From my original review of "Brokeback Mountain":
To say "Brokeback Mountain" is a “gay cowboy movie” is akin to calling “Romeo and Juliet” a play about two feuding Italian families. In either case you wouldn’t be wrong, but to reduce the two stories to such superficial plot summaries misses the essence of both – the universal theme of societal constructions (be they ideas about class, race or sexuality) serving to keep true love apart. Ang Lee’s disguised “Romeo and Juliet,” set in the west and involving two men, is merely the latest take on a timeless subject. It is a classic western that feels so right in its elimination of the extraneous girl at the center of the requisite triangle, the undeveloped female character put there for no other reason than to keep the other two points from collapsing into (the arms of) each other. Blessed with a tight script and phenomenal acting, Ang Lee rightly steps aside, letting the film perform its own alchemy, leaving no smudges of auteur fingerprints to distract like a dirty lens. Heath Ledger lives up to his hype, imbuing his complex role with a gravity that’s worthy of the young Brando.
A role like Ennis Del Mar is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any actor. What Heath Ledger did with that role, the jaw-dropping astonishing performance he gave, is at a height the vast majority of actors could never reach in ten lifetimes. It's all any fan of that mysterious, shamanistic art could ever ask for. We are truly blessed.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Bite Me
Yes, the vagina dentata movie "Teeth" sucks more than bites, but it was still nice for the CineKinkster to link to my review at "The House Next Door":
http://cinekink.com/blog/2008/01/really-baby-thats-just-crazy-talk.html
And in all fairness to director Lichtenstein, I have the same lack-of-balls beef with him as I do with Catherine Breillat (and Mary Harron with “The Notorious Bettie Page”). If you need to justify/apologize for trafficking in “subversive” material (through academia) then you’ve no business trafficking in subversive material in the first place. As John Waters knew well, sometimes a talking asshole is just a talking asshole.
http://cinekink.com/blog/2008/01/really-baby-thats-just-crazy-talk.html
And in all fairness to director Lichtenstein, I have the same lack-of-balls beef with him as I do with Catherine Breillat (and Mary Harron with “The Notorious Bettie Page”). If you need to justify/apologize for trafficking in “subversive” material (through academia) then you’ve no business trafficking in subversive material in the first place. As John Waters knew well, sometimes a talking asshole is just a talking asshole.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Thanks, Graydon!
“Vanity Fair” has again published my “Letter To The Editor” (January 2008 issue). This time I bitched about boy-band impresario Lou Pearlman.
A Music King Dethroned
FORGET THE PONZI SCHEME [“Mad About the Boys,” by Bryan Burrough, November]. The most preposterous part of this article is how anyone ever could have regarded Lou Pearlman’s intentions as other than dishonorable. He acquired the Chippendales male-stripper franchise, for heaven’s sake! Note to parents of boy-band members: If you throw your kid into a shark tank, the least you can do is take responsibility for the damage. —LAUREN WISSOT, Brooklyn, New York
Available online at: http://www.vanityfair.com/magazine/2008/01/letters200801
A Music King Dethroned
FORGET THE PONZI SCHEME [“Mad About the Boys,” by Bryan Burrough, November]. The most preposterous part of this article is how anyone ever could have regarded Lou Pearlman’s intentions as other than dishonorable. He acquired the Chippendales male-stripper franchise, for heaven’s sake! Note to parents of boy-band members: If you throw your kid into a shark tank, the least you can do is take responsibility for the damage. —LAUREN WISSOT, Brooklyn, New York
Available online at: http://www.vanityfair.com/magazine/2008/01/letters200801
Monday, December 17, 2007
The Year In Camp
Oops, I did it again (outed myself, that is!) My 2007 "Best of Camp" list is out, too...
http://mattzollerseitz.blogspot.com/2007/12/2007-six-camp-highlights-and-one.html
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Monkey Town 4th Annual Porn Week
“Attempts to tease out connections between fine art and commercial pornography. Previous programs surveyed works by fine artists that are sexually explicit compared to works by pornographers striving to be artistic, and also works by fine artists who have crossed over to directing commercial porn. This year presents a mini-festival of porn produced by directors based in New York City, combined with live presentations or performances by the directors.”
For a complete schedule of events visit: monkeytownhq.com
My Favorite Martian
A merry Mosey Christmas to drama queen Roxanne. Glad to see you broke a leg!
The following review courtesy of Robert Martinez:
It’s said that hopes and dreams never die – especially not during Christmas. If anything, hopes, dreams, and emotions of every stripe get amplified during the holidays. This can be euphoric, if your life is going swimmingly. But what if you’re living in dystopia? This is the theme explored in Don Arrup’s play, “Requiem for a Holiday Dreamer,” recently staged at Theatre 54’s Shetler Studio and produced by Falconer-Unheard Productions. The play, which takes place in a hospice for dying children, revolves around events set in motion by the protagonist Tupeg. Along the way Tupeg will be accused of child molestation, a plan for murder will be hatched, and a U.S. Marine will lose his pants.
Tupeg is longing is for a woman that he’s never stopped desiring over the years, a social worker at the hospice who feels nothing for him save revulsion. Having made a beeline to the hospice on hearing of her husband’s death, Tupeg isn’t exactly the most likable of characters. But, he is honest, and he does impress the one resident at the hospice who hasn’t left for the holidays, a wheelchair-bound girl named Mosey, with his honesty. Mosey, in turn, will impress Tupeg with her spiritedness, and her willingness to find the fun side of things despite the bad hand life has dealt her.
Tupeg’s honesty is also directed at his audience. Tupeg bridles at cities dying of neglect, mealy-mouthed public figures, and the emptiness of a population so caught up in its holiday shopping spree that it can’t be bothered to tend to the likes of people like Mosey. A certain emphatic opprobrium is reserved for those politicians who bray “Support our troops,” while doing nothing for them when they return home. The play is an angry indictment of hypocrisy in America, and of how that hypocrisy also gets magnified during the Christmas season.
There’s only a four-person cast, but the performances are first rate. Tupeg is played with forceful world-weariness by Mr. Arrup, while Roxanne Kapitsa plays Mosey with a spirited blend of childlike hopefulness and all-too-early cynicism. Patricia Aleman plays the part of She, the woman Tupeg longs after with passion and energy, but one wishes that her character had more depth, some more insight into her psyche that makes her rage understandable. Christian Carroll, as the Marine, brings pathos and gravity to the role, despite having taken the part on short notice.
If there’s a flaw to “Reqiuiem,” it’s that it sometimes gets a little too castigating. The dialogue holds up extremely well, but sometimes is weighed down by its own melancholy, with phrases like, “infinite darkness” emphasizing the despair the characters feel, though that despair is plain enough to see. Aside from this, Mr. Arrup has written a fine play that, in the end, does have a hopeful glint. The characters don’t all get what they want (except maybe for Mosey), but they find that on Christmas, sometimes, you do get what you need.
The following review courtesy of Robert Martinez:
It’s said that hopes and dreams never die – especially not during Christmas. If anything, hopes, dreams, and emotions of every stripe get amplified during the holidays. This can be euphoric, if your life is going swimmingly. But what if you’re living in dystopia? This is the theme explored in Don Arrup’s play, “Requiem for a Holiday Dreamer,” recently staged at Theatre 54’s Shetler Studio and produced by Falconer-Unheard Productions. The play, which takes place in a hospice for dying children, revolves around events set in motion by the protagonist Tupeg. Along the way Tupeg will be accused of child molestation, a plan for murder will be hatched, and a U.S. Marine will lose his pants.
Tupeg is longing is for a woman that he’s never stopped desiring over the years, a social worker at the hospice who feels nothing for him save revulsion. Having made a beeline to the hospice on hearing of her husband’s death, Tupeg isn’t exactly the most likable of characters. But, he is honest, and he does impress the one resident at the hospice who hasn’t left for the holidays, a wheelchair-bound girl named Mosey, with his honesty. Mosey, in turn, will impress Tupeg with her spiritedness, and her willingness to find the fun side of things despite the bad hand life has dealt her.
Tupeg’s honesty is also directed at his audience. Tupeg bridles at cities dying of neglect, mealy-mouthed public figures, and the emptiness of a population so caught up in its holiday shopping spree that it can’t be bothered to tend to the likes of people like Mosey. A certain emphatic opprobrium is reserved for those politicians who bray “Support our troops,” while doing nothing for them when they return home. The play is an angry indictment of hypocrisy in America, and of how that hypocrisy also gets magnified during the Christmas season.
There’s only a four-person cast, but the performances are first rate. Tupeg is played with forceful world-weariness by Mr. Arrup, while Roxanne Kapitsa plays Mosey with a spirited blend of childlike hopefulness and all-too-early cynicism. Patricia Aleman plays the part of She, the woman Tupeg longs after with passion and energy, but one wishes that her character had more depth, some more insight into her psyche that makes her rage understandable. Christian Carroll, as the Marine, brings pathos and gravity to the role, despite having taken the part on short notice.
If there’s a flaw to “Reqiuiem,” it’s that it sometimes gets a little too castigating. The dialogue holds up extremely well, but sometimes is weighed down by its own melancholy, with phrases like, “infinite darkness” emphasizing the despair the characters feel, though that despair is plain enough to see. Aside from this, Mr. Arrup has written a fine play that, in the end, does have a hopeful glint. The characters don’t all get what they want (except maybe for Mosey), but they find that on Christmas, sometimes, you do get what you need.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Inside The Actor's Flat
English actors are kicking our ass. It’s like watching the NBA play the local, high school team. Whether it’s the modern-day craftsmen of RADA like Ralph Fiennes and Clive Owen or the fearless, “school of Mike Leigh” greats like Gary Oldman and Tim Roth, it’s merely a choice between the breathtaking artistry of Gielgud versus the hair-on-end fire of Olivier. And we’ve got – Sean Penn.
It seems centuries ago now but there was a time when American acting was the gold standard. There was Brando, of course, and De Niro and Pacino in the 70s – actors who electrified the screen with their intensity even when their characters held absolutely still. They could speak ten lines with a gesture of the wrist, a nearly imperceptible nod. Now it’s the Brits who are putting us to shame. From the youngish and wild like Tim Roth and Daniel Day-Lewis, Cate Blanchett and Tilda Swinton to the older and wiser Ray Winstone and Sir Ian McKellen, Vanessa Redgrave and Helen Mirren. (Even the walking time bombshells like Clive Owen and Daniel Craig – whose ridiculously good looks serve as a foil to their infinite skill – can act circles around our thespians. Where’s our Warren Beatty?)
When Javier Bardem saw “Raging Bull” he wasn’t sure if De Niro was an actor or a real-life boxer. All he knew was that he wanted to be De Niro – not just “an actor” but De Niro. He wanted to achieve that shamanistic level where two souls – actor and character – merge. And it shows in Bardem and his European colleagues. They settle for nothing less.
It seems centuries ago now but there was a time when American acting was the gold standard. There was Brando, of course, and De Niro and Pacino in the 70s – actors who electrified the screen with their intensity even when their characters held absolutely still. They could speak ten lines with a gesture of the wrist, a nearly imperceptible nod. Now it’s the Brits who are putting us to shame. From the youngish and wild like Tim Roth and Daniel Day-Lewis, Cate Blanchett and Tilda Swinton to the older and wiser Ray Winstone and Sir Ian McKellen, Vanessa Redgrave and Helen Mirren. (Even the walking time bombshells like Clive Owen and Daniel Craig – whose ridiculously good looks serve as a foil to their infinite skill – can act circles around our thespians. Where’s our Warren Beatty?)
When Javier Bardem saw “Raging Bull” he wasn’t sure if De Niro was an actor or a real-life boxer. All he knew was that he wanted to be De Niro – not just “an actor” but De Niro. He wanted to achieve that shamanistic level where two souls – actor and character – merge. And it shows in Bardem and his European colleagues. They settle for nothing less.
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