It’s important to note that you shouldn’t do drugs, but if you’re adamant about making bad life choices like Emily Meade is in Twelve, it is wise to at least to put yourself in a room that will make tripping balls a bit more like “Cycles” as directed by a gay man:
It’s also important to note that the trailer for Joel Schumacher’s adaptation of the Nick McDonell’s novel Twelve contains the following in no particular order: sex, drugs, spoiled white kids, foul language, violence, “Kids” by MGMT, Kiefer Sutherland’s velvet sex voice, Manhattan’s Upper East Side, 50 Cent being ridiculously jacked and leaving little to the imagination, Chace Crawford with facial scruff, and Ellen Barkin. Naturally, this begs two questions:
- Is this extended trailer safe for your place of work?
- Can you please explain to me how Twelve won’t end up being the best fake episode of Gossip Girl EVER?
Twelve trailer, y’all:
Look, I recognize that my sensibilities largely oscillate between an articulate, high camp appreciation and an over-caffeinated, near-total divorce from all standards of good taste; as a result, I imagine how I sometimes must sound like a crazy interweb bag lady with a Wi-Fi connection and a netbook made out of crushed soda cans, stale french fries, and pigeon bones. And perhaps being legitimately excited by a trailer that the internet has all but unanimously deemed as its au currant offender to be tied to the cultural whipping post is just one of those instances. I mean, if I put cotton balls in my ears and squint my eyes hard enough, I guess Twelve looks like the terrible train wreck of a movie that everybody else seems to see. But my problem is that I don’t think it looks bad. At all.
The fact is that I like how Joel Schumacher isn’t afraid to bring camp into his films. His installments in the Batman franchise are homoerotic, candy-colored über-camp guised as mainstream summer movies. Batman & Robin, after all, has a scene in which Uma Thurman’s Poison Ivy makes her entrance in a gorilla suit à la Marlene Dietrich’s “Hot Voodoo” number in Josef von Sternberg’s Blonde Venus, and if that’s not camp then I’ll eat Trudy Campbell’s Derby hat. Then there’s Phantom of the Opera, all operatic excess and peppered with queer culture flourishes: candelabras straight out of Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête, a masquerade ball with dancers that vogue. I’m not saying that makes these films masterpieces, but I do think it makes them worthy of more appreciation than they get, and I’m willing to go out on a limb and bet that Twelve has a darkly satiric camp streak of its own.
Twelve definitely looks to have the same glossy, Gossip Girl aesthetic, and it’s certainly got the same locals, but Gossip Girl would never have Serena fuck a black guy for drugs (or for any other reason, probably), and it definitely wouldn’t dare to have people getting shot at Blair’s birthday (though can we all agree that not having Cyndi Lauper perform counts as a significant misfire? Yes, let’s). Seeing as I got so irreparably bored with Gossip Girl a few episodes into the third season that I stopped watching without the slightest regret, I don’t really know how Twelve will compare in terms of quality, but it definitely looks significantly more over the top than Gossip Girl‘s half-hearted salaciousness, and you know what? I don’t really understand the internet’s dismissal of this trailer because that’s precisely the sort of thing I’m looking for. But I guess that’s just me.
Not, of course, like this comes as any surprise.
Much love to Cinematical for still.