12/19/05
MORE LIKE VICEROY KONG
King Kong opens at
number one and apparently I saw I different movie than all these critics
who are screaming “epic.” Now, I’m a geek so I’ve got no problem with a silly-ass concept being treated as seriously as a heart attack. In fact nothing pisses me off more quickly than someone not understanding why a man dressed up like a bat should be taken seriously, but three hours is simply too much time to spend on a giant monkey. Sorry, but it is. It’s not a bad movie, but it’s not a masterpiece either. Part of the reason is that Peter Jackson is simply too enamored with the original to accept it wasn’t that great either. This is more an homage than actual movie and three hours of homage may make Peter Jackson’s dick hard, but it’s a wear on the ass of the average moviegoer. And so much of it wasted on the obvious. Gee, you think the reason we get to know the crew as individuals is so that we’ll be affected by their horrible deaths on the island? And they only pertain to the island, mind you, because once they return to New York with Kong, they no longer matter so you wonder why the time was wasted. You notice Star Trek didn’t dwell on the guys in the red shirts. And what’s the point of remaking an old film if you aren’t going to at least give it a more sophisticated sheen? Enhance it with all the realities that the old film couldn’t? Like the scene where we see Kong was once one of many giant apes. But this film might as well have been made in 1938, as there’s no mention on the effects of having Naomi Watts as the only woman on a ship filled with crusty sailors. Unless there’s a super-hip subtext about them all being gay, they’re all perfect gentlemen towards her. Sex? What’s that? Nor is there any questioning of the logic of dozens of men risking their lives for one person or shooting a giant ape off a building (um, where do you think it’s gonna land, fellas?). The pacing also leaves a lot to be desired. It takes us forever to get to the freaking island (first we must endure the circumstances of the Great Depression that drives Naomi Watts), then it takes forever to get off the freaking island (where we must endure Peter Jackson trying to out-dinosaur Spielberg). God forbid we jettison this shit for maybe the reaction of the world at large to the discovery of Kong. You’d think no one outside of area code 212 knew about a giant ape and no one at all cared for an island where dinosaurs still lived. Only the final act where Kong breaks free moves---whoops, not quite. Even then we’re forced to endure more bonding moments with Kong and Naomi Watts, as they---I SHIT YOU NOT---go
skating in Central Park on the frozen lake, bringing the film to a dead stop of total absurdity. This is not to say that modern technology and at talented director don’t bring something new to the table. The film’s
high point is easily the fight of King Kong versus not one, but two T-Rex
dinosaurs. It too is a bit long, but fun. Also, the digitally recomposed
New York City is truly impressive and used just enough to make you want
more, but not so much you begin to see its limitations (like some of the
special effects on the island).
BECAUSE THAT CONSTANTINE SEQUEL LOOKS DIM
Chronicles of Narnia
is down to number two and I guess Tilda Swinton had a car payment to
make, because this type of big budget film is totally outside her milieu.
Granted she was also in Constantine, but in that she played the angel
Gabriel in a pinstriped suit with wings. That was subversive enough
to warrant her attention, but this? Not to mention it totally looks
like the character of Cate Blanchett (to whom she bears a slight resemblence)
from Lord of the Rings. To me, she’ll always be Orlando
or the protagonist of Female Perversions, which is sadly, now best known
as the film where Marcia Cross goes topless (and like Teri Hatcher, the
reality never lives up to the dream).
WHAT, WAS SLY & THE FAMILY STONE’S
FAMILY AFFAIR TOO OBVIOUS?
The Family Stone opens
at number three and you’d think Sarah Jessica Parker on the big screen would have my instant devotion and it did---until I saw the clip of the women dancing and singing together to a top forty hit (“Right Back Where We Started From” by Maxine Nightingale, which is a great song). That stank of contrived, formula filmmaking. Seriously, has this ever happened to anyone, anywhere at any time? I know lots of musically inclined people, but never do we ever burst into a joyous song and I’ve been with my boy O.G. (Original Geek) and we were inclined into a little “Jamie’s Cryin’” in fucking music store where there were instruments! But no one joined in and we stopped at the chorus (at the time Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing” was playing on the store speakers and he asked me where the same was from and we took it from there). Then there’s the oh-so-original idea that, as the uptight fiancé she finds an attraction with his looser brother, and then he sees her sister and…give me a break. I’ve got too little free time these days to subject myself to this. Movie star families onscreen also tend to annoy me because to create the right ensemble, the kids are either all the same age, which is impossible or there’s a twenty-year gap between full-grown kids, which we’re supposed to ignore (hey, everyone is not Irish Catholic). And the parents of these broods were all successful and both working despite having to raise the Brady Bunch with no help. And the idea of a deaf gay brother with a Black boyfriend is such a fucking movie contrivance it makes me want to vomit. That is the height of bad indie film pretension. HE’S DEAF! HE’S DEAF AND GAY! HE’S
DEAF AND GAY AND HIS BOYFRIEND IS BLACK. Fuck you.
DOCTOR WHO? (GET IT?
THEY’RE BOTH DOCTORS IN SCIENCE FICTION AND…FORGET
IT)
Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire is down to number four, followed by Syriana at number five and yes that is Dr. Julian Bashir from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, no longer pretending not to be of Arab descent and actually playing one onscreen (hey, you don’t Casey Kasem---that’s originally Kasim, boys and girls---doing it). And no, he is not the same actor who plays the gay friend in Bridget Jones’s
Diary, but ironically, that guy has also secured his future at science
fiction conventions by playing Dr. Baltar on the new, better-than-it-ever-had-any-right-to-be,
Battlestar Galactica.
ONE ROCKY IN THE HAND IS WORTH AN INDIE FILM IN THE BUSH
Walk The Line is down
to number six and the director says that the decision to make this
movie came while he was working on Copland. Well, I guess that’s why
the interesting premise goes straight to hell halfway through because
he had already moved on. Glad to see he did finally learn to finish
one movie before starting the next. Stallone would have appreciated
back then though, it as it was his big Pulp Fiction type of indie move
where he bad-mouthed all his action films because he thought this was
going to re-create him as an actor.
I SUPPOSED “HUMPBACK” MOUNTAIN
WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO OBVIOUS
Yours, Mine and Ours
drops down to number seven, followed by Brokeback Mountain (how long
before the porn version, “Bareback” Mountain comes out?), entering the top ten at number eight and isn’t “gay cowboy movie” a bit redundant? Isn’t there a strong homoerotic undercurrent in virtually every cowboy movie ever made? George Carlin has said only two funny things in his life and one was the exchange of “fuck” for “kill” in a western pretty much lets you know what’s really going on (his other funny bit was the difference between baseball and football---which gets less funny the more I think of it). Let’s face it, they’re all about one guy so in love with another but unable to show it so instead he does bad things so his desired (usually the sheriff) will be forced to pay attention to him. And Gene Hackman’s obsession with Russell Crowe in The Quick & The Dead is one of the prime examples of this. Russell Crowe “dumps” Gene
Hackman by refusing to be in his gang and become a priest (oh, man how
gay is that!?!). In a rage, Gene Hackman sends his men to bring Crowe back,
burning down the church. But not to kill him. In fact, when one of his
men dares hurt his true love, Gene Hackman kills him. Yeah, try Sharon
Stone might in the lead, this is One Big Gay Western.
YES, IRONIC IS HOW
WE’D DESCRIBE ALL OF THIS
Just Friends continues
to mock me by hanging around, followed by Aeon Flux closing out the
top ten at number ten and the drinks are on Halle at whatever bar she’s in right now. This cost $65M before prints and advertising, which wasn’t that much, so let’s say this pushes the total up to $80M. It’s made $25M worldwide. Catwoman cost $100M (probably $125M total) and made $82M. And in the end Halle had balls enough to go accept her award for Worst Actress in the Worst Movie at the Rasberry Awards at the end of the year. Somehow, I think Charlize doesn’t
have the same sense of humor about herself.
I THOUGHT TRAGEDY + TIME = FUNNY?
Limited star sightings
these days, which is odd considering they’re shooting movies everywhere I turn around. But I did see Gabriel Byrne on his way to his Broadway show. Shorter than I expected, though taller than me (but who isn’t?). Martha Plimpton on Madison avenue in a little butch cut which fits her look, but can’t help with casting her given how “unconventionally attractive” (i.e., ugly) she is. I wanted to collapse in front of her yelling, “Meat is murder! Help me find the vein! Meat is murder!” but I don’t
think she would have appreciated it.
THE KING AMONGST HIS PEOPLE
So, I’ve been at St. Mark’s Comics for a few weeks now and I’m beginning to wonder if Macy’s might not have been better for me financially. Not simply that they paid more, but there was hardly going to be the temptation to buy underwear every time I worked. Unlike my time at St. Mark’s Comics, where there’s temptation from the moment I walk in the door to the moment I leave. And that employee discount is not helping me to resist. Somehow I don’t see myself engaged in a struggle with myself every time a new style of boxer briefs came in the way I am every time a new Superman figure comes in. I turn to the little man inside my head that helps me make these decisions and he’s already clearing out space for it on my shelf (useless fucker. I’m gonna make him start paying rent). I’m not so much working for money as I am to fill my house with more geek shit. But I would have died a slow spiritual death at Macy’s. A nasty job in a horrible location with lots of people to get on my nerves, especially during the holiday season (then there was this bullshit about having to push Macy’s cards on people). At least I like the East Village and I have something to talk about with the customers---which wasn’t going to happen at Macy’s (“Don’t you like the way the Calvin Klein briefs don’t so much hold your balls as they do caress them?”). It’s a welcome antidote to working on 57th & Madison during the day. Sorry, but it stinks of money and decay up there. The streets are filled with thousand-dollar stores filled with thousand-year-old faces (no matter what that plastic surgeon tried to do). And even though I’m relatively the old man in East Village, I’d rather see a $20 jacket on a 20-year-old. But I maintain having attractive women constantly coming in is Fate’s way of mocking me, because aside from literally being young enough to be my daughters (still waiting patiently for the hot, single mom shopping for her kid), there were no girls buying comics when I was a kid and if there were, they looked like the men in drag (overly skinny or fat, poorly dressed, dirty hair and no social skills). Now, while most fall into that Indie Rocker Chick or Goth Girl persona, there are attractive, normal looking girls who come right in and buy Superman. To top it off, an attractive little girl I occasionally work with wants me and another older geek to teach her all about comics when her finals are done. I want to scream at her, “NOOOOO! Run away! If you take that metal out of your face, you can live a normal life with normal people who don’t froth at the mouth when discussing Brett Ratner directing X-Men 3.” But
the words of old geeks are lost upon young ears.
12/12/05 PASSION OF THE CHRIST II: THE TWO TOWERS
Chronicles of Narnia: The
Lion The Witch & The Wardrobe opens at number one and aside from not being a big fantasy fan, much less kiddie fantasy, I was not about to go to the “Lord Jesus Christ of the Rings” and I get a kick out of the fact that Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were friends and Tolkien found the books lacking. Well, that happens when you aren’t satisfied with just telling a story and have to push your dogma on people. And if I’m gonna get swords and sorcery, I want sex and/or violence, which you’re damn sure not going to get in a kiddie movie. This is why I still love the original Conan and the underrated Sword & The Sorcerer. They had all the blood and nudity a good sword and sorcery epic requires. And if Tolkien himself was a real man with real balls, Middle Earth would have been tropical, thus forcing everyone to walk around half-naked in little more than leather or chainmail swimsuits. Then and only then would it be the greatest fantasy series ever. That’s why it’s
still John Carter, Warlord of Mars and every one who disagrees with me
can kiss my ass.
YES, ANAKIN SKYWALKER WAS ACTUALLY KARL ROVE
Syriana opens wide and rises
to number two in the continuing story of “Liberals in Hollywood Find Their Balls.” Despite my own liberal leanings, I have yet to see it, because if I want to see fucked up Middle East policy, I’ll turn on the news. When I got to the movies, I want to see shit like Aeon Flux, not “George Clooney Explains To You What’s Wrong With The World.” Hell, I stopped reading the Village Voice years ago for similar reasons. I prefer metaphor over people getting in my face even if I do agree with them. Give me X-Men as a metaphor for race relations (or homosexuality) any day. I hate George Lucas and Revenge of the Sith sucked donkey dick, but I have to respect how he threw in his shots (“So this is how democracy dies? To thunderous applause.”), not to mention his steady denial of it. I’ll
probably see it eventually, but with every passing day, this becomes less
and less likely.
ORIGINAL MEN IN BLACK
Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire is down to number three followed by Walk The Line at number four and alongside Elvis, Buddy Holly and Jerry Lee Lewis, there’s also an appearance by Roy Orbison, another man-in-black who also deserves a movie, especially given he died at the height of his comeback (and his life has plenty of the tragedy these movies love). Also, in a non-musical role is my beloved Shelby Lynne as Carrie Cash, Johnny’s mother and she actually gets to sing a little hymn in the movie. Shelby rules, goddamnit, and cranks out a good album every year like clockwork. Yeah, the follow-up to her Grammy-winner “I Am Shelby Lynne” (which you should all go buy RIGHT FUCKING NOW) was over-produced like a muthafucka, but still had good songs under all the plastic. How great is Shelby? When asked recently who she liked in Nashville, none other than Loretta fucking Lynne mentioned Shelby, added, “That girl does not play.” Seriously. Shelby is not known to be a barrel of laughs. But if you’d seen your father murder your mother before blowing his own brains out, leaving you to raise your baby sister (Allison Moorer, a talent in her own right), you wouldn’t be much fun either. Maybe when she comes out of the closet she’ll be able to relax. Oh, who are we kidding? Shelby’s
a big ole dyke. k.d lang needs to give girlfriend a call and help her out.
ASK NOT FOR WHOM THE BELL
TOLLS…
Yours, Mine & Ours is down to
number five followed by Aeon Flux at number six and somewhere Halle Berry
is laughing, because right after winning her Oscar, Charlize Theron got
a little bitchy, joking in New York Magazine that she wouldn’t do a Bond
film after winning her Oscar actually saying, “Make a note: don’t
have a career like Halle Berry.” Bitch, Halle Berry is pushing
40, a minority and is still at the peak of her career with a very healthy
X-Men franchise to help erase the stink of Catwoman. Think you’ll have
that at 40? Besides, what you got? North Country? Not to mention, she
was filming the Bond film before she was even nominated and it was incredibly
successful. Oh, and guess who’s
being discussed by the producers for the next Bond film? Yep, Charlize
Theron.
BLOODIED BUT UNBOWED
Just Friends is hanging around
at number seven and given how little this must have cost, it may wind
up becoming a minor hit for all involved, but I regret nothing I’ve said!
Nothing!
JUST REMEMBER: SIR LAURENCE OLIVIER WAS IN THE BETSY
Pride & Prejudice is down to number eight and remember when you couldn’t do a stately British film without Sir John Gielguld and then Sir Anthony Hopkins? Now you can’t
do one without Dame Judi Densch. Her name means instant legitimacy to a
film like this. Sadly, not even she could class-up Chronicles of Riddick---though
I love it without shame.
MANLY MUSICALS FOR MANLY MEN
Chicken Little is down to
number nine, followed by Rent at number ten and now it’s off to begin its life of helping talented, somewhat flamboyant young men discover who they really are, but the writer, Jonathan Larsen was not gay and if you look at that characters, it’s pretty obvious. The core of the group is two straight guys, who once lived with two other guys and the women all come from their relationships, not simply members of the group. Also, the character of Mimi is a teenage stripper with a heart of gold. Only a straight guy writes that shit. But who the fuck decided Sarah Silverman had any place in this film? Probably the same person who convinced her she’s attractive. She’s not ugly, but when she describes herself that way I want to yell out, “Honey, you’re ‘attractive’ only compared to other comedians. Only standing next to fucking Chris Rock are you good looking.” And her whole act stinks of that same kind of desperate need for acceptance by girls who want to be accepted by men. You know, that one dumb broad who complains how she likes sports and hates chick flicks, completely ignoring that she’s usually somewhat attractive and if she were thirty pounds heavier those same guys would have nothing to do with her. Any of those skanky broads on a sports show constantly posing in Maxim is who I’m
talking about.
TURNING JAPANESE
Not breaking the top ten
because it’s in limited “Qualify for an Oscar release” is Memoirs of A Geisha. I never read the book because, quite frankly, I was just not buying the memoirs of an Asian woman written by a Jewish guy. I know that’s small-minded, but I have limits to belief in a writer’s gifts and this was one of them. But I do like Rob Marshall since he was robbed of Best Director for Chicago and am a fan of Michele Yeoh. Zhang Ziyi has never disappointed me, but I’m just not feeling her and I’ve
never gotten the appeal of Gong Li (which I still say is large breasts)---until
now. This movie is very pretty to watch, but ultimately does not draw
you in and the only passion to be found is in Gong Li who never fails
to appear without tousled hair (usually from just having boned her lover)
and a glower of nothing but contempt and menace towards anyone who crosses
her. I’d rather the movie had been about her memoirs, a woman super-pissed about being in the powerless position of geisha and ready to take it out on the world. Instead, we get Zhang Ziyi’s tepid tale of a girl sold into a geisha house who finally accepts her fate as a geisha, actually pursuing it when she falls for Ken Wantanabe after he buys her flavored ice in the streets. Forget that this life costs her a sister she never sees again (and never tries to find), but am I suppose to overlook that she’s 13
FUCKING YEARS OLD WHEN THIS HAPPENS!?! I’m sorry, I simply cannot buy into this decade-long story of longing love when it begins between a child and a full grown man---WHO
ACTUALLY MENTIONS HIS OWN CHILDREN WHEN HE MEETS HER! Ewwwwwww! Aside from my own distaste, the romance never really gels and there’s actually more interest in Ken Wantanabe’s best friend who also falls for Zhang Ziyi. Michele Yeoh is the geisha who trains Zhang Ziyi and all I could think about when they were together was their great fight in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. What I would have given for a little of that kinetic emotion here. And while there’s been a small controversy in China over three Chinese actresses playing Japanese (as usual, the Japanese could give a shit), the real problem is over the command of English. I’m sorry, but it does interfere with the flow of the dialogue. Not that it’s that great, but when accents stumble over words, it only draws attention to the fact. None of these women are bad actresses in their own language, so it’s
definitely a problem here. And I cannot believe that between fucking New
York and LA not one Asian-American actress was good enough. Somewhere Ming-Na,
Lucy Liu, Kelly Hu, Tamblyn Tomita and half a dozen others are doing some
very angry drinking right about now.
YOU PROBABLY THINK THIS SONG
IS ABOUT YOU…BECAUSE
IT IS
Remember what I said about
women’s names in songs? Well, those damn Jennifers have struck again, in what has thankfully pushed “Seasons of Love” out of my head---even though I literally hear it every time I walk into any type of store. I walked into a dive bar and heard it! My new favorite song is “27 Jennifers” by Mike Doughty, who as some of you may know was Soul Coughing. Oh, there were other members in the band, but he did all the writing and singing. Why and how do Jennifers fuck men up like this? I dunno, but they’ve been doing it since day one, starting the bitch mother to them all: Guinevere. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice in Camelot King Arthur called her “Jenny” all the time? Jennifer is the Cornish version of the original Welsh name Gwenhwyar (the French-Norman spelling is Guinevere and just as she destroyed Arthur’s Camelot, they’ve been destroying all our little Camelots since then). It really never went beyond there until George Bernard Shaw used it in a play in 1905. It became the virus it is today thanks to David O. Selznick who renamed Phyllis Isley Walker “Jennifer Jones.” He chose Jennifer because it was actually unusual at the time. Now, however, you could go onto any street in America, yell “Jennifer!” and half-a-dozen women would turn around. It was the number one girl’s name between 1970 and 1984. Bitter? No, I’m not bitter. Why do you ask? I just know that my sister saw her at a wedding and she’s
fat now.
THAT NIGGA’S CRAZY. AND
DEAD.
Richard Pryor died and I
see Death is back to taking A-list again. Not that I didn’t enjoy Wendi Jo Sperber on Bosom Buddies and am saddened by her death (not to mentioned wondering why she wasn’t given the Peter Scolari treatment by Tom Hanks with a bit in nearly every movie), she’s no Richard Pryor. Few people know that Richard Pryor actually contributed to the Blazing Saddles script, which is one of the reasons it remains so sharp after all this time. In fact, they cut one of his jokes. In the scene were Madeline Kahn (also dead) turns out the lights and unzips Cleavon Little’s (also dead) fly, she says, “It’s trwoo! It’s trwoo!” Pryor actually wrote that Little responded, “Thank you, ma’am, but would please stop sucking on my elbow.” Now that’s
a funny muthafucka and it makes me want vomit every time someone like Margaret
Cho is compared to Richard Pryor. Only David Chapelle even comes close
and you realize that you need to be a little crazy to be that funny.
12/05/05
Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire holds at number one and how lucky are these producers that these kids didn’t go fugly once puberty hit? If anything, the Harry kid and the girl are getting better looking (while the other one faces his ugly, redheaded destiny in the Danny Bonaduce fashion). We all remember what Justin Henry from Kramer Vs. Kramer turned into, right? I mean, you did realize he was Molly Ringwald’s smartass fat little brother in 16 Candles, right? And let’s not forget what happened to Lacey Chabert from Party of Five. Puberty made her unrecognizable. She was a cute big-eyed kid who turned into a second-rate Jennifer Love Hewitt---who is not pretty and never was, even as a kid.
“AEON SUCKS” IS BENEATH ME
Aeon Flux opens at number two and the key to film enjoyment remains low expectations. I went into this expecting a movie of Catwoman level of competence, which is to say, none at all. After all, is this not Charlize Theron’s first big starring role and payday after winning Best Actress? Is there not a rule that reads, “When you get the gold man, you’re free to whore yourself to the highest bidder.” It’s also known as the Nicholas Cage Rule, as he walked away from years of at least trying to make interesting films to working with Jerry Bruckheimer after winning Best Actor. Because of that and some really fucking awful trailers, I went in expecting to lose 90 minutes of my life to some miserable shit. I mean, who the fuck thought adapting an obscure MTV cartoon into a major motion picture was a good idea (yes, they do the fly in her eyelashes bit)? Not to mention odd, considering every Aeon Flux episode usually ended with her freaking dying. Also the bizarre animation was part of the appeal. This is probably why I was shocked to find myself somewhat entertained by this overlong, piece of shit, episode of The Outer Limits. This could be seen back-to-back with Gattaca as low-tech science-fiction movies about the future (no robots, no spaceships) with a period type of fashion (in this case a mix of the 70’s and 80’s) about a seeming utopia and the beautiful people who fight this illusion. Except this has more of an action movie bent, opening with Charlize Theron snapping necks and taking names and pretty much doing this non-stop until the end of the movie when she starts using guns. It’s set in the future where only 1% of humanity has survived and is ruled over by the scientist family that devised a cure inside a walled city. It seems perfect, but of, course it’s not and there are rebels out to kill the scientist and win their freedom. Apparently it’s easier to kill him than to say---oh I don’t know----just climb the fucking wall and leave!?! But you can’t ask these questions in a movie like this. Just as you can’t ask why isn’t it obvious who the real bad guy is from the moment he appears onscreen? Or why Aeon Flux wears white at night for her secret missions, but black during the day for her assassination attempt? It takes a little while to get going, but once we got into “what is the dark secret?” I have to say I was interested and never really bored despite the lack of any sort of kinetic energy present. And while the ugly fashions threw me at first (apparently everyone with taste was part of that 99%) a lot of the production design was actually pretty neat, especially the biological secret agent devices (Aeon can peel off a layer of her skin to bandage the wounds of others and has large contact lens to analyze chemicals that she can shake out of the back of her head at will). Also, it doesn’t hurt that the movie is only 94 minutes long. Always a plus for a cheesey science fiction movie. Also, all the badass fighters? Women. Aside from Charlize Theron, there’s her partner, who has had her feet surgically replaced with another set of hands and the scientist’s bodyguard, who has a semi-decent brawl with Charlize Theron. Oh, and they’re both sistas. Don’t think having Karyn Kusama, the writer/director of Girlfight (which introduced Michelle “I Only Had A Few Drinks” Rodriguez to the world) didn’t have a little to do with that. But if she’s going to go this way, someone needs to tell her to ease up on the jump cutting. It ruins the flow of a good fight. I know part of it is hiding to hide the two male stunt men doing the real fighting (or two women so butch they look like men), but if you’re going to have the actors do all that training, might as well show them strutting their stuff. Yeah, some of the fighting The Matrix was pretty stiff, but you knew damn well it was Keanu.
ETC.,
Walk The Line is down to number three, followed by Yours, Mine & Ours at number four.
DESPERATE DATING TIMES LEAD TO DESPERATE DATING MEASURES
Just Friends actually rises to number five and I have to ask “What the fuck?” then I see that Pride & Prejudice has risen to number six and I realize it’s for the same reason: where else you gonna take a date but these two movies? The teen wizard? The lame-looking science fiction movie? The kiddie flicks? Depressing musical? Nope. And once you’ve seen one, the only thing left is the other, which is why their totals are nearly the same. Surely it’s not people who woke up and sudden said, “You mean Anna Faris is in Just Friends!?! Honey, we’ve got to go!” Or “Jena Malone, who specialized in playing troubled teen girls or The Girlfriend To The Oddball in indie films is doing a British accent!?! Start the car!” Yes, Jena Malone, poised to be the next Indie Queen is in this playing Keira Knightley’s sister. That goes into the negative column for me, somewhat counteracting the Emma Thompson uncredited rewrite.
SAD SONGS THEY SAY…“DRINK ALONE IN THE DARK”
Rent is down to number seven and I was getting unusually depressed earlier this week and didn’t know why. Yes, my life sucks and it is the holidays, which only serves to make bad problems worse, but this was unusual the way it would come and go. And then I figured it out: it kept coming up when I listened to this fucking “Seasons of Love” song from Rent. It’s a beautiful song, but it’s a sad one too, because it’s essentially about the good times that have passed and songs like that always depress the shit out of me. Like “It Was A Very Good Year” or “Those Were The Days.” Now that’s a depressing song, but what can you expect from a song that has its roots in Russia. Those people don’t see the bright side of anything. Why do you think the vodka’s so good? (Trivia: “Those Were The Days” was a remake produced by Paul McCartney who played acoustic guitar on it and was sung by a woman suggested to him by Twiggy.) Also, I started listening to the other songs from rent and they reveal more bad script choices made and huge problems never corrected from the original show, like the Taye Diggs character being their sell-out friend, even though the only reason they have a home is because he lets them live there rent free. Also, he pays for the funeral when one character dies and also pays for the rehab of another. Not to mention the Jesse L. Martin character is teaching at NYU, so why doesn’t he have money or a place to live? I know for a fact NYU would steal professors from Columbia by giving them apartments in the Village in choice locations, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t be living well enough to take care of his friends. And why doesn’t Roger (the HIV positive musician who has the relationship with Rosario Dawson) get a fucking job? He complains about money and being broke, but we don’t see him so much as serve coffee or wait a table, just sit around moping about the bad song he’ll write by the end of the movie. There’s a severe pretentious stink of middle-class white kids choosing to live in poverty on this and needed to be corrected something awful. It’s hard to feel sorry for people (much less two straight white guys) who won’t work, won’t pay rent, but act like they are the victims in the world.
CHEAPER THAN COLE-HAAN BOOTS
Chicken Little is down to number eight and if anyone wants to get me a Fish Out of Water toy for Christmas, I won’t turn it down.
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
Derailed is down to number nine and poor Jennifer Anniston simply cannot cut a break this year, can she? Just when she thinks it’s over, there’s some more shit. First, she gets busted in a car with a drunk Vince Vaughn and his friends, then Brad Pitt begins legally adopting Angelina Jolie’s kids. You’ve got your bloated, unattractive, drunken (but-damn funny) costar and the really pretty people are building a family and trying to save the world. And to make matters worse, she’s got another film to promote before the year it is out so this will be the Elephant In The Room of all her interviews that reporters have been forbidden to ask. ’06, Jenny! ’06 will be yours! Except when Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are out promoting their new movies, espousing their good deeds and showing off their rainbow family.
BEST GO BACK TO YOUR FAMILY’S DEVILED HAM BUSINESS
Finally, In The Mix hangs around at number ten, stinking up the joint. And if you want to talk about a one-hit wonder, this was directed by Ron Underwood, who directed the underrated Tremors and the first City Slickers (okay, two-hit wonder). Since then it’s been a non-stop torrent of absolute shit from Heart & Souls to Speechless to Adventures of Pluto Nash (where, ironically, Rosario Dawson first sang on film) and now this. I can’t believe the crew doesn’t start snickering every time steps onto the set.
ICH MOCHTE NICHT EIN SPIELER SEIN NICHT MEHR
So how did The Libertine get me out on a Saturday night when so many others have tried and failed? It was in my neighborhood and the drinks were free. I’m easy that way. It was another German function, so yes, at the end of the night we invaded Poland (I’m sorry; that never gets old to me). But if there’s something else Germans do well, it’s drink beer and the open bar made sure that occurred in earnest. But we’re all the same with booze in us, and I was treated to drunken German attempts to hook up. Or avoid hooking up. The Libertine and I camped out in a corner of the bar and watched the show, focusing on one girl from Fort Worth, Texas, who gets no sympathy because she lives on Bleecker & Lafayette on the entire freaking floor with her roommates. THE ENTIRE FREAKING FLOOR! Despite working at Bergdorf’s she was poorly dressed in an asymmetrical top with only one sleeve and brown suede pumps while otherwise in all black. You can buy the clothes but you cannot buy taste. She’d hooked up previously with a nice blonde German guy who simply was not interested in a repeat engagement, but try as he might, she was on him like white on…well, a German. It became painful to watch her repeated attempts to garner his attention which only became sadder the more booze that was consumed. Finally, we had no choice but to intercede and suggest she just go home. She insisted the real reason she was waiting was to share a cab because she had no cash. Then she said, “I’m dating someone in Iraq.” Finally, she insisted she wasn’t sacrificing anything. At this point The Libertine lost her patience and said, “Yes, you are, honey. Your dignity and self-respect.” This hit Fort Worth like a slap in the face and she was out of the bar soon afterwards, leaving the uncaring blonde boy behind. Our other entertainment was GP (German Playa), tall and good-looking, but with an unfortunate taste for women with money who apparently got over his looks quickly when they realized he wasn’t capable of paying for anything. Also, he was also a bit lazy and had a taste for a Americans. So, the tall blonde German woman who gave him a come hither look got nothing. Bad enough she was German, but she wanted him to come to her and when he wouldn’t she didn’t even try to hide the pissed off look on her face. In the end, she had not choice but to stick with the less attractive man she came with. GP was then left with two Americans, which he obviously preferred, but the more attractive one also suffered from “80’s Top” disease like Forth Worth, wearing a black and pistachio striped number that looked like something Patti Smythe once wore in a Scandal video. Also, she wouldn’t do the heavy lifting, so she also departed disappointed. Ultimately, the horse-faced American girl won the day, because she wanted him and wasn’t ashamed to make it utterly clear. When The Libertine and I left around 2:30, they were making out in the street before getting into a cab. The twist? Underneath it all, GP wants The Libertine, but she won’t even consider him. There were also two short guys who were more attentive to each other than the girls they pretended to be interested in, an ugly weird guy with little Chinese toy cats, and two very creepy guys who didn’t speak to anyone and were obviously waiting for the end of the night to pick up the girls too drunk to care, but they weren’t nearly as much fun. Also, I may have another real estate client, but that’s boring too.
DON’T JUDGE ME UNTIL YOU WALK A WEEK IN SOME SPIFFY COLE-HAANS
Daddy got new boots. Yes, I’m broke. Yes, I work two jobs (three if you count trying to do real estate) trying to make ends meet, but damnit, I needed something for me. So when I realized I had obsolete software I no longer needed and that it was going for $80 on eBay, it was time for a sale so I could get me those Cole-Haan boots I saw while helping The Libertine look for hers. I also put up for auction some things Surrogate Sister wanted to sell and my old Kenneth Cole boots. They’re from his seriously low-end Unlisted line and were damaging my feet just like last year. Good shoes are expensive for a reason, boys and girls, and the cheap ones cost you more than you think. Almost everything sold (my black chunky boots which were waaay to hip for me and made me look and feel like a poseur both times I wore them did not sell) so I left skid marks getting back down to Filenes’s Basement at Union Square to get my boots. They’re beautiful and I love them and now have to restrain myself from wearing them every day. You know what that means, right? I need another pair. Hmmm. Do I have any porn left to sell?