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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

SYNARCHIST ENEMIAS
I hate when publicists bug me about when I'm going to write about their movies. I see a lot of movies, so sometimes it takes me a while---OK? Well to be honest I had forgotten about Shadowboxer, starring Tom Cruises #2 dinge dream,Cuba Gooding Jr. and the amazing Helen Mirren who I’ve loved since she was in Roman Polanski’s brilliant screen version of MacBeth. This nutters film seems to be influenced by David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence. Its not as good as that movie, but its not a bad film either. I loved the May/Octoberfest sex scenes between Mirren and fat tittied, bubble butt Gooding Jr and the Feb/August fornicating of Gordon-Leavitt and comedienne Mo’nique, plus that full condom frontal of Stephen Dorff.
The Francoise Ozon film Time to Leave features the stunning Melvil Poupoud (who was so underused in the American film Le Divorce) and the ageless wonder that is acting royal Jeanne Moreau. The best scene is when Mr. Poupoud and his rather plithy member, mount and plow his young androgynous lover----yummy.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

MENDACITY IN THE AIR
One of my oldest and dearest friends, and sister of the clothe Glenn Belverio has written a dazzling new tome, Confessions From the Velvet Ropes about New York’s top doorman Thomas Onorato, who use to do the door at Squeezebox at Don Hill’s a place that I performed at with frequency during the 90s. The book is rising on the New York Times best seller list, and is a wonderful summertime read. Glenn Belverio is a geniustrata writer and wit, and all his charms are reflected in this sensational book. All the tired club owners of Los Angeles need to heed what is written in Confessions. Especially these spurious types like Sam Nazarian with his partner Brett Bolthouse, that think just because they have oodles of money that makes them arbiters of taste and style. Well it doesn’t. If I read another article about this Nazarian character where it says he’s 31 years old, I’m good to vomit. The man doesn’t look a day over 50. And with the criteria of these tacky new clubs that cater to this bottle service crap of people paying gabs of money for expensive alcohol---the ultimate of tired. I guess one has to thank the ostentatiousness of the rap and hip hop scene for ushering that into play. True hip clubs as Belverio makes clear, and any one who has been to my events knows, involves selecting patrons based on their personal style, overall originality, quirky beauty, alluring ugliness, or interesting work credentials.
So go to Amazon.com and order your copy of Glenn’s book before I finish this sentence.