Genevieve Valentine

Nothing says love...

Sat, 17 May 2008 21:11:57 GMT

...like staring into a scan of your own eyeball. Only because I love my sight so much, I was able stare into a disgusting red and green map of the inside of my poor, stretched ocular orb.

The good news - nothing much wrong!

The bad news - except that part where the inside of your eyeballs might rip off. But there's not a huge chance, just, you know, a chance!

...great?

Other good news - new frames! Now I have peripheral vision! (My old glasses were apparently teeny!)

"The Fall."

Fri, 16 May 2008 20:35:26 GMT

I'm just gonna call this now; I will see this movie, will want to love it, probably will end up hating it, and then will obsessively track all the cosplay. That's just how I roll.

(Though my hopes are high; apparently the biggest complaint so far as been lack of plot, and seriously, like I care if there's a plot? Give me long, well-dressed, meaningful stares! It's all I want in my life!)

Meanwhile...

Fri, 16 May 2008 18:14:38 GMT

There is no Questionable Taste Theatre this week, since the only movie I can think about at the moment is Lorna Doone, and it was so screamingly awful that I'm making an Abridged Classic out of it for Defenestration.

How bad is it? Well, at one point I said, "This is the slowest two hours of my life so far! How long is this?"

Turns out I was half an hour into it.

Wiscon.

Wed, 14 May 2008 17:13:33 GMT

So, I'm going to be at Wiscon next week!

I am not on any official panels, and will thus spend the weekend wandering around like a loon. I will, however, be singlehandedly moderating an ongoing panel called "The Asshole Beside Me," where I chill you to the bone with stories of my college writing workshops. Bonus: you can find out what the hell my writing group is named after.

(Please note that, if you were in my writing workshops senior year of college, "The Asshole Beside Me" panel might turn on a dime and become uncomfortable.)

For those who have no idea what I look like, this is it. I can practically guarantee that I will be making this face, since I make this face 90% of my life.

The other 10% of my life I'm doing a crazy Viking laugh with my head thrown back, so if all you can see is tonsils, that's probably me, too.

(Also, I look like I have a glass eye in this picture. That's not the case, though a glass eye would probably be just as useful as the 20/500 eyeball that's in there now.)

It's sad, really.

Tue, 13 May 2008 01:28:06 GMT

You know you're old when you email a friend and ask, "Are we calling shenanigans?"

I'm EIGHTY-FIVE YEARS OLD.

I also managed to dredge up an old high school nickname: Guttermouth. Yeah, I went to high school in 1905.

I don't care, it's what I really believe.

Sun, 11 May 2008 23:16:55 GMT

Say what you want, I really, genuinely believe the song of the ice cream truck in my neighborhood is Satan's bedtime music. If this is the famed Mr. Softee, the devil owns your souls, people. Can't you hear his frantic, off-key plinking? He's plinking FOR YOU!

That's some good dancing.

Sun, 11 May 2008 09:27:52 GMT

Yeah, I just walked in the door. It's 5:30am.

I'm not even tired.

That was some good dancing.

Oh, TV.

Sat, 10 May 2008 20:51:58 GMT

One of my favorite things on TV is historical documentaries that feature quasi-actors sort of bumbling around, making facial expressions on command.

Narrator: The soldiers were worried.
Soldiers: [worrried]

Narrator: These women would play a vital role in the expansion of the American West.
Saloon Girls: [smiling]

Narrator: The Emperor now had only one goal - to overcome his enemies, and show no mercy.
Emperor: [frowny face]

Where do they find these people? Seriously, where do I sign to be a frowny-face on National Geographic documentaries? Resume:

Female, under 30, available for quasi-acting in documentaries. Specialties: suspicion, tiredness, frowny face.

Nerd. Neeeerd.

Fri, 09 May 2008 18:48:39 GMT

Word count this week: 10,000+ and counting.

Even though I like to think I'm relatively productive, the first flush of passionate interest in something clearly revs the old engine.

The only problem with that is that once I get home and have access to the primary source of my productivity, I will spend the rest of the evening on the couch vegging out in front of the TV and get nothing else done. Ever. In my life.

Oh, well. Worse ways to go.

Questionable Taste Theatre: "Soapdish"

Thu, 08 May 2008 17:21:50 GMT

This week I am in love with Not Bakula and enjoying the endorphins from discovering something new and amazing. I can't even bring myself to be snarky about a movie this week; I'm filled with that much love. Today, I am 85% love. (And 15% dorkosity.)

So this week in Questionable Taste Theatre, I present SOAPDISH. Soapdish is more or less the soundtrack to my life; not one day goes by wherein I can't quote this movie. Having a family of performers, way more theatre experience than is healthy, and a work history that includes working next to soap-opera writers convinced me that this movie, while it may seem to be a comedy, is in fact exactly like life.

Nutshell: There's a soap opera, which is hilariously bad. Everyone involved? Hilariously bad. Dialogue? Best ever.

Join us for some of my favorite quotes from this movie, partly because the plot defies description, so I won't bother, and partly because, no joke, some of the funniest lines I've ever heard.

[an audition]

Betsy Faye Sharon: Very, very good, Mark. And very true. I love what you're doing. I just, I think if we could try it one more time, and this time... I don't know... maybe try one without your shirt.
Mark: Sure.
[Removes it and reviews the script]
Mark: "Will you be having wine with dinner?"
Betsy Faye Sharon: ...I think we've found our waiter.

*

[Studio head Edwards lays down the law.]

Edwards: I would like to voice my strong concern about this show's spiraling decline in ratings. David, ever since you took us to the Caribbean, it's been Jamaica homeless people sucking soup, and a big wave outside that cost a hundred thousand dollars. That's depressing and it's expensive, two words I hate. You know the words I like? I like the word "peppy" and the word "cheap". Peppy and cheap.

*

[Lori Craven, Celeste's "niece", tries to get her start.]

Lori Craven: Hi. Uh, I'm Lori Craven and... I'm an actress.
Betsy Faye Sharon: An actress! Really! How nice for you! I'm Betsy Faye Sharon and I'm a bitch. Now get out of here.

*

[On bringing back Celeste's ex, Jeffrey Anderson]

David Barnes: I was under orders.
Celeste Talbert: So - was - Hitler! Oh, no, I don't mean Hitler, I mean the other guy, the other one.
David Barnes: Himmler.
Celeste Talbert: No, no, no.
David Barnes: Hess.
Rose Schwartz: Eichmann.
David Barnes: Eichmann.

*

[If you have ever seen a soap opera, you've heard these lines.]

Ariel Maloney: Why, Bolt! I didn't realize you were here.
Bolt: Well... I am.

*

[Montana and David share a tender moment.]

Montana Moorehead: YOU - promised me you would get rid of Celeste. WE WERE BOTH NAKED AND YOU PROMISED! NAKED!
David Barnes: Hey! We were never naked.
Montana Moorehead: Well, we could have been!

*

[Lori has found out she's Celeste's daughter.]

Celeste Talbert: I never said I was the best mother in the world. Give me a little credit, will you, credit for being someone who tried... to love you the only way she knew how?
Lori Craven: I know that speech.
Celeste Talbert: You do?
Lori Craven: Yeah, it was the, uh, the Thanksgiving show, when Maggie meets Bolt's blind nephew.

*

[Their live episode goes all to shit.]

Mr. Edwards: There's a nurse in the restuarant...did I miss a meeting?

*

[Best movie conversation ever. No joke.]

[Reading unrehearsed lines off the TelePrompTer]
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Dr. Randall, what a surprise! Are you having lunch here?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] I will if it's that sample. Huh... I wish it was that simple.
Edmund Edwards: [offstage] This guy never heard of contact lenses?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] The test results have come back.
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] And?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] And I'm afraid the results are very disturbing. It seems that Angelique has a rare case of brake fluid...
[pause]
Jeffrey Anderson: Bran... fluid. Bran flavor.
Burton White: What the hell?
David Barnes: [offstage] Brain fever!
Edmund Edwards: [offstage, loudly] Say it!
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Brain fever!
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] Yes. Brain fever. Or what we call in Austria...
[they both goggle at the word]
Jeffrey Anderson: Kopfgeschlagen. At the current rate of inflation, her brain will laterally explore the...
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Literally explode?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] Exactly, within the next three houses.
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Hours?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] Yes, will literally explode within next three hours. I would suggest leaving the restraint.
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Restaurant?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] Restaurant, yes.
Celeste Talbert: [as Maggie] Her brain will actually explode?
Jeffrey Anderson: [as Dr. Randall] Yes, yes, I've, um, seen it happen. It's a dreadful, dreadful thug. Thing.

I dare you to find a situation in which the suggestion "Peppy and cheap" is not useful. You can't! There isn't one!

Say what you will about the enduring artistic merits of this movie, there has not been a movie before or since with dialogue like this. I love you, movie.

Oh, I am hopeless.

Wed, 07 May 2008 19:15:25 GMT

This is how last night went:

1. Went to the reading at South Street last night; had a very good time.

2. Raced home to finish Operation Not Bakula.

3. Finished.

4. Immediately queued up the whole thing and started again until I fell asleep at about 3am.

5. Woke up 45 minutes early this morning to watch some more before work.

I'm still on such an experience-high that I'm not even tired. I am a nerd beyond measure.

Finally, something I know something about.

Tue, 06 May 2008 18:44:51 GMT

So, the Costume Institute Gala was last night.

You would think that, as a costume/fashion nerd, I would be all over it. And you would be correct, except that I've been to two, and I have a near-pathological aversion to the ENTIRE MET that I am only slowly overcoming.

I worked that event two years in a row with the event production company.

JESUS GOD.

PLANNING
Right up front, let me admit it: the Costume Insitute Gala was too much for me. I was a second-tier employee, involved in procurement and on-site and not even on the actual event design or management, and it was still too much for me. I left after that event. (Then they got me back the second year, but we won't talk about that!) It is, by its very nature, a nightmare. I spent a month sourcing bent-wire baskets in Belgium, getting linen napkins custom-dyed and -sewn, and importing organza from France four hundred yards at a time. A MONTH.

DRESS
I had to buy a dress on my own budget, which was approximately $-5.00, so I bought indigo stretch velvet and made a 1930s-esque dress in an apartment without mirrors. (That wasn't nerve-wracking AT ALL HAHHA.) I have images of how it looks from standing in my kitchen with the light on at night and taking a picture of my reflection. It only had three seams, because I didn't have the time or patience to finish more than that. It was unhemmed. Over time, the weight of the fabric has streched the skirt so that the dress is about four inches longer than it was when I first wore it.

It remains an RIDICULOUS point of pride to me that four people asked "Is that a [designer's name]?" the night of the Gala, one of whom was a designer.

EVENT
The event itself was 28 hours of setup (minus a mandatory 2-hour break), followed by another twelve hours of Event ("Event" is code for "herding cats"), and load-out, which I can't even remember because I was exhausted beyond reason. They sent me home when I collapsed. My friend/boss there, who is inhuman, stayed awake for the duration and also can't remember how long load-out took, because time has no meaning when you have to rip two rooms out of the Met before it opens to the public Tuesday morning.

I will spare you the setup and load-out blather, because no one should have to hear about that.

CELEBS
The nicest celeb of the night was JIMMY FALLON, of all the people on the planet. As everyone filed out; he saw my walkie-talkie, PULLED ME ASIDE and said, "This is so gorgeous. You guys did an awesome job. Thank you." He was a little drunk, but I did not care. He was the only person who went out of his way to say anything, and after I had spent a month importing baskets from Belgium, hearing that put him at the top of my list.

(Seriously, Gabriel Byrne was at this thing talking philosophy and Jimmy Fallon STILL made the top of the list. That's how much the comment meant to me.)

Biggest jerk: Rosario Dawson. In the Temple of Dendur, where the entertainment event was held (prior to the cocktail hour), there was a hallway we lined with guys to help guide people out to the grand hallway for the cocktail/dancing. It's a bit of a bottleneck because it's about 700 people, but at the same time, it's a wide hallway and it's not like they're stopping in the middle to do makeup. Things are moving.

She got in line, saw it was going to be ten seconds of her time, and tried to sneak around one of the ANCIENT STATUES that was PRETTY DAMN CLOSE TO THE WALL, with her entourage of SIX PEOPLE with her.

I LEAPT in front of her, held out a hand, and said, "NO". It was the 'I’m training my dog not to jump up on strangers' NO.

"This statue," I said, "is three thousand years old. You can wait ten seconds. Step back in line."

She was speechless with incredulity. Which made two of us, because REALLY?

To conclude: every first Tuesday in May, I give thanks to several deities that, once again, I have dodged the Costume Institute Bullet. Today is that day, and I AM PRETTY DAMN THANKFUL.

I scare people!

Mon, 05 May 2008 16:38:17 GMT

You know you haven't tangoed in a while when you're standing in a subway car, it lurches, and you go up on your toes to absorb the impact amid the sound of your own crunching bones.

Then the woman next to you is so freaked out she shoves her way to the other side of the car to avoid you, and the triumph of your moment is sort of squelched.

I've got to stretch in the mornings so my feet don't get that shock.

(Tango dancers' feet look like ballerinas' feet; I'm one of the few women I know not in the care of a podiatrist, and I left my last one because he told me to stop dancing.)

Oh, music, I love you.

Mon, 05 May 2008 03:25:04 GMT

I am so addicted to writing with the right music, I can't even tell you.

Dear emo music, thank you for making this evening possible.

(One of the best Futurama lines ever is during Bender's fake funeral:

Amy: Bender was a -
Bender: LOUD.ER and SAD.DER!

That's how I like my music: louder and sadder.)

Other people need more shame.

Sun, 04 May 2008 00:22:47 GMT

[Scene: a tango practica. GENEVIEVE is approached by PUSHY TANGO WOMAN, who rubbed intimate parts all over Genevieve the only time Genevieve made the mistake of dancing with her. PTW is known for approaching leaders and demanding they dance with her. It usually works.]

PTW: Are you going to lead me?
G: Oh! Well, I have my street shoes on, I was on my way out.
PTW: Let me ask you - do you just not want to dance with me any more? Because I've asked you, like, twelve times in the last year and you always say no. Is it that you don't want to dance with me any more?

[GENEVIEVE dies inside that someone is so unable to get a clue.]

G: [trying to allow PTW some dignity] I just usually dance with friends.
PTW: Well, I'm your friend, and I REALLY liked dancing with you. Just tell me you don't want to dance with me! I'm asking!
G: I usually prefer to dance with my friends, I'm sorry.
PTW: Fine!

[PTW suddenly morphs into Glenn Close.]

PTW: ...we're still friends.
G: ...
PTW: Well, goodbye.

[PTW sits down, stares directly at Genevieve.]

[Fin.]

I should feel creeped out, but instead I am just MORTIFIED that someone is so unable to read a room that after 12 "No"s she's still trying for "Yes".

Other people need more shame. It would spare me being ashamed on their behalf.

Now approaching Dorkopolis, population: me.

Fri, 02 May 2008 18:08:10 GMT

So, I've had a job since I was eight. (Car-wash-business owners of the world unite! Mission statement: "Carry that bucket proudly, washing cars up and down one side of your street until a parent walks you safely across to the other side!")

For a while, I saved money, but since that job, my job seems to simply be a way to support my fannishness. I now look at money as something I should hide as fast as possible upon receiving it, or else it will go to a fifteen-DVD set about the history of the petticoat.

Note: if this DVD set exists, uh, let me know.

In times of stress, my time-honored outlet is to immediately focus on an actor at random and collect everything they've ever been in. This is not at all about the thrill of the chase; if every actor had a boxed set available at the click of a button, I would prefer it to the eBay trawling I routinely undergo. (The Linguini Incident, I'm looking at you.) I prefer the having to the seeking. Seeking freaks me out. I'm currently looking for a TV movie that was apparently NEVER issued on DVD, which makes it my most fruitless search since I went looking for Good King Wenceslas in the 7th grade. (Don't look at me that way, you watched SeaQuest, too, I know you did. And I know half of you sat through at least the pilot of Kindred. Wassup, Lieutenent Toreador!)

Anyway. My point is, I routinely end up buying horrible VHS movies from Australia and happily devouring them. Well, some of them are horrible. (HORRIBLE.) Some aren't. "Thank God He Met Lizzie" is actually not bad, and it's good to know that Cate Blanchett sprang from the head of Zeus with that amount of talent and that she never had a bad line reading in her life! That level of natural talent certainly is inspiring! Excuse me while I jump out this window.

Part of this habit is fine; I have seen a lot of weird movies that way, which are always good for a laugh even if they aren't any good. (Most of the movies I've ever seen, I'm looking at you!)

Part of this habit is bad, in that I inevitably turn into a crazy person.

Genevieve: I'm collecting Scott Bakula*!
Friends: What?
Genevieve: I already spent $200 on his screen test for Star Trek: Enterprise!
Friends: But you don't even like Scott Ba -
Genevieve: BRING ME EVERY EPISODE OF QUANTUM LEAP.

Now, it's to my advantage to fall deeply in love with someone who already has a sizable body of work, and then I can just collect what exists. Sometimes, this person was in movies with Gwyneth Paltrow, Claire Danes, Keira Knightley, Angelina Jolie, Nicholas Cage, Tom Cruise, Gretchel Mol, John Travolta, Renee Zellweger, Jack Nicholson, Ashton Kutcher, or Cameron Diaz, all of whom I refuse to acknowledge as actors or even as human beings. Thus, my collections are often incomplete. (Exception: The Talented Mr. Ripley. Good thing Cate and Gwyneth share, like, three frames in that movie!)

Sometimes it's good to find someone when they're still little baby actors doing HBO miniseries and Sci Fi miniseries. For a while you have to pull his once-a-year projects and just admire, and then they grow up to star in movies with Angelina Jolie and Keira Knightley, and you see him doing press junkets on E! and you feel like his mother.

"James Andrew McAvoy, I knew you when you were doing your FIRST shirtless movie, all right? Stop trying to impress me. Now, sit up straight, watch your hands, and start vetting your costars better!"

I have an uncanny ability to remember actors' faces, too, which helps make my habit fun - my life is a perpetual Easter Egg hunt. Not a day goes by that I don't point at my TV screen and say, "You! You were in Band of Brothers!" And you know what? As long as you're pointing at a dude, it's nearly always true. I mean, Ross was in that movie. Michael Fassbender from 300 was in Band of Brothers. Alton Brown was probably in Band of Brothers. The Pope was in Band of Brothers.

The only other movie that's come close to having as many faces is in it is Topsy-Turvy, which I will be Questionable-Tasting next week, as soon as I can find some pictures of the bloody thing. I might be the only person who ever sat through that whole movie.

The other day when I was trolling for an out-of-print DVD, a friend asked, "Is this hobby really healthy?"

I thought for a long moment, looked at her sagely, and answered, "BRING ME EVERY EPISODE OF QUANTUM LEAP."*

* Not really. I don't like Scott Bakula. And even if I did, I don't have Quantum Leap money to spend, here. That show had seventeen million seasons.

ETA: Okay, I feel like the little asterisk above is not enough of a disclaimer. I DO NOT LIKE SCOTT BAKULA.

I am not ACTUALLY collecting anything by Scott Bakula. I have NOTHING to do with Bakula except thinking it's funny his name rhymes with Dracula.

I feel very badly, especially about the person who emailed me asking for a copy of his screen test for Enterprise, but I don't have it, because I was totally kidding. Next time, I will make my asterisk much bigger.

Questionable Taste Theatre: "Passion in the Desert"

Thu, 01 May 2008 16:46:15 GMT

You would think that Il Fantasma dell'Opera>would be the first time in a person's life when she would have seen a man getting it on with an animal.

Well, guess what!

Nutshell: An adaptation of Honore Balzac's short story, Passion in the Desert centers around a French officer who gets separated from his regiment and ends up forming a bond with a female leopard who helps to keep him alive. And, uh...other things.

Yeah, those things.

I almost can't believe I saw this years ago, mostly because you'd think it would have inured me to ratsex. But nope!

I will say that I didn't necessarily enjoy the movie; the first half is a lot of men in period costumes running awkwardly in the sand and making big speeches, and the second half is a really uneasy blend of social statement and man/leopard porn.

"You shut up about my girlfriend!"

What's amazing about the movie is the level of (non-sex) intimacy between the actor playing NoBoundaries and the leopard. On the official site, the director talks about how they planned this movie years in advance and actually raised three (apparently abandoned? already captive? Oh, documentation on animal rights, you're so elusive) leopard cubs to be comfortable around humans. They cast the part by bringing the top choices to the zoo and putting them in front of a fully-grown tiger, which, HA! "If you don't pee yourself, the part is yours!"

Another thing this movie does well is that it constantly reminds you that the leopard is an animal, and the fact that this guy starts humanizing her and looking at her romantically is because the desert is making him TOTALLY CRAZY and not, you know, suggesting that getting it on with leopards is at all acceptable.

"I SAID SHUT UP ABOUT MY GIRLFRIEND!"

The rest of the movie is clearly just warm-up for the (admittedly evocative) shots of leopard/man drinking/fighting/frolicking/lovin', and the tragic payoff when he tries to tie her up to make her wait for him (men!), and she's like, "That's interesting! Or we could try this," and bites his arm off.

The metaphors do slowly unfurl if given enough time, and despite all its total ickiness, the relationship between the man and the leopard is beautifully filmed and the resolution is about what you'd hope from a guy who messes with wild leopards.

Sadly, if you're looking for any kind of in-depth commentary I'll have to bow out; I haven't seen this movie since the first time, back in 2000. (I rode my steam-bike all the way to the general store to meet the Pony Express rider who delivered it to me!) Some of my memories are fuzzy. THANK GOODNESS. (Uh, except that one time I made sparcck watch it with me. I'm a terrible person.)

So that no one has to actually watch the movie, some brave soul on YouTube (who is not me!) made a clip of all the good parts, and by "good" I mean both "beautiful shots of animal-and-man living together" and "screamingly uncomfortable make-out scene between a MAN and a LEOPARD WHAT IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE."

"DO WE NEED TO GO OUTSIDE AND TALK ABOUT YOU DISRESPECTING MY GIRLFRIEND?"

A Very Short Photo Essay about Costume Con 2008

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 18:11:50 GMT

Group Costume YES:

Group Costume NO:

And finally:

A CHEMISE. HOW HARD IS IT.

(This lady is incredible; she hand-quilted the underskirt for her 18th-century wedding dress, and I don't know if you can see in this picture, but she's embroidered her pocket hoops, which no one will actually see, so she's just hardcore, is what.)

(photos from this dude.)

For the gentlemen who don't give a crap: someday I'll do a post about something incredibly manly. Like...lumberjacking. I promise.

Seriously.

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 02:18:04 GMT

So, capitalism is alive and well, whatever, *cough* sometimes I want a wireless cafe without having to go into the city so I hit the new Panera *cough*.

Just a public service announcement for anyone who might ever go there: their chai latte tastes like the butt of a clove cigarette. It is FOUL. It's like rotten licorice and old smoke. It was so awful I made everyone at my table try some too, and then kept taking sips because I repeatedly convinced myself that it couldn't possibly be THAT bad.

WELL, IT WAS.

(It's also a good thing evolution didn't take totally legitimate revenge on me and poison me for continuing to drink something I could clearly identify as liquid evil.)

More than a day later, I still cannot fully rid myself of the taste. (BUTT OF A CLOVE CIGARETTE.)

So what I'm saying is, next time you find yourself in a Panera, order the chai, and suffer as I have suffered!

Clarissa.

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 19:22:00 GMT

So, guess who will be talking about Clarissa this week?

GOOD GUESS.

I managed to devour the whole thing in a single night, cursing a blue streak all the way through. I'm not sure how much of it I can watch again, though, because it's basically four hours of watching a bird get crushed under a boot-heel in slow motion and you spend most of it yelling, "STOP!" or "RUN!" or "NO CHEMISES!" and get all stressed out.

Anyway, expect a lot more about this in the coming days, because if I had to suffer, then dammit, so do you.

(Totally accurate gowns, totally accurate stays - NO CHEMISES. They show womein in underwear like, six times. NEVER A CHEMISE. Are they trying to kill me? They're trying to kill me.)

Underneath these gowns, all these women are chemiseless.

Oh, this is gonna be good.

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 22:18:09 GMT

From the kingdom of Anachronia, Spring/Summer Collection 1165.

Yeah, those are bolero jackets over princess-seamed dresses. The patterns are from the upholstery fabrics so ugly The Other Boleyn Girl turned them down. Also, that girl on the right is wearing a weave made out of cotton candy.

Then, an Enya video vomited.

The girl on the middle right is wearing a blue wrap dress with cleavage down to her sternum.

I have got to get hold of this movie.

Whenever my mom suggests I move closer to home, I laugh.

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 23:24:52 GMT

Actual conversation over the phone. All parties are played by themselves except me; I am played by Walter Matthau.

Me: Hey, Mom! I placed a story!
Mom: Oh my god, is it a horror story?
Me: No.
Dad: [mumbled]
Mom: Your father wants to know if it's too weird.
Me: ...no?
Mom: Well, can Grandma read it?
Me: ...I guess.
Mom: Well, then that's great, honey!

I guess that's a temporary pass on changing my name.

Quality.

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 19:49:06 GMT

Okay, whatever I do to this movie? IT DESERVES.

ETA: Holy crap, EVERY TIME she says, "I love only Lorenzo!" with her head shaking like a dashboard puppy, I crack up.

ETA 2: This is a film adaptation of "The Decameron." We're boned.

Questionable Taste Theatre: "The Reckoning"

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 20:09:34 GMT

So coming up on Questionable Taste Theatre is a random spate of period dramas. I'm a costume whore, what can I say?

We begin Ye Olde Monthe with the 14th century mystery The Reckoning. (The link goes to the trailer, which is worth seeing.)

Nutshell: Disgraced priest Paul Bettany falls in with a group of traveling actors, led by the MOST SINEWY PERSON IN THE WORLD, Willem Dafoe. When they hit a town that's less interested in morality plays than in convicting the local deaf woman for the murder of a young boy, the troupe ends up caught up in history's first-ever episode of Law & Order: Swyved Victimmes Unit. Which I spoil, so, you know, spoilers.

Can't fault the cast: Paul Bettany as a guilty-ridden priest driven to find out the truth behind this murder; Willem Dafoe as the leader of the actors and THE WORLD'S MOST SINEWY MAN; Vincent Cassel as a charismatic creep (so, uh, as himself?); and Brian Cox as The Devil. No, seriously.

You know he still keeps this outfit at home.

So the acting troupe rolls into town to deliver one of their morality plays; their morality plays go over about as well as everyone's third-grade pageant about the seasons - plenty of people come, but dammit, nobody cares.

However, the town is already transfixed by the scandalous murder of a young boy - by all appearances at the hands of the village crazy, a deaf (mute? Gah, don't remember!) woman who has only a female member to speak for her, so, DOOMED.

The only people who don't think she did it? Paul and Willem.

This picture is the physical embodiment of the phrase, "Girl, please."

Willem actually visits her in prison, and comes out 145% certain she didn't do it. Paul agrees, and eventually ends up exhuming the body and finding out that the kid was basically beaten to death in the middle of a Ye Olde Molestationne. Nice.

Of course, public sentiment is totally against her, so their protests go totally unheeded. So what does this resourceful troupe of actors do?

They restage the crime as her accusers have laid it out, and basically prove to the ENTIRE VILLAGE that they are a bunch of boneheads. It's pretty fucking awesome.

Of course, there's still the matter of who DID do it, and they end up in a tussle with the King's detectives, which makes it even MORE of a Swyved Victimmes Unit episode.

What makes it even MORE MORE like a Swyved Victimmes Unit? The denoument.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure this Bishop raped himself some little boys."

"Quoi? Moi?"

"Um, YEAH."

"Sacre bleu. Busted."

There is a huge faceoff in the Bishop's chapel, where the acting troupe sees him for the second time in the whole movie, he gives them a HUGE SPEECH about good and evil, twirls his invisible moustache, ties some women to the train tracks, raises mortgage rates, animates the hostile dead, breaks some Ming vases, and kills a kitten.

Then he and Paul Bettany have a knife fight. The End! No, really, that's the end. Boys, boys, crazy boys - be cooooool, boys!

Things this movie does wrong: well, it's nice to meet the villain more then FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE YOU KILL HIM. Just saying.

What it does right: Dude, a ton! It's beautifully filmed, and the tone of the sinister unknown is really effective, though you might want to watch this movie when you have a nice attention span, because there's long, nicely-composed shots of people just, you know, walking around or staring pensively, or, in the case of Willem Dafoe, taking off his shirt to reveal THE WORLD'S MOST SINEWY CHEST. It's disturbing, people, I'm not going to lie to you.

It's also really accurate. Everyone's dirty and freezing, food is scarce and kind of gross, and poor people are just wrapped in a sheet and dumped in the ground. Well done! Very accurate and evocative! THANK GOD I LIVE IN AN AGE WITH PLUMBING. Ahem.

Check out these costumes:

(Or visit the big picture. Literally.)

Even her ponytail holder is a strip of knitted wool [mumblemumble] fastened together! If it weren't for the weird magenta lipstick, we'd be in good shape historically!

This movie is pretty overlooked, but recommended if you can handle a lazy pace and a mystery that's more about atmosphere than about sussing out who the killer is, because YOU NEVER EVEN MEET HIM UNTIL THE END.

Just saying.

(Pictures courtesy of: Moviees and PaulBettany.net

Five things make a post.

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 16:02:47 GMT

1. Fun story! This morning on my way to work there were some workmen across the street. (Just so we set the scene, I was in loose pants, top, loose blazer.) I got the following.

Worker: *wolf whistle* *WOLF WHISTLE* Hey sexy! Hey! HEY YOU! HEY, BITCH, WHERE ARE *YOU* GOING? BITCH!

And I kept my eyes ahead of me and my hand on my cell phone because he had other men with him and I was alone, and at 8:00am one block from an elementary school I was worried that this guy would run after me for not being appreciative of his attention.

There's no red button in the world big enough, okay? There's just not.

2. I am planning a big post for the tango bitchface filter, showing what real tango is and is not, with multiple video examples, some of which are flattering, some of which are really not. I have no desire to publicly humiliate (most of) these people, so if you want in on the [tango bitchface] filter, speak up!

3. I had my tango lesson yesterday. Very interesting. This'll be a separate post. It's all about free will! Well, free will and high heels.

4. Uh, I like cake! (Now I'm just filling.)

5. I should have made this post just three things.