Behind Bars with Pipes

The girls of Litchfield Correctional Facility return for some serious Season 2 hijinks.

The crazily long-awaited return of Orange is the New Black came to pass last week as we all watched our smartphones to vibrate with a message from Netflix that the whole new season is up and running. Then we collectively sneaked into the bathroom on our cigarette breaks to watch snippets of the first episode on the can. Even IMDB got in on the fun posting an animated ribbon on it’s front page with the entire main cast which is around 16 to 20 girls seemingly reacting to something gross and atrocious.

Crazy Eyes partying it up with Taystee.

            Orange is the New Black has had as much of an impact on the female TV audience as something like True Detective had on the male audience. But unlike the latter it doesn’t take itself so seriously that you have to google books anything on existentialism after every episode. The unbridled ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude speaks volumes to girls and out of the incredibly vast and diverse cast of the show, there is someone for everyone to relate to, and at times we find ourselves relating to all of the characters…except for perhaps Pennsatucky (Taryn Manning).  Me? I’m a cross between Chapman (duh), Big Boo, and Poussay…but it depends on the day. A lot of the time I’m feeling the plight of Red the Russian mob ringer (Kate Mulgrew) ('It's fucking funny!'). But there’s an inmate for every mood. And that’s what makes the show so endearing. The troubles of the characters which on the surface might seem alien to us because most of us have never done time, are at the same time universal, because we’ve all struggled and done things we shouldn’t have, and now are striving to find redemption.

A big part of the reason I couldn't wait for this season is to see how it works out with Daya and Bennett; hottest prison guard this side of scripted TV.

            So when you think about it, the show’s very simple in that respect, and it’s entertaining; the two main cornerstones of TV. I don’t need to peel back all the layers of Rustin’s inner demons on True Detective like I’m a philosophy post-doc. If a show can make you laugh hysterically and cry like no one’s watching within the same hour, that’s a good show. And finally there’s something on TV that treats women more than just the whore the mother or the wife…am I right Mad Men? I mean seriously, it’s the 21^st century and we’re still disenfranchised playing second fiddle to middle-aged white men with problems. I know that TV is inherently frightened about shows that cater to and center around women, especially one with a cast of ONLY women (with the exception of Jason Biggs…and Pornstache), but that’s folly because apparently, as Orange has proved there’s a huge niche in the market for that. I mean, we DO make up half of the country’s populace, and you can’t play us off with Peggy Olsen anymore.

One endearing lesson this show teaches us that whether weathering a storm or living large, in prison or in St. Tropez, ya gotta have friends.

But aside from all the politics, what’s great about the show are the characters and the actors who play them. Aside from resurrecting the careers of long forgotten actors such as Natasha Lyonne, Taryn Manning, and Laura Prepon, the show is basically a who’s who of newbies and hot young upper-and-comers. With the resurgence of female protagonist shows like Orange, Scandal, and even Bates Motel, we might find redemption yet like we had in the 90’s when our estrogen fueled material also had a presence (remember Allie McBeal or My So Called Life)? This show explicitly states; we might be in prison but we’re not the bad guys, and we will persevere. And that’s an admirable notion. So turn off your phone, plug into Netflix, and join everyone else in this gargantuan estrogen fest. Happy watching!

Season 2 promo below:

Nymphomaniac: Art That You Can Wank To

Shia and Stacey as Jerome and young Joe. Already an iconic image. 

In approaching a Von Trier film, there is a ritual. You cannot be hung over, just have had a meal, or be with anyone else. Literally anyone. The shock value alone will leave you open for public mockery. So it's saturday, it's too cold for the beach. I don't want to get out of my newly bough plush bathrobe from Restoration Hardware that my mom so generously got for me last weekend (thanks mom!) so there was nothing better to do than order Nymphomaniac Parts I and II and binge watch them until my mind was mush and I had lost all feeling in my lady parts and decided to never have sex again as long as I live. But that's typical Von Trier. His as most would say 'misogynistic' treatment of his female characters is a hallmark of most of his films, scratch that, all of his films, even though artfully and masterfully executed. I am not one to label Von Trier a chauvinist. I'd label him a Nazi but that's a whole different story (we all remember what happened at Cannes). Why is he not misogynistic in my opinion? Because throughout the film and afterwards you are very much in an empathetic and completely kindred state with the female protagonist. His films do not show women as victims, though throughout they are subjected to all sorts of abuse, mental, physical, verbal, you name it. His protagonists stand in defiance of said abuse and are always women that know exactly what it is they want and know how to ascertain it. In the same breath I would say that James Cameron par example is a misogynistic director, and if I have to explain why, you might as well stop readying right now. Von Trier even gives Skarsgård a monologue about the vicious double standard that women have to deal with in terms of being aware and in pursuit of sexual pleasure. 

Stacey Martin as young Joe, later played by Charlotte Gainsbourg. I really hope I don't have to explain what's going on in this picture. A character who's 'coming of age' was considerably different from most. 

Anyway on to Nymphomaniac, with the hooplah surrounding the film and the almost laughable marketing campaign that has been lampooned by basically every major film critic, it was a highly anticipated cinematic romp, no pun intended. Ok puns are going to be unavoidable here so just bear with me. 

The film concerns a woman named Joe who has been found beaten in an alley way by Stellan Skarsgård, an intellectual asexual who nurses her back to health while she tells him all about her sordid background as a nymphomaniac. The only difference is that she was a nymphomaniac out of lust not out of need. You see? She wants sex because she fucking wants it bitches, not because it's something she can't control. It's like saying you're an alcoholic because you're thirsty. 

Although this looks like a still from your regular run-of-the-mill porn, it's actually one of the more funny scenes in the film, if not one of the most sexually explicit. Hard to combine the two.

Basically, though Von Trier muse Charlotte Gainsbourg is first billed and in every advert for the film, most of the film concerns her in her younger state, played brilliantly and fearlessly in her debut performance by Stacey Martin. The biggest novelty in this film is the endless parade of surprising supporting players, mainly those of Shia Lebeouf and Jamie Bell. This is where Von Trier really shines as a director because he basically takes a chance on seemingly banal and wasteful actors and transforms them into unbelievably vivid performers. It's also probably Uma Thurman's best role since she was Mia Wallace even though she's on screen for less than 10 minutes. He also does a little tribute to one of his own films Antichrist (2009) shhhhh! I think it's supposed to be a secret. 

Sexually speaking it's actually one of the more easy films to digest aesthetically. I'd much rather watch Shia and Stacey have un-simulated animalistic intercourse than watch some Nicholas Sparks inspired bullshit where Ryan Gosling kisses the back of some girl's neck behind some curtains with a violin playing in the distance, and the rest we are meant to imagine for ourselves. I think Von Trier touches on a very important aspect of sex that we try to ignore as movie-goers. We always want to imagine it as beautiful, electric, and magical; an act that fulfills us, always with love. 

This is Shia's epic apology for well...everything that preceded this film. He's actually a damn good actor. I'm going to burn in hell for saying that. Film buff hell. Where they only show Michael Bay films and demons screeching Tarantino's praises constantly taunt you. 

Because we as the movie-goer and as actual human beings all lack that basically. The universal truth about sex is that it's AWKWARD. It's strange, painful, (not in the way that you think, you perv), unfulfilling, and most of the time lacking what is constantly referred in the film as 'the secret ingredient'; love. Sex is a constant state of learning. Learning what we like, what others like, what we absolutely need and what we absolutely won't ever do. It's a self-discovery more cerebral than we think, and Von Trier manages to capture this by equating it to almost a Zizekian philosophical study in this film, not to say that it's pretentious in the least. There's a beautiful scene where Skarsgård explains the beauty of Bach's compositions by three elements, which Joe (Gainsbourg) equates to three types of lovers that when combined create a 'beautiful tune'. Speaking of which, the use of music is absolutely brilliant in this film. Instead of a prolonged Wagner score (again, ahem...Nazi), that he usually uses, it's a total mix up of some of the most iconic classical music pieces out there. My favorite is when (spoiler alert) Joe is forced to go into sexual-addiction rehab, she has to get rid of anything that reminds her of sex or anything that turns her on. In the background is playing the first movement of Mozart's requiem, as if she's preparing for death, or that a piece of her is dying. It's not exactly subtle, but it's tongue in cheek. (Another pun!). 

Gainsbourg must either really really love working with Von Trier or has some kind of debt that has yet to be repaid because I don't know of any other actress who is able and willing to put herself through as much as she has, and not just in this one film. 

Now, I'm of the belief that Von Trier has probably had sex maybe three times in his life, and perhaps that is why he needed to make Nymphomaniac. It reminds me of a review that I read from Roger Ebert talking about the Peter Greenway film; 8 1/2 Women (2001) where a father and son create a private harem being inspired by the Fellini film, 8 1/2 (1963). He begged the question; how many directors make films about their unspoken sexual fantasies, and the answer is...all of them. Von Trier just took it a step further...as he tends to. And the ending is I mean, absolutely brilliant, and the best exhaltation of a woman's plight I've ever seen. I can't give away more than that, but it's brilliantly perfect. Anyway, I liked it. I recommend it, but again. Approach with caution.

Trailer below:

Lessons We Learned From Vanderpump Rules

(L to R: Jax, Stassi, Katie, Lisa Banderpump (sans Jiggy), Tom, Scheana, and Kristen) 

Officially could be the worst show on television, in constant competition with Toddlers in Tiaras and Couples Therapy, Vanderpump Rules is really a terrible. Like we needed ANY spinoff of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and in its defense, at least the women on that show are older, somewhat more sophisticated, yes they are swimming in money while the rest of us are trudging by struggling inside a recession, but every season there's a whole new set of superficial drama that actually makes it quite fun to watch. But this show has absolutely no redeeming qualities. It follows quite frankly the most spoiled, entitled, materialistic empty shells of human beings without too many brain cells missing that work at Lisa Vanderpump's West Hollywood hotspot SUR.

Now, I've been to SUR on occasion, and taken a few friends there, the only person from the show that I've ever seen actually working there was Tom Sandoval from the cast and that was ONCE. I'm starting to think that these people don't actually work there at all. Or if they do, they are actors pretending to do so. And the funny thing is, Bravo doesn't ever try to cover up that non-reality part of this reality series. All of them have aspirations of being famous in show business, in the dumbest ways if I might add. Whether it's a recording contract to being auto tuned, to being 'not AS famous as Michael Jackson but close' for whatever the fuck, it's clear that these pretty yet dumb-as-hell people aren't there just to serve and pour wine. 

Stassi and Jax, the couple that for some reason are still together even though all they do is fight. 

In the last few episodes, surprise surprise, the drama stems from a dirty little secret coming out about one of the pretty boys cheating on one of the pretty girls, and the way it comes out is the most hilarious of moments I've ever seen on reality TV, or on TV for that matter. Stassi, resident bitch on the show, and Anna Torv doppleganger decides to take the 'staff' to Cabo for her birthday and while drunk and topless in a pool confronts her ex, the selfie-king, Jax about a lie he's been keeping secret regarding another male server cheating on his longtime girlfriend...also a server. Draaaaaaaama. And if this show teaches us anything is that ladies, if you are topless, you can get a man to confess to ANYTHING...seriously anything. If you tell him he's actually a woman, he'll say it back to you with conviction. 

Kristen, in her signature SUR server's dress posing for a promotional still, but when she's a hot mess (always) it's not that pretty. 

Another lesson we learn is that entitled twenty-somethings living in LA playing chicken in the pool while 'average Joe's' as Stassi puts it 'sit behind a desk all day' make really terrible life decisions. Instead of the girl who's being cheated on (Kristen) just walking away with a middle finger out, she decides to stay for the weekend get as drunk as possible, and eventually sleeping with said cheating prick (Tom). And the other girls in the sewing circle get pissed about that, saying she has no self respect. Really girls? Weren't you just on television with your tits hanging out? How much respect are you retaining? 

At this point it's beyond me. It's a hard watch. You might want to be close to the bathroom in case you have to puke the last remainder of dinner out dealing with knowing that these kind of people share breathing space with you, but twenty-somethings will be twenty-somethings...until they hit thirty and then they'll still be twenty somethings...because after all, this is LA and you can stay as young, stupid, and irresponsible forever, and not only will you be rewarded for it, you might even get your own show. Biggest life lesson there, kids. Put down the PhD manual and run over to the Louboutin store because no one cares about your mind when you've got 6-inch stiletto heels and a plunging neckline. Oy to the vey.