A movie about (shooting at) garbage

The second, and later film from Jane Campion, In The Cut is not quite as “critically acclaimed,” as they say, but it should be. At least, it should be given more credit cinematically, since Campion perfects her already solid technique and creates a really impressive narrative, rich and cohesive, with elements swirling around in remarkable unity despite the appearance of chaos. Not wholly unlike The Piano, In The Cut delights – perhaps even finds its chief meaning – in turning conventionally accepted notions/expectations/commonplaces/pleasures on their heads. The first shot of the film from within Frannie’s (Meg Ryan) apartment shows the ambiguous image of small, lightweight, white objects falling from the sky. The immediate instinct is to assume it’s snow, although they seem too big to be snow. Soon thereafter we come to understand that it couldn’t be snow, considering the time of year and the weather. Later still, Frannie’s sister reveals to Frannie that they’re petal-like leaves falling from trees. Do not believe your eyes; this is largely the message of In The Cut. Appearances are deceiving, things aren’t what they seem, and so on.

Seeing ain't knowing

The strong identification, or character engagement, with Frannie attaches the viewer to her at the outset and almost never strays from her. Exceptions are momentary and wrought by narrative necessity. The suturing is stronger here with Frannie than it was with Ada in The Piano. Since this film adds the component of a whodunit? to its narrative, the film progresses better with the audience basically knowing only what Frannie knows. The dark aura that pervades the film affects the feel significantly, contributing to a post-idealistic urban setting, a dystopic microcosm, bound to highlight the sinister in society. The cops add to this vibe at least as much as anyone else, and rightly so, considering the course of the story. They’re fundamentally no different from any other members of society, as much potential suspects as anyone else, as much scumbags, as much sleep-buddies.

No Blade Runner, but still dark

Frannie and her sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) stand as possible opposites, the independent woman and the dependent woman, respectively. Pauline’s pathetic stalking of a married man, her shameless fatal attraction to him leading to a restraining order, contrasts extremely with Frannie, who rarely ever dates and is constituted by a lack of desire for another. Her regular meetings with a handsome and hungry student lead to him punishing her for being a “bitch” – that is, being a woman who will not let herself be desired, will not return the gaze that caters to the desiring man. When Frannie finally does couple with a man, that coupling is defined by a reversal of traditional roles. Malloy (Mark Ruffalo) tells Frannie that he will be “anything you want me to be,” and so on. The relationship exists on her terms, for her pleasure. He willingly submits to her control, and her desire is not a desire for him, but rather for naked fulfillment. In a word, she uses him, and he knows it. All the while, she suspects him of committing the crime that is the catalyst for the film’s central mystery.

Sadistic

Having firsthand knowledge of the key piece of evidence needed to solve the crime, she withholds it. She seems to do this in order (1) to draw out the satisfaction she can experience through Malloy and (2) to solve the crime herself. Regarding the second, her day job as a high school teacher makes her an authority figure, a woman with knowledge and power. The meetings with her student are for the purpose of learning street vernacular from him so that she can give a more accurate portrait of urban life in the book she is writing. This is another instance in which Frannie uses a male for her own ends rather than letting herself be used, rebelling against gender norms. Regarding (1), it is important to note that the pleasure she experiences from Malloy is directly related to her suspicion that he is the murderer. Their romance is marked by sadism. After being mugged in an alley, Malloy has Frannnie re-stage the mugging in her apartment,  with him posing as the mugger. They do not get very far into the reenactment before arousing one another through the suggestion of violence. Toward the film’s finale, Frannie handcuffs Malloy to the wall in her apartment and proceeds to discover what appears to be incriminating evidence in his jacket pocket. The ensuing events leave Malloy stranded, cuffed to the wall like an animal as he becomes angrier and angrier. Once again, there is no question here concerning with whom the power lies. The climax in the following sequence has Frannie seizing the instrument of violence and overcoming the male villain.

Imprisoned

That climax is the second scene in which Frannie interacts with blood to a rather heavy degree. In the first, she enters a space that is extremely bloody, a space that happens to be the most intimate space of her sister’s, the bathroom where she has been murdered. This room is a sort of primal cave, penetrated through a violation of the worst kind, perhaps even on par with a violation into the womb. The bathroom already figures as the most personal, intimate space in a domicile. When Frannie enters it, not only is the evidence of the murder spread everywhere for her to see, but her sister is literally spread everywhere for her to see. This is an intrusion of the most violent sort, and Frannie walks straight into it, voluntarily surrounding herself with the bloody evidence. She is distraught, but also fearless and angry. In this way, the scene is somewhat reminiscent of the “castration” scene in The Piano.

Violated

It’s also reminiscent of that scene in another way, however. Right off, perhaps the main difference between the two scenes is that in The Piano, the act of violence is being done to Ada herself, whereas in In The Cut the act of violence has been done to Frannie’s sister. Returning, however, to the earlier point about Frannie and Pauline acting as opposites on the feminine spectrum (in terms of established archetypes or stereotypes), could they not essentially “be” the same person? There is, after all, a blurry line separating an opposite from a double. Consider not only the idea of two warring sides of a person embodies in two separate persons (something that wouldn’t be original to this film), but also the otherwise strange plot element of Pauline’s murder. Why, exactly, is she murdered? She and the murderer have never met and have no reason to meet. Their encounter only takes place as a direct result of Frannie getting a lift to her sister’s apartment. Pauline’s murder is an act supremely premeditated not only in terms of the murder itself but also in terms of the murdered person’s identity. Unless Frannie and Pauline essentially constitute two sides of the same person (from a thematic point of view), Pauline’s murder is a hole in the plot; it makes little or no sense.

Faker

If she – Frannie/Pauline – is the same person, however, then Malloy and Rodriguez (his partner) are also the same person. The two cops are partners. They work together and even hang out at the bar together. Frannie and Pauline are sisters – stepsisters, to be exact. They share the same father and spend a good deal of time together. Within the film, they’re defined in terms of one another; their identities are only clear in relation to one another. The same applies to the two cops. It’s in the bar that the difference between the two cops becomes most apparent. It’s there in the bar where Malloy tells Frannie how he’s willing to be whatever she wants him to be. Moments later Rodriguez makes some shockingly misogynistic comments (to say the least) about women that stand in polar opposition to Malloy’s words. Perhaps most importantly, it is their shared tattoo that creates the main misunderstanding fueling the film’s mystery.

Incriminated

Further still, recount the sadistic relationship that Frannie and Malloy share, and how that sadism plays out in their desires. Perhaps in this case, seeing Frannie-Malloy as “polar opposites” of Pauline-Rodriguez isn’t appropriate. Rather, significant overlap between the different couples makes them in some ways more similar than different. Another one of these overlaps concerns the guns of the two officers. We learn earlier in the film that Rodriguez carries a bright yellow squirt gun on his belt in place of a real firearm on account of losing his gun privilege due to – NB! – his wife taking the gun and using it. After cuffing Malloy to the wall, Frannie takes his gun with her (a second theft of a police gun by a woman) and rides off in Rodriguez’s car, though he is unaware that she is carrying. Her victory over him by means of a gun not only concludes the cycle for Rodriguez’s character of losing his gun to a woman (yes, folks, that’s castration), but Frannie’s theft of the gun from Malloy solidifies his status, already strongly hinted at, of being a male without an instrument of power.

Coming out bloody & on top

This is the kind of frustrating yet gratifying film that feeds on its own interpretation. The more that one sees in it, exponentially more will spring up before one’s eyes. Precious few films can submit to – what a terrible word; how about, “permit” – this kind of a reading without having violence done to them. In The Cut is a deceptively simple film, one that appears disturbing and complex but that is in fact very tight and coherent. It’s as much a Western as anything else, except in reverse. There are a hero and a villain, but instead of knowing who they are at the beginning, we aren’t fully sure until the end. Someone saves the day, but instead of fortifying established norms, the film challenges them and turns them over. At this point I’m struck with the realization that I’ve said nothing here about Frannie’s very interesting and imagined “flashbacks” to her father’s proposal to her mother and how violence fits into those. We could point to the identification between the primal, blood, and the woman that was already explored in the bathroom scene. Certainly issues of parenthood are of importance to this film, not only via the proposal flashbacks and constant talking about their father but also through the bracelet Pauline gives Frannie, suggesting Frannie as a mother. That the baby carriage breaks off of her bracelet while Frannie overcomes her mugger seems to solidify the possibility that Frannie is abandoning the maternal notion of Woman for something more powerful and independent. While there’s plenty more to discuss about this, time and space presently forbid it.

Castrated mother?

She came, she saw, she conquered

I’ve been reading and enjoying everyone’s best and worst lists lately, and the ugly narcissist in me was desperate to horn in on the action. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Here, for your disagreement pleasure, are my Mint and Wank lists for the past 10 years, starting with…

The Mint List:

10. Almost Famous (2000)

Not one most people would pick, and Cameron Crowe tends to divide people, but I’ve always had a soft spot for this story of  a young lad coming of age during the tail end of the big guitars and long hair era. It’s funny, it’s insightful, it’s touching, it has a great soundtrack, and it captures the life of a touring rock band very well. It also has two great performances: one from Frances McDormand as William’s over protective mother and one from Billy “I AM A GOLDEN GOD!” Crudup as Stillwater’s charismatic guitarist.

The only thing I don’t like about Almost Famous is it made me like an Elton John song. Damn you, Almost Famous. DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!

Even so, if I could live my life over again, I would live my teenage years as much like this film as I possibly could.

9. Rocky Balboa (2006)

It was a terrible idea, but somehow Sylvester Stallone pulled it off. He resurrected the greatest character of his career and he did so without making an embarrassing mess of it. What a shame we can’t say the same about Rocky V.

Given Stallone’s age, credibility was stretched very thin in this one, but he turned his grizzled old bastard-ness to his advantage by crafting a film that was as much about the difficulties of ageing as it was about furious face punching.

Easily my favourite of all the Rocky sequels.

8. Kung Fu Hustle (2004)

Minor genius Stephen Chow takes a bunch of Kung Fu, musicals, cartoons and fifties gangsters; then mixes them together in one giant pot. It shouldn’t work, it should be a chaotic mess, but the end result is one of the most purely enjoyable films I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Part of me wishes we could see more of Chow in the West (his version of The Green Hornet will always be one of those ‘films that got away’ for me), but part of me is also glad he’s stayed put in Hong Kong. I would hate for him to end up wasted in diluted drivel like so many Hong Kong stars.

7. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

The second foreign language film to make the list and the first of two Guillermo del Toro films (I wonder what the other one is?), Pan’s Labyrinth arrived on a tide of reviews so effusive I felt sure I was going to be disappointed. Turned out, I wasn’t.

Del Toro mixed the creepiness of films like Cronos and The Devil’s Backbone with the special effects and creature design of Hellboy and Blade II to great effect, producing a beautiful (and beautifully dark) fairy tale about a girl who takes refuge in a world of fantasy while her life turns to shit all around her.

This is a rare case of a film surpassing my already high expectations with ease.

6. Bad Santa (2003)

I like Christmas, but I hate Christmas films, which is why I tend to keep my Christmas film viewing limited to the likes of Die Hard and Gremlins. But finally, in 2003, I got a Christmas themed film I could watch and enjoy while I was wrapping my presents without the usual torrent of syrup that always ruins festive movies.

Hallelujah!

Bad Santa – the story of a self-loathing, drunken degenerate who dresses as Santa for purely criminal reasons – is hilarious from start to finish, mostly due to a storming performance from Billy Bob Thornton as the Santa who pisses himself, fucks fat women in the changing room, and moves in with comically blank kid Thurman Merman because he wants to nick his stuff.

Essential Christmas viewing for cynical old bastards such as myself.

5. Shaun Of The Dead (2004)

I don’t watch many British films, mostly because so many of them are shit, and I wasn’t a huge fan of Spaced because I was never a student and I find their lifestyle strange and annoying, so my expectations couldn’t have been lower for Shaun Of The Dead.

Turns out, it’s mint.

I re-watched this a couple of weeks ago (as a double bill with Zombieland) and it’s held up really well. Still incredibly funny, and the homages to Romero are nicely placed.

The only thing I find confusing is why Simon Pegg has gone on to be such a big star while Nick Frost hasn’t. Of those two cunts, he is clearly the funnier cunt.

4. Spider-Man 2 (2004)

In the wake of Spider-Man 3 it’s become fashionable to bash Spider-Man 2, but balls to that. This film is mint.

Sam Raimi balances his tones brilliantly in this sequel, mixing action, comedy, romance and drama, while also managing to pay respect to the comics without being overly reverential. It’s a neat trick, one that very few other directors of comic book films have been able to pull off, so I take my hat off to him.

If only Spider-Man were more of a cool, head-chopping badass, then he would have come higher in this list than…

3. Blade II (2002)

Many people out there will argue over which film is better – Citizen Kane or Blade II – but I won’t be joining the argument. I won’t be joining because I already know the answer.

Does Charles Foster Kane run about in awesome shades and a leather coat kung fu-ing vampires and chopping their heads off  with his badass sword?

No, he does not.

That is why Blade II is better.

2. Memento (2000)

I’m more a fan of writing and acting than I am of directors and cinematographers and key grips and whatnot, which is why this one ranks so high for me. Memento is a perfect combination of a great script – intricately structured but always keeping sight of its characters and never forgetting to be about more than its ass backwards gimmick – and a magnificent performance by Guy Pierce.

Who knew Mike out of Neighbours could be so good?

This film works brilliantly as a whodunnit mystery, but once the puzzle is solved it’s still very effective as an analysis of a deeply traumatised man who will go to any lengths to give his fractured life meaning.

The one would probably make it onto my top ten of all time.

1. Team America: World Police (2004)

Trey Parker and Matt Stone closed out the nineties by making the funniest film of that decade (South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut), and here they are also making the funniest film of the noughties.

It’s got puppet action, puppet singing, puppet melodrama, puppet fighting, a puppet montage, and, most memorably, puppet fucking.

What the hell else do you want?

Unfairly slated by many at the time of its release because it didn’t attack George W. Bush, this film is a triumph of demented satirical folly. No one else will go to this much trouble to make you laugh ever again – including Parker and Stone, who say they’ll never make a sequel because the film was so difficult to make. That is a shame. A terrible, terrible shame.

The Wank List:

10. Rollerball (2002)

How do you waste Jean Reno, LL Cool J and a naked Rebecca Romijn?

You make Rollerball, one of the sorriest remakes to ever limp its way onto a cinema screen. Also, you make sure you cast insipid charisma vacuum Chris Klein 7 years before he perfected his hilarious technique of Anti-Acting in Street Fighter: The Legend Of Chun Li.

The film is bad enough when assessed on its own merits, but the final, desultory kick in the balls comes from knowing that Rollerball was directed by John McTiernan, the man who gave the world Die Hard.

For shame, John McTiernan. Never mind arresting you for tapping people’s phones – you should have been arrested for this monstrosity.

9. Smokin’ Aces (2007)

Having made a pretty good impression with his first film Narc, Joe Carnahan took a bold and unusual step: he followed it up with this hollow, noisy, pointless film that ripped off, of all people, Guy fucking Ritchie.

Why would he do that? I don’t know, but he’s making the A-Team film next so he clearly hates credibility and is desperate to get rid of it like a bulimic woman is desperate to get rid of a heavy meal before it starts turning into ass fat.

Smokin’ Aces remains the only film I have ever walked out of, and I sat all the way through How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days.

8. The Pacifier (2005)

Alternative title: Vin Diesel Goes Kindergarten Cop

From one extreme to the other. Smokin’ Aces is the only film on the list I walked out of, and The Pacifier is the only one I was dumb enough to watch twice. Saw it first on a plane, hated it, then saw it again later after I became obsessed with Gilmore Girls and thought I’d give the film another go because Lauren Graham is in it.

Bad move, Frank. That was a bad, bad move.

The worst thing about this film is it causes me to experience my least favourite emotion – empathetic embarrassment. It’s painful to watch Vin Diesel humiliate himself in a desperate attempt to follow the same career path as Arnold Schwarzenegger and fail so miserably.

Still, that picture of Diesel getting attacked by a duck is pretty funny. Maybe I should give it another chance…

7. In The Cut (2003)

People like erotic thrillers. They’re erotic – people like boobs. They’re thrilling – people like car chases. Trouble is, In The Cut is neither. Worse still, it’s pretentious. The story is essentially a Basic Instinct knock-off, but director Jane Campion is under the deluded impression she’s analysing the female sexual psyche.

No, Jane. People came to see Meg Ryan’s spuds.

Ninety-nine percent of this film is entirely forgettable, but I had to include it because of that last one percent, the part that is forever burned into my brain. The part depicted above (sorry about the quality of the image – it’s the only one I could find).

Whenever I see Mark Ruffalo in a film these days, all I can think about is him with his face buried in Meg Ryan’s saggy ass. It’s like I stared too long at the sun and my eyesight has been irrevocably damaged!

6. Crash (2004)

“Hello, I hate black people but I love my dad.”

“Hello, I hate Mexicans but my maid taught me a life lesson.”

“Hello, I’m a rich white guy named Paul Haggis, so obviously any film I make about racism will be horribly trite and about as substantial as that song ‘Another Day In Paradise’ by Phil Collins. Can I have an Oscar?”

5. Ultraviolet (2006)

When I was a wee boy, my mother would often tell me: “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

Somewhere there exists an alternate reality where Kurt Wimmer’s mother told him the same thing, and the alternate version of me who lives in that universe never had to sit through this garish nightmare of cartoony action scenes and excessive CGI.

Alternate reality me is a lucky, lucky bastard.

This is a film where the villain wears a metal mesh gizmo jammed into his nostrils because he’s afraid of germs, but he has nothing covering his mouth. Ultraviolet adheres to that same level of intelligence throughout.

4. Aliens Vs Predator: Requiem (2007)

Much discussed elsewhere, so I’ll keep it brief. Suffice to say, this is a film so dark there were times I believed I was accidentally watching it with my eyes closed.

Seriously, those Aliens and Predators could have been blowing each other and filming it on their iPhones for all I know.

3. In The Name Of The King: A Dungeon Siege Tale (2008)

The worst crime any film can commit is to be boring, and Uwe Boll’s In The Name Of The King: For Fuck’s Sake Why Is This Title So Long commits that crime in spades. It rapes you painfully with boredom, then nicks your car so it can carry out some sort of ram raid of boredom for which you will later be blamed and imprisoned.

This one took me three attempts to watch it, mostly because the film’s intense and impenetrable electromagnetic field of boredom was so strong I simply couldn’t watch it no matter how hard I tried.

You know how Blade says: “Some motherfuckers are always trying to ice skate uphill”?  Well, some motherfuckers are always trying to watch In The Name Of The King and getting much the same result.

This film is so boring…

Nah, fuck it. That’s enough of that. I’m bored.

2. Southland Tales (2006)

Another one discussed elsewhere. Southland Tales is proof positive that Richard Kelly is probably a pretty interesting guy to get high with, but he has no talent whatsoever when it comes to crafting a screenplay that’s intelligent, interesting, engaging, coherent, or not written entirely with crayons and illustrated with pictures he cut out of his mum’s Argos catalogue.

For a while there, I thought this might be the worst film I had ever seen. Ever. And I’ve seen a lot of films. But I’ve since re-evaluated that position and decided that, no, it’s not nearly as inept as:

1. Children Of The Living Dead (2001)

Back in 1999, money grubbing douchebag John A. Russo had the bright idea of releasing a 30th Anniversary edition of Night Of The Living Dead, which he chose to spruce up by shooting some really shitty additional scenes and clumsily editing them into George A. Romero’s horror classic.

This film is the sequel to those really shitty additional scenes.

And, no, that is not a joke.

In every possible way a film can be bad, Children Of The Living Dead is that bad and worse. Script, acting, direction, editing, sound, special effects – whatever you’ve got, Children Of The Living Dead is ready, willing and able to demonstrate to you how much it really, really sucks at it. You can’t see it on film, but I’m going to go ahead and assume the catering was on the same level as every other aspect of this film and therefore gave every member of the production chronic diarrhoea. And this is a cruel thing to say, but those fuckers deserved diarrhoea. That would be the most just and appropriate bowel affliction in the history of cinema.

This film is so bad, I couldn’t even find a decent wide picture to use for this article. Droid likes wide pictures, and I’m doing my best to accommodate him. I hope he isn’t too mad.

If you’re mad, droid – it’s not my fault! Blame it on those filthy diarrhoea afflicted ass monkeys who made Children Of The Living Dead!

I learned this sentence in the movie In the Cut. The tough guy (delicious Mark Ruffalo) says the following to the woman:

Not all the women have a sense of cock

Detective Malloy, or Mark Ruffalo, doesn’t sound arrogant at all when he says that. He almost sounds desperate. Sort of “I wish all women had a sense of cock”. I kept it in my mind. I love that sentence.

I had a friend in Spain with whom I could talk openly about sex, she is one of a kind. She told me once that it took her a while to understand that she didn’t have to like sucking the cocks of all her lovers, that she liked ones more than others. What she meant, I think, is the opposite to the above:

Not all the cocks have a sense of mouth

If my friend had said that, she would have sound pissed off, ’cause she told me stories in which the guy would sort of blame her for a bad blow job. That way guys use sometimes to express dissatisfaction, yes, that was familiar to me too. I suppose that women have also a way to express it, but I haven’t talk about this with any male friend.

As good as having a sense of cock & pussy & mouth (and we could go on naming, couldn’t we?…), is great  to be honest & opened, to enjoy what is given, and to know that everything in this life has its match.

Would write more about it… I’ll keep some ideas to myself.

(In the Cut, very well directed by Jane Champion, based in a novel by Susanna Moore, with the sexiest actresses ever, Jennifer Jason Leigh)

Usher – You Make Me Wanna

Grammar school was so fun. Being under 13, somewhere between kid and real teen. Puppy love. All those little things.

I’m feeling better these days. I feel like some of the spiraling in my head had quieted down a bit. I have a better grip on things. Every now and then I get emotional at the wrong time. But overall I feel great. I feel alive and full of love.

Bright Star from the New York Times

The swooning, romantic period drama, Bright Star, chronicles the three-year romance between revered Romantic poet John Keats and young Fanny Brawne, cut short due to Keats’s death at the age of 25. The ably gifted director and writer, Jane Campion (The Piano), has crafted her most moving film to date. Her acute eye for detail of her characters’ surroundings and her ability to capture the smallest of gestures and glances, culminate to add a tangible quality to a genre commonly associated with tentativeness.

Campion was inspired to tell their story upon coming across Keats’s love letters to Brawne, and his short poem, Bright Star, which many scholars believe is based on their chaste love affair. For Campion, the film marks a departure from the underrated, sexually charged thriller, In the Cut, and a return to the period genre that garnered the New Zealand born director a large following. What Campion has always displayed – whatever the period – is an intense fascination with her lead heroines and an ability to make them thrillingly alive. She conveys this through a passionately intimate approach, chronicling emotional travails without reserve. Bright Star is no exception.

Brawne (the exceptional Abbie Cornish) is Bright Star’s beating heart. A young steadfast spirit, she becomes acquainted with the lithesome Keats (Ben Whishaw) and outspoken poet, Charles Browne, when the two rent out rooms in the Brawne family household. Through Cornish’s deftly registered glances, it is clear Brawne is immediately drawn to Keats, though she can’t place why. In a sequence, sensitively handled by Campion, Brawne asks her sister to read out one of his poems. A few words in, Brawne snatches the book away and reads aloud, enamored with the sound of the text. Though no scholar of poetry – but rather fashion – Brawne emotionally finds a deep connection to Keats’s flow of language.

The surface complexities associated with poetry present an enigma to Brawne, as they do to many people, no matter how well educated. In a moving effort to further identify with Keats, she begins a series of private tutorials with him. The two embark on a tentative romance, due to Keats’ dire money prospects and familial history of tuberculosis. While Keats tries (unsuccessfully) to keep his feelings at bay, Brawne falls hopelessly enamored.

Campion and Cornish work vividly together in capturing that wondrous and terrifying sensation. Cornish imbues Brawne with a brash realism that strikes as inherently modern in an otherwise period setting. It works beautifully. Every fiber of Brawne’s being is rendered overtaken by the passion she carries for Keats. Even in quiet scenes between the two lovers, Cornish’s wildly evocative eyes and quivering demeanor exhibit her uncontrollable attraction.

Bright Star is surely Campion’s most implicitly romantic and optimistic film to date. Despite the tragic outcome, the film revels in the fiery power of first love with unabashed glee. Campion seems to be settling into a more pensive, hopeful state with this tale. Like Bright Star, her films have strived to explore the complexities inherent in human relationships. But the shock aspect inherent in her past work – the finger amputation in The Piano, the explicit sex in In the Cut – never threatens to come to the surface in Bright Star.

Perhaps Keats Romantic verse got the best of her. Or maybe with age, Campion is settling into a more meditative state of mind. Whatever the case, Bright Star is Campion’s most deeply affecting film to date and a testament to her astute approach as an auteur.

Dicen que no se debe juzgar un libro por su portada, pero esta selección hecha por wellmedicated me encanta y hace que diga sin remordimiento alguno, que quisiera tener todos estos libros expuestos en mi biblioteca. Si su contenido es buenos o no, no sabría decirlo pero sus portadas me gustaron bastante! Personalmente creo que los libros son unos artículos muy interesantes, complejos portales hechos de miles de pequeñas figuras bidimencionales son capaces de trasladarnos a lugares que se escapaban de nuestra imaginación, sus portadas son algo que muchas veces hacen del libro un tímido personaje que nos sorprende… creo que amanecí intenso, en fin ahí les dejo las portadas de los libros.

In the interests of marital harmony, and because I am a good person, we always try to compromise on our movie-viewing.

Last night, I compromised a bit too far, and sat through Apocalypse Now.  It had been on the cards for a while, and it had got to the point where I could put it off no further – it was that or All Quiet on the Western Front. I make no apology for gender-branding these films as being strictly of male interest.  To be fair, I did enjoy the rather hallucinatory aspect, and Martin Sheen was very watchable.  Harrison Ford looked geekier than I have ever seen him as Colonel Lucas.  But it’s a shame to come to a film so late,  because you know all the cultural reference points and the quotes, and the stuff about Marlon Brando being so overweight they had to film him in the shadows.  Apparently he refused to read Heart of Darkness until almost after the filming, and I can sympathise with that.   By the time they were sacrificing the water buffalo I had long since stopped focussing.  I understand the points being made, but so much gunning down, dispatching and brute, blunt smothering.

Still, I may have garnered enough points for a second viewing of In The Cut.

Il poliziotto e la scrittrice…

An obscure find and very different than a lot of his other work, Ray Bryant’s 1979 album ‘In The Cut’ features string and horn arrangements by Charles Stepney – which makes the track ‘Andalusian Nights’ a very tripped out and mellow one, but with that majestically soulful approach.

Right click to save…
Ray Bryant – ‘Andalusian Nights’

Lindsay Lohan needs a job, dammit. Remember when she had “that Jodie Foster sort of seriousness and intent focus beneath her teenage persona“? Them days are gone. A friend has told the Daily Newsthat the actress is living on Samantha Ronson’s trust fund and the odd personal appearance. As one “pal” puts it:

“Lindsay’s money situation has never been great, but it’s only gotten worse over the last month. For every dollar she makes, she spends double. Her personal appearance fees are literally the only thing keeping her afloat. But here’s the rub: Because of her explosive relationship with Sam, she’s unable to get the type of cash she’s used to. The negative press and constant appearance cancellations are hurting her pocketbook.”

“Explosive,” you say?

Anyway, she’s coked up, seriously Sapphic, and her latest film is going straight to DVD. So what’s a faded star threatened with getting cut off to do?

We have the solution. Lohan needs to cut bait on her Mouseketeer/America’s Sweetheart persona and get in the art-house groove. There are plenty of directors out there taking home Cannes prizes and still starving. So Li-Lo, fire the agent, lower your rate and offer yourself up to them. You’ve already crossed the nudity Rubicon. Maybe it could be a journey into the disturbed psyche of a sexually frustrated woman. Or how about a journey into the disturbed psyche of an bored housewife. Or maybe just make a movie with Gaspar Noe. How about helping a poor auteur dust off one of those old Robbe-Grilletscripts that most be lying around? After the jump, we take a look at a handful of other glamour queens who decided to get their art house on. Lohan, hear us out: Jean-Luc Godard is still working!

Ingrid Bergman in Stromboli (1950)

Bergman was so impressed with Rome, Open City that she married the director Roberto Rossellini, leaving behind Hitchcock (and her first husband) for the joys of climbing up Italian volcanoes. She was condemned on the floor of the Senate. America’s loss was cinema’s gain–Bergman went on to make films with both Renoir and Bergman, Ingmar.

Jean Seberg in A bout de souffle/Breathless (1960)

Seberg was “discovered” for 1957’s Saint Joan, but two films later the blonde gamine couldn’t get arrested. In France, she was hired by the young Jean-Luc Godard. Seberg’s performance as a very modern femme fatale is assisted by an iconic haircut and the obvious confusion over what these Frenchmen think they’re doing with their cameras. Seberg later became involved with the Black Panthers and committed suicide, which is kind of morbid but still better than being remembered for rubbing off a VW.

Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

Calling Julia Roberts! Davis survived the career crisis facing any middle-aged actress by teaming up with maverick Robert Aldrich for this supremely creepy tale of sibling rivalry. Her dementia was so convincing that Davis got an Oscar nom. After this shot of professional botox, she enjoyed a lucrative second life in shockers like Hush, Hush … Sweet Charlotte.

Brigitte Bardot in Le Mepris/Contempt (1963)

When France’s leading sex kitten met the New Wave’s most terrible of enfant terribles (even if he was 33), it’s hard to say who was the victor. Godard’s intellectual scrutiny seems to blanch before Bardot’s naked ripeness. But long after And God Created Woman … has been forgotten, this death march for cinema is the film by which we’ll remember her.

Jane Fonda in Tout va Bien (1972)

In spite of her public opposition to the Vietnam War, Fonda won an Oscar in 1971. So why not make a movie with the radicalized–yep, him again–Jean-Luc Godard? As the journalist wife of Yves Montand, she navigated the class struggle and participated in the greatest tracking shot ever filmed. Then she went to Hanoi, married Ted Turner and, uh, made a movie with Lindsay Lohan.

Molly Ringwald in King Lear (1987)

You remember her as Andie in Pretty in Pink. You do notremember her as Cordelia in this wacky version of the Shakespeare tragedy directed by … Jean-Luc Godard, the leading exploiter of actresses down on their luck neglected talents. But Ringwald holds her own against a fever dream cast that includes Norman Mailer, Burgess Meredith, Woody Allen, Julie Delpy and Leos Carax. Benjamin Button gets a Criterion release and this doesn’t? There’s no justice!

Nicole Kidman in Dogville (2003)

True, Kidman has worked with artists like Jane Campion and Baz Luhrmann. But putting herself in the hands of sadist Lars von Trier for a scathing indictment of the U.S., filmed on a bare set, would be considered career suicide for anyone else. Ever the careerist, Kidman assured von Trier she’d act for him anytime. Meaning Bryce Dallas Howard found herself playing the blinkered Grace in the Manderlay sequel.

Meg Ryan in In the Cut (2003)

Filmdom’s Sally happily stepped into Nicole Kidman’s knicked when the Australian actress left her old pal Jane Campion (The Piano) in the lurch. Ryan laid bare just about everything in this feminist “erotic” thriller, and the make-up department even made her look startingly like LaKidman. Campion’s attempt to rewrite an airport novel, however, was considered a little arch for some.

Natalie Portman in Free Zone (2005)

Fresh from stinking up the lake on Naboo, Portman went to Israel to work with the country’s leading director Amos Gitai. When a local breaks her tourist heart, Portman hops a cab and discovers how difficult it can be getting from A to Z in the Promised Land. Portman was so traumatized that the cab-driver won the Cannes acting prize she stripped off for The Darjeeling Express.

Angelina Jolie in A Mighty Heart (2007)

Bolshy Brit Michael Winterbottom is happiest when at the farthest fringes of civilization (In this World) or re-creating Third World tragedy (The Road to Gauntanamo). Jolie volunteered herself to play the anguished widow in this docudrama on the journalist Daniel Pearl’s murder by Muslim extremists. The production was fraught with stories of Brad Pitt-age and on-set mishaps. Jolie later channeled suffering in a more mainstream manner for Clint Eastwood.

So if I tag pelviswedge69 and google it incessantly, through some cyber conspiracy of spiders and things I’m a little vague about because web-folk tend to keep this sort of knowledge-is-power=revenue up their pot-noodled jumpers, will I eventually find a link to my blogging self? Would PW69 get a google results page all to his onesies on account of his unusual moniker?

See the other night I was engrossed yet again (I know not why, I know how it ends by now) in the darkly delightful ‘In The Cut’ (nice one Meg, taking it right outside the box there) and I have long hankered for one of those battery rats doing the Partridge Families 1970 Billboard Topper Popper ‘I think I love you’ in a frenetic heliumed rat-voice. This too I have googled ad infinitum in the hope that my urgency for this product will finally blip on the radar of a chain-smoking sweat-soaked Web Watcher in a seedy backroom somewhere in Shanghai and set the wheels of mass production in motion. I expect an entire stall in Smithfield Market devoted to singing rats before summer is even on us. I am aware that singing rats have been done (that’s how he ended up in Jennifer Jason Leighs bordello’d boudoir in the first place obviously) But I missed it first time around and I need to effect a second wave. THE CONSUMER IS KING! And it can’t be any old singing rat mind, it has to be that exact singing rat. I quite like the magic marker too so stick some of that on and ship as is.

Foto del film

“In the Cut” película traducida como “En carne Viva” basada en la novela homónima de Susanna Moore, quien a su vez sirve de co-escritora del libreto de la película. Tiene como protagonistas principales a Meg Ryan y a Mark Ruffallo. Se trata de un tema de novela negra, policíaca en la cual la trama de un ambiente de crímenes sirve de pretexto para hacer una historia de fuerte contenido sexual y erótico. Lo interesante es lo que dice la autora de la novela, Moore, quien pensó en hacer una nóvela del género negra, del punto de vista femenino. La directora Jane Campion interviene también en el guión y es interesante que este par de artistas se unan para realizar un film de este tipo. Una historia sórdida, donde unos crímenes en serie, impactan a una escritora y profesora de lengua relacionándola sexualmente con un detective. La investigación sirve de base para que Frannie el personaje principal se encuentre con sus propios deseos. Para mí que soy admirador de Meg Ryan fue muy atractivo verla desnuda, las escenas son crudas aunque no vulgares, el tema sexual y erótico es principal.

Music:

1. The Airborne Toxic Event – Sometime Around Midnight

2. James – Laid.

3. Bon Iver – Skinny Love.

4. Sigur Ros – The Nothing Song.

5. My Morning Jacket – One Big Holiday.

6. Bob Dylan – Lay Lady Lay, Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright

7. Sun Kil Moon – Lily and Parrots

8. Beck – Lost Cause.

9. They Might Be Giants – Istanbul, Not Constantinoble

10. Sufjan Stevens – John Wayne Gacy, Jr.

Books:

1. The Fountainhead – Ayn Rand

2. Goodbye, Lemon – Adam Davies

3. A Million Little Pieces – James Frey

4. The Satanic Verses- Salman Rushdie

5. Leaving Las Vegas – John O’Brien

6. The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald

7. Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne

8. Leaves of Grass – Walt Whitman

9. Eddie Krumbel is The Clapper – Dito Montiel

10. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

People:

1. Hubster

2. Bill Maher

3. Matt Taibi

4. Lewis Black

5. Demetri Martin

6. Bret McKenzie & Jemaine Clement

7. Keith Olbermann

8. Zooey Deschanel

9. Michael Stipe

10. Todd Field

Movies:

1. Elephant

2. The Dead Girl

3. American Psycho

4. Clerks II

5. Spaceballs

6. Punch Drunk Love

7. Secretary

8. Rocky Horror Picture Show

9. Velvet Goldmine

10. In the Cut

Finally, something for the girl with everything: a vibrator that hums along with your IPod.

Insert "Rattle and Hum" joke here

Not an actual IPod

2: Lou Reed, Metal Machine Music

    The most masturbatory album ever released.  That might not even be the right word: how do you mix “masturbatory” with “narcissistic”?  Narcitory?  Mastacistic?  I’m leaning toward “jerk-on”  Because someone so full of themselves wouldn’t want to jerk anything off, but to add on to something already wonderful.

    So, the perfect album to jerk on to.

Not an actual vibrator

3: Led Zeppelin, “The Wanton Song”

                                           That one little drum fill should do the trick, ladies.  Just typing that sentence made me a little antsy.  You more whorish desensitised experienced ladies might find “Bonzo’s Montreaux” more to your liking.

Not an actual board-certified sex therapist

4: Ted Nugent, “Wango Tango”

    For the ladies; I bet there’s nothing sexier than a fantasy about being hunted down and physically ravaged by a redneck.  Duct tape a pair of dentures to the tip for the sensation of being actually devoured by the music.

    For the men; for my money, nothing says anally-intrusive, vibratory homosex like Ted Nugent.  A glass of blood red wine and assless camouflage chaps should get you in the right mood.  Enjoy.

5: Van Halen, “Hot for Teacher”

    You’re not going to keep a straight face using a sex toy attached to your Shuffle.  Come on.  You might as well take something ridiculous along with you, like this song.  With any luck, much like the first scene in a porno, you might only need the beginning and not the whole thing.  Those drums at the beginning should do the trick.  If not?  David Lee Roth will say “I’ve got my peeeeeeeennsuuuuuuuuuuuuuuullllll,” you’ll look down, the mood will be ruined with your hysterical laughter.  Good luck.

It came to my attention that Justin Hawkins, former lead singer/lead guitarist for The Darkness, has done a cover of “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us”, done originally by Sparks.

Which Faith No More has already done.

Admittedly, if it wasn’t for my secret love of Top Gear, a Justin Hawkins cover of any sort would never have entered my sphere of influence.  And maybe there isn’t anything wrong with someone doing another cover of a cool song.  And maybe it’s better than the Siousie and the Banshees (bad enough to not even enter my toilet of influence) version.

And maybe I’m just a dork, but I’ve got a problem with this new version, for one of two reasons.

ONE: FNM’s version was just perfect.  It really was.  Mike Patton’s pure vocal stylings and Roddy Bottoms’ pure homosexuality were a perfect match for the Mael brother’s glam icon/droll wierdo combo.  Sparks blessed FNM by their appearance in the song.  Faithfully rendered and joyously performed.  There’s no need for another cover.  No room, even.

TWO: The FNM cover is holy to me because that band consumed  my sphere of influence.  It is entirely possible that few people are even aware of the FNM vs. Sparks version, and there’s pleanty of room for another cover (Hawkins even made it into the Top Ten of the UK charts with his). 

But every cover that FNM did was the ultimate version, et all.  “Easy”.  “Midnight Cowboy”.  ”This Guy’s in Love with You”, “Let’s Lynch the Landlord”.  “I Started a Joke”.  All brilliant covers and all sacred to me, even now.

Don’t get why people went all apeshit every time Johnny Cash did another punk cover?  Nativity In Black:II make you rash-y and dehydrated?  Please forgive the dorks of the world and their loyalties.

And forgive me, Justin Hawkins.  Your version is pretty good.  You really are a good singer.  Sorry about the coke habit thing.  I even liked your “Red Light Spells Danger” with the Top Gear guys (again, dork).  But just ask Billy Ocean; this post ain’t big enough for the both of you.

Mmmmm. . . coke. . .

• tidak mengandung unsur pornografi
• tentang film
• juga tentang keparanoidan
• ada gambar

Sebenarnya bukan saat ini tulisan yang akan saya publikasikan. Tetapi, saya tadi mampir ke blog Friendster saya yang lama dan melihat-lihat tulisan-tulisan jadul saya. Dan ketika membandingkan dengan blog saya di WordPress, ternyata tulisan saya di blog friendster itu lebih “bersemangat”, “progresif”, dan “revolusioner”.

Ternyata saya sudah berubah, saudara-saudara.

Dan ini adalah sebuah tulisan yang pernah saya tulis disana. Sebuah tulisan yang menyorot masalah pornografi dan pornoaksi. Sewaktu saya membacanya kembali, saya senyum-senyum sendiri. Tulisan ini disajikan dalam bentuk blockquote dan sedikit dikomentari dengan iseng. Judulnya adalah Apakah Saya P(a/o)rno ?

Saya sendiri sudah menonton film In the Cut beberapa kali. Dan cukup kaget karena melihat akting Meg Ryan, salah satu bintang film favorit saya, bermain cukup berani di film itu. Film ini disutradarai oleh Jane Campion, seorang sutradara pendukung gerakan feminisme, yang beberapa filmnya bercerita tentang feminisme seperti The Piano dan Portrait of A Lady. Film In The Cut pernah diberikan rating Unrated karena banyaknya adegan-adegan seks vulgar di film itu.

Saya menonton film itu lebih banyak karena keingintahuan saya tentang akting Meg Ryan, dan tidak menjadikan film ini sebagai acuan untuk menonton film porno. Tapi apakah film ini pernah diputar di bioskop-bioskop Indonesia ? Saya malah tidak tahu. Dan saya yakin, kalaupun diputar maka sangat banyak bagian-bagian yang harus disensor.

Ini dia posternya :

saya nonton versi DVD yang unrated

Nah, tentang apakah film ini bisa dikategorikan “bokep”, terus terang saya tidak bisa menjawabnya. Silakan tanya pada [ahlinya] yang sudah menguasai dunia itu.

Soal lain, apakah film perang bisa membuat terangsang ? Oh, bisa dan sangat bisa. Saya jamin itu. Bagi orang-orang yang kadar sadisme dalam seks (sado-masochism) sangat tinggi atau yang sedikit “gila” soal seks, menonton film yang menaikkan adrenalin (film perang. film horor, film thriller) justru bisa menaikkan fantasinya soal seks. Kalau orang “normal”, saya malah nggak tahu.

Ada juga film perang yang berisi adegan seks, misalnya saja film Enemy At The Gates yang dibintangi oleh Jude Law dan Rachel Weisz. Tapi intinya kan perang dan bukan seks.

Enemy At The Gates

Nah, saya dulu yakin kalau sesuatu dikatakan porno atau tidak porno selalu menjadi monopoli otak manusia. Artinya apakah sesuatu porno atau tidak itu selalu mengikuti nasihat yang sangat terkenal, “dikembalikan pada diri masing-masing orang“. Apa yang ada di otakmu maka itulah yang menentukan porno atau tidaknya sesuatu.

Tapi klaim ini punya kelemahan mendasar, yaitu menjadikan segala sesuatu relatif dalam pandangan masing-masing orang. Berarti bisa saja film-film seperti JAV, film biru, dan yang sejenisnya tidak bisa dikatakan porno kalau dikembalikan kepada masing-masing orang. Dalam hal ini saya telah terburu-buru mengatakan kalau sesuatu itu porno atau tidak HANYA sekedar persoalan di kepala seseorang.

Tapi tentunya porno atau tidak porno selalu punya batasan. Dan batasan inilah yang selalu dan selalu diperdebatkan. Apalagi ketika istilah-istilah seperti kebebasan berekspresi, seni dan artistik, serta yang lain ikut campur di dalamnya. Dan terlebih lagi kalau dipakai batasan-batasan agama, kesukuan dan tradisi, dan masih banyak lagi.

apakah ini porno ?

Ini yang menjadi salah satu kemungkinannya. Apakah seks selalu identik dengan pornografi dan pornoaksi ? Saya pikir tidak. Jadi kalau akhirnya segala sesuatu yang berhubungan dengan seks dikatakan porno, maka sudah pasti ada yang salah pada diri orang yang mencari hubungan itu.

Ini bisa saja karena ada suatu pandangan bahwa seks harus dihadapi dengan kegentaran dan ketakutan. Takut pada seks pada dasarnya sama bahayanya dengan pemujaan terhadap seks. Disatu sisi dia di-phobia-kan tetapi disisi yang lain dia di-kultus-kan. Satu garis tapi terletak pada titik ekstrim yang berbeda.

Dan pandangan “takut akan seks” serta “parno akan seks” justru membuat seks itu sulit untuk diedukasikan dan diajarkan. Padahal, seks tanpa edukasilah yang lebih berbahaya. Dan apakah seks sudah diajarkan dan dikomunikasikan dengan lebih terbuka di peradaban kita ini ?

Hmmmmm….. *manggut-manggut*

ps :

• parno adalah istilah gaul untuk menyebutkan paranoid

Ogni immagine in movimento è un recinto, una gabbia ricavata in uno spazio-tempo infinitamente più esteso. Dunque ogni volta che il cinema racconta una prigionia, racconta se stesso.

http://baikcinema.wordpress.com/cinema/liberta/

Bisogna riconoscere un piccolo merito a Jane Campion, quello di insistere a rivendicare una doverosa indagine sulla sensibilità femminile e sul modo in cui le relazioni vengono vissute dalle donne. Alla fine dei conti, molti registi non propriamente geniali si specializzano dandosi una riconoscibilità o mettendo in campo temi e motivi ricorrenti: un’idea da tenere in considerazione, ogni tanto, viene fuori.

Secondo questa logica, però, la Campion si è vagamente autosegregata a essere non più una regista, ma una regista donna. Inoltre, poiché parliamo di cinema, non di una riunione di autoanalisi in un collettivo femminista, il risultato finale può essere anche imbarazzante: è il caso di In the cut, un film con cui la Campion dimostra di essersi arenata in una forma di teoresi compiaciuta, macchinosa e per giunta banale. Il precedente Holy smoke, che pure lasciava presagire questa deriva, non arrivava a tanto. Cos’ha di sgradevole questo ultimo lavoro? Forse la prevedibilità della storia congiunta a un non so che di patinato e falsamente trasgressivo? I personaggi sono macchiette antipatiche e odiose (ma perché le donne si abbracciano sempre, si baciano, esprimono tanta solidarietà? Perché l’uomo dei sogni è sempre il solito cretino che però sa pronunciare la parola “clitoride”?), la vicenda sessuale tratteggiata con qualche mugolio e qualche eccitamento telefonico, la trama è così ridicola che pare impossibile che la Campion abbia letto il libro, addirittura chiesto i diritti d’autore e deciso di trarne un film. Le soluzioni visive, infine, sembrano orpelli attaccati al niente, tanto che il manierismo più vacuo pare ormai essere il tratto stilistico della nostra neozelandese. Almeno un pianoforte sul mare poteva essere evocativo, gli inserti post-moderni di Ritratto di signora funzionali a rendere palese l’attualità del romanzo di James: qui, invece, i fuori fuoco, la storiellina (emblematica!?) in bianco e nero, le luci soffuse degli interni non hanno nessun valore se non quello di mostrare che la regista ha fatto una scuola di cinema e, in quanto donna, mantiene un certo gusto per il maquillage.

In the cut, di Jane Campion, Usa, 2003, 120 min.

Cast: Meg Ryan, Mark Ruffalo, Kevin bacon, Jennifer Jason Leigh

Uscita: 19 dicembre 2003