of her guinea pigs. I hated it. I hate being mentally dissected. It's bullshit. 

As I said before, people in LA are therapy'd out, so I was able to even prompt my shrink about what I thought was going on before he could even get it out. That's why I identify with the Jennifer Lawrence's character. Tiffany is a girl with a broken wing (I think that line is actually used verbatim in the film), who's husband just died, but that's not why she's considered crazy. On the surface she's actually probably the smarter of the two. Pat (Cooper) always loves to point out how she misbehaves or behaves in means that are not good 'social skills', and she immediately calls him on his bullshit. 'You say more inappropriate things than appropriate things' is one of her more famous lines. The most important difference between the two of them; both experienced trauma leading to a psychotic break, and Jennifer is the one who moved on, while Bradley Cooper still hasn't, and is completely obsessed with the past. Backstory: Tiffany's husband died; a cop in the line of duty. After which she got fired from her job for 'sleeping with the entire office'. Pat still judges her, because he thinks that he once was crazy and now he's absolutely fine. Tiffany sees this and says 'you think I'm crazier than you'. Perfect. Who is he to judge? 

'You're afraid to be alive! You're a hypocrite!' 

There's a cute exchange when they talk about all the pills that they are on and don't take any longer, but who isn't on some kind of shit these days; does that make us all crazy? Didn't you ever read 'Prozac Nation'?

The plot is in essence irrelevant. It's about two people realizing that they will never be perfect and never find the life that they once had, and the 2 hour run-time of quippy exchanges, completely blowouts, and epic shutdowns illustrates that crazy is a grey area. 

What gets me the most is how much Pat judges everyone (with the exception of Chris Tucker's character). He even gets on his dad (Robert De Niro) about being OCD, like most of us aren't. In Philly, where regularly going to a therapist is still considered taboo, he is very uncomfortable in his current state. Tiffany basically tells him the truth, it's one of the greatest Lear-esque monologues in film history. 'I opened up to you and you judged me, you're afraid to be alive, you're a hypocrite, you're an asshole'. All of these things true. 

What's most telling about this movie is that it's not romantic at all, though both main characters have great chemistry and are very attractive. You know they are going to end up together; you just do. The way they get there is a brilliant examination of life in a black and white world of sane and insane, the pitfalls and the highs and lows that it brings. At least Tiffany is self-aware. Pat eventually comes around, and only then can they be together. There is no such thing as normal behavior, and there is actually no such thing as normal. Sorry if that's crushing some of you right now, it's just the truth. And I guess Pat was right in trying to overcome his 'mental illness' by finding that damn silver lining he keeps referring to, while Tiffany was right to hate him for his hypocrisy. 

The actual romantic angle only manifests itself in the last 15 minutes of the film, because it's in the backseat for most of it.

The only rom-com element in this movie is when both Pat and Tiffany realize that (excuse the cliché) they are not perfect or normal, but they are perfect for each other. And the normalcy that they find is not a normal that is permanent or without its haptic disorders, but its theirs and they are better confronting their demons together. This sounds like love conquers all and that mental illness can be overcome by finding someone just as or even more fucked up than you, but it's not. For everything that happens between the two, it is never a co-dependent relationship and (again, excuse the cliché) they are only able to move on when they confront everything that has brought them to the mental state that they are currently living and allowing themselves to admit that they are not in fact normal, and perhaps that's actually the best thing that could happen to them.

Below: A making-of featurette. 

11 Things I Loved In The 90's: Part Deux

Hard to sum up everything awesome about the 90's in just 11 things. Here's 11 more. Because 22 just about covers it. Look at how good my math is. So here's some more stuff that gives me a nostalgia boner. Again, in no particular order:

Raves.
Before you Coachella jerk offs made music festivals basic, and mainstream, raves were the it thing in the 90's. I'm not going to incriminate myself and talk about ALL of it, but it was our Studio 54. I was a bit of a Candy Kid, wearing bracelets up to my elbows and honest to god thought House music was the shit. (no comment). This was back in the day where you had to go to like an abandoned warehouse, get a secret map, go to another location get another secret map and a glitter butterfly sticker and finally find yourself in an abandoned warehouse between stab street and murder avenue. Good times. 

Nu Metal.
Yes darlings, your angelic friend was once full on into baggy wide legged pants, the Vans Warped Tour and Korn with a backwards R. It was all very angsty and alternative; two adjectives that defined my teens. Fun fact: I was a cheerleader despite all of that my junior year of high school and our big end routine was to Limp Bizkit's Rollin' yeah...I get sick just thinking about it. 

The Bee Girl.
If you had ANY time in the 90's the damn bee girl from the Blind Melon 'No Rain' music video is seared into your memory. No one even remembers the song, or what the bee girl has to do with it. They honestly don't go together but she is doomed to spend the rest of her life living down being the definitive cliché of the 90's. 

Ben Affleck and Matt Damon winning Best Screenplay.
Before Batfeck and Jason Bourne, there was Ben and Matt, two kids barely old enough to drive who wrote arguably the best script of that year, turned into Good Will Hunting with iconoclast director Gus Van Sant at the helm. But it's their speech after receiving the golden naked dude presented to them by Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau that I can watch over and over again.

The Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert.
In 1991 Freddie Mercury, legendary frontman of Queen added his name to an ever growing list of casualties of AIDS. By then, Queen was my favorite band (my dad taught me well) and a year later his remaining band mates accompanied by some of musics' biggest acts such as Elton John, George Michael, David Bowie and Annie Lennox paid tribute to him in an unprecedented concert at Wembley Stadium, the profits of which went to various AIDS charities. It gives me goosebumps to watch it to this day and though most people's favorite part was Elton John's duet with Axl Rose of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', but George Michael singing 'Somebody to Love' steals the show.

Life After Death.
After the fatal shooting of its artist, the aptly titled album 'Life After Death' hit Tower Records, and yeah I camped out for a CD. Helmed by anthems like 'Hypnotize' and 'Mo Money Mo Problems', even us white dorks were able to appreciate its artistry, sadly it would be the last of Biggie's gifts. Put it on a loop and drive aimlessly. Trust me. 

O Captain, My Captain.
Again, if you grew up in the 90's this scene from Dead Poets Society is tattooed on your skull. Do you know how much the youtube views jumped after the tragic and untimely death of its star Robin Williams? That's what makes this scene even more resonant now, and even more heartbreaking. I seriously can't watch it without crying, but now it's can't watch it without full on bawling. Fight the power boys. 

The 'Closer' music video.
Long before Taylor Swift's annoyingly iconic 'Shake it Off' video, Mark Romanek was just a struggling short film director until Trent Reznor tapped him to direct Nine Inch Nails' breakthrough video for the song 'Closer'. Shot on a hand crank silent 16 mm Bolex similar to the cameras used by Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin and layered with disturbing imagery like a monkey tied to a cross and a pig head spinning on a metal torture contraption I don't have to tell you, I immediately loved it.

Death Row Records.
When Death Row Records was formed in 1991 by Dre, Suge Knight and The D.O.C., it launched some of the greatest artists of the early 90's including Tupac, Snoop, and Nate, and inadvertently ignited hostilities between West coast and East coast rap empires that lead to the untimely deaths of Tupac and the aforementioned Biggie. Beyond the tragedy and politics, Death Row Records gave us kids in the suburbs something we couldn't stop listening to and something that terrified our parents. Talk about two birds.

Welcome to the Dollhouse.
You probably know by now that I don't go for your typical movies, or even a-typical. And it's even more rare that I watch a movie that I still would bear hug today. Welcome to the Dollhouse might be that anomaly. Director Todd Haynes didn't push the envelope, he built an airplane of it and shoved it sideways up Hollywood's ass. It's the most bizarre, non sequitur, heart-felt, and heart-breaking story you'll ever see about an 11 year old. I saw it at 11 and at 32, it still speaks to me.

Paul Verhoeven.
Here's a list for ya. Basic Instinct. Showgirls. Total Recall. Starship Troopers. Need I say more?

Below...more crap!

Bye Bye Chad!

Can you sense the pungent smell of douche?

Yes assholes, I have been binging The Bachelorette. It's a show full of sociopaths that I can use as leverage when my friends tell me I should 'date more'. Oh really friends? The Bachelorette, boom. Shut the fuck up. It's a house of idiots competing for the heart of a bigger idiot. It's almost like a brilliant Monty Python sketch. And hey, if Ben Rothlisberger can admit on national TV that he has viewing parties, I can admit it to the bloggerverse. Sometimes I can't get the alcohol out fast enough, and aside from making me slightly suicidal, it's beautifully ridikidonk. 

Something that I haven't seen usually on primetime is someone that is so outward with their major major sociopathy that they wear it as a badge of honor...or a sash, whatever. Congratulations Chad, the 'luxury real estate agent' you're Mr. Sociopath of 2016. Here's your bouquet of poison ivy, and your sash stained with the blood of orphans. 

Chad's general attitude trying to establish himself as the alpha male. More like alpha tool.

Every time, well not every time, just most of the time when a friend of mine goes through a break up, I bring up something I learned when I was going through a bad break up that a Psych major alerted me to; The Dark Triad. For those of you too lazy to use the hyperlink, it's a trifecta of sociopathy, narcissism, and Machiavellianism. If you don't know that last term...I'm fascinated that you've made it this far in life. Now obviously it doesn't apply to all men, it's just a nice way of saying 'hey whomever broke up with you is a piece of shit and you deserve better and blah blah blah'. It cushions the blow of a break up, even though most of them don't involve divorce, child custody battles, and go as far as 'what am I to do Vera? We brunch at the same place!'

That's something he said to the women he's competing against 25 other guys for...Urly?

Now, Chad (of course his name is Chad) is a shining example of The Dark Triad, and I've come across my share of complete psychos. He's manipulative, he threatens people, he's two faced, and controlling. And just like a sociopath he was able to pull the wool over Bachelorette Jojo's eyes long enough to stay in the house for about 4 weeks. You have to seriously fuck up as a person to be hated by all other 25 dudes in the house like with a passion. 

But with Jojo, his Machiavellianism takes over and he's able to play the lost puppy with a dark past that just wants some love in his life damn it, when he's clearly baby steps away from punching a wall in front of her. Finally someone (I don't know his name, I'm not THAT into the show people) spilled the beans, and she sent him packing. 

Yes, give a rose to the serial killer. I fully support this plan.

Here's the thing though, I think he's a straight up serial killer. Instead of just going back home after Jojo told him to peace out, he comes back to the house Patrick Bateman style with like a thousand yard stare knocking ominously on the windows...and then it flashes to 'to be continued' THANKS ABC, you bastards. I want to see blood spilled. You finally made the show interesting, and now you're leaving me hanging? Not cool.

David Tennant is All Over Like Netflix Like I Would be All Over David Tennant...Hypothetically

I want...but I can't.

Great news uber nerds! One of your favorite Doctor's from Dr. Who (if he's not your favorite, you can go fuck yourself) has a big career on the biggest online streaming binge watching wreck your life platform. The quirky Scot that stands at about 6'5 (which is technically a giant I think) and always has something really snarky and Scottish to say is literally on every show you can and should binge watch right now. 

I love the English murder mystery genre. The Killing was aiiight, but it got way too bleak, even for a show called The Killing. I needed something to fill my show hole void, and dating...please. Get me another show. So Netflix, in all of their algorithmic wisdom was like well you clearly like to watch shows about multiple homicides and troubled characters. And I was like, yeah you pretty much nailed it, Netflix. Whatcha got? And they gave me Broadchurch. If you haven't checked it out, I'm praying for you. Not only is it a show that rejuvinated Tennant's career as someone besides the Doctor, it is a crossover hit, and I'm not talking genres. It's popular in the UK where it's set, and here stateside. Check it out, seriously. More importantly, his co-star is this brilliant Olivia Colman. The two play DCI's (That's detective chief inspector to you American folk) in the small seaside town of Broadchurch where a bizarre murder (or accident) occurs that shakes up the whole town. Now, this is a trope that gets played out on mmmm every episode of Dateline, but trust me, with Brits at the helm, it's pretty brilliant. Btdubs, Olivia Colman might be the greatest woman ever, check her out as, again, a DCI on the Tom Hiddleston mini-series The Night Manager. 

Tennant as DCI Alec Hardy with Olivia Colman as DCI Ellie Miller.

After that show was over for me, and I was about to enter another show-hole; deep depression, day-drinking, you get the picture. Netflix throws something else my way. This one is not that great, but I've never seen David Tennant in such a light. It stars one of my favorite actresses; the understated Emily Watson as the wife to Tennant's some kind of higher up British politician (I don't know how British parliament works). The show is called you guessed it...The Politician's Husband. Tennant is blonde, he's aggressive, and not in the cool-I've never tried this before-kind of way; in the straight up I'm going to ruin your life and make you cry for days...way. But it's really the blonde that upsets me the most. Anyway, that's only 3 episodes. So it's like a hold-over. 

Don't know what Tennant's penchant for purple is, but I dig it...just no more BLONDE!

But there's Netflix again, kind of like my show-hole sponsor, was back with a 'not to worry' there's another one. And at this point I'm thinking; who's playing a shitty joke on me? I started (for god knows what reason) watching Marvel's Jessica Jones, and I'm in a full on binge. Now, I don't read comics, I have no shame admitting that. My dorkiness only goes so far. Krysten Ritter starts as the eponymous character who's a brunette badass with a heart of gold and the strength of ten men. I know, I wish she was my best friend too. She has a dark past though, if you've read the comics, first of all, dork! Second of all this is going to be very redundant but her past includes a very mysterious man in purple (gah!) who has the power to control people's thoughts, and for one time did her's. 

Marketing still for Marvel's Jessica Jones ...yes it's sexy. I think so too. 

She escaped miraculously from his mental kunfu grip and is now on a mission to help those also afflicted. It's not my cup of tea, but let's face facts. I will watch a Tennant show when it comes up. His name is Kilgrave, and if he told me to jump into traffic, I might just do it. 

I know it's only a matter of time before another Tennant show makes the rounds and I can't wait. Or at least put Olivia Colman in more stuff, because she's earned her stripes. Thank you Netflix!

Also check on my previous post that includes a game of who'd you rather with Tennant included here.

Happy binging! 

Quasi - Trailers below: 

Matter of Time...Always.

Speaks for itself.

Let's be real. Were any of us rooting for these two to settle down and make horrifically basic babies? Half country bumpkin, half awkward trust fund do-nothing? Too soon? Not really because we really did see it all coming. And if you didn't you're a liar. I've been of the opinion now for a while that Taytay dates solely for the purpose of material. And hey she's young, I mean by Southern standards, she's an old maid, but since when was she actually country? Those cowboy boots were more hipster than Nashville. 

Hey remember when this was 'texting'? Me neither, and definitely not you Taylor.

That lady needs some counseling, I mean we all do, but that's not always how you deal with grief, and boyfriend problems. And if you lead a real life (which she doesn't) are not real grief. Get on some Lexapro, take up pottery, and please stop air your period-blood soaked dirty laundry into all of our ears. It got old right around the John Mayer era. Look at bands like ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, Sonny and Cher for chrissake. Rumors (by Fleetwood Mac) was an album made by and for people cheating on each other. It's one of the greatest albums of all time, and 'Don't Stop' was President Bill Clinton's campaign song. Can you picture a Swift song being in a campaign? Didn't think so. 

One album. 11 songs. Perfect. Done and done.

You are far from writing about real heartache sister. Please give it a rest. You're not Billie Holiday, Etta James, or even Amy Winehouse. 'Back in Black' is towers above any garbage about the grab bag of celebrities that you've ever dated. And that's one song...against your entire career. Sorry love. And I hate to say this but it's what we're all thinking...Maybe it's not them, maybe it's you sugar plum. If you've had a bad break up with every single person you've dated maybe you're the problem. 

I will give you this one - you finally found a teensy bit of heart, and a really cool beat (which you sampled from an 80's synthesizer) in 'Out of the Woods' off of 1989 (I can't say that without gagging, excuse me). And it's a very beautiful song, reflecting on how we all as women have felt in our relationship, not just us in high school or even middle school. It wasn't 'why won't he call me back? This totally sucks, I can't even' which is basically the stripped down narrative to most of her music. it's written about a not-so -secret crush of mine Harry Styles (formerly of One Direction) Go ahead and judge, I reject your judgement. He, in turn, wrote 'Perfect' about her ...allegedly.

'And if you're looking for someone to write your break up songs about, baby I'm perfect' Nailed it. 

Please spare us a Calvin Harris record. Courtney Love even refused to do a 'widow record' after Kurt Cobain died, even though there was a lot of pressure from her label. So how about putting that laundry back in a dark closet and just generally keeping your mouth shut for a while. And I've seen your interviews. Don't tell me songs were 'sometimes too hard to write' like you're Dylan Thomas or somebody. You're a millenial who serial dates. There's about a billion of them. God help you if you ever get a Tinder account. Actually that might be unintentionally campy and amazing. Please do a Tinder date horror story record. I am begging you now. It will be way more interesting than the whiney basic stuff you've been shoving down our throats for over 6 years now.  

Below clips: 

Taylor at the height of her pretentiousness, totally ripped off Lana Del Rey's 'Born to Die'. 

Amy Winehouse explains the lyrics to the haunting 'Back to Black' produced by Mark Ronson. 

One Direction's performs 'Perfect' at the AMA's. Probably the only song about Taytay to throw some shade. Because most people just don't give a shit anymore. 

Checking In Please. The Premiere of American Horror Story: Hotel

Reservation is under the name 'Gaga'

I fucked up. I decided to go to the gym rather than watch the premiere of American Horror Story: Hotel. What the hell was I thinking? Well partially I didn't want everyone on facebook giving away spoilers (i'm looking at you, new yorkers) I live on the Pacific timezone ergo I'm the last to get anything on TV...except for Hawaii. Anyway! American Horror Story is more than my favorite show, it's an unhealthy obsession. And once something becomes an unhealthy obsession in my life, there's no going back. The show can be problematic and in desperation for ratings go from the imaginative to the laughably insane, as seen in last season's Freakshow, but I'm so happy they found their footing again. 

Lady Gaga in a promo still from Entertainment Weekly as The Countess. The owner of the Hotel Cortez.

If you live in a cave you don't know that the series switches times and settings every season, but keeps the principal cast. It's a very cool concept. The last season was set in the 50's in a place called Jupiter Florida, but now we're back to Los Angeles in modern times, where the series initially began with Murder House. Two boho sluts from Sweden check in to a mysterious hotel all excited about seeing the most annoying places in LA like Universal Studios. Also, I'm not saying that Swedes are sluts, just these two girls happen to be. They immediately take a disliking to the retro and dank feel of the Hotel Cortez. It's not hip enough for them. It's not the Standard on Sunset Blvd. which is probably where they should have gone considering they would have seen a lot of weirder shit there. Kathy Bates appears and is immediately crass and dismissive to them, and I'm thinking, well yeah fuck these bitches. As you can tell, I'm typing this while I watch it. Thank god for DVR. Now that's about as much of the plot as I'm going to give you, because unlike Facebook and twitter trolls I actually care about spoilers. For the most part.

Spoiler alert! Sex and murder are mutually exclusive.

The only person from all previous seasons that does not appear in Hotel is Jessica Lange, and a role probably originally written for her was given as we well know to Lady Gaga. She's the mistress of the Hotel Cortez, and seriously if we ever needed proof that she could act, we got it last night. I miss Jessica, but Gaga was born for this role. Ryan Murphy probably had the biggest creative hard on watching her deliver lines. Lest we forget, the show also has the holy trifecta of the hottest men in Hollywood ever. Wes Bentley, Matt Bomer, and Cheyenne Jackson round out the principal cast as newcomers to people we have grown to associate with the show like Sarah Paulson, Kathy Bates, Evan Peters, Chloe Sevigny etc. 

Now, let's talk about the Hotel. you could see that Falchuk and Murphy were getting really strapped for a horror setting that can keep going for 14 episodes. They got creative with it. The first was very predictable. A family moves into a haunted house. Whoopdy do. Crazy shit is going to happen. After which, they had to get more outlandish and ask themselves where can we put a bunch of random and endless but somehow connected horror stories...in an asylum, a coven, and a freakshow apparently. But there's something about Hotel that tells me it's going to be the best season yet. 

Huge girl crush on Sarah Paulson. The meaner she gets on AHS, the more I love her. 

Think about how creepy a hotel is, especially an antiquated one in LA. I know that you guys think The Roosevelt is so awesome and hip. But I used to live literally down the street and always got a creeped out feeling while buying my 15$ martini. Perhaps it was because it was the epicenter for sugar daddies on the hunt, but back to the damn show! What is the quintessential horror film. If you say anything other than The Shining, then I feel so bad for you. Where does it take place? Do you see where I'm going with this? How many times have you checked into a hotel and wondered what goes on behind all of those doors with basically a house full of strangers and paper thin walls? I'm not talking about the Marriott or anything, but those really old LA hotels with that pre-war architecture, decaying carpet, and a wealth of stories scary or not. They even ripped off the shag carpeting (metaphorically) from The Shining, seriously that was a nice homage. And I know a lot of NY snobs will think well if it's about a mysterious hotel why in LA and not in NY home of the Chelsea. In my opinion, LA horror stories especially those akin to buildings, and they are never ending are much more interesting. LA is a city full of secrets, broken dreams, despair, murder, and a lot of things that can translate themselves into romantic but gory horror stories and tall tales. It's about time Murphy and Falchuk capitalized on it. The premiere was right on. Excellent. Can't wait for the second episode, still upset that I can't marathon it. If any one wants to do an AHS night every week hit me up. I'll be dressed like Sarah Paulson. 

Below, intro and trailer 

Blood, Sex, and Jessica Lange: The Beauty of American Horror Story

Scariest nun Meryl Streep in Doubt

I know I’m way late coming into this, but I really only binge watch shows these days because my weekends are loads of fun spent spooning my dog and streaming Netflix. I don’t watch shows one by one on TV like some chump. And since Netflix started streaming American Horror Story, I finally had something beside Lost re-runs or desperately trying to pay attention to the turd waffle that is TURN. I love to be scared ergo I avoided shows like that because I’m thinking; ‘how terrifying could it be, it’s on television?’ turns out VERY. I’m a full on addict and on the third season. Yay! My life is awesome!

I was always intrigued by the series considering it stars so many reputable actors including a number of Oscar winners; Kathy Bates, Jessica Lange, Gabourey Sidibe, Joseph Fiennes, Frances Conroy, I mean how bad could it be if the biggest names in Hollywood are flocking to it like a moth to a flame?

The premise is awesome. Making a show like this, you have to ask yourself, how do we keep this consistently terrifying in a TV format? We’re not Alfred Hitchcock. So here’s what the creators did; every season takes place in a different place and time and under different circumstances recycling the main cast into new roles. It’s bizarre but it totally works. Every season has a subtitle. The first one is ‘Murder House’ which takes place in a heavily haunted house in Los Angeles that an unassuming family moves into.

Don't mess with the Lange. She's a witch.

The second season is subtitled; ‘Asylum’, the third is ‘Coven’, you get the idea. Asylum takes place in the 60’s, while Coven is set in New Orleans, but what’s consistent (perhaps the only consistency) are the actors even though every season they play different characters.

Let’s move on to what we find scary. Me personally? I hate blood and guts, that’s not at all frightening to me, it’s gross more than anything else. I love suspense. Dark corners, unexplained noises, moving shadows…you get the idea. American Horror Story utilizes both. It is not for those with a weak stomach. It’s pretty damn gory. It’s also surprisingly very blatantly sexual. It doesn’t shy away from any extremities. There are severed heads, buckets of blood, naked men, a lot of simulated sex…basically everything that you wouldn’t expect to see on TV.

Another regular on the show is fabulous actress Sarah Paulson. I heard in Freakshow she has two heads. I don't know why or how, I just want to see it damn it. My god, what have I turned into?

Of all the bright spots and innovation of this series, I’ll have to give the gold medal to Jessica Lange on this one. She’s absolutely fabulous and this completely resurrected her career. She’s played a controlling Southern Belle, a lunatic nun, the head of a witches’ coven, and she’s unbelievable. She’s so frightening and enticing at the same time. Having her front and center every season was a very smart move. Also, at this point we know that basically every kind of story has already been told, to the point where we find ‘found footage’ horror movies actually interesting…ugh. Ergo, the show strives to be as outlandish as possible. It’s hard to believe in its campiness but it’s delicious. I’m more titillated than terrified and can watch it with the lights off…as I said my dog is usually there. Dear Netflix, please start streaming the 4^th season; American Horror Story: Freak Show so I can get caught up for the 5^th season. I only have like 2 weeks before it’s premiere and I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do with Lady Gaga.

Below, trailer for Hotel...

Below, trailer for Coven, the season I'm currently on and my favorite so far. 

Happy Kubrick Day!

Kubrick was a prodigy from the age of two. At 20 he had achieved more than most hope to do in a lifetime, and none of us were prepared for what he had up his sleeve next. 

Every once in a while someone comes along and changes the scope of the entire industry in which they practice. I honestly don't think there will ever be someone more unique and important to the landscape of cinema than Stanley Kubrick. On this day in 1928, in a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn, Stanley was born to well-to-do middle class parents. He was a bit of a genius from the word go, and though he never excelled in school (in fact would regularly cheat off of his fellow classmates because as he said 'he just wasn't interested) he was a prodigy. By 18 he had quit school and was hustling chess in Washington Square Park, and eventually made enough to buy his own camera. On April 12, 1945, when the world mourned the loss of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Stanley, at 16 captured one of the world's most famous photographs. A newspaper vendor sitting in his kiosk hear the West Village surrounded by the headline that one of the greatest presidents was no more. This catapulted his career, and by 19 he was working for Life magazine. He was taking some of the most beautiful and timeless photos that usually it takes a few degrees and decades to achieve in terms of talent. 

The photograph Kubrick took at 16 that landed him a job with Life Magazine.

By his mid-twenties, his parents sold their life insurance and coupled with his chess winnings, Kubrick was finally able to afford to make his first film; a boxing caper called The Day of the Fight. It was pretty abysmal as a freshman filmmaking effort but started to get him noticed and within two years he was signed to a small but reputable production company for which he made Killer's Kiss, The Killing, and Fear and Desire. Now, I know these films sound like nothing you've heard of. I'd like to think they were basically Stanley in training. But it they were instrumental in getting him noticed by Hollywood and they hired him to direct the much troubled production of Spartacus starring Kirk Douglas. Stanley would later say it was the most difficult experience of his life (second only to Lolita) because he was so stagnated by the studios, and being a child prodigy and an unquestionable genius, it wasn't easy for him having everyone else tell him what to do, especially when he was the director. 

Every image Kubrick put on screen has become iconic and unforgettable. This is the infamous still from Lolita when Delores Hayes is first introduced. 

The pain paid off and gave him license to finally do what he wanted on his own terms, and thus starts what we now know as Kubrick the auteur. His next film, was also arguably his most controversial, adapted from the equally controversial novel by Vladimir Nabokov; Lolita and ending with the insanely polarizing Eyes Wide Shut. There's my history lesson for ya'll. If I start blabbing on about Kubrick I'll never stop, so in the interest of saving time I'd like to touch upon just one of his films how ever hard that might be for me because every single one is so unbearably brilliant and creative, it literally hurts my soul that I can't talk about all of them. But as I always say, the films speak for themselves, so after you read this, go ahead and rent 2001: A Space Odyssey, Full Metal Jacket, or my personal favorite, Barry Lyndon and do yourself a favor. 

The film I've chosen to talk about is Eyes Wide Shut. I wanted to challenge myself and not gush about a film that I'm deeply in love with nor indulge in the aesthetic brilliance of Dr. Strangelove. I'll just speak from the heart on this one. 

The masks we were as adults, quite literally translated in Eyes Wide Shut with haunting imagery.

Eyes Wide Shut was Kubrick's last film, and also arguably his most polarizing, and what a way to go. It was released posthumously, and my dad and I snuck in to a packed theater and sat on the stairs to watch it in 1999. Now, I know it's the last film you want to see with your parents, and at first I have to say the 16-year-old me didn't really dig it, what 16 year old would? One time, an ex-boyfriend of mine once asked; 'what's that film about?' I kind of ignored that question because how can that be answered without a full on dissertation? I think Scorsese describes it best; it's a film about illusion. The way it's photographed suggests that everything might not be in happening in the conscious world. It seems like New York, but it's surreal in a way, it seems like your wife, but what is she hiding behind that smirky stare, what is she trying to tell you? It's that dingy grey area that we all ignore within a relationship. It's not just secrets and lies, and its not disillusion with the person that you once fell in love with. It's us as human beings and that very grey area as to whether we are inherently good or bad. Do we act upon urges? Do we almost? Is that almost just as bad? That's just scraping the tip of the iceberg. Let's talk about aesthetics. 

Both Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman as principal actors gave the performance of their careers, and were basically put through hell in order to do so. I'm sure that considering those two were still married at the time went home at the end of every day and asked themselves those very questions that they had to explore as the fictional Dr. and Mrs. Hartford. It's not an unraveling or a disillusion of marriage; in fact it's quite the opposite. In the end the two decide to stay together for what reason? It's something we can't possibly rationalize or reconcile, all of which is in tune with the whole mystery aspect of every choice each character makes. We don't know why Bill Hartford goes to that infamous sex party. Perhaps it was because his manhood was threatened, perhaps it was in retribution to his wife telling him that she once lusted after a stranger even while having sex with him. But the truth of the matter is that we don't know. Kubrick is not one to give you easy answers or a way out. 

In my opinion, Kubrick is telling us that we will never be perfect people, and in fact there is no such thing, and even though we think we might lead the ideal life; be a good wife to a successful husband, live in opulence comfortably on the Upper East Side, and on the surface have everything we might ever want or need, below the surface is a festering stench of mendacity, insincerity, and frustration with all of that perfection. Perhaps he's saying that we are all inherently bad people, and we don't act on those impulses that we desperately want to because of one reason or another; in this case it's to save a marriage, but the irony is, the marriage is not even one worth saving. 

Kubrick slowly meditates on this static image of Alice Hartford (Nicole Kidman) as if to scream at his audience; what exactly is behind that devilish smile of hers??

My favorite scene is when Bill and Alice (Cruise and Kidman respectively) smoke pot and she in a haze of anger and frustration fueled by a drug-induced frenzy finally tells her husband exactly what she thinks of him, and of the life that they've built together. 'If you men only knew' she bellows. And the expression on Bill's face says it all; he finally realizes that he was never a husband, and barely even a man and has no right to pontificate about the human condition.

Back to aesthetics, because Kubrick started out as a photographer, he knew exactly how to window dress the mise-en-scene with clever lighting so that everything would appear ominous and somehow dreamlike.  Bill and Alice weren't living a dream, they were living a nightmare which interspersed itself constantly with their waking life of banal dinner parties, small talk, and that daughter of their that neither of them really pay attention to, and once the two worlds collide, the truth comes out. Anyway, that's my half baked theory. And the beauty of the Kubrick catalogue, everyone has one. Watch Room 237; it's a documentary about everyone in the woodworks that has some kind of weird theory about The Shining. And considering it was made in 1980 and people are still arguing about it today as if it was the holy gospel, that shows you how timeless and untouchable every single one of his films was. That's the genius of Kubrick, and that is why his presence in cinema changed its history. Happy birthday sir. Instead of shy away from controversy, he embraced it. And in doing so was met with a great deal of opposition, but in the end we can all acknowledge that he was the one who won. From a satire about the Red Scare to a romantic interpretation of a love story between a middle aged man and a 12 year old girl, Kubrick found the beauty, the comedy, and the pathos in every story he retold. There are a lot of imitators, but there will always only be one.

Below...clips to drive my point home.

Kubrick...