What Would A Real Director Do?: Choke

“Choke” – Clark Gregg’s film adaptation of the book by literary darling Chuck Palahniuk—is, according to the press notes, “the subversively comedic tale of Victor Mancini, con artist, sex addict, Colonial village re-enactor, angst-filled son, serial restaurant choker … and unsuspecting romantic antihero for our unsettling times.” This jam-packed one-liner should give some indication as to what Gregg was up against in attempting to translate Palahniuk’s prose to the screen. David Fincher had an equally difficult challenge with the author’s “Fight Club,” but unlike Fincher, Gregg is an actor and first-time filmmaker hailing from the theater world (a founding member and former artistic director of the Atlantic Theater Company) whose only qualifications to script-write and direct the cult novel seem to be friends with money, a love of the book, and Palahniuk’s blessing. Well, sometimes love and money and a pat on the head just ain’t enough.

To read the rest of my smackdown visit The House Next Door. (And, yes, I do feel guilty about panning the film after interviewing my fellow Random Houser Chuck Palahniuk, but hey, he didn’t direct!)

My Interview with “Fight Club” author Chuck Palahniuk

Chuck Palahniuk, the author behind David Fincher’s “Fight Club” and Clark Gregg’s “Choke,” opening in theaters this Friday 9/26, pens intelligent, well-written junk food. I enjoy reading all his books, and even have a friend I nicknamed Brandy Alexander after the transgender lead character in “Invisible Monsters,” yet whenever someone asks me the plot of a particular novel that isn’t “Invisible Monsters,” I draw a blank. I mean, I’m certain I’ve read his books, just like I’m certain I ate dinner last Thursday, I just can’t tell you exactly what it was.

To read my interview with the author himself visit Spout .

Ultimate Burlesque

Hot off the press release:

The rise of the burlesque movement has brought glamour back into women’s lives and now a new anthology looks set to use that glamour to help people with cancer gain practical, medical, emotional and financial support. Created as part of the Burlesque Against Breast Cancer campaign, Ultimate Burlesque is an anthology of 30 erotic stories with a burlesque theme from best-selling authors including Katie Fforde, Jo Rees, Kristina Lloyd, Maxim Jakubowski and Olivia Darling. Contributions range from sweet stories of couples revitalising their relationship with a hint of glitter and flash of feathers to torrid tales of group sex, domination, bondage and more.

The anthology is co-edited by Scarlet founding editor, Emily Dubberley, Scarlet Cliterature editor, Alyson Fixter, and introduced by best-selling author, Chris Manby. All writers donated their stories free of charge and a minimum of 15% of the book's cover price goes to Macmillan.

My short story “Just Another Night In Paradise” is featured so pre-order now!

Sex Industry Stonewall II

It’s ironic that a recent “NY Times” article ‘White Flight’ Has Reversed, Census Finds, detailing the largest return of whites to Manhattan since the 1940’s, in which a demographer states that “a lot of the non-Hispanic whites are plainly associated with the financial community,” would appear around the same time a Financial District dungeon gets raided, that NY Post article accompanied by the requisite quotes from neighbors attesting to the “freaks” coming in and out of the building.

Yes, Rapture is the latest NYC house of domination to go down for the prostitution ring count this year, after Rebecca’s Hidden Chamber and Nutcracker Suite. Time to revisit my essay Sex Industry Stonewall.

Sex Workers In Hollywood

I’ll never forget the thrill I felt reading Werner Herzog’s advice on how to become a film director, which boils down to skipping film school, taking up boxing, walking everywhere and working in a sex club. So where’s my Oscar, damn it?

Yet when “Juno” was delivered to theaters around the country I remember feeling nothing but outrage over the stripper-turned-screenwriter Diablo Cody hype. I found the film incredibly tedious (though in retrospect I was probably a bit hard on Cody’s writing in my review – after reading excerpts from the script I think I had a much bigger problem with Reitman’s directing), but I had an even bigger problem with the condescension surrounding Cody herself: Look, a stripper who can put together more than three sentences!

For the scoop on four more talented folks who’ve made the transition from sex industry to mainstream screen visit Spout.

From The Top: The Movie-Going Public, Take 2, On The Role of The Film Critic

Reading the comments thread of my essay “The Movie-Going Public” gave me the same feeling I had riding Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disney World as a kid. This is so bizarre yet exciting, with all these surprising twists and turns. I can’t figure out where I’m being taken and I can’t stop laughing. It would resemble a classic Monty Python sketch if it weren’t so sad.

Because when a deeper discussion I hope to spark fizzles into surreal insanity I take that way more personally than any personal attack. The entire point of my penning the piece was to use myself as a jumping off point, to prompt readers into thinking about their own individual lives in order to foster a meaningful discussion about what it means to be an audience member. Instead, that conversation ended when the focus shifted exclusively to me. And the tragedy is that my particular life isn’t minutely as interesting as the larger picture. It’s disappointing that seven dirty little words referencing sex—in my estimation the least interesting thing about me—out of an entire heartfelt essay could derail the whole critical thinking process.

Catch the entire controversy at The House Next Door.

The Eddie Izzard Awards: Films That Transcend Taboo

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again loud and proud: Eddie Izzard is my heroine! I get all happy-go-lucky girly inside just thinking about him. And not only because I spent a good hour and a half doubled over in a folding chair gasping for air like an oxygen-tank-deprived emphysema patient when I saw the John Cleese anointed “lost Python” at a small west side venue years ago, but because of who Izzard is offstage as well: an unashamed cross-dresser with fabulous taste in makeup and heels.

To find out the winners of the Golden Stiletto visit Spout.