Archive for June, 2009

Hardee’s is Lowering America’s Standards in Acceptable Breakfast Items/Clever Innuendoes
June 30, 2009

Two birds, one stone.  Quite impressive, really.  Then again, Hardee’s is nothing if one thing:

hardees classiest

Do you not believe me?  Then just take a gander at their new ad for something they thus far call “biscuit holes”:

CLASSY!  I sincerely hope that these people were actually paid actors (or at least let in on this “clever” marketing “joke” in order to guide their responses); otherwise this is yet another sad day in America’s cultural and intellectual decline.

Don’t get me wrong, I get that it’s been long understood that sex sells.  But since when did we try to market a product off of anal sex jokes?  “The a-hole tastes funny”?  Really?  Yes, I would suspect that it would taste rather funny, but I also don’t think that anybody’s fish taco is tasting magically delicious, so this is just DUMB; unfortunately, it’s so much worse as well.

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If You Haven’t Already Seen Drag Me to Hell, You Must Change That IMMEDIATELY
June 30, 2009

This past weekend, when I wasn’t screeching like an enthusiastic howler monkey at the passing drag queens in the Pride Parade, I managed to finally get my ass into the city and I finally caught Drag Me to Hell.  Needless to say, I loved it.  In fact, quite frankly (bad pun alert CODE RED!):

drag me to hell

I mean, I could be biased, and by “biased” I mean “completely lacking in taste, good judgment, and (quite possibly) sanity.”  After all, I did find Spider-Man 3 curiously entertaining in a campy, train wreck sort of way; so much so, in fact, that I saw it three times opening weekend. Then I bought the DVD.  My only rationale is that I find the musical numbers fascinatingly out of place with the rest of the film.  That, and I wrote the handbook on making good choices.

My point is that Sam Raimi, even in his missteps, displays an incredible understanding of genre and how to manipulate it and push it to the brink of shlock and camp without it becoming something eye-rollingly ridiculous (in the not-fun way).  He’s capable of taking genre filmmaking seriously without making it laborious; his direction always has levity to it, and Drag Me to Hell is by no means an exception.  

The plot is simple enough: Alison Lohman plays Christine Brown, a well-meaning loan officer determined to leave her small-town past by climbing up the ladder at her bank.  In a bid for the open assistant manager position, she refuses to grant a mortgage extension to a sickly old gypsy (Lorma Raver), gets cursed by said gypsy, and spends the rest of movie being tormented by a goat demon (yes, a goat demon) that will in three days time drag her to hell.  Gross-out gags, tons of scares, and darkly comic humor with the perfect touch of B-movie camp abound.  You can’t necessarily argue that Sam Raimi’s aiming for art with Drag Me to Hell, but it’s impossible to deny that he’s made an incredibly smart and rather merciless thrill ride.  

The scares, while mostly of the easy boo! variety, are at least genuinely earned by the way Raimi builds a mood of dread and suspense, and the ending is simply jaw-dropping perfection.  The second the film cut to the closing credits, I blurted out, “Holy shit!” like I’d just gotten a rather nasty case of verbal/real diarrhea.  It’s just that exceptional in execution.  Drag Me to Hell is, as was advertised in the trailer, a return to true horror.  Oh, and best of all?  Raimi’s created a wonderfully rich and intriguing Final Girl with Christine.  

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All You Strange Rock and Rollers, You Know You’re Doin’ Alright
June 29, 2009

40 years ago yesterday, a truly wonderful thing happened:

stonewall revolution

Yup, forty years ago yesterday, the first night of the Stonewall riots occurred.  Seeing of course how I’m never less than entirely timely with this blog, I’m commemorating yesterday’s anniversary today.  Timeliness, y’all, is what I do best.

Anyways, in case you’ve somehow spent your life under an ignorance rock, yesterday New York City held its annual Pride Parade, and it was nothing short of full-on fabulous.  After weeks of cold weather and overcast skies and rain, we got warm weather and sun and a gentle breeze.  Perfect Pride weather, really.  Of course I’m now sunburnt and my legs feel like I’ve got thunder thighs from all the standing, but these are the sacrifices one must make.

More than the weather, though, we had an absolutely lovely crowd, both in and out of the parade.  I’ve never seen so much rainbow attire, public snogging, old lesbian titty, older bear crotches in itty bitty underwear, and intricate body painting in my life; in other words, it was Pride done perfect.  And this, of course, brings out the crazies. 

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RIP, Captain EO
June 26, 2009

I debated about writing anything in regards to Michael Jackson’s untimely passing.  There are bigger fans who can better articulate how much he mattered to music and pop culture as a whole.  When you realize you’re best equipped to discuss his slow descent from King of Pop to the Grand Poobah of Eccentric Celebrity Curios–the Howard Hughes of music, if you will–you kinda realize it’s quite not your place to chime in during a time of mourning.  I mean, do you really want to look like this asshole?  Hell no.  Besides, I will always appreciate the fact that I get to share my name with his 1972 ballad devoted to a rat.  Top that, people named Jude.

Anyways, I’ll simply pay my respects with one of my favorite moments in Michael Jackson’s career:

captain-eo

That’s right, Captain EO, the 1986 sci-fi/musical 3-D short film staring Michael Jackson and Anjelica Huston (who scared the living hell out of me when I first saw it).  It’s rather ridiculous in and of itself (small wonder I love it so), but knowing that it was directed by Francis Ford Coppola and co-written by George Lucas make it pretty profoundly wonderful.  There may be greater moments to highlight in his career, but I’ll never forget my parents taking me to see Captain EO at age three when we visited Disney World.  It’s that sort of unforgettable impact that is the real testament to this man’s work.  It’s part Star Wars, an ample aesthetic splash of Ridley Scott’s Alien, and all Michael Jackson magic.  After the jump, in its YouTube entirety, I give you the 80s nostalgia-bomb that is Captain EO:

Michael Jackson, 1958-2009.  You will be missed.

The Box Trailer Gives Me All Sorts of Vapors
June 25, 2009

And not just because it looks great.  Don’t get me wrong, The Box does look badass.  Really:

Having grown up in the South, I’ve gotta admit that those Southern accents are kinda terrible, but otherwise there’s so much to love!  Like Cameron Diaz’s hair (so feathered, so fabulous!), and James Marsden (make him a star, Hollywood!), and Frank Langella super creepy busted face (so obscured, but still so scary!).  And then there’re all that unsettling surreal imagery and the fact that this trailer is thankfully edited to maximize the head-trippy weirdness and minimize your understanding of the overall narrative arc and, damnit, why must it not be out ’til October?  I’ve only so much patience to give!

Of course, I must admit that I may be totally biased.  I genuinely enjoyed Donnie Darko as the cult classic that it is, and Southland Tales was such a gloriously batshit insane fever dream of pop culture and political frustration that it was easily one of my favorite films of 2007.  That movie’s fairly been considered a cinematic train wreck, but it’s one of the wonderfully compelling train wrecks I’ve ever seen.  And besides, as we’re all well aware, I love me some train wrecks.  The fact that The Box seems more narratively focused just gets me all sorts of giddy.  But like I said, I just might be biased towards liking anything Richard Kelly does.  Why?  Here’s why:

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Who’s That (Blog) Girl?
June 25, 2009

As of last night, the second most important paradigm shift in your life (after the immaculate conception of fabulousness/ridiculousness that is this blog, DUH) happened like a big bolt of fierceness from the heavens above.    I’m officially the flamboyantly gay version of Emperor Palpatine, and I have taken on an apprentice; and while I won’t hesitate to cut said bitch if they dare to throw me into a Death Star reactor, it’s safe to say that all of our lives have gotten an always welcome shot of more-fabulous.

But who is this lucky lady?  Well, I’ll say this much: It ain’t Madonna circa the 1987 reworking of Bringing Up Baby.  No no:

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Someone Call PETA: Vampires Are The Latest Endangered Species!
June 24, 2009

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you the following public service announcement

Now, while I really do not want to be shanked by a Twihard, I must admit that I am a man of simple tastes. I like my beers cold, my Abercrombie models shirtless… and my Vampires to be seductive monsters whose dusty deaths by the hand of a perky heroine teach us valuable lessons about female empowerment. I have personally had enough of waifish pretty-boy Vampires strolling in the sunlight and waxing idiotic as they brood over the torturous nature of their violent and immortal existence.  And don’t get me started on the sparkling. It’s times like this, indeed, that I not only have no commitment to Sparkle Motion, I actively defy it. Consequently, I feel I must voice my alarm at the announcement that the CW, though it has brought us such guilty pleasures as Gossip Girl and Supernatural, is making its own sad bid to perpetuate and profit from the madness wrought by Stephanie Meyer . Obviously hoping to capitalize on the enthusiasm surrounding Twilight, the CW has announced that it has greenlit production on “Th Vampire Diaries,” which is apparently a small-screen adaptation of a lesser-known young adult romance series by the same name. The announcement caused a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of Twihards cried out in joy—and then were suddenly silenced as they rushed to a sale on body glitter at Hot Topic.

The plot, as described on the CW’s website, is what you would expect. Beautiful girl meets mysterious brooding boy, only to find out he’s a centuries old-Vampire burdened by his impossible existence. Ladies and gentleman, this is a catastrophe. Remember the days when Vampires were actually cool? The mythic personification of all our darkest fears? Symbols of the dangers of repressed sexuality given form? Literary representations of parasitic nobility feeding off the lifeblood of the common man? And now, today, reduced to mere objects of impossible love to cater to tweens and menopausal housewives. The fact that these books are warping an entire generation of girls with their ridiculous depiction of socio-sexual relationships aside, books like Twilight and Diaries are guilty of the more serious crime of making Vampires, well, lame.

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The Oscars Just Had a Doublemint Moment!
June 24, 2009

WRIGLEY'S DOUBLEMINT TWINS NOMINATED AS AMERICA'S FAVORITE ICONS

Did you hear the news?  The L.A. Times reported that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences are doubling number of best picture nominations to ten!  That’s twice as many opportunities to deeply hate a movie for stealing a nomination from a far more deserving film.  Sweet!  We can now double our (dis)pleasure, y’all!  

Academy President Sid Ganis provided the following rationalization for the change:

“Having 10 best picture nominees is going [to] allow academy voters to recognize and include some of the fantastic movies that often show up in the other Oscar categories, but have been squeezed out of the race for the top prize…I can’t wait to see what that list of ten looks like when the nominees are announced in February.” 

Well I’m so glad that at least one person’s quivering in antici…pation.  I’ll get around to it once I’ve made room for this profoundly stupid idea on my already overly crowded Do Not Want List.

What’s most frustrating about this announcement (and believe me, I could write a essay the length of Ulysses on everything that’s wrong about it) is that the Academy Awards will still remain the same tired bullshit that they’ve been for years.  You’re not going to shorten the three-plus hours of masturbatory self-congratulation and inconsequential montage sequences by adding five more damn best-picture nominee montages.  We still won’t know more than two of the foreign films nominated, and the short subject nominees will still be the crapshoot in your Oscar pool.  And that’s just the show itself!

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Wild Horses Cannot Drag Me Away From Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
June 24, 2009

Robo-testicles?

Check.

Wonky-eyed, racist caricature-bots?

Check and double-check.

Megan Fox giving lessons on how to dress appropriately for work?

megan fox infinity

Then there are the reviews, which confirm what I’ve long suspected.  Ladies and gentleman, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, which is at long last in theaters, seems like it’s going to be one seriously ferocious train wreck, no CGI necessary.

I may no longer be a teenager, and I certainly never was a straight man, so the reality of the situation is that I’m definitely not this movie’s target audience.  There will be no Shia LaBeouf in hot pants slouched over a motorcycle, and there are no reports of a gay robot that wishes all the Transformers could stop fighting and start striking a pose.  Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen will be loud and stupid and completely devoid of any positive social value, but it will at least be one thing other thing, and that thing will be over-the-top camp.  

“But wait,” you ask, “isn’t camp bedazzled, transparent badness capable of launching gays into giggle fits?”  Indubitably, my dears, but hear me out.  

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Things That Should Not Exist: This “Slut Barbie” YouTube Video
June 22, 2009

I can wrap my head around a lot of things.  Like this Barbie, for example:

black_canary_barbie.jpg

Black Canary is a DC superhero, so a Barbie for nerds makes sense, but I’d rather pretend that this is actually an homage to Marianne Faithfull in The Girl on a Motorcycle.  Whatever works.

I can also understand the below video’s existence insofar as I guess it’s a relatively normal thing to make Barbies have sex.  It’s a rather harmless way of exploring sexual relations and identity in your developmental years.  Puberty, with all its changes and urges and general confusion, is a total bitch; so if making your Barbies have sex is a safe and comfortable way to make sense of your burgeoning sexuality, then by all means go right ahead.

Nevertheless, this isn’t that sort of thing.

This is a full on six-minute narrative, replete with duplicitous behavior, man whoring, and catfights.  The unprecedented levels of batshit insanity surrounding this video’s very existence will blow your mind on multiple occasions, but it’s nevertheless totally worth watching.  “Slut Barbie” is very much real, debatably not safe for work, and absolutely profound.  PREPARE YOURSELF:

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Twittering is Now Officially an Art
June 22, 2009

Or is it tweeting?  Je ne sais pas.  Whatever.  I may be Twitter-illiterate and prone to using the damn thing every once and a blue moon when I remember that I’ve actually got an account, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the way it’s changing the way we interact.  I mean, if Time says so, it must be true!

Anyways, I was more than delighted to find that I got a new follower over the weekend, and this girl means business:

twitter spam

Ruh-roh!  Looks like we need to get Pussy Control on the line ‘cos this lil’ snatch on the prowl!

I’ve little doubt in my mind that the above hyperlink is for porn and/or a virus.  I don’t need to click it to prove my point because I don’t need my screen exploding with boobs at work.  Besides, while I may not be their target audience in terms of bringing my lusty eyes, I’ve got Showgirls and Powder Blue, so I can always boob myself to oblivion from the comfort of my own home.  Really, there’s no need, but there is a need to commend this piece of porn spam.  

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It’s Like Roland Emmerich Knew My Birthday Was Coming
June 19, 2009

The epic hot mess of CGI and John Cusack that is the 2012 trailer hit the interwebs yesterday, and it’s safe to say that paradigms shifted and lives were changed and none of us will ever be the same again:

You.  Must.  Be.  KIDDING ME!

The final sequence alone, in which an aircraft carrier floating that’s floating on a giant tidal wave crushes the White House, pretty much makes my brain shut down from the absolute batshit crazy brilliance, but then there’s everything else as well!  John Cusack’s car driving out of a crashing jet?  The crumbling of the Vatican?  THE REUNITING OF THE CUSACK AND AMANDA “WHORES DON’T GET A SECOND CHANCE” PEET???  I cannot handle this absurdity.  At all.

This is already destined to be the greatest movie because it’s by the man who made Independence Day, but now he’s decided to take things to the next level by taking every disaster movie ever and cranking that bitch up to “You absolutely must be joking,” which is numerically well past 11 to the point of approaching infinity.  Even if this trailer is essentially all the best parts and rest of it’s a boring meandering mess about John Cusack trying to reconnect with his kids (is that what the “plot” is about?) and the Apocalypse and Oliver Platt being in charge of the space ark (which is a !!! and ??? all at once), those disaster movie money shots will be absolutely profound on the big screen.

Best of all, though, is that it comes out on November 13th, which is the day after tomorrow my birthday!  A CGI’ed-within-an-inch-of-its-life, unremittingly-batshit-insane-to-the-point-of-avant-garde-brilliant disaster movie?  For me?  Shazam!  It’s like the movie version of this.  But even better:

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When the Monster Demands a Mate, She’d Better Be Sexy!
June 18, 2009

No sooner than you could say “I bet you the Frankenstein monster just loves himself some foxy boxing,” my friend Sarah came across a bit of Hollywood casting gossip that seems to suggest that this whole Bride of Frankenstein remake might be more screwed than we think.  The producers are aiming to cast someone along the lines of Scarlett Johansson or Anne Hathaway, which is the sort of shit they always say, but still, yeesh.  I’m saying nothing against either’s talent or beauty, but be more creative, Hollywood!  This is what you’re trying to recreate:

You’re remaking an indisputable masterpiece and reenvisioning one of the most iconic characters in horror, and the best you  can think of is Anne Hathaway or Scarlett Johansson?  Ugh!  That’s the sort of braintrust brilliance we’ve got funding this movie?  Egads, it’s time to upgrade the Bad Idea Alert to DEFCON Dreadful!

The real kicker, though, is the source for this buzz, aka, the ever trustworthy New York Post, which reports:

BRIAN Grazer is remaking “The Bride of Frankenstein,” but this time, the female monster is going to be a babe. “She’ll be young. They’re looking for a person with great power and sex appeal,” a Hollywood insider told us. “Someone along the lines of Scarlett Johansson or Anne Hathaway.” In the 1935 original, the frizzy-haired bride was played by bug-eyed English actress Elsa Lanchester. The new Universal Pictures/Imagine Entertainment version, first disclosed by The Hollywood Reporter, will be helmed and co-scripted by Neil Burger, who wrote and directed “The Illusionist.”

Really?  REALLY???  The totally unwarranted jab at Elsa Lanchester’s appearance is trashy and gross, but the New York Post is trashy and gross, so that’s not shocking.  Par for the course, if anything.  But there’s still plenty to take issue with.

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How Can We Save the Bride of Frankenstein Remake from Being the Worst?
June 17, 2009

When the Bride of Frankenstein met the Frankenstein Monster, she was shocked and horrified.  Her iconic scream was the scream of “DO NOT WANT!!!”  This is actually quite sad because the time the Monster has spent with a blind man has taught him about kindness and companionship, and her rejection reaffirms his status as the monstrous Other.   Given Jame Whale’s own sexuality, it’s hard to not read Bride of Frankenstein as an empathetic allegory about the demonization of the homosexual.  And, if nothing else, the Bride’s one fabulously fierce diva.  Simple logic dictates that I love that movie to pieces.  

But if you put a movie on an altar of love and adoration, Hollywood’s going to feel morally obligated to remake it.  And by remake it, I mean shit all over a perfectly good thing.  Bride of Frankenstein‘s no exception to the Hollywood rule, so when I read the news on ComingSoon.net of an upcoming remake , I totally put on my Bride face like it was my Sunday best:

bride of frankenstein

The Risky Biz Blog claims that Neil Burger, the director The Illusionist and The Lucky Ones, will be writing and directing.  I haven’t seen either of these movies, but I’ve heard The Illusionist is really good, so I guess things could be far worse.  Ehren Kruger could be tapped, so that’s something.  But it’s not enough to stop me from being angry enough to shit diamonds.

I’ll inevitably get pissy about any remake that messes with a key film in the development of my movie taste, or any movie I just happen to really love, because virtually all of them end up being brainless, soulless exercises in corporate greed and Hollywood’s inability to put faith in (or even look for) original, intelligent material.  The rare remake that does work, like John Carpenter’s The Thing or David Cronenberg’s The Fly, requires a truly original take on the material and a talented director.  Without having seen any of his movies, I can only say this much about Neil Burger:

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“Relator” is Catchier Than a Pandemic, Y’all
June 16, 2009

I was full-on DO-NOT-WANT! when Scarlett Johansson released her album of Tom Waits covers.  It struck me as an ego trip wrapped in a vanity project, so I avoided it plague-style.  Needless to say, I was totally braced for a second helping of that reaction when I read on Stereogum that she was teaming up with Pete Yorn for an album called Break Up.  Pete Yorn may be able to reverse my “No, No, New Jersey” policy, but could he possibly lend credibility to Ms. Johansson’s singing career?  Well, you’re welcome to form your own opinion by listening to the first single, “Relator,” over here, but as for me, well:

scarlett_pete_relator_love

“Relator” is some seriously catchy business, y’all!  Those guitars are popalicious from the very get go, that bass line is delightful, and I’m really digging Scarlett Johansson.  Maybe it’s just perfect timing, but this song is totally my summer jam.  It’s got a warm bubbliness to it that is perfect for iPod time when walking the streets of New York City.  “Relator” and a Mr. Softee ice cream on a balmy summer day would be amaaaazing.  Not the balmy part, per se, but summers in the city do have that tendency to feel like you’re sitting in a fat man’s ass crack.  Seriously, New York City summers are totally the worst, but “Relator” is so good that it can make anything great.  Including Scarlett Johansson’s music career.  Pete Yorn’s got the magic touch, y’all!

Break Up drops September 8th, by the by.  Given how good “Relator” is, though, I’m not built for that sort of patience without a conniption fit or seven.

Gabe and Max Make Me Want a Bloomin’ Onion
June 16, 2009

Maybe I’m carrying twins, or maybe it’s just a tapeworm, but I’ve been craving me some greasy-ass food today like the life of my unborn fake babies depended on it.    I’ve got an urge to gulp down country gravy like it’s a glass of water and add six slices of bacon to anything that’s remotely edible.  Seriously, I’d eat garbage, literal garbage, if it was deep fried.  It’s a problem.

Needless to say, the new Gabe and Max’s Guide to Man Style video ain’t helping my situation:

I should be prattling on about how dreamy Gabe is.  It may be old hat, but it’s always fashionable.  Instead of talking about that deliciousness, though, I’m fixated on that damn Bloomin’ Onion.  Really, look at this battered-and-deep-fried hotness:

bloomin onion

Sweet mercy, it’s delectable nature is taunting me, and at gimungo resolution, I’m a freakin’ Pavlovian hot mess.  I get that the Bloomin’ Onion is shot in such a way that it’s supposed to be comically grotesque, but it’s not working.  At all.  I just keep thinking about the ghastly calorie and sodium levels and the inevitable stomachache that eating an entire Bloomin’ Onion would cause, and then I just wish it was in front of me.  Right now.  Sure, Outback claims the Bloomin’ Onion serves six, but my fake unborn babies will totally help pick up the slack.

Besides, Bloomin’ Onions don’t involve women, so there’s always room for an extra five servings.

As always, air kisses to Videogum.

Me and My Friends Most Assuredly Act Our Age
June 16, 2009

Being an adult’s a beautiful thing.  You get all sorts of fun responsibilities, like providing for yourself, paying bills, and refraining from cutting a bitch during your morning commute.  Fortunately, you also get kickbacks, like paychecks and not getting carded when buying beer.  Mostly though, with age comes a refined sense of humor fostered by years of life experience and a greater sense of maturity.  Which perhaps explains the following exchange:

Laura: I wonder what country that flag’s for?

pride-2007-castro-rainbow-flag

Me: Gaylandia.

Laura: Oh yeah, I hear they’re under a dick-tatorship.

Me: LOLOLOLOLOL!

So there you have it.  Me and my friends: beacons of maturity and socially responsible humor.  For 12-year olds.

Thanks to Google Image Search, We Can Now Bask in the Weirdness of The Frightened Woman
June 15, 2009

I’m no internet technician, so I can’t attest to understanding the precise ways that a Google image search works, but I do know that often times the results can delight and confuse in equal measure.  Mostly because they make no sense.  

So color me par-for-the-course when a recent search for “frightened woman” gave me this:

frightened woman

Naturally.

A colorful art installations meant to represent the mythical vagina dentata under a search for “frightened woman” is supposed to be representative of a frightened woman?  Frightening, for sure, but hardly frightened.  Or maybe the teeth are like a rattle snake’s rattle, so maybe she is frightened?  I just don’t know.  The lady bits are nature’s great mystery to me, and I fully intend to keep it that way.

But that’s not to say that I won’t still click a link to try and figure out what in the hell is going on, and I’m glad I did.

It turns out that said above image is from a late-60s Italian movie called The Frightened Woman.  According to DVD Times, it’s an erotic exploration of sadomasochism and gender politics set, and the look is apparently steeped in a 60s deco aesthetic.  In other words, it’s trash art with subtitles, and nothing about the movie’s trailer can convince me otherwise:

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Orphan‘s Marketing Campaign Ages Like Fine Cheese
June 15, 2009

Some months back, I randomly stumbled upon the totally ridiculous looking trailer for Orphan,and I immediately began to wonder what the hell her secret is.  Of course, I’m equally curious as to why Vera Farmiga keeps getting saddled with Bad Seed rip-offs, and I’d love to know why Peter Sarsgaard said yes to this mess, but none of these questions can distract me from the most important fact that this movie looks ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE, and so I naturally can’t wait.  The latest TV spot is just a 30-second taste of the crazy, but–like a good cheese–things are looking ever more delicious as time goes by:

I first thought this looked more like trashy camp, and I still get tingly whenever I see Vera’s hysterics, and there’s apparently a scene where a car is driven into there house (totally awesome, but also huh?), but I’m beginning to think this movie looks to be both completely ridiculous and creepy as hell.  There’s something about the way that girl puts her homicidal bitchface on with such aplomb.  Seriously, when I see that final shot, I don’t know whether to giggle with camp glee or piss myself in terror.  After taking a good look at the poster, though, I’ve gotta go with the latter:

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The Second Coming (of Mad Men on DVD) is Upon Us
June 15, 2009

Oh man, July 14th ain’t just Bastille Day this year.  Didn’t you get the memo?  French-historical-holiday hotness is so every other year, y’all.  Perfectly nuanced, 60s-set television drama is this year’s hotness:

mad men season 2 dvd

Is is just me, or this box art all sorts of delicious?  Wait, stupid question.  It’s most certainly not.

But seriously, if you haven’t been watching season 2 of Mad Men, then you’re in good company.  I haven’t either!  That doesn’t mean we can’t fix our bad life choices before season 3 premieres on August 16th.  

After all, Mad Men‘s probably the single best show airing on TV right now.  The 60s-inspired costumes and sets are nothing short orgasmic (if that’s your sort of thing, and it’s most definitely my thing).  The plot lines play out like fabulous Sirkian melodramas, but they’re allowed the emotional slow burn of telling their tales over the course of 13 episodes as opposed to a few short hours.  And the fact that creator Matthew Weiner had the brilliantly ballsy move to set each season two years apart makes the show infinitely more compelling as it tracks the ever changing social landscape of 1960s America.  

And of course, there’s also that glorious cast.  Like Christina Hendricks, who plays the second greatest Joan of all time:

Joan Holloway Mad Men

How I worship her curves and couture and the steely-bitch facade she carries in the office.  If I worked for Sterling Cooper, you’d better believe she’d be my beard wife in a hot second.

And equally fierce are January Jones (as Betty Draper) and Elisabeth Moss (as Peggy Olsen):

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