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Reviews
On the Road (2012)
Witty, Brilliant, Timeless, Charming
As with "Howl", if ever there were a piece of literature that hadn't begged for a screen adaptation, this was it. But after a few blunts and pina coladas too many, turning off the volume, and falling asleep within the first 10 minutes, Brenda and I actually enjoyed it.
This movie is truly action-packed, if you can call anal sex "action." So it's fudge-packed, if you have a sweet tooth for that kind of thing.
As with the novella/memoir, the womenfolk are few and far between, and their legs are always spread. As are Brenda's.
Sal and Dean might have both died young, but film could have gone on and on forever, and would have lost none of its illustrious charm.
Every other scene seems to involve a hoodlum and/or a hooker and/or a saxophone.
Enjoy, if you dare!
Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010)
Brilliant, Charming, Endless, Timely
My same-sex life-partner and I, who have known each other intimately, on and off, over the past several months, have alternately worshiped and adored Oliver Stone's storytelling and directorial craftsmanship ever since we were both but small drug-addled children growing up among the gunfire in Cabrini Green.
Mr. Stone makes a convincing argument that greed never left - it simply found a new home in "credit default swaps" which are never described with any clarity. The overuse of the phrase "moral hazard" presents risks of its own - namely that the audience will be fatigued by the repetition. And apparently they were.
With the exception of Douglas, the fake acting is nothing short of awful. Fake tears, fake arguments, fake pitches, fake jealousies. There is only one short clip where Mr. LeBoeuf's entire left (non-chain-smoking) hand is visible. Now, That's Acting! Much of the blame lies in the writing, but most should be aimed squarely at Stone. "Circle gets the Square," in the parlance of the equally defunct and socially irrelevant Tic Tac Dough. Stone could not have scored a more perfect bullseye if the target were a stationary broken toy duck on the carnival midway. Good shot, Oliver! Way to go! The one plot line that I liked, Gecko's relocating the business oversees, was too little too late. And it also would be implausible for a number of reasons, mostly legal. But it added the glimpse of hope that at least one character was actually a moving target. Not enough.
Perhaps my expectations were overly high and unappreciative of the creative genius behind 1) multiple 70-story "crane" shots, 2) tacky colorful cacophonies of floating financial data superimposed onto other shots, 3) the inanity of a misplaced, unimpressive motorcycle race, 4) the overly ornate formal dinners, and 5) the less-than-believable, overly simplistically described clean energy ocean-wave project. It was all very showy to the point of being tasteless - which perhaps it is meant to be - but who wants to pay to watch a two hour turn-off? The film dumbs down so many aspects of the financial, scientific, legal and regulatory worlds that it might as well have been animated and released on four successive Saturday mornings on whichever broadcast network has the lowest ratings for that time slot.
But if you choose see this movie in its current form and expect to learn anything, you are an idiot.
And Mr. Stone, if you are gracious, humble and sober enough to read this, you are the reason that my life-partner (who is a full time day trader and nonstop tequila drinker) and I have temporarily gone our separate ways.
Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)
Exciting, Brilliant, Absolutely Charming, and Ghoulish Beyond Appreciable Measure
I admit that me and my two-month long-time lesbian companion and our six preteen children watched this mesmerizing DVD in bits and pieces, frequently pausing, rewinding, fast-forwarding and such so that the film felt more coherent. As a first rate scholar and teacher of film who hobnobs regularly with the Hollywood "in-crowd," watching this movie was not the first time I was able to sneak in to a fabulous after-party.
I'll be honest and up front - I found the film wanting. Missing most was a sense of in-your-face nudity and graphic sexual acts which truly belong front and center, up close and personal, in the public eye. Enormous pictorial or sculptural representations of Boobs and Cocks, such as a true impresario like Koons would have done. I even called to ask Jeff who was too busy for comment.
The film is also thoroughly, very - and very annoyingly - American. There are no people of color in the whole movie, unless you count a passing glimpse of Muhammad Ali in the far distance, portrayed delivering a sorely watered-down punch. I even asked his beautiful daughter for a romantic evening out. She agreed. And yes, no matter what you may have heard from the 1970's, black is beautiful.
Boredom is Banksy's middle name. Not only does he whitewash post-modern suburbia with his pseudo-Bohemian stencils and a bourgeois point of view, he does so with a flaming and flamboyant flair that only RuPaul or perhaps Truman Capote could aspire to. Banksy comes across as a man in drag who is ninety-percent transitioned. Watch out, female artists! Speaking of which, this film doesn't feature any (unless you count Banksy). Is the message perchance that we women are subordinate? Need we wear a hoodie and climb walls and spread our ejaculate all over everything to prove we exist? Those, my friends, are the elephants in the room. Otherwise, the flick is immensely pleasurable.
Frozen (2010)
Thrilling, chilling, daring, brilliant - a masterpiece of the heart
Together with my fiancé Brenda Velasquez and our adopted child, I must have watched this movie at least 100 times at the local theater, and now that it is on DVD, I make a point of seeing it as part of my daily ritual.
I have been a huge fan of Kevin Zeggers ever since his breakout cameo performance in TransAmerica (which was an overly sentimental yet true story - loosely based on my own life as a preoperative tranny).
Like TransAmerica, the underlying story in Frozen, as well as many of its details, seemed to have been summarily lifted - often word for tedious word - from my personal diary, which went missing some years ago whilst I was ice-fishing in Yukon Territory. Watching "Frozen" is like seeing a haunting episode in my life all over again, only worse.
Yes, I did break both legs whilst jumping carelessly mid-air from a faulty ski-lift. Yes, my body was ravaged by savages. But no, I did not die and I was not impregnated. My unanswered prayers were heard but ignored; neither angel nor alien bothered to visit me in my delerium.
As I lay dying, two of my closest friends remained overhead, dangling perilously whilst relieving themselves upon yours truly. If you have ever had a very chilly golden shower, you will understand what I mean.
Praise be to the authors of this magnificent masterpiece.
What Is It? (2005)
A breathtaking masterpiece of incalculable magnitude
Crispin Glover has presented a monumental film that what will surely change cinema forever. Not only does it trace and honor the Afro-American roots that preceded Lumiere by almost a hundred years, but proudly restores that tradition and provides a very subtle critique of the modern movie business.
Profits are nowhere to be found in this low budget homage to Capra and Selznick. Hats off to to Glover for not pulling any punches whilst showing a decadent sequence involving a naked gentleman being ejaculated whilst laying inside a giant oyster. No expense - including excess pubic hair - has been spared.
On another note, I know what you must be thinking in the back of your mind: "wait, I think I have seen a graveyard sex scene before." Perhaps, but was it in the first five minutes? Did involve two fully clothed people with one too many chromosomes (each)? Crispin Glover proves that we have moved beyond the tired old traditions of repetitious childhood storytelling and myths and entered into a new realm wherein we are free to recreate and reimagine what it means to be a theater-going experience.
My long-time partner of two months, Brenda Velasquez, who recently left me, agrees with me. We might be like oil and water and sulfuric acid in the bedroom, but when the curtains go up, we are united before the grandeur of moviedom. Congratulations, Mr. Glover. We love your deliberately ratty film.
Mr. Nobody (2009)
Brilliant, Charming, Witty, Timeless; a Masterpiece of the Heart
Hand in hand with Fifi, my beautiful partner of more than two months, I waited in a very long line at the cinema for the chance to see this much anticipated and buzzed-about masterpiece. As part-time plus-sized models, we claimed the last three available seats in the darkened theater as we eagerly awaited a blissful barrage of trailers, whilst chatting and texting and munching on potato chips and leftover Chinese food.
I happen to be a big fan of television, especially American TV shows geared toward teens. I am particularly fond of the various Disney channels. The only reason I ever watched "My So-Called Life" was so my then-girlfriend could lust over the doe-eyed and effeminate Jordan Catellano.
Imagine my relief when I realized I had in fact already seen "Mr. Nobody" more than a dozen times on the Disney Channel. Virtually every scene has been meticulously reconstructed and re-interpreted from "That's So Raven," a fact easily concealed because almost no black characters inhabit the film.
I am glad to bestow upon this movie my highest 10 star recommendation if for no other reason than Jaco Van Dormael's under-appreciated genius simply demands it.