Something magnificently evil this way comes

Maleficent has always been my favorite Disney villain. There is something so magnificently malevolent about her. She’s regal and terrifying. Plus, there are the horns. And, you know, her dragon. As an adult, it’s a little hard to admit that Sleeping Beauty was one of your favorite Disney princess film. From a feminist perspective it’s possibly the worst on the strong independent heroine scale. I mean, the girl sleeps through basically the whole story. It’s in the damn title. But I attribute my lingering affection to the story all to Maleficent. And now that Angelina Jolie will play her in alive-action retelling of Sleeping Beauty well. It’s OK to cheer for the bag guy sometimes, right? Heck, who needs magical powers to impress when you have cheekbones you can slice deli meat on.



p.s. I know I’m probably getting my hopes up. I was pretty unimpressed with “Snow White,” even though I loved Charlize Theron’s Evil Queen. But, dammit, if I don’t want to believe.

Blue Is the Warmest Scissoring

So, now that we’ve had a semi-intellectual discussion about “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” let’s talk about what we really want to talk about. The sex. Yes, it was long. Yes, it had unexpected ass play. Yes, it featured unrealistic reverse cowgirl scissoring. But you don’t have to trust me on this. Trust a bunch of other lesbians instead.

My favorite comment: “She also just ate all that spaghetti.” Yep, about right. About right.

Review: Blue Is the Warmest Color

A movie about love is always, in the end, about nothing and everything all at the same time. That apex emotion is as intangible as it is desired. You know it when you see it. Yet whether it lasts five minutes or forever, it leaves its indelible stain on your body.

So much has been written and said about “Blue Is the Warmest Color.”

Extraordinary. Exploitive. Passionate. Pretentious.

And much like the multi-faceted love, the movie is a bit of all these things. To break it down to its most base parts, this is a three-hour French film shot without a soundtrack or score that traces 10 years in the relationship between Adèle and Emma.

If that sounds like a journey you’re willing to commit to then come a little closer and let me pour you a cup of strong black coffee. If not, well, no harm no foul and please give a warm smile to the hostess as you leave.

The first thing you’ll need to know is this movie is French, so French. Nothing much happens in the framework of the narrative. No car crashes, no big explosions, no ninja attacks, no meet cutes, no unexpected twists, no artificial obstacles, no tidy endings. Nothing, that is, except for love. (Also lust, but we’ll get to that.)

The second thing you’ll need to know is regardless of the ongoing and equal parts troubling and tiresome “feud” between the actresses and the director and the graphic novel’s author, the movie ultimately lives or dies by its own merits. And in this case it lives – and breathes and cries and eats and fucks and smokes. A lot of all of those things, a lot.

The question of whether or not this is a good movie isn’t really the right question. That one is pretty easy – yes, this is a good movie. The question is whether you’ll enjoy this movie is much harder to answer.

I enjoyed this movie, but was not blown away by it in the rapturous terms that many mainstream critics have been. Perhaps the reason I don’t feel the “Oooh la la, isn’t this exceptional”-way that many (presumably straight) reviewers have is because it felt so much like real life. I don’t need to sit through a three-hour film about two women falling in love and experiencing heartbreak to tell me that a story about two women falling in love and experiencing heartbreak can be universal. Been there, you know.

There are exceptional qualities to this film including but not limited to the fact that these are 180-minutes exclusively about the emotional lives of two young women. Even more exceptional still are the performances by lead actresses Adèle Exarchopoulous (oft open-mouthed Adèle) and Léa Seydoux (initially blue-haired Emma) who are so natural and so vulnerable you lose all sense that a camera is following them. You’re just there, with them. Watching it all happen.

And when I say watching it all happen, I mean watching it ALL happen. The turn the camera on and see what happens cinéma vérité of it is inescapable. We get scene after scene of characters sitting down unremarkably for plate after plate of pasta, just as we get scenes of fully lit, uninhibited sex – the longest of which last about 6 minutes (just under 7 if you count the naked intertwined post-coital cool down). I counted for science – I am a professional, I’ll have you know.

Yes, all the eating (of food, mostly) is a metaphor for Adèle’s hunger. It’s her big brown eyes we watch most of this film through. As she goes from teenager to young woman, we see her search, find and lose that thing that finally satiates her appetite.

And speaking of appetite, how about those sex scenes? The initial one, the one getting the most press, is as far away from the standard American sex scene as you can get. This is no chaste clinch which fades to black only to reveal crumpled morning sheets, nor is it softcore sensationalism resembling horizontal calisthenics set to smooth jazz music.

I wasn’t bothered by the explicit sex, though some of it wasn’t necessarily typical of what I do in the bedroom area. (Seriously, what is everyone except actual lesbians’ obsession with scissoring?) And, yes, after a while I did think that perhaps we were watching the director’s sexual obsession instead of Adèle and Emma’s. Make no mistake, he’s a butt man.

Aside from the sex, another way this is atypical of your average movie was its presentation of the passage of time. This movie does not hold our hands when it comes to space and time. The central relationship runs from when Adele is in high school to her early 20s, but I only really know that because of the press notes and their slightly changing hairstyles. Like, at first Emma looks like a blue-haired punk and then later she looks like young Jon Bon Jovi.

In the end, I think “Blue Is the Warmest Color” is really about the mundanity of both love and heartbreak. Nothing happens, everything happens. We live and we breathe and we fuck and we eat spaghetti. C’est la vie, you know?

Naked Lady Monday: Galaxy Far, Far Away

I don’t know about you, but I could use an extra day of rest. I’m recovering from a celebratory weekend. It was filled with great friends and much merriment. So today how about we all just lounge in the sun like Carrie Fisher and her stuntdouble on the set of “Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.” Sure, we all make fun of the gold bikini. But, damn, if it didn’t greatly improve the view.

Reaching for the popcorn

While the lesbian TV sitcom remains elusive, we’re come into a mini glut of indie arthouse lesbian movies. OK, glut is a little strong. More like three. “Concussion,” “Blue Is the Warmest Color” and now “Reaching for the Moon.” But three is better than two and one and definitely none. So I’ll take this tiny embarrassment of riches with a big bucket of popcorn.

Now I’ve written about “Concussion” and “BITWC,” but only recently happened upon the trailer for “Reaching for the Moon.” It’s the real-life love story between American poet Elizabeth Bishop and Brazilian architect Lota de Macedo Soares in the 1950s.



Gorgeous set pieces, gorgeous women, gorgeous backdrop and clickity-clackity typing on typewriters? Yes, yes. Please sign me up, yes. Also, Bishop is played by Miranda “I am no man!” Otto. The film has picked up awards at Outfest in LA and Frameline in San Francisco among other film festivals. It opens in New York Nov. 8 and L.A. Nov. 29. Wolfe Video picked up the rights, so expect it on streaming and VOD in the near future as well.

Right, so guess I’ll be seeing you at the movies, ladies. Who is bringing the Junior Mints?

p.s. I’ve finally watched al three hours of “Blue Is the Warmest Color” and in the midst of processing my Big Lesbian Feelings about the whole thing. Expect a review soon.

Meet me in the lobby

Sometimes I find Wes Anderson films too twee. And sometimes I find them just the right amount of twee. From what I’ve seen of the new trailer for “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” I have high hopes for the latter. Lush colors, quirky characters, zany storylines and Tilda Swinton as a recently deceased amorous elderly heiress. Checking in? Yes, please.

Bring on the Blue

There was a period in my life when I just couldn’t get enough of French films. There was a lot of smoking and little speaking and I soaked in the sparseness. French films don’t mind showing people just thinking or brooding or – yes – that ubiquitous smoking. (Note: I only enjoy movie smoking, where no one has to get cancer or hack up a lung.)

I haven’t watched as many of late. Though I feel that’s a symptom of an overall improvement in television offering more than a decline in my Francophile tendencies. OK, fine, I also like to brood less now. I blame “Twilight,” ruining vampires and brooding for us all.

But, no matter what, this year I will see at least one French film. And that film will be “Blue Is the Warmest Color.” You know – the coming-of-age lesbian love story that was a sensation at Cannes only to be followed by a sensational clash between the actresses and director about the grueling shoot and then a sensational breakdown by the director who is now questioning whether the film should be released at all. No, really. All of this has happened.

Yet still, I’m a sucker for a good love story, especially a lesbian love story. And even though – and this is not a spoiler, just a guess – this sounds like one of those love stories that can’t end well for all parties involved (it is a French film after all, and words like “searing” and “shattering” keep getting used by critics to describe it) I simply cannot wait. I’m just a sucker for the brooding, I guess. C'est la vie.

Hit it on the Head

I feel like I’ve been waiting to get hit on the head forever. Wait, hold on, let me rephrase that. I’ve been waiting to see “Concussion” for what seems like forever. The movie’s premise about a wealthy married suburban lesbian mom who suffers the titular blow and decides to start turning tricks with women in the city sounds a little like it was, well, hit in the head. But the trailers show off what looks like a very rich, layered film starring Robin Weigert (a cleaned-up Calamity Jane from “Deadwood”) as the woman with the head trauma and Maggie Siff (from “Sons of Anarchy,” minus the Harleys) as one of her friends/clients. Also it’s hot. The new red-band trailer is really, really hot.

Much to my chagrin, I missed this movie when it played in my area at Frameline this past June. So I’m thrilled to see it opens Oct. 4 in theaters and on video-on-demand. At last, the wait is almost over. Now, to wear a helmet to the theater or not? One can never be too careful. This is a lesbian movie, after all.

Note: This trailer is very NSFW. And, therefore, sexy as hell.

The Ever Afters

Nostalgia is a powerful drug. It’s why an unexpected mention of one of your favorite childhood books – be it “Where the Red Fern Grows” or “Anne of Green Gables” or that childhood memories juggernaut “Harry Potter” – can bring up instant emotions of communal delight. And that why lesbians everywhere goes nuts when Piper Perabo tweets Lena Headey. And why every time Renee O’Connor and Lucy Lawless hug at some public event a baby dyke gets her wings. And why the photo of Natasha Lyonne and Clea DuVall snuggling up above probably made your heart skip a big lesbian beat. I remember seeing “But I’m a Cheerleader” in theaters some 14 years ago. Yes, FOURTEEN years ago. That movie came out in 1999, people. But I think I can still recite Natasha’s big gay cheer for Clea by heart. Like childhood memories, lesbian movies memories from our formative coming out years always tend to mean the most. Hell, I happily own a copy of “Go Fish” – terrible acting and all. And it’s often the couple – whether they end up happily ever after or not – that make the biggest impression. And that couple becomes The Couple to us. Plus we gay ladies tend to be a stubbornly loyal group – once we love you we’ll love you forever. So here’s a small taste of then & now nostalgia via some of The Couples we all love

For a lot of people Megan & Graham will be The Couple of their youth. For others it’s Rachel & Luce. For others still it’s Vivian & Cay.

Lena Headey & Piper Perabo/Rachel & Luce
Lena needs to cameo on “Covert Affairs.” I’d wish for Piper to be on “Game of Thrones,” but we all know she’d probably just die a horrible death. So, you know, let’s play it safe.

Helen Shaver & Patricia Charbonneau/Vivian & Cay
See, she stayed on that train well past the next stop.

Lucy Lawless & Renee O’Connor/Xena & Gabrielle
Could you imagine if Renee showed up on “Parks & Rec” and Ron suddenly felt strangely jealous? You’re welcome for the free story idea, writers.

Natasha Lyonne & Clea DuVall/Megan & Graham
Clearly, Clea needs to get herself sent to Litchfield. Clearly.

Right, so who it The Couple for you. And, admit it, you feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about all these imaginary happily ever afters.

Gravity of the Situation

It’s not too often I get excited about a movie that I’m almost certain will fail the Bechdel Test. But in the new space thriller “Gravity,” I just might be. It’s been another predictable summer of dudes blowing up shit at the box office. Superheroes, soldiers and spectacularly stupid stuff have crammed the theaters. The two movies I was most interested in seeing (“The Bling Ring,” “The Heat”) I missed because I’d rather spend my weekends supporting shows with amazing female casts (“Orange Is the New Black,” “Orphan Black,” “The Fosters”) that are the rule, not the exception. Don’t worry, I’ll catch those movies on Red Box of Netflix or whatever some lazy Sunday afternoon in the future. p.s. I did see “The Conjuring” in the theater which was quite good with an amazing cast and did pass Bechdel’s Test because talking with another woman about a demonic ghost totally counts.

But for now only one trailer has me most mesmerized and ready to perhaps head back into the theater. It’s “Gravity” a lost-in-space drama about two astronauts literally adrift. If you check out the on-screen cast it’s only Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. Like, no kidding, those are the only two characters in this piece. The film is from director Alfonso Cuarón, the man behind “A Little Princess,” “Y Tu Mamá También,” “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” and “Children of Men.” And fucking hell trailer makes it look like your worst nightmare. If it’s possible to feel claustrophobic in the endless expanse of space, these clips do it.





At Comic-Con, Cuarón told the press he got predictably sexist pushback from the industry about having a female lead. Like, why do we even need one? This is a movie about space, chicks don’t need to be in space. A report from Women in Hollywood quotes him as saying:

When I finished the script, there were voices that were saying, 'well, we should change it to a male lead.' Obviously they were not powerful enough voices, because we got away with it. But the sad thing is that there is still that tendency.

You know, of all the genres, women have actually done quite well for themselves in science fiction. Think Ripley in the “Alien” franchise, think Sarah Connor in “Terminator” franchise, think Dana Scully in “The X-Files,” hell, Princess fucking Leia!

So while this movie more than likely will fail Bechdel’s golden rule about having two named female characters who take to one another about something other than a man, I think it will still advance our presence on that final frontier.

All roads lead to lesbianism

While my Pride Month Lesbian Movie Rewind Experience 2013 has ended – finished it off with “Edie & Thea: A Very Long Engagement,” appropriately, last week. (You can stream it yourself on Netflix or Wolfe.) But the amusing discoveries from the LMRE 2013 continue. Like, did you know a lot of now-famous faces made some of their very first appearances in lesbian movies? Rewatching some of the recent (and less recent) lesbian cinema classics reveal some very special guest starts before they were very special. A sampling of leztastic cameos:

Emily VanCamp in “Lost & Delirious”

Before she sought her “Revenge,” Emily was Tori’s annoying sister, Allison, who really needs to learn how to knock first.

Jeffrey Tambor in “Desert Hearts”

Before he was the Bluth family patriarch on “Arrested Development,” Jeffrey worked at the ranch Prof. Vivian Bell came to stay during her quickie divorce.

Dale Dickey in “The Incredibly True Adventures of 2 Girls in Love”

Before she was the wolfie grandma of Alcide’s new pack on “True Blood,” Dale was Randy Dean’s coworker at the gas station.

Benedict Cumberbatch in “Tipping the Velvet”

Before he was the all-knowing, all-deducing Sherlock Holmes, Benedict wasn’t able to see or deduce that his so-called girlfriend Nan Austin was a total lezzer.

Rashida Jones in “If These Walls Could Talk 2”

Before she was beautiful tropical fish Ann Perkins on “Parks & Recreation,” Rashida was one of the “unnamed angry feminists” who didn’t want the lesbians to mess up their fight for women’s rights.

Christopher Meloni in “Bound”

Before he was Det. Stabler on “Law & Order,” Chris was the dim-witted son of the mob boss.

Mila Kunis in “Gia

Before she was the imaginary “Black Swan,” Mila was a young Angelina.

Idina Menzel in “Kissing Jessica Stein”

Before she was “Wicked,” Idina was an overly happy bridesmaid.

See all roads (to fame) really do lead back to lesbianism.

My Weekend Crush

Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one, well, let’s just call it our standard bearer. As my grand lesbian movie rewind experience continues, I spent last night reliving that romance in Reno, “Desert Hearts.” The 1985 classic holds its own all these years later. Sure, it also may have invented the U-Haul (or in this case Union-Pacific) lesbian. But, my, don’t parts still reach in and put a string of lights around your heart. The second Cay’s convertible roared into reverse and her hair whipped across her aviators we, and Professor Vivian Bell, were goners. But it was That Kiss. That in the rain, through the window, dripping wet kiss that made our hearts truly soar. That set the bar for all other lesbian movie kisses to follow. Heck, movie kisses in general. And what a high bar it was, indeed. Happy weekend, all.



p.s. Need to watch the whole thing for yourself now? You can rent and stream it from Wolfe on Demand or, of course, my new BFF Netflix.

Delirious times

In honor of Pride Month I thought it’d be fun to watch some “classic” lesbian movies. OK, not necessarily “Maidechen in Uniform” classic. But more like old favorites. And today that old favorite is “Lost & Delirious.” You know, that tragic boarding school tale of first love lost.

The last time I saw it was the first time I saw it back n 2001 when it came out in theaters. So last night I had another look, thanks to my new best friend streaming Netflix.

The first thing you’ll notice is how young everyone looks. Piper Perabo is young. Mischa Barton is young. Jessica Paré is young. And there’s also young Emily VanCamp, Caroline Dhavernas and Meaghan Rath. So, so, so young.

The next thing you’ll notice is so much more of the movie is about general falconry. Seriously, there’s a lot of tending and feeding of that bird. I know, I know – metaphor. Though I’d definitely blocked the whole live mice thing out of my memory banks.

What might hit you after that is how so very melodramatic and emotional and angsty and crazypants the whole affair is. As a depiction of passionate, tumultuous, obsessional first love it’s not necessarily wrong. I mean, who hasn’t gone a little nutters, neglected personal hygiene and stabbed romantic rivals after a particularly bad breakup? Quoting Macbeth in the middle of the woods at night, we’ve all been there – in our hearts. Love makes you do the wacky.

And finally, you might wonder if this movie would ever get made today. The impossibility of two girls falling in love and living happily ever after is at the crux of the story. How it seems so absurd to think the world – your parents, your friends, your classmates – might accept who you really are. Certainly, sadly this still happens today. Homophobia is alive and well and continues to thrive and threaten our happiness and lives everyday. But for a movie to wax eloquent about the inevitable tragedy of two modern teenager girls falling in love in the United States (or was it Canada), well, that now seems quaint and a little absurd. And that’s a good thing.

Ticket to the couch show

When I was a kid, I lived for the movies. Watching the trailers in the theater before a movie started was almost sacred, your one glimpse of what’s to come and what to get excited about. You couldn’t just pop onto YouTube to see all that summer had to offer. You had to wait and anticipate and decide in those two minutes if the fourth Superman movie would really solve the problem of nuclear proliferation.

But over the years, film has become less a driving force in my life. Sure, I still love the movies. The smell of movie theater popcorn makes me instantly feel 13 again and excited about sitting in a dark room with strangers and told fantastical stories.

But that at once solitary yet completely communal act of going to the movies has become less of a cultural driver in recent years because of cinema’s once scoffed upon little sibling, the television. TV is now our cultural barometer, with endless chatter and words and hand-wringing spent on the latest “Game of Thrones,” or “Mad Men” or “Breaking Bad” et al. The serialized nature of TV, its long burn versus quick payoff, makes it perfect for our media obsessed minds. Why just hyperventilate about a 2-hour movie when you could freak out about 22 episodes hour-long spread out over months and month.

I suspect part of TV’s appeal now is the ability to discuss it with dozens, hundred, thousands, millions as it happens. “OMG THE FUCKING STARKS!” said everyone at 9:59 p.m. Sunday night. You can be part of a live conversation and share your opinion with the universe the second it happens. In movies, that immediacy is blocked by basic human decency and the desire not to be the asshole in the theaters who lights up his cellphone to type, “Cool movie, bro.” Heaven forbid we have to wait two hours to tell the world exactly what we thought. But besides the more superficial I tweet therefore I exist aspect of social media, there is also more of a chance to help mold the creative process on TV. That long season means a longer production process which means more fan input which means more audience feedback which could have an impact on storylines and characters. It happens, just ask Brittana (circa seasons 1-2, that is).

But for me, what has turned me over the years away from my first love of the darkened theater and into my current love of my couch (besides comfort and better snacks) is the fact that TV has done a better job of giving women more and better roles. Period. One needs only to look at the current summer movie season to see it’s the same-old boys club where big things go boom. By my informal count there are only three female-led movies coming out: “The Bling Ring,” “Blue Jasmine” and “The Heat.” Two are arthousey fare – Sofia Coppola and Woody Allen projects – and the latter is a buddy cop comedy.

On TV meanwhile the summer offers “Rizzoli & Isles,” “The Fosters,” “The Killing,” “Covert Affairs,” Major Crimes,” “Pretty Little Liars,” “True Blood,” “Hot in Cleveland,” “Unforgettable,” Mistresses” and many more I can’t think of off the top of my head. Women get to be the crime fighters and action heroes and antiheroes and damsels who get themselves into and out of distress almost everything in between.

So I guess what I’m saying is even though movies won my heart first, TV is who I will always go home with. Here’s to long hot summers. And if you want to watch in the dark, just turn off the lights.

Hold a candle

I, like countless other gays, watched the Liberace glitztravaganza “Behind the Candelabra” over the weekend. Part of it was because who can resist that much rhinestone. And part of it was to see how one of the world’s most famous postmortem gays lived his life in the closet. And, OK, part of it was to see Michael Douglas and Matt Damon kiss. But I found myself having another interesting reaction to the film. This reaction at first may seem contradictory considering yesterday’s post, but – if you really think about it – is actually complimentary.

I wish they’d shown more sex between Douglas and Damon. Most of the sex scenes were the standard-issue kiss followed by the fade-out and finished with the sweaty roll off into crumpled sheets. You know, Movie Sex*. Sure, we saw a bare tush here and lots of man pecs there. But there was no full body shots of them engaged in anything sexual and only one fleeting in flagrante scene that served mostly to as a plot point to highlight how Damon’s Scott started out firmly against drugs only to later descend completely into them courtesy Dr. Startz**. It was, all in all, pretty tame. Though keep in mind this is a film made for HBO – a network currently reveling in the exposure of “Game of Boobs and Butts Thrones.”

So does the double standard remain? In mainstream and mainstream-celebrated films, does lesbian sex and gay male sex get the same treatment? If you compare reports from “Blue is the Warmest Color” and evidence from “Behind the Candelabra,” the answer would still be a hard “No.” Same-sex sex between women is celebrated and same-sex sex between men is still makes folks squeamish. Maybe this is because straight men – who are all too many of the creators and also consumers – also get off on lesbian sex, but shrink from the idea of two fellas getting it on. Also female nudity – gay or straight – has always been more casually accepted than male. Sure, you’ve got your Harvey Keitels and Michael Fassbenders who gave us the full monty. But it’s almost easier to count the actresses who you haven’t seen naked than those have. Le sigh.

It’s about time that cinema – literally and figuratively – nutted up. It’s 2013 and if a critically adored movie can feature “impressive scissoring” by on-screen lesbians then it can also feature impressive love-making for the fellas, too.

* We could talk for weeks about how bad, unrealistic, misleading and often unsexy all Movie Sex is in the first place. But, heavens, who has the time. Fade out.
** I would, however, watch an entire movie of Rob Lowe’s plastic surgeon/nightmare factory Dr. Startz.

A different kinds of Blue

For the first time ever a lesbian drama won the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival. Over the weekend the three-hour French coming-of-age film “La Vie d’Adèle” (“Blue Is the Warmest Color” for English audiences) won the Palme D’Or, a prize that was preceded by gushing reviews from critics and frequent breathless mention of its 10- to 15-minute graphic sex scene that made the audience stand up and applaud when it was over. Reviewers of the scene in question have, generally speaking, done the literary equivalent of rent a neon sign that read “HOT LESIAN SEX” and turned it on for all to see. My friend Heather had a nice round-up of reviews of Le Scene over at AE yesterday.

To sum them up:
“writhing, moaning erotic hunger,” “fingering, licking, and, as a friend called it, ‘impressive scissoring,’” “undeniably titillating” and “red hot.”

Now, I am no prude. As yesterday’s post might suggest, my sense of humor might run more blue than some and believe you me I like a hot lesbian sex scene as much as the next gay lady. So it’s not the scene so much that has me perplexed, but the focus on the scene. I guess it’s inevitable. Sex sells everything from cars to deodorant, and it’s been a part of the movies since the first images flickered across a screen. So if the sex gets some folks in to see quality drama, maybe it’s worth it. I just wish one didn’t have to be such a selling point to get us to enjoy the other.

Though, to be fair to critics, they didn’t only wag their tongues at the sexysexytimes. Most also praised rich emotional portrayals and dense character journeys in the film (which was based on a graphic novel). And raves have also been handed out to its stars, Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux, who play 15-year-old Adèle and blue-haired art student Emma – two young women who meet and begin an intense relationship. So that alone has me excited for the film to hit American theaters. Though, this being a French movie, I’m ready for inevitable crushing heartbreak. I love you, my French friends, but your movies tend to depress the living crap out of me – but in a good way. Mostly. Just thinking about “The Dreamlife of Angels” makes me eat a whole box of chocolates.

In conclusion: Rich Lesbian Drama + Hot Lesbian Sex = A Whole Lot of People Are Going to Be Going to Reading Subtitles Soon.

Get in loser, we're going robbing

Mindless fun. Mindless fun. Mindless fun. Say it with me, it just feels good. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been replaying this song in my head since the very first ‘Bling Ring” teaser trailer was released, and each subsequent snippet of the film has only a) increased my desire to watch it and b) increased my desire to dance on tabletops while this song plays. The song in question is “Crown on the Ground” by Sleigh Bells. And that electrocrunky opening riff makes me want to do body shots in a sweaty club. Metaphorically though, because both body shots and sweaty clubs tend to be overrated in real life.

The newest “Bling Ring” trailer showcases both Hermione’s spot on SoCal accent and Dana Fairbanks as her lawyer. (Yes, yes – Emma Watson and Erin Daniels, in real life – I know.) And while the mindless fun of robbing from the rich is the initial appeal, something tells me this movie will manage to sneakily slip in some sharp commentary on our strange celebrity culture. Or, you know, whatever. Get in losers, we’re going robbing.

Fetch me my axe

I’ve been thinking about this trailer for about a week and I can’t decide if I love it or if it’s everything I hate about the world. Probably a combination of the two. The “it” in question is the red-band trailer for the new ensemble comedy “This is the End.” Check it out for yourself and let’s discuss. I’ll make some tea for us. It’ll be nice.



Now, clearly, it stars pretty much every single geek dude antihero/hero working in film and TV today: James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson, Michael Cera, Jason Segel, Aziz Ansari , Jay Baruchel and Christopher “McLovin” Mintz-Plasse, to name a few. It also features a few notable ladies: Rihanna , Mindy Kaling and Emma Watson wielding an axe.

The celebrities playing their fictional selves angle for an entire movie is novel, but also rather vain. And chummy. And self indulgent. Plus, I highly doubt any of the female characters are more than cameos. Mindy for fantasy geek girl loves geek boy angle. Rihanna for the ass-slap. And Emma for the OMG it’s Hermione of it all. p.s. Remember when Natalie Portman played against type on SNL? Yep, like that.

I guess what bothers me most about it is the dudes just making each other laugh chumminess of it all. Not that some of their dumbass antics didn’t make me chuckle. They guys are funny, you can’t deny it. But you can practically see the “No Girls Allowed” sign hanging over Franco’s front door. Fetch me my axe, that’ll make everything better.

My Weekend Thumbs Up

As a kid, Siskel & Ebert’s At the Movies helped me fall in love with the movies. As an adult, Roger Ebert helped me fall in love with writing about movies – and really just writing in general. His passing yesterday moved me, and so many others. The loss of someone you didn’t know personally yet who still deeply touched your life is a strange thing. How do you grieve? Why do you grieve? But there I was on a Thursday afternoon, grieving the loss of someone who used words and movies to talk about what the big, unruly journey of life and living.

Through his six decades of working in film criticism, Ebert has accomplished too many things to list. Appropriate bookends for our changing times is the almost equal weight to his Pulitzer Prize and his more than 800,000 Twitter followers given in his obituaries. Criticism has moved en masse from the fine art of being a movie reviewer to the consumer craft of cultural anthropologist. While some may still only know him best as the thumps up, thumbs down guy, in later years when illness took away his ability to speak (and eat or drink) he remained no less a prolific man of words.

His film reviews are the stuff everyone who attempts to enter popular criticism dreams of. Funny, astute, clear. While lots of people like to revel in the takedown mastery of his bad reviews, I prefer to enjoy the joyful generosity of his good reviews. Because it’s when a writer gets to write about something he loves that we see the true depth of his heart. And Ebert, man, he loved the movies. And he loved thinking about the world beyond himself. Whether talking about gay marriage or his wife Chaz or eating or climate change or even Glenn Beck.

His writing on death, which he knew was coming – as it is for us all – though probably faster as cancer took him piece by piece, is particularly poignant. This passage sums up, for me, why I choked back emotion when I heard about Ebert’s passing.

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

If you think it’s oxymoronic to describe a critic as kind, then you probably just haven’t read enough Roger Ebert. (p.s. If you haven’t already, read Esquire’s gorgeous 2010 profile of the man. Even more writing to envy, but I digress.) Leave the world a little kinder than when you found it. Enjoy the ride as long as it takes you. His last written words, posted just two days ago:

So on this day of reflection I say again, thank you for going on this journey with me. I'll see you at the movies.

Thanks for loving the movies in particular and life in general. Thumps up, kind sir. Happy weekend, all.

Finding Squee

My reaction yesterday morning upon learning Pixar was finally going to make a “Finding Nemo” sequel and it would be called “Finding Dory” and based on Ellen DeGeneres’ forgetful fish. One, scream. Two, check the date to make sure it’s not still April Fool’s Day. Three, scream when I find out it’s not. Four, calm down before screaming again. Five, grab a sleeping bag and get in line.

Fine, so maybe I’m not literally camping out in front of my local cineplex just yet. But figuratively I’m already there. It would not be a stretch to call “Finding Nemo” one of my Top 5 favorite movies of all time. I’ve waxed on (and never off) about my love for this movie and how I carry it with me everywhere in my pocket on my iPhone. These are all just facts. Another fact is this looks to be only the second female-fronted Pixar feature to be officially announced. The first was last summer’s “Brave.” One last fact, it’s the first Pixar feature to be fronted by an out female lesbian lady. Dammit, now I’m screaming and jumping up and down again.

While I collect myself, please enjoy Ellen announcing the big news herself.



Here is the official Pixar release on “Finding Dory.” It comes out Nov. 25, 2015.

Director and Pixar veteran Andrew Stanton takes audiences back to the extraordinary underwater world created in the original film. "There is no Dory without Ellen," said Stanton. "She won the hearts of moviegoers all over the world—not to mention our team here at Pixar. One thing we couldn't stop thinking about was why she was all alone in the ocean on the day she met Marlin. In 'Finding Dory,' she will be reunited with her loved ones, learning a few things about the meaning of family along the way."

According to Stanton, "Finding Dory" takes place about a year after the first film, and features returning favorites Marlin, Nemo and the Tank Gang, among others. Set in part along the California coastline, the story also welcomes a host of new characters, including a few who will prove to be a very important part of Dory's life.

In May it will have been 10 years – a whole damn decade – since “Finding Nemo” was first released. And I am beyond thrilled that another generation of young and young at heart will get a chance to meet Dory and the gang and remember no matter life’s obstacles, the most important thing is to just keep swimming.



I shall repeat Nov. 25, 2015 in the cadence of P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way as my personal mantra from now until Nov. 25, 2015.