3D SUP BIN
One of my pals who has great taste in films and music, sent me these reviews of the new Richard Glatzer/Wash West film. I haven't seen the movie yet, but the premise of cultural tourism doesn't exactly exite me.
From Village Voice:
Wan and cutesy, Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland's QUINCEAÑERA is most
notable for making explicit the slumming subtext of many an earnest Sundance
crowd-pleaser. Shot near the directors' own Echo Park residence and focused
largely on the neighborhood's Latino community (in particular a newly out,
tough gay boy and his possibly immaculately pregnant cousin), it's less
about culture-clash affirmation than gentrifiers' guilt. DENNIS LIM
From Film Comment:
Headline: And the Winner Isn't...
Sundance awards mediocrity while the standouts go home empty-handed
By Amy Taubin
Indifferently scripted, directed, acted, shot, and edited, Quinceanera is
less a film than a calling card for a Showtime series. A well-meaning,
cartoonish, though not satirical, comedy about gentrification, sexuality,
and multicultural relationships in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Echo
Park, Quinceanera pays lip service to political issues while sidestepping
any problem that could interfere with its feel-good ambiance. Thus
everyone's favorite uncle dies conveniently in his sleep so that we are
spared the sight of him being evicted by the upwardly mobile gay couple
who've bought the house and who've also recruited his hunky nephew for
threesomes. Similarly, a pregnant 16-year-old is reconciled with her dad
after it is medically proven that she's still a virgin. Heaven forbid the
A-word should be mentioned.
THE
. . .From the Counsel of Inter-Continental Balistic Principalities
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Thursday, July 06, 2006
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A SCANNER PORTLY PEPPERPOT
My gorgeous pal, the writer and global editrix Glenn Belverio pays homage to Hindi heartthrob Hrithik Roshan on A Shaded View on Fashion:
http://dianepernet.typepad.com/diane/2006/06/while_the_rest_.html
Mr. Roshan has become the Bollywood Superman, and speaking of Super Sperm-man I guess I should mention something about the films that I’ve seen in the last few months. I’m not really a film reviewer, sure I’m sent invites to private screenings and also videotape screeners. I do have a reputation as a tastemaker, and some people take all that so seriously, which of course I don’t. But since I enjoy getting all the delicious Star Jonesian swag, I’d better return the favour and write something.
First of all Superman Returns, directed by my former f*ck buddycan Miss Bryan Singer, one sloppy bottom who always forgets to douche. All that money$ involved and the flick is dullardsville. Loved Sings "Apt Pupil"
and The Usual Suspects. I also enjoyed his Mutant flickers as pure mindless entertainment, but this installation of Superman is only exciting when Marlon Brando’s image and voice is heard, and when your best performance is from someone who is dead, your movie is in trouble. Young beauty Brandon Routh has potential and otherworldly green screen matinee idol looks. They shouldn’t have photoshopped his bulge away, it would have given the proceedings some spark.
The Devil Wears Prada is bright and breezy. After seeing this film and Prairie Home Companion I now adore Meryl Streep. I use to hate her, and Miss Hathaway should star as a young Judy Garland in a film biopic. Considering this is a movie about fashion, Pat Fields clothes are all wrong-----way too cabaret-ish.
The brilliant British girl who plays the second assistant was the only character dressed appropriately.
And my horndoggedy pal Larry Clark scores high with Wassup Rockers. The main latin boyganza Jonathan Vasquez is mighty fine, ---a nice package in those stovepipe jeans, with a sizzlean musical score of south central punk bands.
I hate comedians and though I find him somewhat of an asphalt cutie, Adam Sandler is a deeply disturbed humanoid. His starring vehicle Click attests to that. It tries to be all sentimental at the end, but that is only masking some excrement that is beyond ill, something tells me that Mr. Sandler, like most comics is on the verge of committing suicide. Someone needs to intervene.
I love chunky Jack Black and really enjoyed Nacho Libre, which obviously he stole the idea from seeing one of Michele Carr of the Velvet Hammer’s Lucha VaVoom spectacles. Now Jack Black is what Adam Sandler wishes he was, but he’ll never be.
And did I mention how much I enjoyed the sexy Korean thriller Typhoon? The lead actors are two of the yummiest Asian men. How I’d like to munch on there fresh dugouts. That brings me to Lower City from Brazil’s Sergio Machada (Madame Sata) and the beautiful bodies of Alice Braga(Sonja’s niece) smoldering jubas Lazaro Ramos and lovesexy bubble butt Wagner Moura. And I cried when Antony sang in the Leonard Cohen docu-musical I’m Your Man.
At the airport I ran into an old dinge queen trick from the early 80s. The only reason I recognized him was that he still dresses the same. The man is British, wears big red framed Sally Jessy Raphael eye glasses and matching red canvas shoes. When I met him he was in his early 30s, skinny with male pattern baldness. He looked a little bit like Keith Haring crossed with a goofy Colin Firth. I wasn’t attracted to him, but he pursued me heavily which is always a turnon for me. He was actually cheating on his boyfriend with me. His lover was the TV actor Ernest Thomas who played Raj on the ABC black sitcom What’s Happening. He was always ragging on his lover, who he supported financially, and also his lover’s mother, who lived in South Central LA. I laughed out loud when I found out that Ernest Thomas was such a snippy snow and status queen that he refused to go south of Wilshire or east of LaBrea. At the terminal my former trick was giving me the hairy eyeball, but didn’t recognize me---thank god. He actually looks almost the same, just 25 years older.
On a sad note, John-John, aka Bush Bunny committed suicide by hanging himself in Griffith Park near one of John Rechy’s baby oiled leaves. Bush Bunny was named as such for the many times he was arrested for public sex in the parks of LA and Ventura County and was a mainstay of Ventura’s Wilde Planet crowd----Dora, Boofy St. Marie, Helen Bed of Retail Slut, Mrs. Jeff Burroughs and Mark Maxwell. Bush Bunny was also apart of the Amoeba Records and Filmworks collective that also included Keith Holland and Quasi O’Shea. My favorite memory of Bush was when he fell out of a tree in West Hollywood’s Blow Job Park performing fellatio on someone. He was always a happy-go-lucky hornpig, but the hardknock quality that is LA and the gay world finally proved to be his undoing.
My gorgeous pal, the writer and global editrix Glenn Belverio pays homage to Hindi heartthrob Hrithik Roshan on A Shaded View on Fashion:
http://dianepernet.typepad.com/diane/2006/06/while_the_rest_.html
Mr. Roshan has become the Bollywood Superman, and speaking of Super Sperm-man I guess I should mention something about the films that I’ve seen in the last few months. I’m not really a film reviewer, sure I’m sent invites to private screenings and also videotape screeners. I do have a reputation as a tastemaker, and some people take all that so seriously, which of course I don’t. But since I enjoy getting all the delicious Star Jonesian swag, I’d better return the favour and write something.
First of all Superman Returns, directed by my former f*ck buddycan Miss Bryan Singer, one sloppy bottom who always forgets to douche. All that money$ involved and the flick is dullardsville. Loved Sings "Apt Pupil"
and The Usual Suspects. I also enjoyed his Mutant flickers as pure mindless entertainment, but this installation of Superman is only exciting when Marlon Brando’s image and voice is heard, and when your best performance is from someone who is dead, your movie is in trouble. Young beauty Brandon Routh has potential and otherworldly green screen matinee idol looks. They shouldn’t have photoshopped his bulge away, it would have given the proceedings some spark.
The Devil Wears Prada is bright and breezy. After seeing this film and Prairie Home Companion I now adore Meryl Streep. I use to hate her, and Miss Hathaway should star as a young Judy Garland in a film biopic. Considering this is a movie about fashion, Pat Fields clothes are all wrong-----way too cabaret-ish.
The brilliant British girl who plays the second assistant was the only character dressed appropriately.
And my horndoggedy pal Larry Clark scores high with Wassup Rockers. The main latin boyganza Jonathan Vasquez is mighty fine, ---a nice package in those stovepipe jeans, with a sizzlean musical score of south central punk bands.
I hate comedians and though I find him somewhat of an asphalt cutie, Adam Sandler is a deeply disturbed humanoid. His starring vehicle Click attests to that. It tries to be all sentimental at the end, but that is only masking some excrement that is beyond ill, something tells me that Mr. Sandler, like most comics is on the verge of committing suicide. Someone needs to intervene.
I love chunky Jack Black and really enjoyed Nacho Libre, which obviously he stole the idea from seeing one of Michele Carr of the Velvet Hammer’s Lucha VaVoom spectacles. Now Jack Black is what Adam Sandler wishes he was, but he’ll never be.
And did I mention how much I enjoyed the sexy Korean thriller Typhoon? The lead actors are two of the yummiest Asian men. How I’d like to munch on there fresh dugouts. That brings me to Lower City from Brazil’s Sergio Machada (Madame Sata) and the beautiful bodies of Alice Braga(Sonja’s niece) smoldering jubas Lazaro Ramos and lovesexy bubble butt Wagner Moura. And I cried when Antony sang in the Leonard Cohen docu-musical I’m Your Man.
At the airport I ran into an old dinge queen trick from the early 80s. The only reason I recognized him was that he still dresses the same. The man is British, wears big red framed Sally Jessy Raphael eye glasses and matching red canvas shoes. When I met him he was in his early 30s, skinny with male pattern baldness. He looked a little bit like Keith Haring crossed with a goofy Colin Firth. I wasn’t attracted to him, but he pursued me heavily which is always a turnon for me. He was actually cheating on his boyfriend with me. His lover was the TV actor Ernest Thomas who played Raj on the ABC black sitcom What’s Happening. He was always ragging on his lover, who he supported financially, and also his lover’s mother, who lived in South Central LA. I laughed out loud when I found out that Ernest Thomas was such a snippy snow and status queen that he refused to go south of Wilshire or east of LaBrea. At the terminal my former trick was giving me the hairy eyeball, but didn’t recognize me---thank god. He actually looks almost the same, just 25 years older.
On a sad note, John-John, aka Bush Bunny committed suicide by hanging himself in Griffith Park near one of John Rechy’s baby oiled leaves. Bush Bunny was named as such for the many times he was arrested for public sex in the parks of LA and Ventura County and was a mainstay of Ventura’s Wilde Planet crowd----Dora, Boofy St. Marie, Helen Bed of Retail Slut, Mrs. Jeff Burroughs and Mark Maxwell. Bush Bunny was also apart of the Amoeba Records and Filmworks collective that also included Keith Holland and Quasi O’Shea. My favorite memory of Bush was when he fell out of a tree in West Hollywood’s Blow Job Park performing fellatio on someone. He was always a happy-go-lucky hornpig, but the hardknock quality that is LA and the gay world finally proved to be his undoing.