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February 28, 2006
Love is...
I have at least one friend who doesn't believe love lasts, and that marriage is a mistake, a point often emphasized with reference to changing someone's diapers.
I offer, as possible evidence that it does, the following anecdote.
My grandfather, 83, asleep on the couch, snoring loudly.
My grandmother, 80, married to him since she was 19, lightly touches his hand and gives it a gentle caress. Still asleep, my grandfatehr makes an audible sound of joy.
It is pointed out to her the sound he just made, so she does it again. This time -- still asleep, mind -- his response to the light touch is to reach out his hand to fully take hers.
Lasting love may be rare, but I've seen it.
And neither grandparent is in diapers.
Posted by LYT at 3:08 PM | Comments (3)
February 27, 2006
Uncle Tony versus the Golfball Snowglobe Puzzle
A VERY short film by LYT
CLICK HERE for Quicktime.
(no other formats available, sorry)
Posted by LYT at 3:03 PM | Comments (2)
February 25, 2006
Feelin' the love
Several decades celebrated tonight. My grandmother is 80, uncle Mick is 60, uncle Pat (offpat) is 50, and cousin Edmund is 20. We like to throw family bashes in style.
I mentioned it was at a Resident Evil style mansion retrofitted with modern elevators, and possibly a hidden germ warfare/zombie lab. There was also a heated pool and jacuzzi, and I feel like I got to rehab my lower back a little bit. We also passed the time in the pool throwing rings at various appendages. Young Zeta, whom my regular readers will remember, started to warm to me a bit, having soundly thrashed me the previous day in a game of snakes and ladders.
The previous night I had drank several pints of English beer, and my system wasn't real used to it, thus indigestion. Tonight I stuck to what I knew -- the good ol' Jack 'N Diet, which I'm willing to bet had never been ordered at hotel Resident Evil before.
Though most skipped lunch, I ordered fish and chips. Twas very disappointing. Later, I finished baby Jaz's lasagne, which turned out to be better than anything else in the hotel.
Uncle Tony, who used to post here as "degas" (and may yet again), has four kids who rarely make these events. I t was hoped all might come, but Joel's recurring health problems proved too great, and Alex is in Canada. Still, we got Edmund and the recently engaged Zoe, who brought along her fiancee...Luke (do not be confused -- this is not the Southern side of my family! It's a different Luke). Last time I saw Zoe and Luke, they were just barely into adulthood, but now both have grown into confident, good-looking folks.
Much of the family is musical, so several performances had been arranged and rehearsed. Tony kicked things off with a sad song about aging and accompanying cello, then it was on to Jackson Browne, and a great three-part harmony between Simon, Lucy, and Steve. (not keeping track? Refer to archived family reunion posts, or wait for photos)
And then I was called to the front. "Yo, VIP, let's kick it!" Revealing my "Fag Rainbow Hair" T-shirt, I busted out with some "Ice Ice Baby" to a full band accompaniment. Rumor has it footage was taken -- I'll try to obtain and post it if I can.
Then an all-family sing-along with "Doctor, My Eyes"...and just when it seemed like we were done, Simon and I revealed our big surprise -- a secretly rehearsed song for Pat by his favorite singer, Britney Spears! He gamely played along, and "Baby One More Time" nearly deteriorated into a double striptease, much to the mortification of his daughters! (though they later admitted that had it been anyone other than their dad acting that way, it would have been awesome)
Then many speeches of effusive love and praise, including an impressive, unprepared ad-lib by Edmund. Many of my family don't think they're performers -- but they inherently have the traits for it. I coached Aunt Jill a little bit for her tribute in word and song to her husband.
Now, some of you have seen me perform, either in my band with Jaye or perhaps in Mad Cowgirl or Gayman. My family, for the most part, have not seen me perform since I was a child.
This may have been the first taste of the full LYT effect. And it may have been more shocking than what you might do in front of your family. But mine dug it.
Gave my grandmother the "Brokeback Mountain" book as a present. She seems to like it.
Posted by LYT at 4:05 PM | Comments (4)
February 24, 2006
Li'l more dispatch from UK
The hotel everyone is staying at is like the house from the first Resident Evil video game. Huge, gothic, and with all kinds of hidden "backstage" areas, plus a large greenhouse out front that undoubtedly conceals a killer plant of some kind.
I'm staying at Lucy and Steve's...ALONE! L&S decided to do the hotel too, and my cousin Joel was coming down to stay with me here, but he has rather chronic health problems that have kept him away so far...fingers crossed for an appearance tomorrow.
People here are amused at the mini-New York kerfuffle, with my mother weighing in that she too found Woody Allen annoying in Annie Hall. I'm amused that it's going down while I'm thousands of miles away. This is twice that out-of-towners have quoted me on Annie Hall to somehow prove me wrong. I think that review may haunt me more than my one-line pan of Schindler's List. I stand by it. I also offer would-be mockers a piece of prime bait -- watch The Last Eve sometime if you really want some ammunition against me.
English hotel food is never that great, alas...English pub food beats it hands down, and is cheaper. Feeling rather queasy tonight...best lay off the beer and too much food tomorrow, when I make use of the hotel pool privileges.
I wish I could share some photos right now, but you'll have to wait, so try and remember all that I've said till March 2nd or so.
Posted by LYT at 4:32 PM | Comments (2)
Pickin' on me
Some New York critic named Anthony Kaufman and his readers are trying to tear me a new one. Not very well, but it's still the most vocal response I've ever gotten on any other site, ever.
Go check it out and let him know if you agree or disagree.
Posted by LYT at 3:24 AM | Comments (21)
February 23, 2006
Reviews
"Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story is -- and isn't -- an adaptation of Laurence Sterne's The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. The novel, described by Coogan in the film itself as "a postmodern classic written before there was any modern to be post about," is highly acclaimed but very seldom read cover to cover, filled with tangents, digressions, and unusual stylistic tics like having one entirely black page in the middle of the text. Winterbottom initially intended to do a straight adaptation, only to find that a linear narrative version of the script by longtime collaborator Frank Cottrell Boyce only came to thirty pages. Boyce has since had a falling out with the director, and is billed here under the pseudonym "Martin Hardy." Maybe he didn't like the way Ian Hart portrays the screenwriter "Joe." "
"If you have any awareness at all of the existence of Running Scared -- no, not the Gregory Hines/Billy Crystal cop buddy comedy, but the new film written and directed by Wayne Kramer -- chances are you have but one question: How in God's name does anyone expect us to believe that Paul Walker can handle himself in a serious role? Walker, whose blue eyes and chiseled abs have appeared in a movie or two aimed at young ladies, is the most vacant piece of big-screen chick bait to appear in action movies since Keanu Reeves chased Patrick Swayze along the beach in Point Break."
Posted by LYT at 10:06 AM | Comments (3)
Me, in the Village Voice
LYT in NYC, babay!
http://villagevoice.com/film/0608,thompson,72279,20.html
NOTE: I'll post a longer review of Running Scared momentarily.
Posted by LYT at 10:03 AM | Comments (4)
February 22, 2006
Comings and goings
I've barely had time to pause and assess on this trip so far. But here are a few things that have been happening.
Almost as soon as I got to the UK, I headed to Paris to see my brothers & stepmom. The appeal is more of the seeing family variety than seeing Paris -- I seldom left the house, most often babysitting the two boys.
Adam, 3, is a really sweet and loving kid, but he will not do anything you ask -- ever. Even when you think he has, he usually hasn't. Fortunately, the most naughty thing he did was drop a bar of soap into the toilet. There are worse things he could have put there than a substance which dissolves in water.
Being a three-year-old, he'll occasionally come up with some random gems you wouldn't expect, like "We need to talk, because if people don't talk, then they won't go on the Metro."
Reuben, 7, is really stepping up, and helped me out with Adam quite a bit. I'm not sure he's as helpful to his mother! Disappointingly, he never asked me about what would happen if anyone fighted. Perhaps immortalizing the catchphrase has destroyed it.
Last time in Paris, I looked for sushi, with no success. This time I realized my strategy had been wrong -- the best raw seafood in Paris is served at French restaurants. My last night, I had a monster platter of raw oysters, clams, mussels (never knew you could eat them raw -- but they're great!), sea snails (periwinkles? I think these had been cooked, and very delish), tiny gray shrimp (mostly shell - texture like silkworms), cooked pink shrimp, and half a crab (billed as a "Torteau" -- I thought I was going to get a turtle, and slightly disappointed not to).
Raw shellfish in France aren't rinsed out like here, so they taste quite strongly of salt-water, and may well have tiny shell fragments in them. I prefer the U.S. approach on this count, but it's all in what you're used to.
McDonalds in France serves beer, and has weird burgers like the Fondue burger (alas, seasonal, and not in stock). The Happy Meal toy of the week was a mini boom box that played a snippet of the song "Carnivale" which would soon be imprinted on our brains by the OCD that small children have.
Back here in the UK town of Godalming, one street is blocked off and covered in fake snow for the filming of a Christmas movie starring Jude Law and Cameron Diaz. I had a green beer at the local pub, which was not colored as such for St. Paddy's -- just made that way. Also a lasagna, which for my money is always made best in English pubs.
Am currently drinking a "Pepsi Max Coffee Cino," a variant of Diet Pepsi that tastes like non-alcoholic Kahlua. Presumably the upcoming Coca Cola Blaq will taste similar.
(Brian - not sure customs allows bringing back of beverages, sorry)
Taking the train to Bristol Parkway today, to stay with cousins Simon & Lucy. Party time the rest of the week.
Posted by LYT at 3:41 AM | Comments (7)
February 21, 2006
MAD COWGIRL trailer #2
This one is 100% movie footage, I think. It has replaced the old one on the official site, here.
Posted by LYT at 11:59 AM | Comments (0)
February 20, 2006
The Travelling Is The Hardest Part
Getting from London to Paris and back is supposed to be easy. It isn't always.
Having recently done my taxes and realized that a large chunk of change is going bye-bye, I nixed the relatively expensive Eurostar, and tried to find a flight deal online. This wasn't too hard. Actually executing the transaction online, however -- that proved to be impossible. Friggin' English websites.
So I did what I knew any good Englishman would want me to do, and picked up the damn phone. Booked a ticket for the next day. Used my US credit card. Seemed relatively painless.
The next day, I awoke extra early so as to score a ride to the train station with my mom on her way to work. From there, took a train to a bus, to the airport. Got there more than three hours early, and figured there was plenty of time to relax.
Oh no.
Because after my leisurely English breakfast of eggs, fried tomato, hash browns and baked beans, I strolled up to the ticket counter and was told that I wasn't booked on any flight that day.
I was booked for March 17. Not February.
I got in line at the Air France ticket sales desk, where, as always, I was stuck behind people who had to ask 500 questions. Finally, I got to the front and was told Air France could not help me. I must call the travel agency.
Thank the Lord for credit cards. I got on the phone and made the call. They said they'd look up their records, listen to my phone call from the previous night, and get back to me. I gave them the number of the payphone, and waited.
and waited
and waited
BRRRING!
"Hello, Luke Thompson here"
"Hello sir, I left some leaflets on your property the other day, and was wondering if you'd had the chance to look them over."
"Dude, this is a pay phone at Heathrow Airport"
"I'm sorry? A PAIN phone?"
"This is a phone in the LOBBY OF HEATHROW AIRPORT!"
"Oh, sorry."
Click.
more waiting
and waiting
and then they called back, and all was fixed. There are bars at every airport so one can celebrate such minor victories.
CUT TO two days later - the return trip. Surely there'd be no more problems.
Well, there was the small matter of my train stopping in the middle of nowhere more than once for incomprehensible French reasons "Blah blahblah securite blah blah blah blablabla"
Then it didn't stop at the end of the line. I was running very late, and had to figure out how to get from where I was to the right terminal. Bless the airport employees who spoke English (better than many at LA airport, by the way). And just as time ran out, I got the news -- good, under the circumstances -- that my flight had been cancelled, and I'd have to get a later one.
All good, except I needed to call my mother and tell her. And French phones only take cards; no cash.
Several unsuccessful card swipes and misdials later, I bought a phone card. Cost more than I needed, and I won't use it all, probably. My mother's number still not working - I must have it wrong.
So I call Simon, whose number is the only other one I have. Ask him to call my mother. He has just moved house, so he doesn't have her correct number to hand. Later I will find out that he calls every other relative to obtaion it, and none of them are home today. This couldn't have been more absurd if I were lying in a hospital bed with a bad appendix...
My new flight, two hours later, gets further delayed. I get drunk on Heineken at the airport cafe that takes all currencies. When I finally get on the flight, there's turbulence all the way home, and some really nasty dried olive crackers that choke you worse than the cookies in the Got Milk ads.
Then it's to the coach, which takes much longer this end. And I'm left waiting at a train station for ages until one going my way shows up. I take it two stops. Then I have to walk the rest of the way, with my luggage, in the dark.
I get home many, many hours late. My mother says, "Simon only just called!"
Posted by LYT at 3:07 PM | Comments (4)
3 major cities in 3 days
I feel like such a rock star.
Leaving Paris today, back to London. Talk soon.
Posted by LYT at 12:52 AM | Comments (0)
February 16, 2006
Reviews
"There probably aren't that many movie stars capable of retaining their charisma after a stroke has rendered them nigh-incoherent. But based on Illusion, Kirk Douglas doesn't seem to have lost a step. He still has that intensity he always had, and even though he's at the stage of his career where every movie from here on out is going to involve playing terminally ill and doing a death scene, he won't be confined to a bed; at one point, he actually jumps up and down on top of it. The speech therapy has improved his post-stroke slur since he was in Diamonds, but you still have to listen carefully from time to time. "
"If you're a parent trying to teach your sullen teenage kids that movies with subtitles aren't all bad, try taking them to see Night Watch (Nochnoi Dozor). Like Christophe Gans' The Brotherhood of the Wolf or Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, this is a foreign-language film that proves that geekdom observes no national boundaries. The first Russian equivalent of the Hollywood summer blockbuster is not only based on a popular fantasy novel, but also is the first part in an epic trilogy about good versus evil that cribs liberally from virtually every conceivable inspiration. One could complain that it's a bit overstuffed, but unlike, say, the Underworld movies, all the convoluted back-story actually pays off. "
Can only post short takes from home, so none right now.
Posted by LYT at 12:25 PM | Comments (0)
February 15, 2006
Outta here in a little while...
I'll try to look in on this place and update as much as I can, but no guarantees.
In the meantime, here's some interesting reading: Conservative Republican blogger "Dennis the Peasant" (a.k.a. Kenton Kelly) has an ongoing series at his site about the Muslims he actually knows personally, and how they differ from right-wing stereotypes.
Dennis used to be a regular at ex-Democrat Roger Simon's site who attacked anyone that disagreed with Roger; then they had a massive falling out and he's since become a vocal contrarian, though still a bona fide righty.
But although I take note of Dennis'/Kenton's warnings that he's still definitely not on the same political side as me, his writing has gotten a lot more interesting..
Posted by LYT at 4:35 PM | Comments (2)
Dave White takes on moviedom's pretty boys
"It was like someone told him that half the job was just showing up and that was the half he picked."
More on Harrison Ford, Paul Walker, et al from my favorite sarcastic WeHo critic.
Posted by LYT at 12:37 PM | Comments (1)
Bite the Apple...WHOOOAH Praise the Apple!
Not sure if this blog has any New York readers, but I suspect it may soon.
Keep an eye on the Village Voice film capsule reviews this week.
Posted by LYT at 12:17 PM | Comments (1)
February 14, 2006
"Love" has more meanings than "potential romance"
Happy V-day.
Posted by LYT at 2:35 PM
Duck season! Wabbit season! Cheney season!
"Shhh! Be vewwy vewwy quiet! I'm hunting quail! Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh!"
Posted by LYT at 2:10 PM | Comments (5)
February 13, 2006
What do you want for Valentine's Day
Me, I'll be doing my taxes. So I'll be spending the day with a gray-bearded guy named Arnold.
But some of you may be longing for the proverbial "tall, dark stranger."
Posted by LYT at 3:23 PM | Comments (7)
Hypotheticals
Someone on Myspace asked me "If Mary Poppins and Superman fighted...Whowouldwin?"
I responded "Mary Poppins. Superman is vulnerable to magic."
Anyone feel differently?
Posted by LYT at 2:48 PM | Comments (8)
Not out of The Woods
Jaye and I both got sent a tip-off today on an LA Times feature about "orphaned" studio movies. Rather than reprint what she has posted, I'll link you to it.
THE WOODS is mentioned, and the article confirms something I knew a while back -- Sony held screenings for buyers at other studios, and no-one who attended those was interested enough to pick it up.
The insane blind spot here, it seems to me, is that MAY kinda got screwed over distribution-wise, and now almost everyone I talk to seems to know about it. Lionsgate has realized they may have dropped the ball on that one, yet Sony is doing exactly the same thing to the same director all over again, even when it's clear it was a mistake the first time.
Hell, I'll even hand them a marketing slogan. Ready? "From one of the new Masters of Horror..."
All those veteran respected guys pick Lucky McKee as the token new guy to join their club, and Sony doesn't see the potential?
Posted by LYT at 11:44 AM | Comments (1)
February 11, 2006
A SAW point
Watchers of the current NY Toy Fair, including me, have been puzzled by NECA's announcement of a SAW action figure set featuring Jigsaw (Toobin Bell) and the tricycle puppet. Mainly because SOTA announced one last Comicon, and I even showed you pictures right here.
As it turns out, SOTA and Lions Gate were unable to agree on a final design. SOTA relinquished the rights, and NECA came up with a design the studio was happier with.
It's a shame. I like SOTA better as a company, though their stuff takes forever to come out. The SOTA SAW protos were amazing and I don't expect NECA's to be as good. I just hope they're acceptable.
Posted by LYT at 10:09 PM | Comments (1)
Return of the censored photos
Thanks for the concern, everyone -- but I now officially have the permission of both people involved.
Enjoy!
Posted by LYT at 5:56 PM | Comments (2)
A really odd bit of cultural arrogance
Asked by my editor to look into press screenings of a Weinstein Brothers' release called "Doogal," I discovered something rather odd...
"Doogal" is actually "The Magic Roundabout."
Now, what does that mean, exactly?
"The Magic Roundabout" was a French stop-motion animated TV show about talking toys and animals that was quite popular in a dubbed-into-English format in the UK. The English dubbed version featured some in-jokes for adults, like a seemingly stoned rabbit named Dylan. The lead character was a dog named "Dougal," which isn't an unheard-of name in the UK, and certainly isn't spelled "Doogal" (he's "Pollux" in French).
Last year, a CGI movie came out, co-produced by France and the UK. As it was a big-screen version of a beloved children's TV show, they pulled out all the stops for the voice cast -- the English language version starred Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Ian McKellen, Tom Baker, Kylie Minogue, Jim Broadbent, Ray Winstone, Joanna Lumley, and Robbie Williams.
But that wasn't good enough for America, apparently.
Dench, McKellen, and Minogue remain audible in "Doogal." The rest have been redubbed by the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, Kenan Thompson, Jon Stewart, Chevy Chase, Jimmy Fallon, William H. Macy, and Kevin Smith.
Where to even start?
Perhaps by asking who in the hell thinks Chevy Chase is an improvement over Lee Evans, or Jimmy Fallon over Bill Nighy?
Dubbing a kids' cartoon is understandable, except when it's already in the right fucking language!
Hey, maybe Haley Joel Osment should do the overdubbed voice of Harry Potter, if English accents are so difficult for kids.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Not like the kiddie demographic knows or cares who ANY of those voice actors are.
Posted by LYT at 3:24 PM | Comments (6)
Don't say "Eat me!" around this guy...
For years, we toy collectors had heard that a certain actor would not agree to let his likeness be used on an action figure of one of his most famous characters. Todd McFarlane tried to get around this by making a different character in a similar costume, and we all assumed that was that, as close as we would get.
The apparent rationale was that the actor in question didn't want this character to be seen as a hero, or potentially played with by children. Which is fair enough.
But now he appears to have changed his mind.
Posted by LYT at 12:49 PM | Comments (1)
An intersting point of comparison
It has been approximately 1400 years since the death of Mohammed, and thus, the founding of Islam.
Approximately 1400 years after the death of Christ (and thus the foudning of Christianity), you know what was happening?
The Spanish Inquisition.
Takes a while for a religion to settle down, doesn't it?
Posted by LYT at 1:06 AM | Comments (15)
February 10, 2006
Lessons learned
-No matter how high you think your alcohol tolerance is, there's always someone who can humble you -- especially in the entertainment industry.
-When you're in a new town promoting an entertainment product, it's very easy to get sucked into non-stop partying. Three days tapped me out; one can only imagine what an Eddie Guerrero, or Magic Johnson, or Freddie Mercury has seen and done.
-Greg insisted on taking the following picture because he said I looked like Orson Welles (the wine is a prop - I don't drink white wine). Looking like Orson Welles seems like a bad thing, as opposed to having his mad skillz.
Posted by LYT at 11:07 AM | Comments (6)
February 9, 2006
Odds and ends
There are more photos than I've shown you here at my buzznet site - click the link on the left hand side of this page, or click on any of the photos in the SF posts to go there. You will not find the two suspended images there, though they may return someday if I can secure the goodwill of all concerned.
MAD COWGIRL CO-STAR t-shirts are available for sale BY CLICKING HERE
Posted by LYT at 3:09 PM | Comments (1)
Friday road trip
Has it really been almost a week already? Time does fly when you're high on premiere ambience.
I won't go into the details of the traffic jam again. But I WILL show you some attractive photos of James and I eating jalapenos.
I had mentioned that we had hoped to stop at a Wal-mart along the way to try and find a Batista action figure, which is almost as elusive as a downloadable version of Batista theme music (hey, I think I just ensured that this post will get a shitload of hits). The 5 Freeway has to be the most Wal-Mart-less stretch of land in America. BUt you get to smell cow shit quite a bit.
When we got to San Francisco, to say that James and I were underwhelmed by the Adante hotel would be an understatement. As another guest put it, it was like Fawlty Towers. The bar, if you can call it that, closed at 9, so no hope of schmoozing in that area with other hotel guests (the most famous of whom was probably Edward Furlong, looking older than he ought to).
I reserved a queen-size bed in a no-smoking room. I got twin beds in a smoking room. Twin beds so small that rolling over on either side would have knocked me onto the floor.
The SF vibe made me feel like I was in Canada - also it was cold. But nothing came cheap. We stocked up on beer and liquor in case we needed it, called Edwin and Tony and found out just how freakin' far away the Roxie Theater was.
James had better plans. A friend of his who lived in town was going to move away soon, and he wanted to see her, so we took a bus across town to a crowded bar.
A bar that had eels in a fishtank.
James ordered Long Island ice teas. I stuck to beer. But he seemd to find the right place to fall into.
Seriously, his friend Devin was great, as was her friend, whom I seem to recall as being named Ashley.
And completely random girls came up and complimented my hair. In further conversation, it turns out that being the film critic for SF Weekly actually impresses people in SF! See, with no New Time paper in L.A., it often feels like I'm writing in a vacuum. In other cities I'm in significant papers, but never seeing those or hearing from people who read them makes me forget that hey, there's actually an audience out there!
Before you say "move," I should emphasize the hills, the annoying one-way system, the colder weather, and the sheer hordes of homeless that make a move to the bay seem less appealing to me.
Speaking of the hills, this one was too steep for the buses.
As you can also see, there are stairs up the side of it because it's so steep. But I was full of booze and manly swagger, and didn't want to do things the pussy way.
The following photo is courtesy of me being drunk at the bus stop.
Oh, and then there's the pizza story. After getting off the bus (people were easy to talk to on the bus, btw; normal everyday folks take it in SF, unlike here where it's strictly for lunatics), James decided he wanted pizza, so we backtracked to a pizza place that was still open.
But what to have? Hawaiian? Veg/pepperoni? Just veg? chicken/feta/spinach?
"How much for a whole pie made out of all those slices?"
"Depends. How many toppings you want?"
"However many are on those"
"Is different for each"
"But if you put 'em all together into one pie, how much?"
It took a while for them to get the idea that James wanted to combine various different slices in the case into the equivalent of one giant pizza.
James can talk to absolutely anyone, and negotiate with almost anyone, especially when buzzed.
When they finally settled on a price that was actually a good deal, James insisted on talking them down even further. Then when they assembled are improvised pie, he insisted on switching out some slices for others.
But we tipped 'em around five bucks. That pizza lasted all weekend.
Posted by LYT at 2:10 PM | Comments (9)
Reviews
With all the Cowgirl Mad-ness, I still had a job to do.
"The Final Destination movies always kick off with a premonition of doom, followed by a group of people -- usually young and beautiful -- managing to escape the carnage before it happens. But then they find out that fate, or Death, or possibly Frank the Bunny, is attempting to set right the universe by arranging terrible "accidents" for each of the escapees in the order they would have died. It's like Donnie Darko without such minor concerns as plot or character development, and an emphasis instead on gruesome chain-of-consequences demises extrapolated from the playbooks of Rube Goldberg and Wile E. Coyote."
More HERE
Quick takes after the jump
Firewall
Harrison Ford isn’t exactly the kind of guy you might envision as a computer expert, but then again he did make the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs, and designing a foolproof online banking security system must be minor in comparison. Still all is not well in his character’s career, as an upcoming corporate merger brings onboard a new and obnoxious executive (Robert Patrick), forcing Ford’s character (named Jack – what else?) to consider going into business for himself in a partnership with best friend Robert Forster and his new associate Paul Bettany. Bettany’s character, however, is not what he seems: He’s set the whole thing up to kidnap Jack’s family and force him to embezzle from the bank’s richest clients, utilizing his intimate knowledge of the bank’s software.
Ford, who hasn’t been seen onscreen since Hollywood Homicide, is in good form here, giving the proceedings more believability than they deserve – a scene in which he is forced almost literally at gunpoint to fire his secretary (Mary Lynn Rajskub) is classic Harrison in the best sense. Bettany is such an utter bastard that you’ll be rooting for him to meet an extremely brutal comeuppance – but you might be slightly disappointed there. Joe Forte’s screenplay is often quite careless, as the third act seems to depend entirely upon the notion that wireless Internet access is available uninterrupted on every inch of freeway in Seattle, as well as on dirty backroads that don’t even exist on any map. Come to think of it, a lot of the tech talk in this movie sounded to my untrained ear like utter bullshit – but I could be wrong.
When a Stranger Calls
Confession time: I liked the first Tomb Raider movie and enjoyed parts of Con Air, so my tolerance for director Simon West is pretty high. However, I’ll be damned if I can find anything to like about his witless and frightless remake of the 1979 stalker movie, in which a babysitter is menaced by phone calls that turn out to be coming from inside the house! Come to think of it, the opening sequences in all three Scream movies were more effective “remakes” than this official one, which mostly consists of actress Camilla Belle (The Chumscrubber) walking around a house by herself, until the Stranger (Tommy Flanagan, overdubbed with Lance Henriksen’s voice) finally shows up. In the original, the narrative eventually leaped ahead seven years, and introduced more characters; here, the babysitting night is the whole deal, and you know that a PG-13 movie is not going to have the cojones to kill off the children. Belle does not have what it takes to carry the movie, and everything about the execution is clunky, from the glaringly obvious foreshadowing of the house’s special features to the odd opening scene, in which a carnival appears to have been built atop an oil field.
Posted by LYT at 2:20 AM | Comments (8)
February 8, 2006
MAD COWGIRL movie premiere night
Night is preceded by day, of course. And with all the interviewing, Jimmy hadn't eaten.
In our neighborhood, there were not that many obvious great options (good places, like that sushi bar me and James would go to on Sunday, were tucked away). But Jimmy had a favorite place from the Doom Generation days, a 24-hour diner called the Pinecrest.
I asked him to pose with the menu.
Almost immediately after we all ordered, the call came in that Jimmy had to go, so he grabbed some of the food, and headed out. He invited me to come along, but I'm a really infamously slow eater and had not had lunch either, so I had to decline in favor of my yummy tuna sammich.
We assembled later for dinner, though someone seemed to have made the decision that I was to be designated driver for the crew. This struck me as a bad idea for several reasons:
(1) I wasn't entirely sober.
(2) My car is a stick shift, and
(3) This is San Francisco, where some of the streets are so steep they're afraid to let the buses go down them.
There was some niggling over how much a cab would cost, but I simply declared that I was taking a cab, and anyone who wanted to split it could. It wasn't that much, in the end, and everyone came. SF is not a super huge city -- I could probably walk to most anywhere in it in an hour or so.
The restaurant wasn't so good, at least for me -- I ordered crab cakes, and must say I've had better. But we celebrated Edwin's birthday formally, as I gave him my action figure of WWE ex-champ Batista. I had tried to find a new one, with no success at all in L.A.
This was not a quest like finding the rare one per case Star Wars toy. There are at least 8-10 different Batista figures on the market, including bendies and super-deformed versions. But I could not find ANYTHING Batista. I intended to look on the drive up, but never have I been on a road so isolated from malls as the 5. There is nothing but farmland and cow pasture.
So then it was time to head to the Roxie for our big premiere.
James A. donned his best Don Johnson look.
...while Greg checked the projection
Initially, when we got there, there were tickets left. But as they rapidly started selling out, our anticipation built up.
As festival trailers ran 5 minutes before showtime, the only seats left were in the front two rows (and even those filled!). The publicist told me that we should sit near the front so as to come up at the end. I told her that could absolutely go without saying in my case!
And then the magic began. I had my worries about who would get this movie and who wouldn't, but this crowd were WAAAAY into it, laughing at all the jokes, and mostly staying quiet during more serious moments. The projection was a little dark, so my close-up wasn't perhaps as clear as could be.
The rule for the Q&A that I had heard was that it was to be the main stars, but they called me up too, and Jimmy embraced me. He later said he only wants to do movies with me from now on, something I wouldn't hold him to even if I could, but certainly a compliment hugely appreciated.
In low light, it looks like we're all getting down to AC/DC
Often times at festivals, people leave before the Q&A session. I know I do. But we had a lot of folks sticking around -- they seemed kind of stunned, and livened up a bit after a "decompression" period. One of the questions aimed at Greg was where he saw the future of society going.
He didn't say "Three dimension." Though he would have if I had asked the question.
So what did he say? Bwahahaha! I'm going to keep that a mystery (mainly because I forgot). But be sure to ask him at the next screening.
Jimmy and I both took photos of the audience, so I offered to take one of him with the audience.
The after-party was interesting. We had to enter through a back alley gate, then climb five flights of stares in a non-descript warehouse-type building, and the eventual party theme turned out to be Big Lebowski.
There was only one bar, and it wasn't the open kind.
Here we see our stars posing for a more official photo.
And here's me with my SF pal Steve Davy, former copy-editor at New Times LA and now a computer animator. Since he's English, I'm delivering the UK salute. (Steve liked the movie, btw, and he's not one to mince words if he doesn't)
With only one bar and a huge line for it, we all decided to hit another bar nearby, where service might be swifter.
And after that, back to our hotel, along with Steve, his friend Will, and an Irish actor named Patrick. Greg and Christine came to the hotel but never made it up to our room despite a bribe of red wine.
However, here is Marvin, drunk as fuck (and yes, he knows full well about this picture).
And here's James trying out the fancy new still camera he bought in a pawnshop.
Also we finished up the pizza...but that's a Friday night story still to come.
Posted by LYT at 4:01 PM | Comments (5)
Because nothing says "deli" like a painting of a giant turd
Posted by LYT at 3:57 PM | Comments (2)
Satur-daze in San Fran
Just so you have an easy point of reference in this saga unfolding backwards, here are all the MAD COWGIRL people who went up to San Francisco.
Walter Koenig and his wife Judy
Sarah Lassez
James Duval (referred to herein as "Jimmy" so as to distinguish from James Avallone) and his girlfriend Talia
Gregory Hatanaka and his girlfriend Christine
Jaason Simmons
producer Edwin Santos
script supervisor Tony "T.L." Young
key grip Marvin Cheng
cinematographer James Avallone
and me.
You might notice that there's an important name missing from that list...
Yes, it's true. Douglas Dunning did not make an appearance, as his ride fell through (his anonymous fan blogger seems to have attended, however, though nobody was clearly recognizable as such). However, he left explicit instructions with Greg for the media, that he would be available for interviews by phone on Sunday only from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., but only from accredited publications.
Late friday night, Edwin had left a message on my hotel phone line that a "free complimentary" breakfast was being served at the hotel from 7-9 a.m. and that he'd see me then. Yeah, right. I don't do them hours.
James, for reasons he could not remember, had set his alarm for 8 a.m. At 9 he comes knocking on my door and I tell him to go away. We're supposed to meet up at 2 p.m. to escort Jimmy to some interviews, and I say I'll meet him then.
I never fully got back to sleep, but nor did I rise till 11, watching KRULL on the hotel TV, at least until the maids outside started fucking around with the fusebox and making the power go on and off.
Now, you might think that when a hotel is officially designated hotel for a film festival, that it might at least be somewhat near the film festival.
Nope. Okay, then...you might think that when a hotel is officially designated hotel for a film festival, and isn't very near the festival, that there might be some sort of shuttle service to the festival.
Still no. I decided to try walking and see how far the Roxie theater was. Along the way, I saw some of the following things:
This building was fancy looking, but all boarded up.
It turned out, by the by, that our hotel was in the "Tenderloin" district, which basically means skid row. Still, wherever I went that day, the streets were thick with homeless people, even in the better areas. Here we see one of the many, walking in front of a large porno theater on Market Street.
This is one of the nicer parts of town
San Fran, as David N. Scott would tell you, is full of “Sosha-commies”
Why, they don’t even respect our president!
Jimmy and Talia had driven all through the night and gotten into town at around 7 a.m. But by 2, they were up and about.
We took Jimmy to his interviews, and while he was talking to the local reporters, went and had some drinks.
James considered purchasing some new glasses from a street vendor.
This post has gone on a bit, so I’ll pick up the Saturday story a bit later.
Posted by LYT at 2:00 PM | Comments (1)
After this, we went to the naval base in Alameda to see their nuclear wessels
Posted by LYT at 2:25 AM | Comments (3)
Sunday in San Fran
I woke up at around 11. Greg had mentioned us all meeting for lunch at around noon in the lobby of our hotel.
I went downstairs, and Jimmy Duval and his girlfriend Talia were grabbing breakfast at the adjacent cafe/bar (SF blurs the lines like Europe and Canada). I surfed the net for about 15 minutes and made that blog post you guys read. Independence Day had been on TV when I got up, and it was hilarious to see Jimmy in that, blankly staring at a military map and expressing a kind of zen pride in his dad (Randy Quaid).
Jimmy and Talia wanted to go back to bed -- they had only awoken due to hunger. Neither wanted to see the film's second screening, but they said they'd make the Q&A afterwards.
I wake up James A., and we call Greg, who has totally forgotten anything he said about noon. He's over in Chinatown getting dim sum. James and I figure we need to make our own plans.
But Greg calls back shortly afterward, saying he still doesn't have a table, so we can join him. We take a cab over, and find the place. Greg is there with his girlfriend Christine, producer Edwin Santos, script supervisor Tony Young, and stars Sarah Lassez and Jaason Simmons. Everything on the table is some version of pork or shrimp encased in some kind of starch.
Jaason is a vegetarian, and seemingly S.O.L.
We didn't get anything weird as I would have liked, but I did say yes to a kind of fried pork thing with a liquidy center that was awesome. Edwin refused to try it because it looked too much like balut (cooked duck egg with dead fetus inside).
Sarah and Jaason left early. The rest of us tried to pile in to Edwin's SUV. Being the biggest, I got shotgun. The backseat, well...
Our second screening was at a place called "The Women's Building." The central room in the place was round, and kind of like a high school auditorium, as you can see.
(Okay, so it doesn't look circular in this picture, taken prior to the screening. But it was.)
The host of the screening was an attractive woman named Alicia, who hadn't yet seen the film. An amusing moment happened when Sarah tried to get in without a ticket, and Alicia askled her who she was. I literally said, "Dude, look behind you." Yes, I called her dude. She turned around, saw our poster, and recognized Sarah immediately. She felt bad, but I felt equally bad calling her "dude" without thinking.
Unlike at the Roxy, this screening was digitally projected, and wasn't too dark. The place was about half full, but hey, we were up against the friggin' Superbowl, people.
Unfortunately, every time the door to the auditorium was opened, a bright shaft of light would enter the room, and people seemed to keep entering throughout the running time. There wasn't as much audible audience response during this screening, but that tends to be the case earlier in the day when everyone's been partying hard the night before.
Most of the audience seemed to stay, and asked really smart questions, grasping some of the subtler references on offer. Alicia seemed stunned, and just said "Wow!" at first, but then quickly moved into interview mode, and did so very well. At one point, we were all asked what our next projects were. Jimmy had not arrived, so I mentioned that both of us had done "a movie called ROMAN, from the people who made a horror movie called MAY" which got us some scattered but enthusiastic applause.
Afterwards, Alicia told us we should go to a nearby bar called the 500 Club, where the festival had a deal with drink tickets and such. We went, but nothing seemed to be going on there, so we went back to the Adante Hotel to watch what was left of the Superbowl.
Tony enjoyed some ramen
Meanwhile, Edwin surfed the net to see if anyone was talking about us yet.
For dinner, Greg wanted prime rib. I was determined not to leave the bay area without having sushi, and to my surprise, James A. felt the same way.
We asked the bartender where a good place was, and he stered us to a nearby place in a basement called Ryoko.
It was wonderful. Best Spanish mackerel I've ever had. Here is a plant they had on the bar.
After that, we heard that everyone was going back to the 500 Club, so we did too. And it was ragin'.
Here we see Jimmy struggling to be heard by Greg
Here's Talia with the cigarette girl who was totally into my hair. If I had been in SF a little longer, I think something could have happened with her and me.
Here's the bar's mascot
And here's Jimmy and Talia commemorating the occasion with a Live Sex Celebration
Just to ensure I get some hits out of this, let me reiterate. That is James Duval engaged in almost-not-simulated sex.
Someone got the bright idea to start ordering Irish Car Bombs. That, for those who don't know, is a shot of Bailey's dropped into a half-pint of Guinness, then chugged before it curdles.
After a few of those, James A. decided to take his shirt off.
He also decided to issue an arm-wrestling challenge
Brokeback Mountain 2: James & James. They wish they could quit each other.
Later on, we eneded up going to some strange subterranean apartment. I was over my limit, and trying to stay awake. But shit got weird, and I won't go into details here. If I write about it someday, it'll have to be fictionalized.
Suffice it to say this was the view from that place's back yard.
And here's Jimmy partying on, holding a beer in the most phallic way possible.
[UPDATE: In lieu of the removed photos, a slightly tamer bonus one for you]
Posted by LYT at 12:10 AM | Comments (13)
February 7, 2006
If you drink it, you will be in hell
I'm going to write up San Francisco MEMENTO style, with the most recent day first, to keep things fresher. If you prefer, you can wait till I'm done to read everything in order.
But if you do that, it might be a while before you find out how I ended up sleeping with an ex-Marine in a San Francisco parking lot...
Just another Manic Monday.
I woke up with a throat so dry that it almost choked me to swallow. Minor headache, stomach at that queasy stage where I could puke if I let myself do so, or hold it back if I exerted some effort. But I had to check out by 1:15 (having requested a late checkout, that was as late as it got), and then drive home. Also I still had to meet my work obligation of seeing "When a Stranger Calls" and writing a brief review, since it didn't screen early.
Memories of last night's sushi came flooding back at the wrong time. I thought back to George Bush Senior in Japan. Then hit the bathroom and let it go. My hospital stay last year, as well as prior appendicitis attacks, has made me somewhat more immune to the unappealingness of this act than I once was.
Slight improvement, but not much. Especially when I met my riding compadre James Avallone in the lobby, and he was forcing down breakfast, a ham and egg bagel that smelled strongly. I'm not sure he could really handle out (a suspicion borne out much later), and I wasn't enjoying it. So I said "Pardon me while I vomit," and walked into the lobby restroom to make good on that vow.
It took forever to get the valet parker to bring my car. In that time, we decided the smart move would be to see the movie a few blocks down at the AMC Kabuki, giving us both a chance to feel more like human beings before heading out.
So we went. And missed the first showing by about ten minutes. Being the pro that I am, I can't walk into a movie that late and review it if there's another option, so we bought tickets to the following show.
And then we tried to go to the lobby to chill, but the semi-retarded ticket taker wouldn't let us, saying he couldn't let us in so early, but we could, if we chose, sit on the nearby bench, made of hard metal.
We chose not to. We went back into the parking structure, got in the car, and passed out for about an hour and a half. It wasn't like either of us were up for grabbing lunch, or even coffee.
I felt better when we woke up, ready for soft-serve ice cream, which was not an available option. I got a root beer.
James got ambitious, and ate a hot dog. I later found out he barfed twice afterward, though he was very inconspicuous about it. It didn't help that the movie sucked beyond suckage.
But by the time it was over, I was feeling human again. James was not, so I let him sleep while I drove. We hit SF rush hour, but compared to L.A. rush hour it was no biggie, and by the time we finally got near the 5 freeway, we were both ready for food, and had much fun at Quizno's.
Here we are after that, stopping for gas:
A fellow MAD COWGIRL crew member wrote me today: "You didn't appear to be buzzed at the party, but maybe because you are a better actor than Dunning."
Posted by LYT at 8:11 PM | Comments (2)
Another chance to see MAD COWGIRL in the Bay Area
Due to popular demand, SF Indiefest has added a THIRD screening of MAD COWGIRL!
It will be playing at the Roxie Theater, 9:30 p.m....on VALENTINE'S DAY!
Guys, tell your women it's a movie about female empowerment with a sensitive relationship element.
Chicks, tell your man that Sarah gets naked, and that there's blood.
Gays, pick whichever of those themes you prefer.
Both assessments are entirely true.
Posted by LYT at 2:28 PM | Comments (1)
Back, and exhausted
I'll have much to show and tell soon. I love the movie more and more every time I see it.
Meanwhile, here are two things to keep you occupied.
The MAD COWGIRL trailer, not approved by the MPAA and featuring some exclusive footage that isn't in the final cut. See if you can spot me.
and webmaster Matt King traveled to Europe recently. Check out what he has to say about it.
Posted by LYT at 2:02 AM | Comments (4)
February 5, 2006
Brief posting from the Bay...
It's $2 for 15 minutes, so I don't know that I have much time to post in detail, but here's some of what's happened.
The journey up was hellish in the extreme. On the 5 freeway, a truck full of acid turned over and spilled shutting the road down for a 15-mile stretch, and forcing a diversion through a tiny little town called Los Banos.
This meant that miles and miles of rush-hour traffic was now subject to the whim of one left-turn traffic light in a small town's primary intersection. Fortunately, my traveling companion James A. knew how to drive stickshift, because my knees were practically arthritic from endless clutch pushing. James also carries a hip flask, which was most welcome as soon as I became the passenger.
Then we stopped at a McDonalds in the enxt small town, and it was full of high school kids who clearly didn't knoiw what to make of me...but I had on the "Fag Rainbow Hair" t-shirt, and I don't think they could figure out anything else to say. Plus I was way bigger than any of them.
Right as I exited the door, one of them worked up the nerve to say "Freakshow!"
Later, in San Fran, women actually came up to me to compliment the hair. So you see, they're not opposed to it everywhere.
Our screening of MAD COWGIRL was SOLD OUT. And people are talking about it. This seems to be the right audience.
Getting home tomorrow night. More details and lotsa pics coming.
Posted by LYT at 11:46 AM | Comments (2)
February 3, 2006
It's MAD COWGIRL premiere weekend, so...
Here's a photo from the set that I haven't shown you before. Sarah has shown her half of the image, but this is the whole deal.
Just to reassure you all: I do not actually take my shirt off in the movie. But she and I do get bloody.
Posted by LYT at 2:04 AM | Comments (17)
February 2, 2006
What they're saying about MAD COWGIRL in the Bay Area
The San Francisco Examiner: "If there is a winner, however, it’s undoubtedly Gregory Hatanaka’s “Mad Cowgirl.” The button-cute Sarah Lassez stars as Therese, a meat inspector during the mad cow disease crisis. While battling a brain disease seemingly brought on by tainted meat, she’s at the tail end of an on-again, off-again affair with a televangelist [Walter Koenig], and loves watching bad kung-fu TV shows. Half the film is hellish, nightmare imagery and the other half ranges from sweet to funny. Koenig will attend the Saturday showing."
The San Francisco Bay Guardian: "A movie you definitely won't see at the Metreon is Mad Cowgirl, Gregory Hatanaka's twisted tale of a comely meat inspector (Sarah Lassez) who may or may not have a brain tumor and is on intimate terms with a sleazy TV preacher (Star Trek's Walter Koenig) and her own brother, a butcher (Gregg Araki film vet James Duval). She's also addicted to a local late-night kung fu show, The Girl with the Thunderbolt Kick, and is a voracious carnivore to boot – the sheer amount of (lovingly photographed) dripping red meat contained in Mad Cowgirl may set some kind of cinematic record. Hatanaka doesn't spend much time on dialogue or character development; instead, this one's all about imagery, strange twists, flying guillotines, and "huh?" moments. The end result is chaos – a truly unusual kind of chaos even vegans can appreciate."
Posted by LYT at 4:11 PM | Comments (2)
Perspective
I have to admit, there are times when movie business talk really starts to bore me silly, and I have to take a step back and remember that I genuinely do love the films themselves, and should ignore so much of the crap that springs up around them.
I confess to not truly understanding...
-why people who have absolutely nothing at stake in the success of a particular film get so excited about box office numbers.
-why people whose favorite movies never get nominated become all excited about who's going to get an Oscar nomination, or who's going to win in a field of five films they probably didn't even see all or most of.
Honestly, I wouldn't even watch the Oscars if it weren't for the fact that I almost always get invited to a party where someone else will.
Posted by LYT at 3:15 PM | Comments (9)
MAD COWGIRL Los Angeles area premiere announced
The specific day is not yet set, but the week is.
Silverlake Film Festival at the Arclight (March 23-31). Please come out and see it -- with UNTIL THE NIGHT, I remember more than one person saying, "Oh, I'm sure there'll be other chances to see it later."
WRONG! It never screened theatrically again. We need support at these things if there is to be any chance at all of a later release.
If I have any readers in Omaha, it's playing the Omaha festival that same week.
And this weekend is the San Francisco indie fest. Blogging may or may not be sparse, but there should be some awesome photos next week.
Posted by LYT at 2:30 PM | Comments (2)
Something Review
"It's virtually unprecedented in contemporary Hollywood for a white man in a comedy to be more down-to-earth, spontaneous, relaxed, and macho than any of the otherwise all-black cast, who mostly come off as uptight and nitpicky. No, the movie doesn't end with him learning Ebonics or hip hop dance -- though, by the same token, we should note that he doesn't try to teach any of his fellow characters how to be cool by acting white. That might stretch credibility a little too far. The closest he gets in that area is to assert that hair weaves are lame."
No, not 8 Mile. THIS.
"Tommy Lee Jones' feature directorial debut is probably much as you'd expect: a blast of nostalgia that nonetheless accepts the realities of modernity, which isn't surprising coming from an actor who's getting up there in years but has found more fame as an old man than as a young'un. The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada opens with a desert panorama and simple titles stripped right out of the Sergio Leone playbook, but it's not the Old West we're watching. This is the new west, where the most pressing problem isn't gunslingers, but illegal immigrants."
Jonesing for the rest?
Short takes after the jump
BIG MOMMA’S HOUSE 2
What is it with black comedians and old lady drag? Eddie Murphy did it twice in the Nutty Professor movies, Tyler Perry makes a career of it onstage and now in the movies as well, and here we have Martin Lawrence delivering a second helping of bad wigs and fat suits, as an FBI agent who chooses yet again to go undercover as “Big Momma,” this time serving as nanny to the dysfunctional family of a suspected cyber-criminal.
That this was the number one movie of the past weekend, and Emma Thompson’s Nanny McPhee number two, makes an odd statement about the public appetite for stars in bad make-up pretending to be nannies who somehow do a better job than actual parents. It also says that people who bitch and moan about Hollywood movies being consistently terrible have no room to talk if they continue to pay good money for such things.
Anyway, Nia Long returns as Lawrence’s love interest who, despite having experienced his “Big Momma” scam the first time, is too stupid to realize he’s doing it again. Not returning from the first movie are Paul Giamatti, Terrence Howard, Anthony Anderson, and Cedric the Entertainer -- honestly, how bad does a sequel have to be when Cedric won’t even come back? Let’s put it this way: If you find the idea of Martin Lawrence screeching “Ooooooh!” at the beginning of every sentence in order to sound feminine is a laugh riot, your movie of the year has arrived. But if you’re actually on the fence about seeing this movie, and reading my review to help make up your mind, you are beyond help. Director John Whitesell (See Spot Run) is now officially canonized as a director to be avoided.
THE WHITE HORSE IS DEAD
With that title, and the knowledge that the director is named Pete Red Sky, you might expect a western, or a Native-themed story. But you’d be way wrong. It’s a glacially paced movie about a bitchy hypochondriac Russian widow (Irena Stemer) who’s trying to force her teenage daughter Naya (Resmien Atis) to become a model. Into the picture comes a manly gardener (Andrew Welsh) who is clearly supposed to be a hunk but actually looks kinda ugly. Nothing much happens for the longest time -- then, towards the end, Naya gets naked for the gardener, mom gets possessive, and things come to a crisis point. Naya also has a tank full of pet leeches, which she occasionally puts on her body, much like Willem Dafoe in Speed 2. And just like in Speed 2, the leeches deliver the best performances.
THAT MAN: PETER BERLIN
Looking, in his prime, like a He-Man action figure with a huge package, Peter Berlin was one of the first major gay porn stars of the ‘70s, and a model for his own iconographic photos. He’s the sort of guy you’d think would be dead of AIDS, but here he is on camera, looking pretty great for a 60-year-old man (though the backwards baseball cap he occasionally sports looks ridiculous), reminiscing on his career. It should come as little surprise that a guy known for his looks doesn’t get too philosophically deep -- that’s why there are others on hand like John Waters to talk about him. If you’re a fan of Peter Berlin, or just like seeing lots of nice pictures of a muscular, well-endowed dude, this is the movie for you. However, the best documentaries can appeal across-the-board, regardless of whether one was already susceptible to the subject’s charms or not. This is not such a film.
Posted by LYT at 1:29 AM | Comments (3)