Bad:
Good:
I had a nervous breakdown and kind of forgot about this.
I think that from now on I'm going to use this blog as a place to voice my reflections on culture, books, film, music, fashion and art. I will include my own photographs and writing as I see fit.
And what better way to begin this blog anew than by talking about the latest film by my love, Woody Allen?
Yes, he married his adopted Asian almost-stepdaughter. Yes, he has had horrible pit stains on the red carpet. And he's a depressed nebbish. And all of the movies since Match Point were terrible (until now, but we'll get to that).
That said, I love Woody Allen with a deep, unconditional appreciation that stems from being a fellow depressed, sexually frustrated artist who also gets pit stains at inappropriate times, and I tend to go easy on him.
But you need to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona, even though it looks and sounds like an artsy porno (and it's much less racy than it seems, which may be disappointing to some). The plot doesn't look good on paper, so I won't try to go into it, but here are some thoughts:
I'll be very surprised if Penelope Cruz does not get an Oscar nod for her turn as Javier Bardem's homicidal, suicidal, yet somehow still lovable ex-wife.
I don't think Scarlett Johansson is a very good actress, but I really like her for some reason. Plus I relate to her character (Cristina) in this movie a lot.
You can hear Allen's voice in this film clearly. The film has a narrator, which, for some reason, is voiced by some other dude and not by Allen himself, but if you're familiar with Woody Allen movies at all, your brain will just cancel out his voice and stick a Woody recording on the mental turntable. Also, Rebecca Hall, who plays Vicky, really channels Annie Hall-era Allen in her character--she stutters her lines in that way that makes Woody's characters seem insecure, but is actually very sexy on a woman.
Plus, I find the poster to be extremely beautiful and erotic.
I think that from now on I'm going to use this blog as a place to voice my reflections on culture, books, film, music, fashion and art. I will include my own photographs and writing as I see fit.
And what better way to begin this blog anew than by talking about the latest film by my love, Woody Allen?
Yes, he married his adopted Asian almost-stepdaughter. Yes, he has had horrible pit stains on the red carpet. And he's a depressed nebbish. And all of the movies since Match Point were terrible (until now, but we'll get to that).
That said, I love Woody Allen with a deep, unconditional appreciation that stems from being a fellow depressed, sexually frustrated artist who also gets pit stains at inappropriate times, and I tend to go easy on him.
But you need to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona, even though it looks and sounds like an artsy porno (and it's much less racy than it seems, which may be disappointing to some). The plot doesn't look good on paper, so I won't try to go into it, but here are some thoughts:
I'll be very surprised if Penelope Cruz does not get an Oscar nod for her turn as Javier Bardem's homicidal, suicidal, yet somehow still lovable ex-wife.
I don't think Scarlett Johansson is a very good actress, but I really like her for some reason. Plus I relate to her character (Cristina) in this movie a lot.
You can hear Allen's voice in this film clearly. The film has a narrator, which, for some reason, is voiced by some other dude and not by Allen himself, but if you're familiar with Woody Allen movies at all, your brain will just cancel out his voice and stick a Woody recording on the mental turntable. Also, Rebecca Hall, who plays Vicky, really channels Annie Hall-era Allen in her character--she stutters her lines in that way that makes Woody's characters seem insecure, but is actually very sexy on a woman.
Plus, I find the poster to be extremely beautiful and erotic.
On a different note, I watched the film version of Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel, one of my absolute favorite books.
It wasn't good. Christina Ricci is lovely, but she comes off as extremely shrill and bratty. I doubt there is a way to make an accurate film from Wurtzel's book--three quarters of it takes place in the Hell of Wurtzel's own mind. So don't see the movie. Read the book!!
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