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finefoxyladies) wrote2008-09-11 08:39 am
finefoxyladies) wrote2008-09-11 08:39 am
Entry tags:
I, like Jerrell, can pull avant-garde out of my ass
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piecesofalice: Carla Gugino, looking flawless and caramel-eyed and like she might enjoy having a scotch and a vigorous hair-brushing.
Seriously, isn't that dress so pretty? Isn't her skin amazing? And her hair? And those...nose? / MST3K
FYI: astaraljc and Pieces have so aptly demonstrated, if you have a Carla sighting, the best thing to do is send me a link right away. So that I can hide the pictures of Maggie Lawson that I was looking at.
And speaking of that Righteous Kill movie, you know, I haven't asked her, but that is one of those movies that Duse would be way more excited for than me, but I'd go with her, and then end up enjoying it. It's funny, but Duse just called my cell the other day to mention a quote she remembered from The Hours, a movie she was passionately in love with (clearly, with the quoting...dude, I remember jack and shit from that beyond Ed Harris being Sensitive and Nicole Kidman having a falsie schnozz), and it reminded me that sometimes her enthusiasm and observations make me see a film a new way. Or want to see a film at all. Or rewatch a film I previously decided to be lukewarm about.
In spite of my razzing of There Will Be Blood, Duse really liked it in a very enthusiastic, unpretentious way, enjoying the score and the performance PERFORMANCE! of DDL. I was therefore forced to admit, beyond my "stylized" jokery, that the reason I didn't like There Will Be Blood, besides feeling a little overwhelmed by DDL, was that unlike other PT Anderson films, TWBB was about the absence of love. It was this dark portrait of an inhumane and destructive man who ruined every bit of love and humanity around him, whereas Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and Punch-Drunk Love were all about the "ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone" finding just that, belonging, loving with an open heart. Sometimes being hurt or embarrassed or addicted to coke so their giant dingdong won't work, but in the end: love.
Dude, even No Country for Old Men had the light in the horn. And that was a COEN BROTHERS movie.
Nerd alert. Nerd alert. Okay, I'm done now.
Psych! I'm actually going to talk about how I watched Thumbsucker last night/in the wee small hours of the morning.
But first, P-Run: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha MICHAEL KORS I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE A TANGERINE-TINTED BUFFOON! YOU CALLED SUEDE OUT ON THE THIRD-PERSON THING! HUZZAH HAPPY DAY! And that Kenley...jiminy, disregarding Timothy and Nina Garcia's bitchface? Calling Heidi ridiculous? Check out the brass ovaries on that Bettie Page wannabe.
Blayne's design did look like fabric poop. And while I didn't get Jerrell's, I felt vindicated that Tim's prediction that if J. executed that the judges would love it was right on.
And then on to Thumbsucker. You know, this is a great segue from P-Run to this movie, because it sort of made me feel like Tim (and not in a planning-a-soiree-at-my-Hampton-digs-with-Victor-who-yelled-at-the-poms-for-chewing-up-a-rare-Assassins-vinyl-so-Tim-felt-bad-and-bought-them-kidneys way). Like, I took a step back from the movie and saw things I liked, and I saw what the filmmaker was attempting to execute, but the hem was a little jacked and maybe if you lost the fur collar...you know?
As far as disaffected-youth-Sundance-entry films go, it was more interesting and engaging than The Chumbscrubber. Even though--sorry Lou Pucci--that kid gives me the jibblies and Jamie Bell is actually okay to look at for 90 minutes. I felt like the paralleling of Justin Cobb and Perry Lyman the dentist, played with shaggy-haired, hippie-dippy aplomb by Keanu Reeves (seriously, between this and his hot doctor role in Something's Gotta Give? He tries so hard! And mostly succeeds!) was done pretty well and the performers made the connection natural enough that the heavy-handed framing of the story wasn't SO anvillicious. And I did think the examination of "legit" medication of adolescence with Ritalin and like attention/anxiety drugs vs. self-medication with pot was interesting, knowing that at one point, the school wanted to put both of my brothers on Ritalin...and one of those brothers went on to bounce between antidepressants and pot in his disaffected late teens/early 20s.
Sometimes the director would do something "different" that I found intersting--like cutting from Justin's teenage sexual experimentation (which would turn out to be an emotionally shattering experience due to its emptiness) to his parents in bed, his father equally as blind to some of the emotional distance and emptiness. And sometimes, the director would do something like a tracking shot from Audrey to Justin that rests for about a five-second count on the back of the school counselor's head. I mean...neat, I guess. Never seen that. But I'm not quite sure I got it. I was taken out of the movie for a moment thinking, "Am I supposed to be checking this woman for lice? Ticks?"
And there were lovely, subtle character moments, like Vince Vaughn's quiet, involved, soft-spoken debate coach, who maybe identified with Justin in a way that was on-point yet not, putting mascara on one of the girls before the big contest. Justin's later discomfort at staying with Mr. Geary and then his emotional manipulation of Geary to score beer was...dude, that was sad. And if I weren't so convinced that Vincey D. and Vincey V. swapped scripts right before filming, I'd almost think that Vince Vaughn was doing a great job stretching and reaching the potential we all saw back before his Frat Pack days.
Tilda Swinton was great. I really had the sense of this loving mother who wasn't entirely sure how she became a loving mother or how to continue being one as she sought out more from life. And the way her relationship with Benjamin Bratt's character evolved was surprising and well-done.
Kudos to Benjamin Bratt. Sticking a spoon up his own ass actually gained him some respect from me. Not since Oz, man...
I don't know. Anyone seen it who remembers it (morganaus!)?
Can I say nice things about D'Onof? Even though it was weird to see him in what I suspect were Vince Vaughn's street clothes, his performance was really dialed back and at one point, very, very sad in a desperate, achy way (the scene where Justin desperately wants to connect with his dad re: the disappointments and dreams deferred and "how [he] HANDLES THINGS," and D'Onof does this hesitating, silent almost-ready-to-say-something thing and then turns and walks away. Oy.).
Uh, on a much, much, MUCH more shallow note: back to that makey-out scene with Tilda Swinton? Damn. That gave me the vapors, what with the white tee shirt askew and the closed eyes and the vigorous lip-and-tongue action. He's GOT to stop doing that shit.Or start with Kathryn Erbe in the next LOCI season.
ETA: Dear Alex Blagg: marry me.
piecesofalice: Carla Gugino, looking flawless and caramel-eyed and like she might enjoy having a scotch and a vigorous hair-brushing.Seriously, isn't that dress so pretty? Isn't her skin amazing? And her hair? And those...nose? / MST3K
FYI: as
taraljc and Pieces have so aptly demonstrated, if you have a Carla sighting, the best thing to do is send me a link right away. So that I can hide the pictures of Maggie Lawson that I was looking at.And speaking of that Righteous Kill movie, you know, I haven't asked her, but that is one of those movies that Duse would be way more excited for than me, but I'd go with her, and then end up enjoying it. It's funny, but Duse just called my cell the other day to mention a quote she remembered from The Hours, a movie she was passionately in love with (clearly, with the quoting...dude, I remember jack and shit from that beyond Ed Harris being Sensitive and Nicole Kidman having a falsie schnozz), and it reminded me that sometimes her enthusiasm and observations make me see a film a new way. Or want to see a film at all. Or rewatch a film I previously decided to be lukewarm about.
In spite of my razzing of There Will Be Blood, Duse really liked it in a very enthusiastic, unpretentious way, enjoying the score and the performance PERFORMANCE! of DDL. I was therefore forced to admit, beyond my "stylized" jokery, that the reason I didn't like There Will Be Blood, besides feeling a little overwhelmed by DDL, was that unlike other PT Anderson films, TWBB was about the absence of love. It was this dark portrait of an inhumane and destructive man who ruined every bit of love and humanity around him, whereas Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and Punch-Drunk Love were all about the "ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone" finding just that, belonging, loving with an open heart. Sometimes being hurt or embarrassed or addicted to coke so their giant dingdong won't work, but in the end: love.
Dude, even No Country for Old Men had the light in the horn. And that was a COEN BROTHERS movie.
Nerd alert. Nerd alert. Okay, I'm done now.
Psych! I'm actually going to talk about how I watched Thumbsucker last night/in the wee small hours of the morning.
But first, P-Run: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha MICHAEL KORS I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE A TANGERINE-TINTED BUFFOON! YOU CALLED SUEDE OUT ON THE THIRD-PERSON THING! HUZZAH HAPPY DAY! And that Kenley...jiminy, disregarding Timothy and Nina Garcia's bitchface? Calling Heidi ridiculous? Check out the brass ovaries on that Bettie Page wannabe.
Blayne's design did look like fabric poop. And while I didn't get Jerrell's, I felt vindicated that Tim's prediction that if J. executed that the judges would love it was right on.
And then on to Thumbsucker. You know, this is a great segue from P-Run to this movie, because it sort of made me feel like Tim (and not in a planning-a-soiree-at-my-Hampton-digs-with-Victor-who-yelled-at-the-poms-for-chewing-up-a-rare-Assassins-vinyl-so-Tim-felt-bad-and-bought-them-kidneys way). Like, I took a step back from the movie and saw things I liked, and I saw what the filmmaker was attempting to execute, but the hem was a little jacked and maybe if you lost the fur collar...you know?
As far as disaffected-youth-Sundance-entry films go, it was more interesting and engaging than The Chumbscrubber. Even though--sorry Lou Pucci--that kid gives me the jibblies and Jamie Bell is actually okay to look at for 90 minutes. I felt like the paralleling of Justin Cobb and Perry Lyman the dentist, played with shaggy-haired, hippie-dippy aplomb by Keanu Reeves (seriously, between this and his hot doctor role in Something's Gotta Give? He tries so hard! And mostly succeeds!) was done pretty well and the performers made the connection natural enough that the heavy-handed framing of the story wasn't SO anvillicious. And I did think the examination of "legit" medication of adolescence with Ritalin and like attention/anxiety drugs vs. self-medication with pot was interesting, knowing that at one point, the school wanted to put both of my brothers on Ritalin...and one of those brothers went on to bounce between antidepressants and pot in his disaffected late teens/early 20s.
Sometimes the director would do something "different" that I found intersting--like cutting from Justin's teenage sexual experimentation (which would turn out to be an emotionally shattering experience due to its emptiness) to his parents in bed, his father equally as blind to some of the emotional distance and emptiness. And sometimes, the director would do something like a tracking shot from Audrey to Justin that rests for about a five-second count on the back of the school counselor's head. I mean...neat, I guess. Never seen that. But I'm not quite sure I got it. I was taken out of the movie for a moment thinking, "Am I supposed to be checking this woman for lice? Ticks?"
And there were lovely, subtle character moments, like Vince Vaughn's quiet, involved, soft-spoken debate coach, who maybe identified with Justin in a way that was on-point yet not, putting mascara on one of the girls before the big contest. Justin's later discomfort at staying with Mr. Geary and then his emotional manipulation of Geary to score beer was...dude, that was sad. And if I weren't so convinced that Vincey D. and Vincey V. swapped scripts right before filming, I'd almost think that Vince Vaughn was doing a great job stretching and reaching the potential we all saw back before his Frat Pack days.
Tilda Swinton was great. I really had the sense of this loving mother who wasn't entirely sure how she became a loving mother or how to continue being one as she sought out more from life. And the way her relationship with Benjamin Bratt's character evolved was surprising and well-done.
Kudos to Benjamin Bratt. Sticking a spoon up his own ass actually gained him some respect from me. Not since Oz, man...
I don't know. Anyone seen it who remembers it (
morganaus!)?Can I say nice things about D'Onof? Even though it was weird to see him in what I suspect were Vince Vaughn's street clothes, his performance was really dialed back and at one point, very, very sad in a desperate, achy way (the scene where Justin desperately wants to connect with his dad re: the disappointments and dreams deferred and "how [he] HANDLES THINGS," and D'Onof does this hesitating, silent almost-ready-to-say-something thing and then turns and walks away. Oy.).
Uh, on a much, much, MUCH more shallow note: back to that makey-out scene with Tilda Swinton? Damn. That gave me the vapors, what with the white tee shirt askew and the closed eyes and the vigorous lip-and-tongue action. He's GOT to stop doing that shit.
ETA: Dear Alex Blagg: marry me.