Attraction Du Jour

I'm not usually into blandly muscular hunks (my taste leans towards the dark haired, the wiry, the intense-eyed) but there's something about Sam Worthington that makes him an exception....maybe that he can pull off a skirt and a growl (did his voice remind anyone else of Bale's Batman in this movie?), that mix of moody sweetness that comes through when he's in lone shots, or the way he says "Don't look the bitch in the eye"....?

Knowing that he's a legit actor doesn't hurt. He comes from a theater background in Down Under and he was in that often-raved-never-seen movie Somersault with Abbie Cornish. Saw the trailer and he looked pretty good in it. He's got a natural screen charisma.

2010 Movies.....

Nothing on this list matches the excitement I had for 2009, when the trifecta of Where the Wild Things On, Bright Star, and Public Enemies had me foaming at the mouth at the mere mention or sneak preview of said movies, but I did garner up some anticipation for some new movies (some that have already been released) that I'd really like to see.

In no particular order:

Eat Pray Love

It doesn't seem like a terribly great movie, but c'mon. If there's anything I have a weakness, nay, an indulgence for, it's bohemian-chic journeys featuring sad, beautiful, wealthy people finding the meaning life through great food, sunshine, linen dresses, and rumpled lovers (James Franco and Javier Bardem, the latter who also starred in my sun-porn favorite of 2008: Vicky Cristina Barcelona). It looks like fun.

Greenberg

It's gotten so much buzz and controversy (Armand White anyone?) but the reviews that were good impressed me, since it seems incredibly hard to make a movie about a disaffected, cynical midlife-crisis without coming off as incredibly self-indulgent or annoying. And I'm so intrigued about Greta Gerwig. A brand-new American actress with the full package? YES PLEASE. How long since we've had one of those?

The Kids Are All Right

Interested, due to buzz about Julianne Moore and Annette Bening. Heard it's funny and engaging. More than enough these days.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

Cue fangirl excitement. My devotion to Harry Potter has been off the charts over the past few months, since I'm discovering that less and less kids are reading Harry Potter nowadays. It truly, truly makes me sick and frightened at the thought of Twilight becoming more popular than J.K. Rowling's hilarious, imaginative, cross-generational (and hugely educational) baby as the years go on. Harry Potter truly made our generation as awesome as it is now. We grew up with the three main characters as our role models - compassion from Harry, uber-wit from Ron, and academic overachievement (but also grounded and wise!) from Hermione. The series emphasized friendship and kindness as the transcendent powers in addition to courage and cleverness. Not to toot my own horn, but everyone I know who grew up with the books can be counted on to be pretty cool, nice, snarky people. I can say with all my heart that these books had a truly transformative effect on us.

And the generation after us got Edward and Miley Cyrus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No wonder they suck.

True Grit

No, I have not seen the original (I will, I will). Yes, I am compelled by the combination of Matt Damon, Joel and Ethan Coen, Jeff Bridges, and other similarly chill and awesome-in-real-life-as-well-as-onscreen folks.

Leaves of Grass

Thanks, Roger Ebert. Crossing my fingers in hopes that it will signal Norton's grand return to the screen and another long-deserved Oscar nom. He is truly the finest actor of his generation.

Tree of Life

Fine! I have only seen one Terrence Malick movie (actually two - I also remember watching A Thin Red Line but the only thing I remembered was being startled by George Clooney's minimal role near the end, so it doesn't count) but The New World was so special and any Malick movie is an event, so count me in.

The Grand Master

Tony Leung, Wong Kar-Wai. DO I NEED TO GO ON?

The Tempest

So my sweetie Ben Whishaw rocks the shit out of Shakespeare and poetry, so I imagine this won't be a departure from his most lauded work. Plus I just enjoy Julie Taymor, Shakespeare, and Helen Mirren in general.

The Rum Diary

I'm up for any Johnny Depp movie that doesn't involve Tim Burton.

The Reintroduction of Julia Roberts

For a few years Julia Roberts was just....intensely unlikeable. Maybe it had something to do with her oscar speech, her time off, her string of thankless roles where she played uptight, gabby women which didn't really suit her "America's Sweetheart" persona. She's kind of a limited amazing kind of actress. By last year, I would have been happy never to see Julia Roberts act again.

But she's back! Our Sweetheart is back in "Eat Pray Love", a perfect vehicle for her natural beauty and a new zen-like radiance I've never seen. I'm so glad they didn't get, say, Jennifer Aniston for the movie. Not that I have anything against the latter (to be honest, I don't get the general vehemence about her) but the movie would need to play off a mature woman to make it work, otherwise it wouldn't be different from all these grating rom-com "makeover" montages. While watching the trailer, I automatically paralleled the character's journey with Julia's own life changes in the past few years - surely there was a similar post-Oscar emotional crisis, having two babies, motherhood, all that? She's grown up. And I think it shows - for once, there's not only the sassy sweetness but also endearing, soft-eyed smiles and relaxed bohemian dresses (thanks, costume designer!) that comes a little closer to Streep than Aniston. Aniston, for in her late forties is still seen cavorting with a new, younger hunk every week and dressing like a 25 year old, wouldn't exactly represent that newfound wisdom.

(I hate fade-offs! Nevertheless the shots I was talking about:)

Same expression as before? Sure. But it's addictive and gratifying to look at, because it's real star power. Yay!

The Perfect Weekend

Have any of you ever had a perfect weekend? Or not even....the perfect day? I think I just had one (after all, it's still Saturday afternoon and I have a day and half left!) And the thing is, nothing extraordinary really happened. Nothing exciting. Simply...pure and happy.

S. came down at 10 yesterday morning, in her chic and outgoing glory. First we bitched with the taxi driver about the ludicrous price (S: "But you must admit that there is a huge discrepancy between 20 dollars and 30 dollars") We went to my classes, and though there were a couple shitty classes, I was sure she arrived on time so she could come to my favorites, AP Art History and AP Euro. She was awed, and I was gratified, by the friendly intelligence and ridiculously well-spoken qualities of the girls in my classes, and how insightful, dynamic, and in-depth my two wonderrrrful, wonderful teachers were.

Thankfully, I didn't have any after-school commitments, so it was perfect - we went to Starbucks, spontaneously decided to get manicures afterwards (which were $12 and exceedingly shady, as the color of our nails changed several times over the course of the day) and hopped on a bus to see Clash of the Titans.

Oh, Sam Worthington. Adorable, with some pretty badass line delivery "Don't look the bitch in the eye!" with a few occasional cringe-worthy moments according to S, who claims that he could not yell adequately in despair (she had this problem for Avatar too). And Clash of the Titans was the perfect antidote to two restless, stressed teenagers - dumb, but entirely enjoyable with a few true WTF moments (the owl, anyone?) which the director must have known was comedy gold to teenagers. Sam Worthington may not have much of a personality, but for a Russell Crowe 2.0, he's sufficiently entertaining. S. burst out laughing at the most random moments, and I was overjoyed to see people get hurled into rock walls, as it's always a failproof source of mirth to me.

Afterwards we took out appetizers from the Cheesecake Factory - nachos and guacamole, macaroni, fried potstickers - sinfully indulgent and delicious - rambled around Barnes and Noble, and took a taxi back to the dorm where we talked (mostly me, about the girls I knew), tried on catwalk-worthy ensembles, and fell asleep around 3 AM to the drifting sounds of Death Cab For Cutie and Ben Whishaw reciting "Ode to a Nightingale".

But the best, best part, I have to say, were our conversations. Some parts were silly (S couldn't get over the way Io "died" in Clash of the Titans. Btw, Gemma Arterton was annoying as hell and I wish Sam Worthington got it on with the princess instead. There was more sexual chemistry with the two of them lying unconscious on the beach, fingers entwined, then the cliche "accidentally pin the female down in a semi-aggresive, sexual stance" moment between Perseus and Io". But I digress. We laughed hysterically throughout the day, and we talked seriously.

As the years go by, (and we see each other less and less) our conversations just get better. It never got more personal-geeky than it did yesterday. We talked about the implications of Salinger's short story "A Perfect Day for Bananafish". We analyzed the differences between the hyper-competitive, stockbroker-breeding-ground environment of our home town and the philosophical, laidback quality of my high school. We discussed our own qualities (we both admitted that we'd been raised to be "casually dishonest") and how rare it was to find a friend with both principles and personality, amid the bitchy backstabbery of the world. We discussed the paranoid-logical nature of our family (I theorized that an ancestor of ours had been majorly screwed over and that was why our family trusted no one, not even their best friends), college, fashion, New York, New Haven, college again, favorite books, the impeccably classy Emma Watson, Grand Tours (what filthily rich people in the Victorian times did - go abroad for three to four years, drifting casually from Paris to Switzerland to Rome for months at a time), the classiness of my teachers Mrs. M and Mrs. Q, of what it meant to be classy - I, for one, noted how charismatic and intimidating Mrs. M was, in spite her indifference to fashion and general boxcar-hobo appearance - and so much more.

By some alignment of the weather gods, the temperature did not drop below 70 for both Friday and Saturday. No clouds, no wind. We got up before noon on Saturday, ate waffles, threw bacon to squirrels. We weren't quite as chatty as the day before, but it felt comfortable. We merely strolled, sat on a swing bench, observed the squash courts and flooded river, and afterwards,, I sent her off to a taxi. It was a beautiful day and I walked back to my dorm with a dread for the work ahead of me and with a lump in my throat.

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir

An ode to my first non-cinematic obsession person - two persons, actually. ICE DANCERS, to be specific. Two absolute artists of dance, two maestros of the ice: Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir.

Lemme make it clear: I was never a fan of ice dancing. During the Olympics, I watch the ladies' singles program and that's it. I never liked the ice dancing category because it seemed so cheesy. Ice dancers used music that was over-the-top, had a dearth of artistry, and were always so overtly theatrical and boring.

Then my friend told me to go watch "that Canadian couple who are unfairly beautiful" and since I was obsession-free and slightly bored at the time, I decided to give their free dance a go. I watched it. Then I rewatched it again. And I have now watched their Vancouver, gold-medal-winning performance about 100 times now. Like, literally. And my hard-won AP Biology stats have been replaced by those terrible "Marriage Ref" commercials as a result.

They transcend the limits of gritty athleticism. They are an integral part of each other's movements, and their gentleness, a key aspect of their allure, is simply so audacious when you consider the fact that other ice pairs rely on contrived music and flamboyant movements to make a scene. Tessa and Scott can capture our attention with a single elegant finger, a lean in the other's direction, perfectly matching twizzles without the slightest evidence of effort. If they were an onscreen couple they'd be an iconic cinematic couple.

I find it generally exhausting to watch ice dancing, but beholding Tessa and Scott's stunningly romantic Olympic performance was a gust of fresh air. I think it's because they're always so turned on by what they're doing, which is gratifying to watch. It turns us on, too.

Tessa, with her extensive ballet training, brings heart-stopping grace to the table. She is flawed, however; a bit too remote. She's more of an artist than a performer. But that's where he comes in. Scott, with his open, intense energy makes the couple accessible to the audience. Their combined strengths make this couple a treat for both the eyes and the heart.

Their chemistry is so good that I'm amazed that the ice doesn't melt away beneath their skates. I've gotten so absorbed into their on-ice romance that during one emotional performance, I actually blubbered out, "KISS!!!!" in a particularly intense moment. I was instantly ashamed of myself afterwards.

Other skaters go through the motions; Tessa and Scott tell stories with their dancing, letting romantic little tales unfold on the ice. When I finished watching their "Umbrellas of Cherboug" interpretation, I felt as if I'd just watched a lifelong relationship flash before my eyes. Time stands still. I feel almost voyeuristic, peeking into a couple's most intimate moments.

All the commentators scratch their heads over their "it quality". What is it? Why, star power, duh. Natural Charisma. Only true star quality could keep you enraptured with "Mahler's Symphony No. 5". Everyone flipped about the American team Meryl Davis and Charlie White's "Phantom of the Opera", but let me remind you, the judges have SEEN all that, year after year. Johnny Weir said it best when he called VM's Mahler interpretation "a class of its own" and he is absolutely right, as Johnny Weir usually is.

And never doubt their athletic professionalism. I've never seen this pair stumble or so much as falter. It's one hell of a task to maintain energy throughout a performance, but Tessa and Scott's energy only seems to expound as they go along, building up to an organic emotional climax.

Virtue and Moir in my one of my favorite performances, at the 2008 Worlds to "Umbrellas of Cherbourg"

"They transported the audience....." perfect comment.

Their now-legendary Vancouver performance.

http://www.nbcolympics.com/video/assetid=b3b9fe59-1049-450c-827d-db4328c55050.html#canadians+dance+gold

(don't know how to embed NBC videos, sorry)

Here is a disgustingly cute and athletically astounding video of them dancing at the 2004 Junior Worlds. She was 14 and he 16, but they look about ten years old in the video and you see how at such young ages their strength and charm already zooms off the charts.

Scott always keeps his eyes on Tessa while he dances, which adds such a valuable element to their intimacy. He's also a true gentleman - he never forgets to thank Tessa after a dance. This time, even at a supposedly obnoxious age (16), he kisses her hand as a way of thank you.

Here at the 2010 Canadian Championships Gala, Virtue and Moir tell yet another delightful story about a street scamp vying for the heart of an elegant ballerina that's out of his league.

I love this dance because it reminds me that despite their unearthly maturity on the ice, they're both actually so young and totally capable of goofiness.

And finally, the 2009 Worlds Free Dance:

Performance that smashes any doubt of their versatility. No, they do not rely on pure Beauty alone. Yes, they are capable of mindbending lifts like Meryl and Charlie. Look at 4:48, in particular. In my mind that's the perfect epitome of their style - a combination of both incredible difficulty and swooning finesse. Sigh. This performance is a little colder than others, though, so their 2008 and 2010 free dances remain my favorites.

(Trivia: They are the youngest Olympic ice-dancing champions in history - at ages 20 and 22, respectively. They're the first North American couple to ever win the ice dancing Olympics, breaking a long Russian monopoly on gold medals. They've also been dancing forthirteenyears; they started dancing together at the ages of 7 and 9.)

Actor Obsession #2: Tony Leung Chiu-Wai

This is Day #2 of my new actor obsession, and an official foreign ones firsties! Some day I'll expand more about Tony Leung Chiu-Wai as an actor... that some day will probably come after I've seen more than three movies from him. That's right; I've only seen him in three movies - first, a solid performance in one of my all time favorite movies, Hero (2002), and the unforgettable, voluptuous, heartbreaking, now-classic In the Mood For Love (2000). I saw Hero when it first came out and liked him, but nothing came of it. After I saw the second feature, however, I was officially hooked. It's no secret that Robert De Niro was a fan of his work in In the Mood For Love (as any any English article will tell you, in order to establish a familiar reference base. See? You're already intrigued) and it makes sense. His acting, so reticent, open, revealing shades of emotion with a glance of the eyes - minimalist acting at its most haunting and best, is something De Niro would have surely appreciated. In this day and age of flamboyant monologues and "gritty vulnerability", the ability for silent performing is a rare gem.


I finished In the Mood For Love at 3 in the morning, but I was craving more, so I ended pulling an all-nighter. Thanks a lot, Tony Leung. I turned to Lust, Caution, the Ang Lee movie that I've always wanted to watch in a "oh yeah, some day I will" way, mostly because of the praise I've heard about Tang Wei's debut.

I don't want to launch into a review of the movie itself, which is flawed but still psychologically fascinating, as was In the Mood For Love (in fact, in the middle of ITMFL, I actually said aloud, "the is the most mindfuckery movie ever". My mother would have liked it. It falls into the Atonement category, with ripe costume-period porn with underlying eroticism and danger. Tony Leung plays Mr. Yee, who again doesn't talk very much, but whose alternating sadness and viciousness I found more terrifying due to its capricious nature. I was constantly mulling over whether the sadness allowed for a soul capable of true love and the viciousness just an unrestrained uh, manner of showing this love, or the other way around.

Anyways, his razor-sharp movements, sudden bursts of ferocity, and immediate presence (when he first enters the opening scene, there is never a trace of a doubt in your mind that he isn't a vastly distinguished and powerful personnel) makes for a truly fantastic performance. It's not great, because the lackluster writing doesn't make up the basis for a great character, or even half a character, but when Tony Leung inhabits the character, you can't take your eyes off him. From romantic-borderline-psycho to Mr. Loneliness, the charisma is unshakeable, subtle. No scene chewing necessary. At all.


It seems that he's one of those Great Movie Stars that is currently an extinct species in Hollywood. Can I just point out how unfair it is that in places like Hong Kong and Spain, the best actors also happen to be the most popular, while here we have so-called stars like Brad Pitt and Robert Pattinson? Even Leonardo Dicaprio in the long run will be viewed as a solid but nevertheless undistinguished and unoriginal actor, you mark my words. Tony Leung Chiu-Wai, on the other hand, is more along the lines of Humphrey Bogart, who possesses a trademark personality in all his films, but should NEVER, EVER be condemned for any "lack of versatility". All of Tony Leung's character are different. They have the trademark melancholy of his shy eyes perhaps, but even his most radically different character is not the 180-degree "transformation" that is so admired in today's acting, via crazy accent and complex makeup, but rather feels like an extension of his natural character. His Mr. Yee felt both a natural Tony Leung type character and an unexpected departure. This way, he retains a degree of his own authenticity while coloring the darker shades of the character, breathing Mr. Yee to life. That's such a fine, fine talent.

Mr Yee's rough wooing.

I especially love the minutes preceding the first sex scene. He's watching Tang Wei with unrestrained lust. She's aware of it. She coyly does all the right things; straddling his leg, impetuously tossing the cigarette he offers to the ground, slowly reveals her thigh. The effect is, quite literally, maddening. But we sense what we're dealing with when he not only submits to his desires but does it on his own terms - he dismisses her coy seductions with a hissing "are you playing hard to get?" and within a minute we get a glimpse of how exactly Mr. Yee rose through the ranks to become one of the top interrogators for the Japanese. He sits in the chair, watches, flexes his fingers once, and then goes berserk. I actually covered my eyes in shock from the force of the near-rape/sadomasochist sex that follows.

Tony Leung Chia-Wai has like a contractual agreement to chain smoke in all his modern movies, but that's fine. In fact, it's perfect. Like Humphrey Bogart, he was designed to smoke, or cigarettes were designed for him. Either way. There's something about the qualities of both that complement each other.....the subtle sensuality, the slow-burning movements and shadowy, charismatic spirals, the elegant languor....

My favorite shot of him from Hero (2002), partially because it comes as a stunning revelation. If you haven't seen it, Fucking. See. It. Now.

Next up: I really want to see "Infernal Affairs". Also because according to the message boards it's far superior to The Departed.

He's so gifted and reliable that after these three films he can officially join my All Times Favorites Club. Welcome to the club.

Al Pacino

Geoffrey Rush

Ralph Fiennes

Gene Hackman

Paul Rudd

Harvey Keitel

Daniel Day-Lewis

Edward Norton

Michael Sheen

Cillian Murphy

Viggo Mortensen

Tony Leung Chiu-Wai

Note: An actor obsession does not necessarily equate to an automatic entry into the all-time favorites list. For instance, I will always love Ben Whishaw dearly but he's hasn't really gotten there. The boy is talented but lacks that sensual It quality that I search for in all my beloved leading men. In fact there's something rather asexual about him.

Remember Me Bombs = Yay

All right, maybe I'm being unfairly vicious but ever since reading in reviews that Pattinson was completely inoffensive and uninteresting in Remember Me, just like he's been in every one of his movies that I've seen, I'm dropping the nice subterfuge. No more of that "well it's not his fault that girls are crazy, maybe he's a real decent fella and even a better actor!" crap.


Ok, Remember Me got about 8 million at the box office. I'm not even pretending I'm not gleeful about those numbers. I sincerely hope the next Taylor Lautner vehicle goes the same route. So I LOVE how people are going "oh, it only opened in 2,000 theaters!" as if Remember Me was an authentic underdog indie film with nothing going for it but grit and determination. Christ, some of the best movies I saw last year opened in 15 theaters in North America and never expanded to less than a few hundred.


Let's be realistic. Say it did open in 3,000 theaters - that'd translate to what, 12 million? Oh "If only, if only"....

Food in Fiction

I've always had a weakness for either 1) foods in films or 2) descriptions of food in books. If done well, then it adds to the sensory experience of the overall product, especially if the character eating said food is cool. This has been an inherent problem for me ever since I was six or seven, when I read a picture book where the hard-worked protagonist always longed for a cold dish of chocolate sorbet.

So, a little list of food cravings I developed as result of a book or film:

Books:

Any Fantasy Writer
It seems that all fantasy writers love to include sumptuous descriptions of food in their books. And why not? Imagining the taste of food is often better than the actual taste. And for someone like JK "I never met an adverb I didn't like" Rowling or JRR Tolkien, these elaborate, sensual details can only enrich the expanses of a fantastical world and draw the reader further in, whether it be Hogwarts' Main Hall or orchard of Narnia.


Ex #1: Redwall, Brian Jacques "Tender freshwater shrimp garnished with cream and rose leaves, devilled barley pearls in acorn puree, apple and carrot chews, marinated cabbage stalks steeped in creamed white turnip with nutmeg,.." "half a dozen boiled eggs, some crisp summer slad, two loaves of hot bread, two hazelnut cream junkets, two- no, better make it four - oven baked apple pies, and chuck in some medium-size quince tarts and October nutbrown ale."

Ex #2: Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House on the Prairie" Series. Even harder to bear. There are half-chapters devoted to passages about making of the food, the history of food, relishing the taste of food.

"Almanzo ate the sweet, mellow baked beans. He ate the bit of salt pork that melted like cream in his mouth. he hate mealy boiled potatoes, with brown ham-gravy. He ate the ham. He bit deep into velvety bread spread with sleek butter, and he ate the crisp golden crust. He demolished a tall heap of pale mashed turnips, and a hill of stewed yellow pumpkin. Then he sighed and tucked his napkin deeper into the neckband of his red waist. And he ate plum preserves and strawberry jam, and grape jelly, and spiced watermelon-rind pickles. He felt very comfortable inside. Slowly he ate a large piece of pumpkin pie."

Ex. #3: The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett "Fresh roasted eggs, roasted potatoes with butter and jam, oatcakes and current buns with clotted cream, muffins, and sizzling ham"
Ridiculous.

Films:
Films traditionally focus more on a specific dish or food item, unless it's a food orgy like Julie and Julia. I'm usually more obsessed if it's just one.

Cannoli - The Godfather

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli." Enough said.

Milkshakes - Pulp Fiction, There Will Be Blood

I legitimately craved for milkshakes endlessly after I saw There Will Be Blood. Pulp Fiction only made me desire it in a classic tall glass with whipped cream and a cherry.



Especially the other day when I ordered a milkshake and it turned out to be a "five dollah milkshake."


French Toast - Kramer vs. Kramer
Exactly the way Dustin Hoffman makes it.


Macarons - Marie Antoinette

I'm not even sure macarons were directly in the movie, but there's definitely the association, with what the famous Parisian macaron bakery Laduree providing all the pastel-colored treats.


Pies - Waitress



"Falling in Love Pie"

Strudel with FRESH CREAM - Inglourious Basterds
During a recent visit to an adorable Austrian cafe in the city, I not only demanded whipped cream but when it came on the plate adjacent to the strudel, I took a spoon and scooped it onto the strudel instead.

Oscar Rant #1

And J. LO FOR GOD'S SAKE. Adam Skank-man if you're trying to be hip then at least keep up with us. Who gives a crap about J. Lo anymore?


I realized what I missed. Each year, there's at least ONE montage featuring past movies and actors that are completely unfamiliar to me, that makes me think "wow, who are they? What are these movies?" and inflame my love for movies all over again. This year all we had was the horror montage, aka "excuse to slip in a Twilight scene at the Oscars" montage. There was no REAL celebration of movies, of the past. The Oscars are just as important in honoring tradition and the ghosts of films and actresses and actors past as they are about the Now. I mean, what was up with that tidbit about The Dark Knight? Everything felt dreadfully contrived. "Look! That movie you and your eight-year-old cousin watching actually recognize! Aren't we cool?" I actually missed Sid Ganis, I missed the awkward silences and the long dull speeches. There was a lot of disinterested "you're Taylor Lautner, I'm sure as hell not going to clap for you" moments to "MERYL STREEP AKA THE ONLY CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD ACTOR HERE TONIGHT" sappiness and not a lot in between.

Oscar Recap

For all the changes they put to the telecast, it was no more interesting than last year's. For some reason, it just didn't feel very Oscar-ish.


Maybe that's because we had TAYLOR LAUTNER, MILEY CYRUS, KEANU REEVES, ZAC EFRON and a shitload of other irrelevant actors (Demi Moore? What?) present awards?

Much as I love Neil Patrick Harris, that number was useless. The John Hughes tribute was outrageously long when you think about all the other geniuses who never got the time of day at the Oscars, and the fact that 3/4 of the aging audience had clearly never seen his movies, hence the unenthusiastic applause near the end. So. Awkward.

And Jason Reitman and Tarantino lost their screenplay Oscars? Fuck that. Did anyone care about the screenplays for Precious or The Hurt Locker? This is the time when I feel that, FUCK PRECURSORS, I'm feeling pretty sure that Reitman wouldn't have lost if the media didn't flip out over his supposed "douchebaggery" aka awkwardness with Sheldon Turner, and if people weren't so "oh Precious is so cute, it should go home with something!" The fact that Tarantino and Reitman went home empty-handed is just plain wrong. I hope they got some good consolation booze afterwards.

Only good part of the evening was when Kathryn Bigelow won and when the camera panned to Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem sitting together. OH and when Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr. presented. Thank god these exquisitely talented and funny people also happened to be "hip" with the MTV crowd. Though I wish Jack Nicholson would come back :(


All in all, a severe lack of class or decorum. The whole MTV aura, the 5-actors-fellating-I-mean-presenting, (though Tucci admittedly was funny as fuck) and I stand by my proposition that Adam Shankman can go to hell.

Casting Rumors Squeal #2

Daniel Day-Lewis, Benicio Del Toro, and Gael Garcia Bernal for Scorsese's Silence.

I've just finished my first GGB movie, Y Tu Mama Tambien (which was fucking incredible, btw. Dirty and explicit as I've heard, obviously, but also hysterically funny, awkward, sad, and surprisingly tender. There's something somewhat innocent about Julio and Tenoch's Superbad-like subservience to Luisa. They're initially terrified of her sexual advances. And the last scene is just *so* well acted) Anyhoo, I officially get all the fuss about him, and to see these three sensitive, scarily intelligent, lovely tornadoes of sexiness and talent act together in a movie would just be....weird. And epic.

Not sure about the chemistry between the three (I'm still always a bit wary of all-star-casts, because big names occasionally translates to me-me! acting. But I'm optimistic, especially with the inclusion of DDL. Something DDL doesn't get enough credit for is his ability to spark with other actors. When he's onscreen, all anyone wants to watch is him and his dynamic energy, of course, but he's equally brilliant at building an undeniable chemistry with his screen partners, whether it be Madeleine Stowe, Paul Dano, or Leonardo Dicaprio. Even if said screen partner is miserably less effective than DDL (cough last two names) at establishing their own significance with the audience.

So basically, DDL could dance with a hatrack and make it look good. Benicio Del Toro would probably be his usually freaked out, strangely entrancing self, and Gael Garcia Bernal might bring some sexy normalcy to the trio (can't comment on him as much as the other two, since I need to see more work of his.) So all in all, crossing fingers and hoping Scorsese goes for this much more interesting storyline than yet another goddamn Hollywood biopic.

Marion Cotillard as...Kay Corleone?

I simply cannot express how much I loved Marion Cotillard in Nine this year. This is what truly great actresses do, elevate underwritten characters that would have been insipid in the hands of a less capable actress.

Luisa Contini literally does *nothing* but complain throughout the entire goddamn movie, yet Cotillard transforms Luisa's whining into nothing short of angelic martyrdom. Her desperate devotion to a husband whom she alternately hates and worships; her exquisite anguish at being torn between supporting the Guido Show and finding her own self-assertion is continually expressed by little more than a glance or a embrace.

Well, what kind of a role does that sound like, really? Kay Corleone! A tool used by her doting/patronizing husband, an underwritten role which critics called a little more than useless. A role that, as gallantly as Diane Keaton tries to play her, is so annoying we couldn't care less what happened to her. What if Marion Cotillard, with her unmatched empathy and grace, had been there forty years earlier? *Sigh*. Of course, there's the problem of Marion being French, since I always thought the point of Kay being an all-American WASP was to show Michael's conflict between his inescapable Mafia roots and his (failed) attempts to assimilate into the "legitimate" American life.


Nevertheless! If I were any good at graphics I would try to Photoshop Marion Cotillard into a Godfather frame, but as it is, you'll just have to settle for this:



"Oh, Michael. Michael, you are blind. It wasn't a miscarriage. It was an abortion. An abortion, Michael. Just like our marriage is an abortion. Something that's unholy and evil. I didn't want your son, Michael! I wouldn't bring another one of your sons into this world! It was a son, Michael! A son! And I had it killed because this, must all end!"

Can't you TOTALLY see Marion doing that? I can. The look of pain in her large, miraculously expressive eyes, as Marion's hissy French accent trembles with barely contained anger and scorn, something similar, I imagine, to her electrifying interrogation scene in Public Enemies. My, I think that sounds perfect.

Why Do I Feel This Will Be More Entertaining Than the Tim Burton One?

The first Alice in Wonderland ever made, in 1903, a hundred and seven years ago. According to EW, the Cheshire cat was the family pet and the White Rabbit is just fucking scary. And the shrinking and re-shrinking, oddly enough, impressive considering the time period. Very innovative, really. And strangely entrancing...



Also, clocking in at twelve minutes, it was longer than any other feature film of the time.

Montage Time!

Kind of wish the guy used more interesting scenes - this is kind of like that top-25 pop song medley where the movies feel alarmingly similar, but still deeply gratifying.

Film Orgasm #1

News: Marion Cotillard taking the lead in Woody Allen's next movie.

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