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!)

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.

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.

( I like the word Peppy, and the word Cheap. Peppy and Cheap. )

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.

( The sad extent of my fannishness, inside. )

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! )

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.

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.

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.

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.



( She couldn't have done it! SHE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT! )

Sometimes you see a movie and think, "Oh, heavens most merciful and holy, bring me a sign that this is a joke."

Synopsis for "Heidi 4 Paws":

""Heidi 4 Paws" is a live-action re-telling of Johanna Spyri's 1880 children's classic, "HEIDI", but with fully mouth-articulated dogs in all of the roles. "Heidi 4 PAWS" tells the story of the young orphan (this time as seen through the eyes of a yellow lab puppy) who is sent to live with her reclusive Grandfather (in this case an old sheepdog). Just as Heidi adjusts to her new life in the mountains, she is taken away by her social worker (a scrappy beagle). Heidi finds herself living in the big city with Clara Sesehound (a cockapoo mix), who has been made an invalid after a debilitating illness. Although Heidi comes to love Clara, her quest to return to the mountains dominates her stay. In the end, she is able to reunite with her beloved Grandfather. When Clara later comes to visit, the final miracle of Heidi's story is revealed when Clara regains her ability to walk."

And then, in the cast list you see:

"Julian Sands ... Peter the Goatherder"

AND YOU KNOW IT IS ALL HORRIBLY TRUE.

Below, a production still from a movie that is, apparently, actually being made.





Julian Sands is out to get me, you guys. I don't know how this could be any clearer. I'll never give in, Julian, DO YOU HEAR ME?


ETA: I can't look at this picture without cringing and then laughing hysterically. THOSE POOR DOGS.

An unexpected casualty of Questionable Taste Theatre is going through YouTube for any relevant clips, and then getting lost in a maze of hilarious music videos. Or, worse, someone's funky fetish video collection. (If your usename contains "padded cell" and you have a bunch of clips of women in straightjackets, please, never contact me, okay?)

SO. No video clips of today's film, The Linguini Incident, and almost no pictures, because this movie is so rare that I am the only person who remembers it was ever made.

What this movie has: Roseanna Arquette as a failed escape artist, David Bowie as a bartender on the run from the law, Eszter Balint as a defensive-lingerie designer, and Marlee Matlin as a cashier with a pretzel hairdo and a silver lame uniform.



( The simple plan is, no one in this room is going to have sex with anyone else in this room. We'll be platonic... like our parents. )

I have a review column up at Fantasy magazine, tackling DARK KINGDOM, the Sci-Fi miniseries bastardization of the Volsunga Saga/Niebelungenlied. (They seriously take random elements from each one and smoosh them together like a peanut butter and anchovy sandwich. It's hilarious.)

You guys, it was terrible. It was SO terrible that Julian Sands was in it.

And you know what? If you, as a filmmaker, hire Julian Sands for something, you should just know now that I'm going to come after you.

Also, please everyone marvel at Tempest's coding, of which I dreamed for a brief moment and rejected as impossible before I submitted. I woke this morning to the realization that she was made of win and could pull my innermost hopes directly through my brain.

This week I celebrate my fat-kid-cakeness love of Thunderheart. It has Val Kilmer before he got crazy, Graham Greene before he couldn't get work any more, and EIGHT POUNDS OF PWN.


Enjoy this beautifully-composed shot...right before this dude is killed-ass.

( Who the hell are you, man? )

...you hear that they're making a miniseries called "Lost in Austen" (groan) about a woman who goes back in time and switches places with Elizabeth Bennet (groan! Also, since Pride and Prejudice is, you know, fictional and not historical, this has already broken my Suspendometer), and you know you'll see it anyway.

Why? Because you love all the actors playing the Bennetts.

*sigh* Oh, England. Home of acting talent.

I live for the day the publicity stills come out and I can tear the costumes to pieces!

Never has Emma Thompson's judgemental glare been so painful to me.

Yes, it's Her Alibi. The movie with a 15% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. FIFTEEN PERCENT.

Sure, the majority of it is a stinkfest, but there is not a day that goes by without at least one line from this movie being directly relevant to my own life.

( I love that character of yours, that Peter...Swine? )

I was all set with a Questionable Taste post about one of my favorite guilty pleasures, but then I started trying to gather some pictures, etc, and found out it's generaly considered the worst movie ever made, which surprised me, since I'd always figured that in the Awful Movie Marathon it was in some forgettable, vaguely-crappy middle, not right out in the front.

I'll have to pinch-hit one when I get home from work; or, go all out, share my shame, and use some quotes to defend myself. If I can. People seriously hated this movie. I am beginning to wonder if I was dropped on my head as a wee bairn or something.

To do this weekend:

- Critique/get critiqued.
- Write 4,500 words.
- Flip out about my lack of writing ability. (I'm allowing myself one, which I will probalby use up in the next four hours, throwing my entire weekend into a tailspin!)
- Tango. Whether this is a reprieve or just more stress remains to be seen.
- Return emails.
- Lay groundwork for freelanceitude.
- Oh god, 4,500 words. What was I thinking five bullets ago?
- Deeply long to watch the Extended Edition of The Two Towers and Return of the King.
- Not actually watch them. Too much enjoyable time! I have to suffer, dammit! Suffer!
- Put away the clean laundry that is currently piled on my occassional chair. (It's piled me-high, people. This is not a drill.)
- Debate going to I-Con. (I'm not a gamer, and the tango DJ [milonga at a convention! WTF?] isn't worth a trip on the rail. Peter Beagle...is another story. I love Peter Beagle like I love animatrionic polar bear puppets.)

This list will be updated Monday, at which point maybe two of them will be struck out and the rest will still be sitting here! Place your bets.

Also, when I was at home last weekend I found my old copy of Dragonsinger, which I read when I was eight. That is the Mary Sue to end all Mary Sues, holy shit. No wonder I had an inferiority complex back then. Bad at piano AND without the ability to Impress fire lizards!

This week's movie is Strange Days, the near-future sci-fi flick from 1995. When it came out it polarized audiences, meaning that I loved it and everyone else in the world thought it was awful. In my defense, I was still so young that I had to be driven to the theatre. And also, I just thought it was awesome, okay? I'll never forget the first time I saw it.

WITH MY GRANDMOTHER HAHAHAHAHAHAH oh god. Sorry, Grandma. I didn't know.

(She liked Ralph Fiennes, I liked the trailer, we thought it was gonna be a cool little noir whatever. I DIDN'T KNOW.)

Nutshell: On the eve of the year 2000, ex-cop Lenny navigates the underworld selling two-bit memories and pretending he's on the cutting edge instead of washed up. When one of his contacts is brutally murdered and the killer sends the experience straight to Lenny, Lenny realizes he's in over his head, and he and his limo-driving pistol-whipping friend Mace have to, you know, save the world. Whatever.


In the future, the leading cause of death is confetti-strike.

( By clicking this tag, you will be going back in time to when I was fourteen and I thought this movie was the shit. )

1. Saw Howl's Moving Castle last night; Christian Bale's voiceover was so hilariously distracting that I don't have much else to say, except that it's not worth seeing a movie for free if it's dubbed, and also that the ending was so random that I almost threw a pillow at the TV.

2. Started a short story that is going to be the death of me. Stupid story.

3. I'm taking a break from reading tango blogs; they only raise my blood pressure. Hopefully this means a downswing in bitchface posts, but you never know. I can be pretty bitchface all by myself.

4. They're auctioning off some The Other Boleyn Girl" costumes; if you ever wanted ugly, historically-inaccurate clothes at vastly inflated prices, go nuts! (I have to say, doublets would be pretty awesome daywear if you're a hardcore nerdwad. So, basically, they would be pretty awesome daywear for me.)

Please pay special attention to this dress, which managed to hide from me until now. You know when this would have looked great? In 1790. I might have to start Waistwatch on this thing.

5. Last night I came home to contributor copies of a literary journal. That's a nice welcome.

Il Fantasma. Long and winding road blah blah blah blah blah this thing is nearly eight minutes long, and that's because of the editing I gave the ratsex. I'm not sorry.


Part One: here.

Part Two: here.

Part Three: here.