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Moronic Inferno

With the culture’s fixation on blond stars who got lost in the world of fame, and the oncoming headlights of the Oscar 18 wheeler there’s a Romanesque spiritual decadence and mental lassitude afoot in the land, a feeding frenzy of distraction, high-life antics transformed into local gossip. Every person on the bikes and stairmasters at my gym is reading US Weekly, In Touch or People Magazine as they burn calories and tighten buns. That they use what are essentially really really good looking fitness models as inspiration for their workouts makes some sense; that they look to the opulence and frivolity of their lives for meaning is disaster. It’s the celebrity apocalypse. One almost feels that the moronic inferno is tempting fate; in just five years we’ve regressed to late 90s-grade collective fatuousness, and the nagging fear that haters of Western godlessness may soon fly a plane into a building is back. If such a thing had to be, I’d propose this little adjustment: try a dirgible (unmanned) for a visual flourish, and target the E! Tower on Wilshire in Los Angeles. Alright, I guess you could even evacuate the building. That would slow down the 24 hour celeb news cycle a little, right?

Far from the maddening mainstream, Harmony Korrine’s new movie sounds hella wacky and refreshingly un-In Touch. "Shot in the jungles of Panama, Scotland and Paris, Mr. Lonely is about a Michael Jackson impersonator, played by Diego Luna, who runs into a Marilyn Monroe impersonator (Samantha Morton). He winds up in a Scottish-based commune of impersonators, including Marilyn's husband Charlie Chaplin (Denis Lavant) and their daughter Shirley Temple, [as well as] the Queen of England (Anita Pallenberg), the Pope (James Fox)... and Abraham Lincoln (Richard Strange)."

Preview: Alternative Pin-Up #9

As a sort of appetizer for his special guest star spot in Reno 911! The Movie, try a little slice of Rudd. He takes a staged interview situation and makes it spontaneous and jazzy and grungy and alive and sexy: auto-palorazzi. He’ll be appearing here shortly as Alternative Pin-Up Number Nine.

 

In fairness the interviewer’s not bad. What’s this I Got Shotgun stuff?

Palorazzi

Check out the array of new shots on Meerkat’s longtime associate Lorenzo di Flaneur’s flickr page. Lorenzo is the nom de photo of a fellow who’s worked in the indie film scene and camped out at some cool bars and music venues around the world for the last decade plus, leading me to define his job description at one point as “attending every important cocktail party in the world.”  He got friendly with a lot of cool cats along the way and snapped pictures all the time. I’m hereby coining the term ‘Palorazzi’ in reference to Lorenzo, which I define as the taking of photos of celebrated and talented people but  from the perspective of a fellow party-goer than a sweaty shouting man on the other side of the velvet rope. Lest this be confused with something fabricated like the patent unreality of reality TV, homeboy really is pally with a lot of these folks, and as a professional partygoer with an iconic photographer’s eye, you’ll often feel as though you were living his very rock and roll, very glamorous life, too. And he doesn’t discriminate on the basis of fame--to him the go-go boy at Eastern Bloc can be as fascinating as the Oscar nominee (has anyone else noticed the tattoos on Helen Mirren’s hands-very visible as she poses with all the awards she’s picking up lately? Could she get any cooler?). I’m so completely into his vision and am making it a project to promote his work—I’d so much rather see shots of these folk in their natural habitat, drinks in hand, than standing and posing for a bunch of soulless photographers in the employ of Bonnie Fuller. Check out his take on Helen, Parker, Jake, Lina, Madsteez, Antony, JCM, Yoko, and Joe G-L (above).

Dude-Ity: Get Into It!

Neill Cumpston over at Ain’t It Cool has gotten into a screening of 300, and his review is a triumph of rabid geek verbiage. Unwittingly perhaps, Cumpston joins the company of cultural critic  Mark Simpson who coined neo-masculinity terms ‘sporno’ and the overworked ‘metrosexual’. In the plus column of his review: visceral violence, gallon upon gallon of blood and angry rock music over the battle sequences. In his only lament about the graphic novel-based Spartan gore fest Cumpston  refers to the film’s ample “DUDE NUDITY, or ‘DUDE-ITY’.”

“These are Greek times, when there were a lot of naked women around. And there are some naked women in this film, but almost every naked woman scene has a muscular dude giving the screen an ass picnic [another hot new phrase-edit.]. Dude-ity is something directors put in their movies so people will think they’re serious, I guess, and not just throwing in naked hotties.

Any directors reading this – IT’S OKAY TO JUST THROW IN NAKED HOTTIES.

Can’t someone make a movie about naked Amazons and call it PAUSE BUTTON?”

I think it's fair to call 300 the super-fit bear-lover’s PAUSE BUTTON. After a century of gratuitous female nudity in cinema the score's been evening up in recent years; 300 is tipping the scales big time. And as Cumpton also notes, “gay dudes and divorced women are going to use screen captures for computer wallpaper.’ Thanks for the tip!

Doogie Style Part Deux

Here’s a tasty slice of meta-closetedness, as Neil Patrick Harris plays himself as a horned up, drugged up het cocksmith in Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. If I ruled the world I’d reassemble all the players on the film right down to the best boy (especially the best boy), make them all replay this scene and have Patrick sub out dirty slang for guy parts rather than girls’, just cause I’d find it a bit hotter, and also cause he’s actually a mo. Gotta admit, though, he’s still pretty hot here.  On a side note, the  'Gay or..' back page of the  Jan/Feb  feature a Patrick Harris-alike in a  'Gay or Fomer Child Actor' bit that's pretty good; 'YOUTHFUL FACE: He can still play a guy half his age', etc.

Craig v. Owen

SO: Who’d win in a top-off between Clive Owen and Daniel Craig? Cast your vote in the comments; explain your answers using examples to illustrate your reasoning.

The Long Goodbye

So long, Robert Altman. Thank you for McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Nashville, Gosford Park, 3 Women, A Wedding, and The Long Goodbye, which if you have not seen yet you absolutely must.

Across 110th Street

Sometimes credit sequences transcend simply being introductions to the film that follows and stand alone as films unto themselves. The silvery black and white close ups of a child’s hands playing with toys that opens To Kill A Mockingbird. The Vogue-inspired 60s-style womens’ fashion spreads that kicks off Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown. The Rorschach test that begins The Science Of Sleep.

And then there is Quentin Tarantino’s credit sequence to Jackie Brown, immaculately timed out to Bobby Womack’s ‘Across 110^th Street'. Pam Grier walks through an airport that seems to exist in that twilight era that Tarantino specializes in—not quite the blacksploitation 70s, not the grindhouse 80s, yet not quite existing in the films actual era: the slick 90s. His universe is both nostalgic and anachronistic, but in this film the emotions transcen the playing with genre that he specializes in. The resonance of the song’s lyrics became intense during the film’s final scene where Jackie Brown leaves the man who is possibly her true love behind forever, driving off in a sports car listening to the Womack tune. Mid way through the song she is overwhelemed by emotion and half sings, half lip synchs to the song as one does sometimes while driving.

Boom Boom Cruz

From the presskit for Volver; some lovely thoughts by Almodovar on creating Penolope Cruz’s smoking hot look and vibe in the film. “Penelope is at the height of her beauty. It’s a cliché but in her case it’s true. (Those eyes, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts!! Penelope has got one of the most spectacular cleavages in world cinema)….It was a pleasure to dress, comb and make up the character and the person. Penelope’s body enobles whatever you put on it. We decided on straight skirts and cardigans because they are classic garments, very feminine and popular in any decade, from the 1950s to 2000. And it also must be said, because the reminded me of Sophia Loren, in her beginning as a Neoopolitan fish seller. We have to thank the hairdresser Massimo Gattabrusi for the wonderful disheveled hair-dos and Anan Lozano for the make-up. The extended eye-line was a real find. There is just one false element in Raimunda’s body, her ass. There characters are big-assed women and Penelope is too slim. The rest is all heart, emotion, talent, truth and a face the camera adores. As I do.”

Grindhouse sneak peek

Sundance Channel’s ICONOCLAST series has always struck me as a little smarmy and self-congratulatory. Two financially successful rebels get together and lather each other up about how visionary and original they are. On camera. Hmm. Of course I’ve never actually seen an episode so that’s all just judgemental bitchery on my part and it may in fact be fantastic. At any rate Fiona Apple and Quentin Tarantino will be congratulating one another for their outsider status on Thursday, November 9^th at 9 p.m.. Why do I mention this episode? Because Quentin will take Fiona for a little tour of the set of he and Robert Rodriguez’s new film Grindhouse. If you haven’t seen the trailer yet, brace yourself for a shot of adrenaline directly into the heart.