watched this movie tonight. i should mention i don’t like owen wilson; just a personal prejudice; he looks like a frat type to me. whatever. i’ve been watching some more recent woody allen lately. certainly if i didn’t have a lot of affection for annie hall, manhattan, husbands and wives, hannah and her sisters (i’ll never get over that movie, love it), even some fond feelings for crimes and misdemeanors, manhattan murder mystery—i can’t think of any others right now. later generation woody i’m thinking of:
vicky cristina barcelona—just not good. his obvious and probably well meant affection for scarlett johanssen has blinkered him to her acting; which is god awful.
scoop—see above; she was so embarassingly bad playing what she imagined was an earnest, ‘awkward nerd’; just uncomfortable to watch.
match point—i actually forgot scarjo was in this. probably stunk out the joint, i can’t remember. jonathan rhys meyers can’t act either. not sure what woody is doing here.
**notice an uncomfortable pattern of a wasp playing the woody role in these films—these blond waspy nebbishes have all the woody verbal tics and none of the charm of early woody. sorry.
and blah blah bitch bitch brings me to midnight in paris. i had heard good and bad; reliable sources both. i knew there were elements of “oh, i’ve heard of hemingway! how cool.” in the film. i didn’t know he stacked the deck with every artist from the 20s; stumbling along in the most tedious parody of some under imagined joie de vivre from that vibrant period. we don’t just have hemingway; we have the fitzgeralds, picasso, gertrude stein, alice toklas, gershwin, cole porter, fucking salvador dali (competently portrayed—i thought—by adrian brody)—-WHATEVER. by this time i was half watching and half seething that the person who wrote this could have made such a creative bunch seem so tepid and dull. for a movie billed as an imaginative flight of fancy, it was pretty fucking mundane. these art luminaries just sat around making small talk with owen wilson.
has woody lost is creative drive? his mind? i’m not even sure anymore what provokes me to follow his career. i’m not trying to moralize about his personal life (the manifestation of the electra complex is alarming but who cares really); i just feel like artistically he needs an editor or a shot in the arm—-but as i said; woody, we’ll always have ‘hannah and her sisters’.
if your tumblr forces me to look up someone's ass.....
i will have to ‘unfollow’ you. sorry. i like things a little more subtle, shall we say. keepin’ in real classy. ie; the genital nail decals—fine; the male model in tighty whities with the camera’s pov being that of an anoscope—not intererested!
but speaking of classy:
I just love Damages; and i love Glenn Close in it. I usually hate when the plastic surgery/fuckery that actresses seem to have to engage in; in her case i don’t care i think she’s wonderful. everyone on the show is great, the only exception is Rose Byrne who is only ok; frankly i don’t think her acting is up to par or perhaps she is a little miscast. too ‘doe in the headlights’ for the hardass she’s supposed to have become over the arc of the story. I love seeing Marcia Gay Harden too; nice to see a woman i assume is in her late 40s plus appearing in a smart and sexualized role without pandering.
And speaking of pandering i made the error of renting ‘Horrible Bosses” last evening. What a piece of shit. It’s only when you’re on a self imposed Hollywood-movie-blackout that you can really dip your toe back in and get completely depressed at how fucking stupid hollywood (and i’m including producers, studios, directors and actors too!)—how stupid they think the viewing public is. the writing is nonexistant, the gender norms portrayed are so regressive and grotesque. i’m perfectly willing and even eager to suspent my disbelief; it’s my intelligence i’m not going to suspend! I shouldn’t even post about the film but god i can’t help but wonder at jason bateman or jennifer aniston chicken scratching for a paycheque, ugh. this thing basically made light of rape repeatedly (the hilarity of men getting raped by women; or raped in jail), sexual harassment, the entire portrayal of jennifer aniston’s character was just beyond ludicrous. why do i care i don’t know. gotta stick to watching HBO, docs, horror……
it is fucked up that women have to be as funny and often way funnier than male comedians to get any respect. on top of that they must also be young, thin, extremely pretty and preferably white…..
i loved ‘bridesmaids’, don’t get me wrong. it’s something of a relief to see an all female ensemble comedy; ‘relief’ isn’t even too strong a word. this is important to me. so it’s hard then to overlook the obvious: the whole bridal theme/heteronormativity stuff notwithstanding—the only fat actress in the cast is the one who gets most of the aggressive physical comedy; is the only cast member not fully made up/hair done in every scene; and the sex scene she gets at the end is strictly for gross out laughs—of COURSE when fat people have sex it MUST be all about the eroticization of a huge sandwich, right??
acccchhh clearly i know how to ruin a good comedy.
i’m tired now with the use of the word ‘pimped’ to mean aesthetically improved or more awesome or whatever. i know mtv is a powerful tool for advancing the language but the word ‘pimped’ should be left as was “: a man who solicits clients for a prostitute”—as per merriam webster.
the fact that you still hear women clarifying that they aren’t ‘man hating’ feminists is so frustrating. it’s like a whole cohort of women who you expect to be diehard third wavers got a thought-virus from some right wing loony! when did anyone think feminism had anything to do with hating men? it’s like if men can’t define the movement from within or without, it’s not real or something!