I
don’t even understand the appeal here. He’s not even fun to look at, he might
have been in the beginning when he was on that whole matinee idol next River Pheonix skew back in the early 00’s, but then he decided to go the pretentious
artist route and become a full-fledged laughable academic all at once. And I do mean
laughable. He started doing two masters degrees at the same time one at NYU and
one at Columbia. And if you’ve ever done 1 Masters (ahem) you know how grueling
and time consuming it is, so he was basically trying to show off, and didn’t do
a half decent job of it. My cohorts and I would see him around Dodge Hall
(School of the Arts in Columbia University, what what!) droning around staring at his
blackberry and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth like he was the
reincarnation of James Dean, too cool for school; as it turns out he was just too stupid for it. And when he got into Yale,
and I didn’t for a PhD program, I had realized people had seriously lost their
effing minds...not that I deserved to get into Yale, but he sure didn't! I mean seriouslaaaay.
Finally
realizing that he’s a total joke in academic circles, he decided to go the pretentious
artist route and scathed by with a whole series of garbage films, both acting
and directing them, the newest of which, a bastardization of the William
Faulkner novel ‘As I Lay Dying’ which is unbelievably going to open in Un
Certain Regard at Cannes this year, and putting in a piss poor performance in
perhaps one of the most interesting films of the year; Harmony Korine’s Springbreakers (2012), James Franco
should get a universal 'F' for failing in life.
Pretentious ass. Franco in a still from his new film in which he stars and directs (of course) As I Lay Dying (2013)
He
once said the reason he’s so ‘productive’ or as I like to call it scattered in
a clusterfuck is because his mind is so active, which I translate into ‘I’m on
Adderall all the time’ which is basically what it seems like. I remember in
2008, he took over for Gus Van Sant’s absence when we screened Milk (2008) at Columbia for
the film program and a subtle sighs of ‘awwwww’s’ echoed through the audience.
He seemed totally stoned (of course) and couldn’t tell us anything interesting.
Not about the film, not about his career, not about anything in particular
because he was so mentally befuddled, like words were confusing him and hitting
him at the face and grabbing at his brain.
Franco in Milk (2008) probably the only good thing he's ever done.
And
now it’s just getting ridiculous, you are not a renaissance man, James Franco,
you will never be the next Kerouac, Orson Welles, or Dostoevsky, stick to what
you know how to do best; rolling fatties and making teenage girls squirm in
their panties. Just stop, for the love of god, stop everything. Now. Much love,
Vera.
Hey girl...gotta light? I'm a bad boy now if you haven't already heard.
First of all, I think even Ryan Gosling is sick of Ryan Gosling. I mean, I can't look at his face anymore. He's so hot he's gotten not hot. And let's face it, this looks like Drive (2011) and Blue Valentine (2012) had a bastard child. First of all, I heard one critic mention that he thought that Blue Valentine was like a 2-hour acting exercise, and I very well have to agree with that statement, so I wasn't expecting much from this 'action thriller' with indie gritty realism and two really hot guys and a hot chick that was good in that one movie that one time.
Fine, I'll just say it, I haven't seen it, but I do have a friend at work and we have very similar tastes so I trust him, and he told me it was garbage, and this is coming from a guy who lurves Blue Valentine. Filth wise, I feel that this film is going to be just as disingenuous and gratuitous as the latter of the director's. I found his love scenes in his first film almost grotesquely unsexy, by that I'm not talking on superficial levels. I mean, it wasn't aesthetically choreographed to where you would enjoy it, it was like watching bad porn, and nothing is worse than that experience. That takes a 3 cold shower minimum to wipe away.
I have a feeling the only good thing about this film is Bradley Cooper because he's pretty brilliant in everything.
So if you're thinking, sophomore slump, you're both right and wrong. First of all, it can't be called a slump if your first effort was a piece of shit, second, I don't think I've heard anyone give it a good review, or at least anyone I know or respect as a bona fied film connoisseur. (I know it was generally well-received on metacritic but honestly when did any of us seriously read any of those). So, of course I am going to be a presumptuous bitch here and recommend without any further knowledge or experience that you not see it and hold out for something better, such as Upstream Color (2013) which comes out this Friday, if you're desperate to fulfill your indie hipster film quota for the month.
Let's face it people, this Oscar ceremony was off. And if I didn't have a few beers in me, I would have noticed that better, but now in hindsight, I've become aware that yeah, not the best by a long shot. First of all, predictable as fuck! Was there any upset I mean seriouslaaaaay. Except for maybe Ang Lee, everything else was like 'called it!'.
But let's get to the bizarre bullcrap. What was with that tribute to movie musicals over the past 10 years...all 3 of them, starting with Chicago (2002) the producers of which coincidentally produced you guessed it, this years' Oscars. Fancy that! And John Travolta introducing that? Who let him into the party. And if he's the person we associate most with musicals, then I feel sorry for us. I mean Elizabeth Berkeley has more jazz hands cred than him.
Thanks for reminding us that Russell Crowe sings sometimes.
Now, let's get to the woman we all love to hate, no not Kristen Stewart who hobbled her sorry dishevled ass around the stage like a confused mental patient on her first day out, but weepy faux-emotional professional it-girl Anne Hathaway who whispered 'it came true' to her Oscar like she had done a voodoo ceremony on it earlier and it paid off. Then she went on some tangent about all the Fantine's in the world and some other such bullshit, like those are serious problems, or are problems that even exist. Take your stupid satin pink prom dress and get the fuck off the stage horseface.
Moving on. Seth MacFarlane was 'toned down' but still managed to come off as kind of a prick. Not only did the boobs song stank of rampant misogyny, but he made many quips throughout his hosting gig that hinted at the fact that women aren't exactly his favorite species. And bringing out Ted? seriously? I mean can't we all just peacefully forget that that happened? Why ya gotta rub our noses into it's stinky crotch?
One of the few sketches I actually enjoyed. The other was the recreation of Flight (2012) with sock puppets.
The in-memorium segment though accented by BABS was somewhat underwhelming, I mean usually my eyes are welling up as I look up at the TV and think; 'I don't know any of these fucking people'. And then somewhat Media obsessed First Lady (um, wha?) shows up to present Best Picture honors to Ben Affleck. I'm sorry, but doesn't Michelle Obama have other shit to do aside from broadcasting from the Oval Office to a bunch of pretentious douche-bags and doing mom dances with Jimmy Fallon?
Just the best thing ever, embarrassing? sure, memorable? as hell! Either way who gives a shit, you won an Oscar!
Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is it was just weird. It was like that awkward sex that you only realize is awkward in the middle of it, but you're so close to coming you just keep at it, and try to imagine you're in your happy place picking daisies with the Dixie Chicks in a meadow full of baby deer. The one glorious moment was J-Law's fall. I mean that was a serious fall, she didn't even go down gracefully it was basically eating curb for her, and she was just so adorbs about the whole thing, that we are all head over heels in love with her right now. SNL performance forgiven J-Law, you rule.
Chris Pratt and Joel Edgerton in Zero Dark Thirty (2012)
Alright rabbits, the academy award noms are soon to come in and it's going to be a nail biter to the bitter end. Just kidding, like we don't know exactly who's going to get nominated and who's not. Let's review the big five and then the wild card. Lincoln (Steven Spielberg), Les Miserables (Tom Hooper), Zero Dark Thirty (Katherine Bigelow), Silver Linings Playbook (David O. Russell) and Django Unchained (Quinten Tarantino), wild cards include Hyde Park on the Hudson (Roger Mitchell), Argo (Ben Affleck), and PT Anderson intellectual masturbation cornucopia The Master. Now, sans a few surprises and far-fetched nominations like Wes Anderson for Best Original Screenplay, we know that most of the nods are going to be for those five mainly. Now, we all know that the Oscars have no merit, are blindingly political, and as George C. Scott famously called them 'a meat parade', so let's quit with the bullshit and not get upset when the good ones get snubbed (like I'm sure Sarah Polley isn't going to get on any category list because she's been black balled by the industry even though she totally deserves at least a nomination, just saying) anyway!
So let's just look at this meat parade just like we do every year, and examine who has the sexiest over all feel. We'll rate them on a scale based on three criteria; overall ensemble cast, sexual content and execution, and sex-appeal of the director. Now, we can just throw Lincoln right the fuck out, unless you're one of those sicko's that gets off on that kind of thing, meaning there was a time you also found Sally Field to be attractive, and well you just make me want to barf right here and now sir. Les Mis, I'm going to go ahead and discard as well, no matter how much I adore Hugh Jackman and keep fighting with myself as to whether or not he's gay which is half the fun of watching him in anything, but Anne Hathaway kills the sexy factor in any film and she does it every single time from Rachel Getting Married (2008) to The Dark Knight Rises (2012). Also, her upskirt shot was not for the sake of good old fashioned raunchy sex-for-sex-sake and made it holy undesirable and desperate for attention/nomination.
J-Law and B-Coo in Silver Linings Playbook (2012).
Silver Linings has a good chance at winning the Fuck-Oscar this year. With a cast that consists of Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence you've pretty much hit the fucking sexy as shit lottery. Also, I don't know why (of course I do, I'm kidding) but I've always found David O. to be really appealing, like I'd marry him for money and have some wicked kinky sex with him before I divorced him and took everything of value because he yelled and screamed too much and came really close to punching me...I'm getting way sidetracked.
Dicaprio basically recycles his look from Gangs of New York (2002) for Django Unchained (2012)
So that leaves Django and Zero Dark Thirty. If you know me, you know how much unabashed love I have for Tarantino, and also can realize that that last comment was soaked in sarcasm. Even though Quinten makes any straight girl question her sexuality and consider lesbianism more seriously than she ever has before, having the coolest man in cooltown Jamie Foxx coupled with the Romeo/Jack Dawson does earn you some points. But surprise surprise, I'm giving it to Zero Dark Thirty this year. Katherine Bigelow is the hottest 60 year old this side of 60, and puts most 20-something's to shame, and Jessica Chastain is unbelievable. I mean she's seriously ridiculously beautiful, almost too much for her own good, and who doesn't have a red-head fetish? Also, let's take a look at the supporting players shall we? Chris Pratt, Mark Strong, Kyle Chandler, Joel Edgerton, not to mention my personal favorite and father of my future children I don't give a shit what you think; Edgar Ramirez. Just saying his name out loud makes my mouth fill up with saliva. I want to eat him. I would eat him, I would eat his hair, and lick his eye balls. That's what he does to me, and I know he's in the film for like 15 minutes, totally doesn't matter.
Just for fun...Edgar!
So get up here, and accept your sex oscar Katherine, Jessica, and the rest of you. You didn't think we'd all get excited in our pants about the Bin Laden film did ya? Well, if you're perverted like me, you find it in everything.
I think from the side, Lilo's lips look even more hideous.
Oh where to start where to start, I imagine dear reader that you believe someone like myself reviewing something as gloriously cheeseball as Liz and Dick (2012) is like a kid on a field day after smoking the best crack he's ever had and drinking 13 red bulls. Alas, it's all rather depressing. There are so many points I want to make, yet all of them seem redundant. I mean let's talk about the veritable truths that bind together all of mankind. Lindsay Lohan is an awful train-wreck, made-for-tv biopics are the kiss of death, no one compares to Elizabeth Taylor nor should ever try to play her period, and gaudy costumes and breathless delivery do not make a movie. How many times do I have to say this before people actually listen is the real question. Unfortunately the answer is forever...or I develop rheumatoid arthritis in both hands.
Cut, print, shit.
So why did I turn on the TV? Well I had just completely an arduous 7 hour drive back from the Bay Area to Los Angeles, unpacked and turned on Lifetime enough to catch LiLo as Lizzy getting Richard Burton (Grant Bowler) drunk in her dressing room because he was way too hungover to perform ANYTHING on one particular day in the Roman heat dressed to the nines as Mark Antony, and her rather dowdy and frumpy, and so not nearly as fabulous as Elizabeth Taylor was back then, extra weight and everything. She calls him the 'Welsh Don Juan' and expresses her fears of being 'just another notch on his belt' like that phrase hasn't been done to death, thank you writers.
Eventually they fuck and all is well in spouse-cheating land. That is until this new phenom enters the picture, these mosquito-like buzzing photographers that squat in bushes and jump out in front of cars. They mention how Fellini coined the term for the little fuckers called 'paparazzi', thanks for that impromptu film studies lesson idiots. Fellini is crying in heaven that you dare mention his name. Moving on.
Aside from everything else wrong with this picture, did anyone else notice how 'glazed over' LiLo seemed to be the whole time? I mean, I've heard of method acting, but I don't think that's what this is.
There's a montage of fucking, which is highly gross considering even made up as Liz Taylor LiLo is beyond undesirable. She's definitely an 'if-i-had-to' kinda girl, but even then I could almost see the Hep-C being transmitted as Grant kissed her with the most faux passion he could muster without gagging.
Oh and beyond that, they have to dumb it down by having the two leads sit in directors chairs and talk about each other in the third person basically explaining what just happened in the previous scene to us like we're all completely retarded. The only piece of method acting that LiLo is able to apply to this travesty is how well she smokes her cigarettes. For some reason I hate it when you get a non-smoking actor to play a chainsmoking character. They always go at the cig like they're performing fellatio on it...so I guess good job there, LiLo.
Right as the Ambien was taking effect and I was about to rid myself of this shitshow, a drunken Burton makes the startling announcement that would destroy dear Liz's 4th marraige to Eddie Fisher in front of Eddie Fisher; they are in love, and fucking like a lot, so uh if he wouldn't mind getting the hell out of the way everyone would really appreciate it.
Playing dress up is always fun, so is recreating iconic photos, but this is people's lives here, not Halloween k folks?
Then LiLo runs her pretty head off outside in tears; 'oy the mess i've gotten myself into again' certainly permeating through her head. And then there's another fuck montage. As I have actually read bios on Elizabeth Taylor and just finished 'Furious Love' (2011); the definitive account of Burton-Taylor crazyballs shenanigans, I knew what was going to come next and I was not in the mood. Fucking and fighting seem to go hand in hand in the story of Liz and Dick, but in this film, each is equally as displeasurable as the other. Also, just like Meg Ryan, Lilo's lips had become a fixture. I was tired of looking at them. They seemed to overwhelm the screen and there was little else I could pay attention to. So I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, and woke up the next morning with a bitter taste in my mouth. It was not the bitterness of disappointment I assure you, as I had prepared myself for this for months. It's hard to be disappointed at something you knew was going to be stanky garbage to begin with, but I felt it unfair that people had to be subjected to it, though I knew no one would ever take this seriously. It happened, and now we can all move on.
Trailer below. 'Are you convinced?' ....never was.
Today is the big day Twi-hard idiots! I hope you are already calling in sick from work to risk potentially being fired so that you can sit in the shitty rainy weather waiting to be the first loser out of all your loser friends to buy a ticket to the mercifully last installment of the adaptation of the shittiest literature ever to happen to the English language!
Here's a big toast to you, your mother's basement, and the end of Kristen Stewart's career! It's been a long time coming, but hey dropping out of college to start your own Team Jacob fan club was totally worth it.
But you know what? The journey continues. Because how will future generations ever know truly how far we've fallen as a species and how poorly we execute creative concepts if you don't live to tell your pod children about it eventually.
Now, understanding that you're probably celibate because of lessons you've picked up from Stephanie Meyer and believe that every guy you ever will meet will have the ability to accidentally fuck you to death, you will eventually proceed with some kind of artificial insemination type deal...or you're just going to end up reading the books to your exotic bird collection.
In all seriousness though, I wish you the best, but by no means do I think you'll ever achieve it. Your ambition to be a writer like Stephanie Meyer is not going to make you rich because you'll soon realize that we only tolerate that kind of thing once every millennium. So here's my tip for you, every penny you save from your parents still giving you allowance because you still live at home save towards your therapy, because the notion that there is no man out there like Edward Cullen is going to hit you hard believe me. Fill up on the Paxil, because life is going to be really really sad. Anyway, get back to your sparkling apple cider and your weird Mulholland Dr. (2001) type masturbation. It really is the end of a sick and embarrassing era. BTdubs, I'm pretty sure drinking human blood is a felony, last time I checked, just keep that in mind.
Great article (almost too great) about how Twilight would have done better as porn. In 100% agreement.
Cody Simpson, the new next big thing to help us fill that Justin Bieber void after we collectively realized he can peace the fuck back out to Canada.
It really is. I mean, I'm in my late 20's and people completely stop being interesting at that point. They either become dull or hateful. Everyone's scared of each other, everyone's judgmental and obnoxious, and you really start only giving shits about yourself. So basically what I'm saying is that the real world makes you into an asshole, and that's basically a scientific certainty, in the exact same language.
The idea that 20-somethings who are overworked underpaid and enormously in debt from way misguided attempts to do something meaningful during college are trying to dictate what is cool and what is not is preposterous. Since the dawn of teenagers, they have been at the forefront of what we accept and don't accept as popular culture.
If you think about it with teen idols entering into adulthood with Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift fast approaching the drinking age (in fact, I'm pretty sure Taylor is like 23 at this point) a new crop of badly groomed squeaky teen idols are just waiting to take their spots with their kicks more neon than Justin Biebers, and their hair more gelled than Robert Pattinson's. And here's the thing, considering teenagers as self-aware as they are have no concept whatsoever of shame, they are able to basically bring whatever the fuck they feel like to the fore and we're like 'mmmkay, guess we're now dealing with this shit'.
Wes Anderson has never made films from the point of view of anyone who has matured beyond the mental age of 16, which is exactly why he's so fucking popular. Still from Moonrise Kingdom (2012)
Self-consiousness, self-loathing, and general insecurity is generally something that manifests itself after that initial teenage period where the psychology is much more a cloak of invincibility. That is why the culture that comes out of that meliu is so balls-to-the-wall ridiculous, especially the sexual culture. They are too young to understand the pathos of sexuality on any kind of mature level (obviously) all they know is they like it, and they want more of it, so basically that leads to all kinds of innuendo that suggest rather than graphically exploits. Whenever those lines are blurred, teenagers find it highly confusing and repugnant. Example: the infamous Miley Cyrus spread for Vanity Fair that Annie Lebovitz shot.
Miley Cyrus cements her status as jail-bait thanks to a little help from Annie Lebovitz.
And in the end isn't that how we should all be, confused but highly arrogant, sexually charged but sexually frustrated and never-endingly obsessed with pretty people? Seems like an ideal state of mind to me, also in a way very Warholian, which to me makes it all the more appealing. Regression is IN, personal growth is out. It's overrated and passe. No one is interested in evolving; the more we know the less we care. So turn off the CNN debate, and turn on the VMA's and get back to the superficial things in life. You'll be surprised how wonderful it is.
Just warning you, this is written assuming those who read it have seen the film already, so I'm giving a lot away, don't like it? Don't give a shit. I had this overwhelming sense of dread while walking into the theater, you know the kind you get from knowing you're walking into an over-hyped art-for-art-sake long-as-shit-for-no-reason film that all the snooty critics can't stop buzzing about? Remember when we paid money to see Tree of Life (2011)? It was that kind of dread.
Paul Thomas Anderson has always been a hit or miss kind of director to me, and this was definitely a miss. The only thing I could find to justify this clumsy misfire, is to look at the homoerotic angle in the film, which to me was very prevalent, but everything is gay to me. Anyway, it's an interesting angle to think about and has been mentioned in quite a few reviews on the film, and anyone with more than two braincells clicking away upstairs is sure to catch it. I kept thinking about what Gore Vidal said to William Wyler while in pre-production for Ben-Hur (1959). He was disconcerted writing the script as he basically deduced that there wasn't enough in the plot to make it a 2 and a half hour long movie; A Jew and a Roman used to be friends, now they disagree on politics and fight. That's barely interesting as far as he was concerned so he suggested that the two main characters played by Charleton Heston (Ben-Hur) and Stephen Boyd (Messala) were lovers, and the conflict between the two of them was actually because Messala wanted to start the relationship back on and Ben-Hur wasn't interested. Throwing sex into the mix always makes it more interesting. And hey, it ended up working didn't it? Here's the dirt on The Master (2012). Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) is a plethora of mental disorders. He's bipolar, manic, borderline, and he's an alcoholic and a sex addict. H has PTSD, ADHD, OCD, so basically he's beseeched by acronyms. Ergo, he's brilliant fodder for 'The Cause', the Scientology-esque movement sprung from the mind of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman) who takes an instant liking to him, and takes him under his wing.
Lancaster Dodd (PSH) posing in a picture Freddie (Joaquin Phoenix) takes of him. it's one of the most intimate parts in the whole movie as Freddie gently adjusts Dodd's hair with the tip of his fingers and the two men stare deeply into each other's eyes and then it's back to business.
As the relationship develops between the two of them, we learn their most depraved secrets, particularly those of Freddie, who is a much more developed, nuanced character than that of Dodd. It seems as though every woman in his life has abandoned him from his mother to his child-bride, and now he unsuccessfully strives to find wholeness in empty marathon fuckfests that always end up being his undoing. Dodd, sensing his self-destructive nature makes Freddie engage in a series of depracating and humiliating tasks or 'tests' based on the teachings of 'The Cause', and in the emotional climax of one in particular Freddie exclaims 'I can leave anytime I want to but I choose to stay!' and the entire audience is left wondering; 'um, why exactly?' PT Anderson never actually reveals the answer. This is a director who's fear of not being subtle enough yields the exact opposite, it's too subtle to the point of being confusing. To me, the answer was very clear - he stays because he's in love with Dodd. It's an intense, adult kind of love and affection that of which he had never achieved in the past, and he allows it to consume him. In turn, in the last scene (I told you, if you haven't seen it, don't read this) when Dodd invites Freddy to England (or perhaps he doesn't and Freddie dreams the invitation, that's never made clear either) he sings to him; 'I'd like to get you on a slow boat to China...all to myself alone' the rest of the lyrics go something like 'get you and keep you in my arms evermore', basically spelling out to Freddie that he loves him too. Both men cry because they are aware that whatever it is they had is over forever despite their best efforts.
Amy Adams plays the almsot terrifyingly controlling wife of Dodd who always seems to have something to say or do against Freddie, and almost always has an strong opinion to assert.
Madonna's direction: Ok now kiss her but be really uncomfortable about it, and try way too hard...perfect.
I know I'm a little late on this sentiment, but here we go. What CAN Madonna do? Well she can sip tea, pretend she's Jewish and generally annoy us on any given day but that's about it. I don't care about her music, lets talk about her 'directing'. I finally sat down to watch W/E (2011) today because I've been on a masochistic streak of late and it was on Netflix Instant. I quite like Andrea Riseborough who plays the man trap Wallis Simpson who causes the biggest crisis in the British Monarchy before Princess Di and Prince Charles divorced. Now, rich white people problems are always fascinating, especially when they're in love. There's almost always a problem in the bedroom, whether someone's too kinky or not kinky enough, or someone is having an affair with a hat check girl or worse...someone who's nouveau riche.
Either way, Madonna is always digging like a pig for truffles for that tiny glimmer of romance amongst an otherwise dull and drab story. Here's what basically happened. Edward VIII was a milquetoast do-nothing prince and heir to the British throne, terribly busy with throwing lavish dinner parties for society friends. Wallis Simpson was twice divorced poor white trash who eventually merited an invitation to meet the dilettante. After that they fell in love, the royal family hated her (of course, since when do they like people?) and forced Edward to abdicate his thrown, hence shit like The King's Speech (2011) was able to be made about his even less interesting brother.
Wallis and Edward on their wedding day.
The entire time I was watching it, I was thinking; 'If I see one more shot out of focus come into focus I'm going to seriously blow chunks' that's basically don't of Film School 101, and what the fuck is up with all the grainy handhelds? Like this is some gritty indie drama about junkies and prostitutes. Aesthetically this movie is such a fail, even though it desperately tries to convince us that Edward and Wallis were actually way more attractive than they actually were.
The story is all told through a young lady named Wally Wintrhop (Abbie Cornish) and we all know how much I love her. She's the only one really really trying in this film to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but it's to no avail. She plays a woman who like worked at Sotheby's at one point and now is disappointed in her marriage to a rich successful and handsome doctor (I mean, who wouldn't be?) so she frequents her old gallery where they just happen to be auctioning off the entire W/E collection. And then there's a subplot about her fucking a handsome Russian security guard for absolutely no reason at all, but that's to be expected when the screenplay is absolutely for shit.
If I glance through the view finder then it will appear as if I'm a real director.
Don't get me wrong, there is romance in this story, the actual story, all of which the film misses. There is nothing erotic, refined, or sensual the whole way through, it's so redundant and banal I ACTUALLY fell asleep...And then I woke up nauseous because there was another dreaded out-of-focus handheld I was waking up to, and The Sex Pistols' 'Pretty Vacant' was playing in a scene set in 1935. F to the AIL.
Todd Akin; the picture of privileged white-man hypocrisy. And also he looks somewhat like a serial killer.
As Lynne Koplitz once put it 'I'm not well adjusted, I'm on Vicodin when I visit you', well I had to take a Vicodin because i hurt my ankle, but it's making me all euphoric and woozy so I feel this is the best time to write about the whole 'legitimate rape' debacle that has everyone up in arms, because this means I can't get too crazy and angry, and can just barrel through this with a mellow distance.
Unless you've been planning your suicide and don't have much time for CNN, newspapers, HuffPo, or people talking around you, you've heard of 'legitimate rape-gate'. Some foo named Todd Akin, who's apparently running for republican senate (good luck with that) said something along the lines of when a woman is 'legitimately raped' her body has a way of shutting her reproductive organs so that she doesn't get pregnant. Ergo abortions should be completely illegal even in cases of rape, because rape can't get you pregnant, unless you were wearing a short skirt and asking for it, you disgusting whore.
Now there's nothing I love more in this world (aside from Aussie shepherd puppies) than old white wrinkly dudes on capitol hill talking about a woman's body and anatomy like they've ever even touched a boobie in their entire lives. Every time Uncle Fester has something to say, he looks like his knowledge of the female body was taught to him by his sister in an outhouse (ok I went a little Larry Flynt just now) or, him and his wife procreate through a hole in the sheet without looking at each other, fully clothed. And Mr. Todd Akin looks like he hasn't fornicated with ANYTHING for millenniums. Not only that, he's entering dangerous 'Anne-Coulter territory' to where even the Republican party itself is turning its back to you and disassociating you from their politics. Once that happens, it basically means you've fallen pretty far buddy.
First of all, I'm very much of the opinion that not only 'my body, my choice', but that it is highly unfair for 'lawmakers' who are mostly white men get to make these kinds of decisions for us, just because their daddy's paid for their Law School back in the 50's get ANY say in this whole debate coming up with scientific theory that even a hungover 8th grade science student would go 'oh yeah, that's not true'.
If anything though, I think what Akin said, as horrendous and utterly disgusting it was, might bring some good to this whole election after all. If people slowly start to realize that this is actually how people in the Republican party think (and i'm sorry, but it's true. You always get flub ups and hypocritical statements coming out of their circle, I mean Sarah Palin's brain was like a hotbed for thoughts like that) then, Obama has more than just a fighting chance.
The whole thing is beyond infuriating, especially putting words like 'legitimate' and 'rape' even in the same breath, and does so much damage by offending basically the entire female population all over the world, it basically makes us remember that we're still #2 even though we're supposedly as progressive as we all think we are. Some people just need their mouths taped shut, and most of those people are Republicans, this just proves my point.
Is this the scene where she has an orgasm while fully clothed? Ahhh yes, I remember how Tolstoy wrote about it fondly.
You might guess that I'm pretty biased when it comes to adapting Russian literature for the screen which is almost always impossible to do, and especially when it takes place in the city I was born in, St. Petersburg. But nothing has yet been quite such a slap in the face until the new Anna Karenina (2012)trailer hit and I thought, 'wow, it's like Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette (2005) had sex with Across the Universe (2007) and had an abortion all over my face.
Let's start at the beginning because my list of grievances goes on forever so I'm going to try to make this as brief as I can. It's difficult for me to see anyone in the west adapt Russian literature, particularly one of the greatest books in Russian history because Russians like to write really really long books. 'Anna Karenina' is 8 volumes; each volume about 300 pages. So um...a 2-hour movie is just not going to cut it. Check that box, now moving on to the anorexic elephant in the room.
Baroness Varvara Ivanovna Ikskul von Hildenbandt , whom it is said Anna Karenina is based on. Clearly there's a resemblance...not.
If there is an actress I despise more than Kristen Stewart, it's Keira Knightly. To me, everything she does is wrong and somehow cringe-worthy, to the point where it seems beyond ridiculous to even conceive of men killing each other to be with her. She always has that confused blow-fish look and I'm tired of counting the ribs in her mid-section. The director is Joe Wright, who is more or less obsessed with Keira, much like John Hughes was unhealthily enamored with Molly Ringwald. At some point you have to read the book and seriously consider who would be right for the part and who would stick out like sore ditz. No way does Keira have the psychological depth to play a tragic heroine on par with Anna Karenina, I wouldn't even cast her as Sophie. She needs to get her bony ass back to RADA and work on that Russian accent for a few more decades.
I think this dress is from the Vera Wang bridal collection from last year. Also, not very excited about Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Vronsky. Please.
Speaking of, why is it she'll put on a Russian accent (and not a very good one) for the Cronenberg film, but for this one (where it really matters) eh...she'll just use her natural speaking voice. Bitch please. Every time she speaks in the trailer I'm sitting there thinking...yeah not buying it, and aren't you late for cheerleading practice? Just because you throw the prom queen into a period costume, doesn't mean she's going to pull it off, and even if she does, on behalf of my people I can say right now before the film is even released, we're not on board.
Side note, please stop trying to squeeze Keira Knightly into corsets. Has she been in a film that doesn't require them since Bend it Like Beckham (2002)? (and aside from Atonement (2006)?) She's comically too thin for them. I think it's an aesthetic choice so that the audience gets the illusion that she's stacked. It's probably in her contract somewhere.
'Is that soft core porn?' 'no, it's just Oliver Stone trying too hard.' 'oh well i'm sure it has the same low-quality shamelessness and sub-par performances'
What has Oliver Stone been doing to this country and the film industry for all these years if not pissing all over it? Like we needed any of his films to exists, honestly. Alexander (2004) was on BBC America the other day, and I was already not feeling too well and kind of down, after this was in the background for about an hour or so, I was ready to commit murder suicide. But don't think he's hanging up his alpha crazy hat just yet, even though he should have retired 20 years ago, because he's hired the youngest hottest actors in the biz to star in his new movie about pot-growers, cartels, and hot bitches in slutty bikinis. Nope, never seen that before. Thanks for the new outlook, Stone.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson is in there, you might remember him as the guy who played Kick Ass and young John Lennon before his cradle-robbing director, Sam Taylor-Wood hypnotized him and made him her sex slave...I mean they fell in love and got married, same dif. Then there's Taylor Kitsch from John Carter (2011) fame. Yawn. And of course, Serena Van Der Woodsen herself, Blake Lively as 'O' the ho-bag who's dating both of the men simultaneously, probably because of the free pot, and gets kidnapped by evil south-of-the-border cartels Benicio Del Toro and Salma Hayek. Can you predict what happens next? I'm going to say a few sensory-overload shootout sequences, lots of making out in the pool, and a graphic stab scene later, the heroes get the girl back, kill the cartel, and take over in Mexico. And one of them dies. Hopefully Taylor Kitsch.
Why I'm just a sweet little girl who's fucking two men at the same time. I never imagined I would be kidnapped because my two boyfriends pissed off a very hostile to begin with drug cartel. Tee hee.
The film is being marketed as a kind of millenial version of Natural Born Killers (1994) with the same degree of speed, violence, and blatant disregard for one's audience. So I'm expecting it to be just as obnoxious and un-sexy, but now with even more incessant noise. If there is a director out there, that is so obsessed with his films being 'sexy' and in the same breath is anything but, it would be Oliver Stone. There is not a film of his that exists that has ever turned me on no matter how gratuitous and graphic the fucking might be. It always comes off gross, and something I'd rather not have seen, and is always treated as a detrimental consequence for the characters involved. If there is one film I am not looking forward to seeing this year, and probably won't, because I want to spare myself the awkward shame of having to look the ticketing office in the face when I'm picking up a matinee for it, is Savages (2012). It looks like a cheap B-movie not even Verhoeven would touch, and now that I think about it, even though the plot is typically bland and predictable, if you gave this material to Verhoeven at least he might be able to do something interesting and campy with it. Alas, we are all stuck with yet another awful Oliver Stone film that we have to stomach, or at least sit through the TV spot every time we want to watch cute puppy videos on the youtubes. There it is, ruining our mood. Whomever is still putting up money for Oliver Stone to work in this town, please stop it. That well has been dry, not to mention insane for decades now.
Here's the trailer they've shoved down our throat for months.
This film screened earlier today in the competition at Cannes, and I for one found it one of the worst things that's ever happened in the world of Cinema, that's ever. John Ford, Orson Welles, and D.W. Griffith should like form a ghostly coalition of the willing and beat Walter Salles to a bloody pulp. If I could punch this film in the face I would do it. But instead, I'm making a corn husk doll of Kristen Stewart and punching that in the face. It's healing some of the wounds.
First thing's first. Do not adapt Kerouac in the 21st century. Why the hell did you wait so long to where it's not even remotely relevant anymore. Who in their right minds could give two fucks about some hipster without a job meandering around, having pretentiously mediocre thoughts about the uselessness of existence whilst drinking and smoking a lot. Because, that's all the film is! I understand that that's what Kerouac wrote about, but it's considered 'unadaptable' for a reason. You can't just do that to your film audience i.e. have nothing happen for two and a half hours whilst people philosophize about said nothing in the voice over. Kerouac is dead folks. Oh and by the way, he died because his liver exploded from drinking so much.
This brings me to my second point; it's a pet peeve of mine when people are shown CONSTANTLY drinking and doing drugs, but no one ever seems to get high or drunk, it's like I know you're in your early 20's but if you ingest that much Benzedrine and that much Vodka at the same time, I'm dropping your comatose ass off at the emergency room and making a quick getaway.
Neal Cassady on the left with Jack Kerouac on the right, the inspirations behind Dean and Sal in On the Road. Did I mention both died before they were 35? from alcoholism? Oh I did? well doesn't hurt repeating.
Point three. No one in our generation, who's never 'burned burned burned with the fire of a Roman candle' but plays 'Draw Something', talks to Siri like she's an actual person, and blogs blogs blogs all day long gives two fucks about the beat generation. That shit burn burn burned out real fast, and it's not even nostalgic anymore. It's taking us to a place none of us want to be, and around people none of us would be friends with. You're not watching it thinking 'oh these people are really unique and interesting, they have thoughts man, ya dig?' You're sitting there, thinking; 'wow, they are all dirty and useless. Grow up and get a fucking job...and where exactly do they get the money for all this weed?'
'Oh look at me with my silk blouse rocking out to spontaneous jazz medleys. I am soooooo of the period and don't stick out at all'
Point four. Casting. What the fuck were you thinking? Garrett Hedlund as Dean Moriarty? He looks like the moron jock from every 80's movie. Sam Riley as Sal Paradise (who is just an avatar for Kerouac himself) gets a pass. But Kristen fucking Stewart as child bride Marylou? Are. You. Kidding. Me. She stands out like Winona Ryder in a period costume drama, like totally. She's so not 'of that generation' that it makes me infuriated that everyone is taking her seriously just because she does half of the movie naked. I respectfully disagree! This is worse than Keira Knightley pretending to be a Russian intellectual who likes to get spanked in A Dangerous Method (2011). Ya should have made it back in the early 90's when people still gave two shits about Neal Cassady, Jack Karouac, and reading in general, cast Brad Pitt as Dean, Ethan Hawke as Sal, and Juliette Lewis as Marylou. Sidney Lumet should have directed. Side note, that British dude who's Sienna Miller's baby daddy as Carlo Marx? So bad that it went past good and back to bad again.
Tom Sturrige as Carlo Marx in one of the many ambiguous posters made for the film, caption reads 'we're alive?' harkening back to a question this motherfucker brings up constantly because he's on too much Benzedrine to disassociate reality from sleepy time. So the answer to your question you pretentious fuck is 'yes...but that can change. go buy a gun'.
Also, stop peppering films with big stars that just want to prove that they read Kerouac and are thereby intellectuals like Steve Buscemi and Viggo Mortensen. You guys are established stars you do not need to associate with such garbage. Also, again, why exactly are you naked?
If you want to walk out of a movie this year and be like 'hmm, I didn't give any fucks the whole time' then this is a film you should see. I kept rolling my eyes so much I think they started making a noise. Bright spot at the end of the dark tunnel lined with human excrement is that the films about beatniks genre might not be violently dead from massive head wounds which I personally inflict on it quite yet. Kill Your Darlings (2013) with Daniel Radcliffe as Allan Ginsburg actually seems pretty promising. I anxiously await for it to cure the cancer that I got watching this.
Basically, this sums it up beautifully:
"Many have speculated that 'On the Road,' Jack Kerouac's seminal beat
novel, is unadaptable for the screen, and Walter Salles' game attempt
suggests that this may indeed be the case. Despite its pretty cast and
sun-ripened colours, the film quickly settles into a tedious looping
rhythm of Sal Paradise (Sam Riley) experiencing some kind of beatnik
debauchery with co-wanderers Dean Moriarty (Garrett Hedlund) and Marylou
(Kristen Stewart), before retiring to a shady corner and scribbling
wildly in a notebook. Neither the journey nor the destination seems to
matter a jot." — Robbie Collin, The Telegraph
Which is basically what this film is. It's a dumb-it-down bro-mance road movie. And it's long as fuck. No pun intended.
I realize that all I'm doing is making you watch it more, so fine. Here's the trailer. I hope you enjoy contemplating murder-suicide for two and a half hours.
