Sunday, October 31, 2004
Saturday, October 30, 2004
I am fresh from the cinema after bearing witness to the thespian stylings of Mandy Moore in her recent film Saved. Because it stars Mandy Moore and is about students at a Christian High School you can be sure it's no Mulholland Drive or the Colour of Paradise. It's not even an American beauty.
Despite all that it's still an enjoyable, often funny send up of contemporary Hillsong-style Christian culture. Even Macaulay Culkin is damn decent in it - he's also looking marginally attractive, when his hair is all mussed up and not Kevin McAllister-esque (kill me). I don't think I'm giving anything away by saying that he's in a wheelchair for this movie. The official line is that he fell out of a tree at 9 but I think we all know he can't walk because of all the rogerings he's gotten from Michael Jackson.
The story is essentially this: after trying in vain to save her gay boyfriend from his own gayness, Mary starts questioning the lay of the path of righteousness. Her crisis of faith leads to her increased isolation from her high school chums including Jesus Foot Soldier, Hilary-Faye (Moore).
The movie is a bit predictable and preachy (in reverse!) but the dialogue is surprisingly sharp and well-delivered. The dénouement is heavy handed and clunky but the actors did the best with the pus-infused crap they had. If you need more: Michael Stipe co-produced the film and Martin Donovan has a role as "Pastor Skip".
One of my favourite aspects of the movie was how fugly the cast was. When I say "fugly" I do mean, "by Hollywood" standards - that's real life's "plain". I appreciate eye candy as much as the next movie enthusiast. Eye candy can add another level of enjoyment to a good film - as demonstrated by teen flick of the year Mean Girls. It matters not that off-screen Lindsay Lohan can make Tara Reid look like Cosette and has a scuzzy predatory boyfriend. She is a top-draw comic actress and was adorable in Mean Girls; the guy playing her love-interest, despite having eyebrows rivalling those of Brooke Shields, was hot. Anyway, it was refreshing to see such an average-looking ensemble of actors who actually looked like teenagers: greasy hair, hormonal acne, bumfluff (Culkin) and aesthetically average.
By far the stand out performance was delivered by Susan Sarandon’s daughter Eva Amurri. (Although I will grant that Mandy Moore was pretty convincing as a somewhat obsessive, unstable God-loving banshee – a bit too convincing, actually, for me to swallow the sweetness ‘n’ light crap she peddles on talk shows). But back to Eva, who plays the Christian High School’s rebel Jew. Convincing delivery? Check. Ample bosom? Check. Great legs? Check. Grababble butt? No – she’s pretty lacking there, but that’s okay because she was really good in this movie. Very funny, sexy and evil but with a heart of gold. You know the sort of character I’m talking about.
She also has such a lovely face. The Eva Amurri thread at FT will disagree but I think she’s beautiful: she has these big beautiful angel’s eyes and fascinating cheek bones (I like a good set of cheek bones on a person); she really reminds me of Sophie Dahl at the start of her modelling career in this movie. Her profile actually shows a rather wonky bone structure, but all her features come together in a way that works very well (compared to say, Kate Bosworth’s features, which are all dainty and perfect, if you’re consulting an Aryan anatomy text, and yet all come together to make a very boring face).
So, make Saved this tight-arse Tuesday’s movie of choice.
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Despite all that it's still an enjoyable, often funny send up of contemporary Hillsong-style Christian culture. Even Macaulay Culkin is damn decent in it - he's also looking marginally attractive, when his hair is all mussed up and not Kevin McAllister-esque (kill me). I don't think I'm giving anything away by saying that he's in a wheelchair for this movie. The official line is that he fell out of a tree at 9 but I think we all know he can't walk because of all the rogerings he's gotten from Michael Jackson.
The story is essentially this: after trying in vain to save her gay boyfriend from his own gayness, Mary starts questioning the lay of the path of righteousness. Her crisis of faith leads to her increased isolation from her high school chums including Jesus Foot Soldier, Hilary-Faye (Moore).
The movie is a bit predictable and preachy (in reverse!) but the dialogue is surprisingly sharp and well-delivered. The dénouement is heavy handed and clunky but the actors did the best with the pus-infused crap they had. If you need more: Michael Stipe co-produced the film and Martin Donovan has a role as "Pastor Skip".
One of my favourite aspects of the movie was how fugly the cast was. When I say "fugly" I do mean, "by Hollywood" standards - that's real life's "plain". I appreciate eye candy as much as the next movie enthusiast. Eye candy can add another level of enjoyment to a good film - as demonstrated by teen flick of the year Mean Girls. It matters not that off-screen Lindsay Lohan can make Tara Reid look like Cosette and has a scuzzy predatory boyfriend. She is a top-draw comic actress and was adorable in Mean Girls; the guy playing her love-interest, despite having eyebrows rivalling those of Brooke Shields, was hot. Anyway, it was refreshing to see such an average-looking ensemble of actors who actually looked like teenagers: greasy hair, hormonal acne, bumfluff (Culkin) and aesthetically average.
By far the stand out performance was delivered by Susan Sarandon’s daughter Eva Amurri. (Although I will grant that Mandy Moore was pretty convincing as a somewhat obsessive, unstable God-loving banshee – a bit too convincing, actually, for me to swallow the sweetness ‘n’ light crap she peddles on talk shows). But back to Eva, who plays the Christian High School’s rebel Jew. Convincing delivery? Check. Ample bosom? Check. Great legs? Check. Grababble butt? No – she’s pretty lacking there, but that’s okay because she was really good in this movie. Very funny, sexy and evil but with a heart of gold. You know the sort of character I’m talking about.
She also has such a lovely face. The Eva Amurri thread at FT will disagree but I think she’s beautiful: she has these big beautiful angel’s eyes and fascinating cheek bones (I like a good set of cheek bones on a person); she really reminds me of Sophie Dahl at the start of her modelling career in this movie. Her profile actually shows a rather wonky bone structure, but all her features come together in a way that works very well (compared to say, Kate Bosworth’s features, which are all dainty and perfect, if you’re consulting an Aryan anatomy text, and yet all come together to make a very boring face).
So, make Saved this tight-arse Tuesday’s movie of choice.
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Monday, October 25, 2004
This just in: Poo Dumps Delta for Paris Hilton.
'...Hilton then said that her new beau had broken up with Goodrem because she was "boring".'
Yeah no kidding. I mean, apart from cancer, what did she have going for her? Bupkiss.
As for the Poo, (who is utterly vile and loathesome) I have to say that this is a much better match than he and Delta ever were. I'm sure he and Paris will contentedly spend many an hour comparing STDs and being sweaty arseholes together.
And I love the bit where he tries to distract the reporters by parsing unconvincingly about:
"his desire to win a Grand Slam and his training regime.",
and then goes all Survivor-alliance-y with:
"if you look after me I will look after you".", after his non-denials of boning Hilton as if the reporters were going to trade their "ATP trousersnake cheats on CANCER survivor" headline for possible lame future tid-bits about his lousy tennis game. Idiot.
Edited again to add that apparently Holly Valance introduced the Poo to Hilton. Bwaaahh! That evil bitch. I can just see her cackling as she plotted revenge for her never getting cancer to prop up her career. Those milquetoasty Home & Away kids have nuttin' on the Neighbours alum.
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'...Hilton then said that her new beau had broken up with Goodrem because she was "boring".'
Yeah no kidding. I mean, apart from cancer, what did she have going for her? Bupkiss.
As for the Poo, (who is utterly vile and loathesome) I have to say that this is a much better match than he and Delta ever were. I'm sure he and Paris will contentedly spend many an hour comparing STDs and being sweaty arseholes together.
And I love the bit where he tries to distract the reporters by parsing unconvincingly about:
"his desire to win a Grand Slam and his training regime.",
and then goes all Survivor-alliance-y with:
"if you look after me I will look after you".", after his non-denials of boning Hilton as if the reporters were going to trade their "ATP trousersnake cheats on CANCER survivor" headline for possible lame future tid-bits about his lousy tennis game. Idiot.
Edited again to add that apparently Holly Valance introduced the Poo to Hilton. Bwaaahh! That evil bitch. I can just see her cackling as she plotted revenge for her never getting cancer to prop up her career. Those milquetoasty Home & Away kids have nuttin' on the Neighbours alum.
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Am back, exhausted and thoroughly shitty with jetlag. Not as shitty as Al though, who got food poisoning with our last meal of the trip. The flight back was a killer.
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Monday, October 11, 2004
It's kind of comical really that despite a strong campaign by the ALP (who actively presented a stark alternative to the government) and the Greens, the Coalition will be back in power again for a fourth term - with an even stronger majority in both Houses. Fair enough; I accept the result. Australians have spoken.
Australians say NO to responsible government and ministerial accountability.
Australians say NO to consistent foreign policy - removing Iraqi despots is okay but not North Korean or Equatorial Guinean ones because we've not received US instructions to do so.
Australians say NO to preventing further delapidation of the environment and amelioration of climate instability.
Australians say NO to the human and civil rights of their fellow citizens. And as for the human rights of the vulnerable, tortured or persecuted, Australians say BWAAAAAAH!
Australians say NO to a more inclusive, equitable society.
Australians say NO to interests beyond their own mortgages.
Australians...suck.
If John Kerry wins Australia will surely inherit the mantle for World's Dumbest and Most Gullible Population. Because when it comes to one-minded self-fishness and abject stupidity, we are no one's Deputy, damnit.
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Australians say NO to responsible government and ministerial accountability.
Australians say NO to consistent foreign policy - removing Iraqi despots is okay but not North Korean or Equatorial Guinean ones because we've not received US instructions to do so.
Australians say NO to preventing further delapidation of the environment and amelioration of climate instability.
Australians say NO to the human and civil rights of their fellow citizens. And as for the human rights of the vulnerable, tortured or persecuted, Australians say BWAAAAAAH!
Australians say NO to a more inclusive, equitable society.
Australians say NO to interests beyond their own mortgages.
Australians...suck.
If John Kerry wins Australia will surely inherit the mantle for World's Dumbest and Most Gullible Population. Because when it comes to one-minded self-fishness and abject stupidity, we are no one's Deputy, damnit.
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Friday, October 08, 2004
How sad that on my big Parisien trip I have found time to blog. France doesn't seem to have taken to the internet much and it's taken me three days to track down an internet place that's still operating. We'd tried three others listed in various Paris guides, and by the time we'd located them, they'd all closed down! One is now a gay bar, aptly named "Café Cox".
As recommended by Spirit Fingers we went with the second apartment which is located in the Marais. It is AMAZING here. We're barely out the door before before we're assualted by restaurants, bars, markets, departments stores, boutique stores of all kinds. On our street alone, are several eateries, a chocolatier, perfumerie, a tea-erie(?) (a couple hundred euro for a bag of tea anyone?) a kids' costume store, shoe stores etc etc. I've decided I'm not coming back.
Sam and Dave, the area is full of hot gay men. In fact Paris is full of HOT MEN. You wouldn't think so going from the pictures in my french text books (the general reaction was along the lines of, "Whoah. They really are frogs"), but my GOD: policemen, airport security guards, random guys on the metro, the dude selling miniature Eiffel Towers on the Pont D'Iéna and the ticket guy on one of the Eiffel pylons (Al reckons he looked like a poster child for Hitler Youth though; granted those uniforms look a bit SS, but he was cute I tell you!).
The big theme for the trip so far is FOOD. We've not had a bad meal yet. How can I not love a country that has three course lunches?? Naurally one of the side-effects is devastating flatulence and indigestion. After a late, three course spicy maroccan dinner yesterday I had to get up three times during the night to use the bathroom; this morning, the toilet stopped working. The incidents are entirely unrelated. The plumber said so! Stop looking at me like that.
Another issue is my lactose intolerance which runs at odds with my love of all things dairy and my sense of devil-may-care abandon. Luckily Al, who has weathered many of my dairy related misadventures is very understanding and doesn't complain when she has to, um...perceive the after effects of my consumption. That's a true friend, that is.
We finally did actual touristy stuff yesterday taking in the Louvre, Jardin des Tuileries and the Eiffel Tour. I don't think I have any original observations to contribute on art and history being a philistine, but let me just say that the statues in the Roman sculpture section are amazing. I know it says "Ne touchez pas", but how can you resist such smooth, round, pert buttocks and pectorals? I have of course taken numerous bad phots and will self-indulgently post them at some point.
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As recommended by Spirit Fingers we went with the second apartment which is located in the Marais. It is AMAZING here. We're barely out the door before before we're assualted by restaurants, bars, markets, departments stores, boutique stores of all kinds. On our street alone, are several eateries, a chocolatier, perfumerie, a tea-erie(?) (a couple hundred euro for a bag of tea anyone?) a kids' costume store, shoe stores etc etc. I've decided I'm not coming back.
Sam and Dave, the area is full of hot gay men. In fact Paris is full of HOT MEN. You wouldn't think so going from the pictures in my french text books (the general reaction was along the lines of, "Whoah. They really are frogs"), but my GOD: policemen, airport security guards, random guys on the metro, the dude selling miniature Eiffel Towers on the Pont D'Iéna and the ticket guy on one of the Eiffel pylons (Al reckons he looked like a poster child for Hitler Youth though; granted those uniforms look a bit SS, but he was cute I tell you!).
The big theme for the trip so far is FOOD. We've not had a bad meal yet. How can I not love a country that has three course lunches?? Naurally one of the side-effects is devastating flatulence and indigestion. After a late, three course spicy maroccan dinner yesterday I had to get up three times during the night to use the bathroom; this morning, the toilet stopped working. The incidents are entirely unrelated. The plumber said so! Stop looking at me like that.
Another issue is my lactose intolerance which runs at odds with my love of all things dairy and my sense of devil-may-care abandon. Luckily Al, who has weathered many of my dairy related misadventures is very understanding and doesn't complain when she has to, um...perceive the after effects of my consumption. That's a true friend, that is.
We finally did actual touristy stuff yesterday taking in the Louvre, Jardin des Tuileries and the Eiffel Tour. I don't think I have any original observations to contribute on art and history being a philistine, but let me just say that the statues in the Roman sculpture section are amazing. I know it says "Ne touchez pas", but how can you resist such smooth, round, pert buttocks and pectorals? I have of course taken numerous bad phots and will self-indulgently post them at some point.
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Sunday, October 03, 2004
Greetings from Bangkok!
The flight was a dog! 14 hours from Sydney to Bangkok, stopping in Melbourne and and Phuket.
We're only here for two days until we fly to Paris. Alison has vetoed my earlier vote for the Atalanta Hotel despite its championing culturally sensitive tourism because she couldn't trust a place that only charged 18 bucks a night. We are currently at Siam City Hotel which is gorgeous - all marble with 1940s colonial-era Singapore furniture and a security guard who mistook Al for a hooker (hee).
Getting packed was a nightmare. It rained hard for a week before we were set to leave and my laundry had been sitting in the washing machine getting increasingly moldy and sour smelling. Thankfully the sun shone for about 5 hours on Saturday and so my luggage merely smells of damp pants rather than actively leaking.
The flight was uneventful despite my constant terrorist paranoia. Al rocked up in these red, white and blue americana pants all "Oi! Over here, kidnap me would you?" She said, "They're FRENCH!" as though terrorists were au fait with such fine distinctions.
After checking in we headed for the spa to get complimentary Thai massages. The lady gave me a "soft" one on account of me being a pussy. It was so soft in fact I kept falling asleep, only to be momentarily awakened each time she jabbed her palm in my groin - gunh.
Anyway, I'm off for a nap to recharge for the evening's activities - cocktails, dinner, and checking out those Thai ping pong parlor games.
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The flight was a dog! 14 hours from Sydney to Bangkok, stopping in Melbourne and and Phuket.
We're only here for two days until we fly to Paris. Alison has vetoed my earlier vote for the Atalanta Hotel despite its championing culturally sensitive tourism because she couldn't trust a place that only charged 18 bucks a night. We are currently at Siam City Hotel which is gorgeous - all marble with 1940s colonial-era Singapore furniture and a security guard who mistook Al for a hooker (hee).
Getting packed was a nightmare. It rained hard for a week before we were set to leave and my laundry had been sitting in the washing machine getting increasingly moldy and sour smelling. Thankfully the sun shone for about 5 hours on Saturday and so my luggage merely smells of damp pants rather than actively leaking.
The flight was uneventful despite my constant terrorist paranoia. Al rocked up in these red, white and blue americana pants all "Oi! Over here, kidnap me would you?" She said, "They're FRENCH!" as though terrorists were au fait with such fine distinctions.
After checking in we headed for the spa to get complimentary Thai massages. The lady gave me a "soft" one on account of me being a pussy. It was so soft in fact I kept falling asleep, only to be momentarily awakened each time she jabbed her palm in my groin - gunh.
Anyway, I'm off for a nap to recharge for the evening's activities - cocktails, dinner, and checking out those Thai ping pong parlor games.
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