Monday, July 30, 2007

Hookers and Bimbos: A Good Weekend.

Being under self-imposed house arrest all weekend due to an unfortunate swelling of the jaw post-wisdom tooth removal, I decided it was a good time to culture-vulture myself. You know, catch up on all the old 'classics' that any good film major/human being grew up watching (did you think I meant books? That's far too strenuous an endeavor for my injured face). I enlisted the help of daddy-dearest who managed to conjure up a bag of some 15 DVDs or so.

I started with a good ol' light-hearted round of The Seven Year Itch, (That's a lie, I started with Extras, but, comic genius as it is, I couldn't sit through more than 2 episodes of awkwardness, shrieking at the tv alone. So I moved on.) but really, Marilyn, sexy as she was, was too grotesquely bimbotic and act-cute/blur for me to handle without a devastatingly handsome leading man. I gave it half an hour then switched it off in disgust.

(I know I said it was bad, but here, but it anyway.)

Right then, on to the French films. Because nothing says 'culture' like a film from the Continent.

To start? Belle Du Jour, starring Catherine Deneuve. But really, it was much to effed up for me to even try to understand. It's basically about the sexual perversions of this classy lady who won't sleep with her husband, has lots of rape fantasies, and so decides to become a secret daytime hooker. I think my biggest problem was my inability to distinguish dream-sequences from reality, but that's just because I'm thick and they didn't have the purple wavy frames like in Saved by the Bell. The sex scenes were, quite frankly, really awks and kinda fake, but I guess it was pretty magical for 1967. She, of course, is stunningly beautiful, but kind of reminded me of a blonde Adison Shephard. I think it's the face shape. Kind of square. Oh well and I guess it was nicely shot, very surreal and gritty blah blah contrast etc. But hey, if you can't appreciate the film for all its artay-fartayness, watch it for the LV wardrobe that Ms. Deneuve gets to wear. Tres chic! (Hur hur)

Annnd I have so much more to say that I'm going to do it in a new post.

Saturday, July 28, 2007


The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte

I adore the Bronte sisters, because really, their novels are like guilt-free chick lit. I mean, they're classics, so reading them must be good for the brain. Yet you know that when you pick one up, you're going to be rewarded with a good ol' tale of starstruck lovers, usually only kept apart by their own consciences.

A brief summary: A mysterious woman takes up residence in Wildfell Hall with her young son, and is a topic of speculation for pretty much everyone in the shire. Gilbert, a farmer, falls in love with her and pledges to squash the rumours while finding out about her shadowy past.

The first part was by far the most interestingly written, being from the POV of Gilbert Markham, the self-righteous farmer. Actually, pretty much everyone in the book was kind of self-righteous. Maybe it's just because I'm partial to romances from the male perspective, and how female authors portray them. Anyway, there was a really good passage that I have vowed to memorise so that I may one day rattle it off in a heartbroken state, but I doubt I'll ever manage.

"She had observed my preference for the young widow, and evidently felt herself neglected. She did not manifest her chargrin by keen reproaches, bitter sarcasms, or pouting sullen silence- any or all of these I could have easily endured, or lightly laughed away; but she showed it by a kind of gentle melancholy, a mild, reproachful sadness that cut me to the heart. I tried to cheer her up, and apparently succeeded in some degree, before the walk was over; but in the very act my conscience reproved me, knowing, as I did, that, sooner or later, the tie must be broken, and this was only nourishing false hopes, and putting off the evil day."

So male. The kind of thoughtless, flippant, "oh this girl I've courted for like her whole life, I don't really like her anymore, oh well".

However, about 1/4 way in, Helen (widow-lady) throws her journal at him, and the next half is her backstory. I had been wondering how such a thick book would draw out their romance when the end seemed nigh pretty close to the beginning, and that's how! I'm not going to lie, Helen got a little irritating with her rigidity and piousness. She seemed a little full of herself. No wonder her husband had affairs and became a drunkard. Well, obviously, that wasn't completely her faunt, but she was a little robotic, as everyone kept accusing her. I think I was a little over-sympathetic to her dastardly husband, he seemed like someone I'd get along with- lots of vices and great parties. Her best friend's brother has also been in love with her, and at times he is a little hard to distinguish from Gilbert, as they act in much the same way. Or rather, how they court her is kind of alike.

The last quater goes back to Gilbert, but this time seemed much less realistic. He waits for her for 6 months while she nurses her ex-husband back to health, despite having been told that they can never be together. Not even a glance at another girl. Then one day he gets the great idea to jump up and chase after her, and she is so happy and they get married and live happily ever after. Uh, really?

I liked the bitchy husband better.

But still, it was engaging and emotionally satisfying. I also liked that they were all quite beautiful and young, call me shallow but it really adds to the credibility of the romances.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

On Showreels:

The Intern Task of the Day: Locate and isolate reels with *airline* ads from the million shelves of reels within the P.E.A. (Phish Eating Abyss-- aka the cupboard at the end of the earth/office, where they send lowly interns who are never to be heard from again).

How To Make Your Showreel (and my life) Better:

1) Have a content page - If I couldn't tell what was in it, I ignored it. And I can bet you 90% of other interns will too. And if even the interns won't see it, you are pretty much stuck in the PEA forever. (Only that idiot-overachiever who insists on arriving early, leaving late and bringing work home will bother to watch it. And no one cares about his opinion.)

2) Put said content page on the back of the box, not the inside -I swear, my fingers are blistered from opening countless boxes. Save the interns!

That's really all I had to say. Uh, pretty boxes help too, obviously. And like, having Britney videos amongst your credits.


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