How To Survive A Plague: A Vital New Documentary About Our Millenium's Greatest Crisis

Why do people not make films about the AIDS pandemic? Because they can make them about puppies, and horsies, and 3D dance-offs. Just like the government has always done, the film industry generally turns its back on the greatest cultural and medical crisis of the 20th century and likes to basically pretend it's not happening. You didn't even hear the term AIDS in film until the 90's. Reagan didn't even say it on television during his whole 8 year term as president. 

Even when And The Band Played On was released in 1993 most of the principal cast in the film took their roles despite the advice of their agents which all discouraged it in fear that it would hurt their respective careers.

Key AIDS activist at the forefront of the ACT UP movement, Peter Staley is prominently featured in the documentary.

There have been a lot of docs that have come out about gay culture in the 70's from Before Stonewall (1984)  to Making the Boys (2011) about the seminal Mart Crowley play and subsequent film The Boys in the Band (1970) and also features like Gus Van Sant's Academy Award winning Milk (2008), but no film has ever quite dealt with the AIDS epidemic the way that How to Survive a Plague (2012) does.
I don't think people that grew up in my generation for the most part tend to understand just the level of crisis people were in back in the 70's, and this is why it's important for docs like this to exist. AIDS awareness has always been readily available to us, and we've all had info-sessions on it in schools, not knowing that only decades before people were dropping like flies and no one knew why and when they begged their government for help, the government turned their heads and did absolutely jack squat about it. If AIDS had hit Reagan's friends in Greenwich Connecticut, he would have been on that faster than a fly on shit, but because it concerned primarily the gay community which he at that point had publicly stated that he believed to be a mental disorder, he couldn't care less.

Openly gay journalist, writer, and freelance reporter Randy Shilts wrote the first ever catalog of the AIDS pandemic titled appropriately And the Band Played On: Politics People and the AIDS Epidemic published in 1987. This followed his first non-fiction novel The Mayor of Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk (1978). He died of the disease in 1994.

What we now consider as AIDS awareness - lectures, free testing, the AZT cocktail, and even those silly GAP t-shirts were all a result of everyday people that walked the streets and saw less and less of their friends, losing someone to this pandemic every single day, and decided that if the people whose job it was to protect them were doing nothing to do so, then they would take matters into their own hands. It was a long and arduous process but the result of which was light-years beyond anything the Center for Disease Control or the Federal Administration could have accomplished in double that time. 
It's beyond important that documentaries like this continue to come out and teach people now, for whom AIDS is not necessarily a death sentence anymore, that once upon a time when it seemed at its most hopeless there were a some unimaginably brave people who refused to accept the Keep Calm and Carry On attitude, and became proactive so that generations later what was once a plague can one day be completely a thing of the past.

Below is the trailer for the film. It is absolutely a must-see.

And below are trailers for some of the other films mentioned in this post:

The Olympics are over, and now I want to kill myself

Wanna throw around some balls?

 You wake up on any given day in the past few weeks and ask yourself, 'Is it too early for me to watch porn?' yes, but it's ok because the Olympics are on. I mean, that's basically porn isn't it? Minus the gymnastics because they are all teenagers and that's just wrong and gross. But hey, I'm not above muting the swim meets and getting just way too excited every time the USA medals, and so not for the reason that you think.

Lochte. #JEAH.

After the cringe-worthy everlasting bullshit clusterfuck mess that was the opening ceremony that we all had to deal with and be reminded of the fact that England makes really funny looking cars, the games officially began, and Jezebel was a buzz with one Ryan Lochte, the swimmer with a merman's fins, face of an angel, and brains like swiss cheese. We were introduced to his ridiculous collection of day-glow kicks, his American flag grillz, and his catchphrase ; 'Jeah', all of which we could do without because we all want Lochte just to do what all the others on his team do; shut up and swim.

I used to be friends with this one girl, no more. And you want to know why? Because we cannot stop being in a hypothetical completely unimaginable scenario argument as to who gets to lay Nathan Adrian when he gets back to the states, talking about it with a bleeding heart preoccupying adult fanaticism as if it's totally going to happen for real. Ergo, Nathan Adrian ruins friendships.

Nathan Adrian in speedo a.k.a. masturbation fodder for most of the American population.

If you're a guy of course you tuned into the beach volleyball match. I mean it's as close to soft-core we get at 8 o'clock in the morning. Muscly girls in tight spandex bikinis grunting like pornstars on steroids lunging for balls, all the while being very hot and sweaty to where their torsos glisten like Edward Cullen in sunlight. Tell me that's not a porn premise.

Hotter than shit US Goal keeper Hope Solo returns for the 2012 games and kicks serious ass all the way to the Gold Medal podium. By the by she made headlines months before by admitting that the Olympic village is one giant constant done to death fuckfest.

But after a painfully long and equally as useless closing ceremony celebrating British fashion (which is of course the first thing I think about when I think Olympics), and reminding us all what rubbish the British national anthem is, and letting me know that Prince Harry got fat, it was all finally mercifully over. US properly kicked ass, medaling head and shoulders above the rest, and Michael Phelps became the most celebrated and decorated Olympian since Larisa Latynina of the Soviet Union over 3 decades ago, and reminding us all that the Vault has no affect on our patriotism. No longer will we be able to sit at home all day not doing anything productive and only salivating every time they show Matt Grevers' biceps, Lolo Jones' abs, or Misty Mae-Treanor's rock hard ass. All we have is new episodes of Breaking Bad, so we can still ogle over Jesse Pinkman but they don't dress him in a comically small thong do they? Also, Breaking Bad makes you think, which is my favorite reason to watch the Olympics; no thinking. I'm going to miss you, see you in 4 years (not two years, because I couldn't care less about anything in the Winter Olympics sans figure skating). Now if you'll excuse me, I have swimming gay fan fiction to write. Damn it, someone beat me to it! (See below) 

Fifty Shades of Gay; Olympic Fan Fiction

Below some links to get ya'll hot and bothered.

 

Do We Really Need More Films About Meryl Going Through Menopause?

Meryl making the 'mischievous face' which she's kind of made her trademark of late.

I don't know about you, but one film I'll be skipping this season is Hope Springs (2012). Not that geriatrics getting it on is like insanely hot, but it basically seems like the plot of It's Complicated (2009) with a little bit of Mamma Mia (2009) and Julie and Julia (2009) through the Diane Keaton film Something's Gotta Give (2003) filter, comes this sweaty turd about nothing at all. Two Oscar winners in the cast, some of our most serious thespians, and they are choosing material called Hope Springs, which by the way sounds like a rehab center.

And why is it that something like menopause is always turned into a romantic comedy where the main female character is just dying for the last great sex of her life before her ovaries shrivel up like a pair of prunes in Death Valley and her vaginal cavity slowly sews itself together? And the male counterpart is always just fine with growing old and not being able to sustain boners anymore, because there's reruns of JAG on everyday, and golfing for him to get seriously competitive about. In the trailer, the Steve Carell character, who is their 'marriage therapist' suggests they have sex more often and the two of them are stunned. 'Sex, what's that? We grew up in an age where we slept in two separate twin size beds that were exactly 6 feet away from each other, and I was wearing petticoats. My fragile constitution cannot handle the violent thought of being fucked by my old wrinkly husband after which he would promptly fall asleep right on top of me rendering me unable to move and snoring right into my ears which I can barely hear out of anyway because I'm so old', says the look on Meryl's face.

Thank you Hollywood to presume that old people have sex with their clothes on because none of us want to handle seeing old saggy boobies.

I love Meryl so much, but she's kind of starting to repeat herself, and because she's in her 60's, a watershed time for any actress, the roles are becoming more predictable. Sure, there will be a Devil Wears Prada (2004) or The Iron Lady (2012) in there somewhere, but let's face it, it looks like Meryl will be retiring soon. I for one am rather tired of the giggly, pseudo-horny, childlike characters she plays that are always rediscovering their sexual awakening at the ripe old age of 63. It really seems like a money project, but with 3 Academy Awards under your belt, an AFI Lifetime Achievement Award, and an acting career that has sprawled along 5 decades, do you even need the money at that point? And I love how they've dusted off Tommy Lee Jones lately. Like he's never played an uppity 'never gonna change my ways' anal-retentive grumpy old man. This is definitely a skip piece. I can already tell the humor is sub-par, the plot is predictable, and the actors working way beneath their respective capabilities. Fail. 

Trailer for the film. Yawn.

My Favorite Woody Allen Films

Let's cut to the chase. Woody Allen is filthy. Woody Allen is prolific. Woody Allen is funny. Woody Allen averages a film a year. I'm watching the documentary about his illustrious and incomparable career and I'm going to make not a comprehensive list of my favorite films of his, but my top 10. In order. Here it is.PS this might be my shortest blog post ever.

1. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)

2. Love & Death (1975)

3. Match Point (2005)

4. Annie Hall (1977)

5. Sleeper (1973)

6. Bananas (1971)

7. Deconstructing Harry (1997)

8. Manhattan (1979)

9. Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)

10. Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008)

Below some favorite parts from the aforementioned films.

Spotlight On: Joaquin Phoenix

Joaquin Phoenix in a still from The Master (2012) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

After years of playing second banana to his much more talented older brother River, Joaquin (or Leaf as he was called back then) got his golden opportunity in 1995 playing opposite Nicole Kidman in perhaps one of the filthiest, most deliciously satiric films of that decade; Gus Van Sant's To Die For (1995). He was only 21 when he played a naive and rather idiotic high school student who gets seduced by Kidman's will-do-anything-to-be-famous-even-being-infamous character Susan Stone who convinces him through her lady parts to kill her dimwitted husband (Matt Dillon). After that, there seemed to be a lull in his career with flops like Oliver Stone's U-Turn (1997) and culty 90's bullshit like Clay Pigeons (1998). But then as we all know, he hit it big, and I mean big as the conniving, hedonistic, ego-maniacal, antagonist Commodus in Ridley Scott's Best Picture winning film, Gladiator (2000).

Joaquin opposite Nicole Kidman in To Die For (1995), jump starting his career at the bold young age of 20.

As an actor, Joaquin was always a very special presence. Jaded by the Hollywood machine that seemed to claim his brother's life when he was just a teenager, and intelligent enough to bring a forceful yet thoughtful edge to every one of his performances, Joaquin was never an actor who played by the rules, and the roles he chose proved to illustrate that. 

One of my favorite performances of his is when he played sexually repressed, and spiritually tortured Abbé de Coulmier in director Philip Kaufman's beautifully decadent and sharply dark interpretation about the life of the Marquis de Sade after his incarceration in Quills (2000). He proved to be as versatile as he was creative, and was unwilling to be compromised by Hollywood.

Joaquin Phoenix and Kate Winslet in Quills (2000)

This notion might have been driven too far when he went balls to the wall (no pun intended) with his bizarre 'performance art' stint as a methed-out Rabbi, but now he's back to normal and slated to garner even more awards and nominations in perhaps the most anticipated film of this year; cinematic genius' Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master (2012).  Just winning the principle role opposite Philip Seymour Hoffman in such a huge project which is premiering at two of the biggest International Film Festivals (Venice and Toronto) is a huge accomplishment and Joaquin proves time and time again that he's up to scratch and is more than just shtick and idiosyncrasy. People will finally start to take him seriously as the tour-de-force which he is, and will stop comparing him to the legacy left by his brother. Joaquin Phoenix is a filthy, unapologetic, obnoxious, tenacious genius, and talented as all fuck. With The Master (2012), he is well on his way to cinematic god-hood, and I have no doubt that he'll get there sooner rather than later...all we have to do is forget about I'm Still Here (2011) which I basically have, except for that full frontal part.

Below some trailers from his films including The Master (2012).

Trailer for I'm Still Here (2011)

Trailer for To Die For (1995)

Trailer for Walk the Line (2005)

Trailer for Quills (2000)

AWOL - An Unapologetic Look at Gay Women Home from War

A still from AWOL (dir. Deb Shoval)

A Columbia comrade of mine, Deb Shoval is making a feature out of a beautiful short film called AWOL, a sincere and devastating look at what happens when soldiers return from war, that is not Hollywood in any way, and I mean that in the best way possible. Here's the twist, unlike most films from Stop-Loss (2008) to Coming Home (1978) to The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), to the daily news, when we hear about soldiers returning home from war to their loving families, and coping with the process of painful adjustment, it's usually heterosexual couples. Think about it, footage is all over the place of men hugging their wives and children with an unbearably desperate love, but CNN always seems to shut off the cameras when it's a man coming home to his life-partner, or like what is explored in AWOL, when a woman soldier comes home to another woman who loves her. 

Even the New Queer Cinema movement, aside from some specific examples built its identity on 'gay' being a quintessentially man to man event, rather than a woman to woman conceptualization.

The film has a lot of buzz around it, and is definitely going to earn its keep among the great 'makes you think' indie films of this generation. 

Shoval draws not only from her own experiences but nuances themes of loss, fear, desire, and existentialism in a completely organic and non-pretentious way.

It is not a film about sex per se, nor is it about war, nor lesbians, though those are all inclusive within the plot. On the whole, it's a film about our humanity and our desperation in maintaining it. It is a slice of pure Americana at its most desolate, and most forgiving. Shoval illustrates that this is a film that we can all identify with. Sometimes the best way to tell a universal story is to tell it minutely, and as personally as possible, and this is what I believe Shoval is able to accomplish. She is one of those rare filmmakers that is completely sincere with every scene she creates. 

AWOL makes you think not only of those beautiful times that come with having ones that you love come back to you from unimaginable circumstances, but the hard part, which is everything that happens afterwards. 

Does it deserve to be a feature length film? Absolutely. In fact, I'm surprised no one has yet made it so. But you can help and donate to not only make this a reality, but also contribute to a very important aspect of our culture being finally put to celluloid completely devoid of pretentiousness, and wholly vulnerable and inspiring.

Below is where you can donate to this film: 

AWOL Film Project

Below, is a link to the New York Times article on the film to get more info on it: 

Big Movies Coming in Short Packages

The Hottest of the US Olympic Swim Team

Let's face it, there's no such thing as an ugly Olympic swimmer. With those crazy Greek statue bodies, and million-dollar smiles, they're irresistible. Yes, they look like sperm swimming up and down their lanes, but when they surface and smack that water like a bitch when they win the 400 meter relay, it's pretty damn hot, because all of their insanely cut muscles flex. Also, I don't mind those tight really, really really low-rise spandex shorts that they have to wear to make themselves more aerodynamic.

With news that Michael Phelps has now, with 20 gold medals, become the world's most successful Olympian of all time, more attention has been focused on the men's Olympic swim team than Ryan Lochte's ridiculous grillz. They are giving horny girls everywhere another reason to chant 'U-S-A! U-S-A!' before excusing themselves to their bedrooms to rub it to a picture of Phelps...from the neck down. They are the rock stars of Olympic sports, and for the sake of degradation of the male population, I've put them in order from hottest to not so hottest, because there's no such thing as an gross man on the US Olympic swim team. I mean, they shave everywhere, ladies. It's like that Louis CK joke about musicians; you would expect at least one of them to be ugly but...fuckin' zero. So because there's 24 of them on the team and only 10 spots on my countdown some of the lovely mermen have been left off, but don't feel bad for them, they'll comfort themselves with gold medals, especially you Phelps. I know you're the greatest Olympian that ever lived, but you didn't make the cutoff. No pun intended. Here we go!

10. Peter Vanderkaay. This Royal-Oak native has that meat-head yet geek thing going for him, where his neck is as thick as his head, but he's slightly on the cock-eyed side. And his smile is simply adorbs. He gets the awww-how-cute vote. He's a jock you want to snuggle.

9. Nathan Adrian. I remember my BFF (you know who you are) railing against Gabby Douglas' nickname being racist (the media calls her 'the flying squirrel') which is nothing compared to what this boy deals with as part of his multicultural heritage. Being half-Chinese apparently his teammates refer to him as 'Bok-Choy' which is highly offensive and ridiculous, but joke's on them, because this boy's genes clearly do him good.

8. Conor Dwyer. At only 23, this guy is a giant. He's 6'5 ya'll...that's two inches away from being declared legally a giant...I think, whateves I don't know. I mean he could pick you up with one hand and then lift you over his head. And then swallow you whole for the protein. Sexy? As hell.

7. Matt Grevers. This one is one of my favorites. You thought Conor was big, this guy's 6'8. I feel like it would hurt my neck to cock it up high enough to make out with him but I'm willing to take the risk, even if it means my being in a neck-brace for a month. BTW, what he's doing in the picture is exactly what I'm talking about...celebrate-flexing. Should that be a sport unto itself? I vote yes. Matt, make out with me!

6. Brendan Hansen. Ladies, doesn't this look like the cover of a romance novel from the mid-90's? What I love the most is he's not this hugely built jock type. He's pretty tone and slender (comparatively) and he's got that awesome, I don't know what to call it, but it's so awesome. As you can see it's becoming hard to form sentences because I'm getting flustered, but it's that thing below a guy's waste, it looks like a fancy 'V' it's just, it's awesome.

5. Ryan Lochte. Alright, here he is. You happy? I know you've been waiting just to find him on the list and here. I put him on the countdown. ok? Let's not deny it, he's dumber than a frat party after 2am, but this list isn't called 'the top ten poet laureates of all time' is it? He's so much fun to watch as long as I don't have to hear him speak...or see his grillz. Just photoshop those out and put him on mute.

4. Ricky Berens. 5 o'clock shadow - check, perfect set of pearly white teeth - check, beautiful head of thick brown hair - check, chestnut eyes that burn into your very soul - check. The end.

3. Anthony Ervin. When I was watching the trials, I already had my eye on this one. He caught my attention immediately. You know I love a guy who's inked up and has a bad-boy swagger but with a sensitive side, and that's basically Ervin in a nutshell. He's older and more seasoned, but just as talented and driven. Also, did I mention he can like a dolphin on steroids?

2. Eric Shanteau. Talk about a baby face on a body built for sin...and gold medals, Shanteau is simply delicious. He's got a beautiful physique coupled with a pair of gorgeous, innocent eyes, I was instantly a fan. Also, it seems like his swim trunks are way tighter than everyone else's. No complaints. He also looks way younger than he is. Seemingly on the younger end of the team, he's actually 28. And I like how he 'hangs out' in the pool more than usual. Just catchin' some chemical bath before the next race, like a boss.

1. Cullen Jones. And the #1 Greek god in a slew of ridiculously super-human looking men is Cullen Jones. Perfection. That's all I have to say. Fast, smooth, silky, tone, dimply, delicate, sensual, seductive, mouth-watery perfection. I have to finish now...no pun intended.

Now, clean yourself up and watch this!

Tie Me Up, America.

Kink has come a long way...the first of many puns in this blog post.

Have we ever taken a turn for the masochistic of late. And I love it. Usually it required one locking up all doors and windows and ordering a channel only your most perverted friends had even heard of or going to a dingy warehouse with ziploc sandwich bags tied around your hands to pick out the right ball-gag which you would then proceed to lock in a steel safe in your basement until all of your neighbors were all away on a groupon cruise to the Mediterranean. Now you walk into a Walmart or a Von's and first thing on the shelf in front of you are copies of 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Right next to it? Furry handcuffs.

Now, kink is manifest in the more sophisticated class, with better engineered instruments and a general polished, nuanced aesthetic that appeals to more of a general public rather than just a cult fad.

Polo gear stores are struggling to keep riding crops on their shelves and the elderly ma & pa-type owners can't understand why they are selling those dang riding crops and nothing else. Here's a hint, it's not for polo tournaments, grandad.

And now Hollywood is getting in on all of the sado-masochistic action and popping that last taboo right into our 'vanilla' consciousness (no pun intended). Sundance premiered a film back in January called Compliance (2012), which for months was the talk of the town, and is slated for limited release this August. It stars Dreama Walker from Don't Trust the B---- in Apt 23 fame. It concerns a lowly fast-food employee around 19, who is tricked into some kind of sick masochistic scheme wherein her coworkers are coerced by an anonymous presence over the phone claiming to be the police to strip search her, and make her do generally degrading sexual acts all under the guise that she is guilty of stealing money from another co-worker. 

Dreama Walker in Compliance (2012) one of the most highly anticipated films of the year.

There's no question about it, the biggest 'It' thing is BDSM, and everyone is trying their hand at it. 20/20 recently did a retrospective on how marriages were saved by 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Couples started trying kink in the bedroom and it brought back all the heat, and made everyone pregnant. That's right, there's apparently a new baby boom looming and we have one person to thank for that; E. L. James, who took Twilight fanfiction and not only made it the highest selling book of all time, but generated a serious pop-culture fad that looks like it's going to stick around for a while...again, no pun intended. 

Sexual trends have always carried significant weight in pop-culture, but then usually receded back into the norm, or what E. L. James describes as 'vanilla sex'; you know that boring kind of sex where you're in missionary just staring at each other, wondering if you want pasta or chicken for dinner, looking at the dog and mutually rolling your eyes, and counting down the seconds before you can start faking an orgasm. Kink has been around forever and the day. When I was 20, I went to the Red Vic in the Haight district in San Francisco to watch a series called The Good Old Naughty Days. 

This retrospective even has its own wikipedia page check it out.

The Good Old Naughty Days 

It was 10 or so 'blue films'. For those of you not in the know, a 'blue film' is what people used to call pornography, they also called them 'stag films'. Anyway these films were probably dirtier than anything I've seen with starring Sasha Grey these days. They had to do with things like nuns, plates, people on leashes, and so on and so forth. Did I mention these films were from 1895 - 1911? I didn't? Well that's rather important. People were basically making pornographic films for as long as people had been making films. That's right, while the Georges Méliès was shooting A Trip to the Moon (1902), there were people shooting two women dressed as nuns licking each others nipples. 

A still from one of the films in The Good Old Naughty Days series. These films were initially intended to be seen in French brothels as costumers waited for their prostitutes to get ready.

Kink kind of stayed in the background as American culture grew more mundane and compliant (no more puns intended!), but had a huge resurgence with the influx of fetish magazines in the 40's and Bettie Page who reinvented fetish culture particularly accessory fetishes like leather boots, lace-ups, stilettos, dark make-up, fishnet stalkings, and vinyl underwear. 

Bettie Page in Teaser Girl in High Heels (1950) a cult short wearing her now infamous fetish gear.

In the 60's, the big thing was wife-swapping and orgies. Films were made about that as well such as Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice (1969) starring Elliot Gould (I know, gross), Natalie Wood, and Diane Cannon. And now, it just so happens that the new fad in sex is to be tied down to a four-box bed and being whipped within an inch of your life...and liking it.
All Hollywood has to do now is catch up. Compliance (2012) is a gritty independent drama about sexual innocence lost through senseless and reckless violence, but with casting of Christian Grey being the hottest topic of conversation on the interwebs, and directors like Cronenberg still working with those themes, this might be the sex fad that's here to stay.

Cronenberg, who was always at the vanguard of strange sex, (which by the way is also the name of a hotly rated TV show at the moment), has released two films in the last two years about that very topic. One about spank-happy Sabina Spielrein, a pupil and sexual partner of Carl Jung, played immeasurably badly by Kiera Knightly - A Dangerous Method (2011). The other is the highly anticipated Cosmopolis (2012) about a billionaire playboy who has a lot of kinky sex in his limo while the world destroys itself around him, starring Robert Pattinson, the influence for the character of Christian Grey in the E. L. James series. How appropriate. 

Still from Cronenberg's Cosmopolis (2012) which could be directly out of 'Fifty Shades of Grey' as far as I'm concerned. Robert Pattinson with Sarah Gadon, two people that could not be better cast as Christian and Anastasia respectively.

No longer is BDSM something only porn producers have to worry about. It's taken over basically all media outlets. From television to films, to the ads in Vogue to literature. If you're still thinking about writing the great American novel or re-booting the tale of Snow-White, maybe it's time to turn off the life-support and get with the times. The general consensus seems to be: Tie me up, America.

Below, some videos on the subject.

Another Polanski Documentary?

Polanski in his director's chair.

No one loves Polanski more than me...ok, a lot of people love Polanski more than I do, but it's time to cut it out with the 'retrospectives' mmmkay? Certainly he's had a life that few of us could even envision living from being a Holocaust refugee to the gruesome and infamous murder of his pregnant wife Sharon Tate by the Manson family, to his trial and subsequent fleeing to France on statutory rape charges. Most recently, there was the drama when he was arrested in Switzerland for the same charges while crossing borders to accept a Lifetime Achievement award in 2008. All of us film buffs a.k.a former film students had something to say when that happened, and it was usually 'moral dilemma' which is basically how we've always dealt with Polanksi considering anything that would come up as a moral issue vs. the talent of a filmmaker happened before we were born.

Polanski's wife Sharon Tate was 9 months pregnant with his child at the time of her murder in 1969. She was 26.

Everyone all of a sudden wants to tell the Polanski story, like it's nothing our parents weren't telling us about, recounting reading about it in the papers. It's basically part of our history now. For some reason Hollywood is refusing to go there because it's still a touchy subject because Polanski has not yet been reprimanded for what he did, nor have the Manson murders on Cielo Dr. ever seemed so far away that people who live and work in LA can forget about them.
Everything sensational in Polanski's life, save his life as a child runaway from the Nazi's seemed to have occurred under Hollywood's influence and because of a seeming 'decadent culture running wild'. I can see why Hollywood storytellers would be putting a lot on the line including their ability to work in this town again if they dared adapting it for the screen. And like casting wouldn't be a dang nightmare and a half. 

Also, Polanski was one of those ironic Hollywood enigmas, I use the word ironic considering how crazy infamous his life was and yet how he always managed to remain somewhat of a mystery personally. He was a film prodigy of sorts immigrating from Poland with a string of extremely well-received 'artsy foreign' films under his belt which was all the rage at the time (the mid to late 60's). He came to Hollywood as a foreigner but soon found out that he was just what the machine was looking for at the time; someone with a unique voice and sensibility, and one hell of a dark side that could take ordinary stories about ordinary people and make them terrifyingly surreal, and viscerally psychological.

Polanski directing arguably his most famous film Rosemary's Baby (1969)

My personal favorite of his films is one of his so-called 'Apartment trilogy' series called The Tenant (1976) starring himself, Shelley Winters, Melvyn Douglas, and Isabelle Agjani. It concerns a soft-spoken, shy Polish immigrant to Paris who takes up residence in a strange apartment with disconcerting neighbors who inform him that the apartment he now occupies used to belong to a girl who threw herself out of one of the windows. Slowly he begins to transform into this mysterious and enigmatic girl and hallucinates that his irritable neighbors are trying to lead him to suicide much like they did with that girl.

Polanski in The Tenant (1976)

Anyway, I've gotten off-kilter. I guess I'll use any opportunity to sell The Tenant to people, because apparently not many have seen it. Anyway, Toronto recently announced that part of their documentary roster will include a new documentary called Polanski: Odd Man Out (2012), which is kinda sorta a follow up to Polanski: Wanted and Desired (2012). And I'm not sure exactly what a follow up is. Is that how you say 'sequel' in the documentary medium? And do we actually need a follow up? Is there anything about Polanski we don't already know, that the New York Times, every tabloid imaginable, and a string of documentaries and TV specials haven't already told us? I suppose it will have something to do with the debacle in Switzerland and his subsequent house-arrest, though I'm not dying to see how they make a long stint under house arrest into a 2-hour documentary. Wanted and Desired was a no-holds barred look at Polanski's life, specifically his statutory rape charge and what followed. No film student would ever be the same after that. Because when asked our thoughts on Polanski we would always have this hesitant nervousness look on our face and take a few seconds to think before answering 'I'm a big fan of his films, BUT...' and then throw in our personal outlook on the moral questions presented by personal exploits.

13-year-old Samantha Greimer, Polanski's victim to whom he gave quaaludes and champagne and proceeded to have sex with leading to incendiary charges of statutory rape and his eventual fleeing to France to avoid conviction.

There was yet another documentary called Roman Polanski: A Film Memoir (2011) released just last year, about yes, all the same stuff again with more interviews with Polanski and less archive footage. Might we be in Polanski-documentary overkill mode?
I suppose it helps when your professional career starts to falter and you go from something unique like The Ghost Writer (2010) to garbage like Carnage (2011), that you still have a documentary that comes out about you every 3 or so years saying basically the same thing over and over again. It might lead up to good press for your films even if they're awful. Polanski is currently in pre-production for his upcoming period thriller D (2014), and has never stopped pushing cinematic boundaries hoping that one day the world and particularly the states will forget what he did that fateful night in Jack Nicholson's home on Mulholland Dr. He also has strived to become a director who's work has to be dissociated from his private life. But I don't know if that's ever really going to happen. If Wanted and Desired was a perfect description of his life in 2008, where in America he's wanted, but in France, he's desired, then Odd Man Out stands as a spot on description of his life on the whole.

Below, the trailer for Polanski: Wanted and Desired (2008) and Polanski: A Film Memoir (2011). I can't seem to find the Polanski: Odd Man Out (2012) trailer but I assume it's very similar to the formerly mentioned films.