Yesterday evening, Rain brought myself, Tabby, and Mrs. Meyers’ mom to see the musical Evita! It was a great deal of fun getting ready for the event. I like dressing up and trying to look pretty. I have a pantsuit that I like quite a bit and paired it with a glittery top that has gold in it but I tried not to hold that against it. Unfortunately, because of the top choice, I couldn’t wear my favorite black and white pumps. But it did give me the opportunity to wear some BDSM inspired boots. Added some bling. Haha, yeah, cannot believe I typed that either. Because of the top I wore, I couldn’t wear some of my wonderful necklaces but I think my ability to wear seven earrings helped make up for it. I also got to do a five-strand braid with the tail made into a knot at my nape. Then got to play with some make-up…. Alright went a little too long on about my look but now I’m about to go on about Mrs. Meyers’s mom.

 

L looked fabulous. Mrs. Meyers cut her mom’s hair the day before and I love it! I was a little bit jealous of it too. It was only yesterday that I got the wild urge to cut my hair down to a longer bob. Not that I’m upset with my long hair. I love to braid it and it’s fabulous. But I do miss having a cut little bob that does that bouncy thing when I shake my head. It was nice being able to work on L’s new do. It was also fun being able to play with her make-up. She was also the only one of us to wear a dress. So woohoo.

 

Rain and Tabby looked fabulous too, of course. But I think going on with the shot by shot of our getting-ready process is boring and I’m sure everyone has forgotten the first sentence of this post already.

 

Btw, it was: Yesterday evening, Rain brought myself, Tabby, and Mrs. Meyers’ mom to see the musical Evita!

 

Now, I must tell you how much I love Evita. A lot. I love it a lot. Ever since I saw it as a 10 year old girl, I’ve just loved everything about this movie. The music! The lyrics! The cinematography! The dancing! Antonio Banderas! Ooh, I just love it all. I soon had the entire soundtrack (which is pretty much the entire movie) on tape and listened to it constantly. Then I got it on CD and DVD. I know the entire movie by heart. Random Irony: Don’t Cry for Me Argentina is probably one of my least favorite songs from the entire movie and seeing it on stage has made that even truer.

 

So Rain and I were looking through the city’s list of theatrical offerings and she came across Evita. I might’ve squeed a little. I’m not sure because I think my mind went black at the mention. I just shut down. Yes, I have loved Evita that much and for that long.

 

I’ve seen the Broadway show on TV and the internet a couple times. Not the entirety. Just little snippets here and there. Strangely, I wasn’t impressed. I understand that what makes a movie so special might not be there on stage. And visa-versa. But was I going to turn down an opportunity to see the show? Hell no! And Rain is just the most amazingest person in my life ever and this just proves it again. I love you, Rain. I really do. Not just for the Evita thing, but god it helps!

 

When we got there, I started to actually wrap my head around the fact that I was going to see Evita in a new way but still based in what I loved. I was just so excited by the idea of that! By the time that BMW or Lexus woman was on the stage (announcing how BMW or Lexus or some other richie rich car company cared about the community and was sponsoring this show to the richie rich part of the community), I didn’t hear a word she said. Thank god, I’m not their market audience anyways.

 

Then the show began! I might’ve cried a little bit. I really had to fight hard to keep those tears back. Not only because it’d be embarrassing but it’d be really hard to watch the show while crying! My first thought was: This is THEBESTESTTHINGEVER!!!!! Yes, with five exclamation marks. The singing! Damn, this was how chorus members were supposed to sound! The music made my skin shiver and the lyrics (even in Spanish.) were just as strong. Che was great. He was a strong presence who did a good job filling Antonio’s boots without just copying his performance.

 

I wasn’t impressed with Evita’s first appearance but I was open to be proved wrong. I was never proved absolutely wrong but I did come out thinking she wasn’t too bad. They did a very good job at getting the story started and capturing a lot of the things that I didn’t think they’d be able to get across on the stage just because of the restrictions inherent in the medium. The dancing was really very good. The lighting was great and powerful though anyone with any type of seizure disorder wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it.

 

Rain said she had some difficulty understanding what was being said. I was struck by how much the actors were pronouncing all the words. They seemed to be dotting all their I’s and crossing all their t’s. Of course, a lot of it was being sung so I’m sure it was more difficult because of that. Also, Rain has never seen the movie and I know it by heart. Even then, there were some times where I had trouble understanding what they were saying. Of course those were in the scenes or songs that weren’t in the movie. It seemed to be when the singer didn’t pace him/herself properly and didn’t have the right amount of breath or at the end, where they were obviously starting to get a little tired.

 

There was one new scene in particular that couldn’t have been used in the movie because it’s so classic theatre but it was just great. It involved Peron and other political figures playing musical chairs in rocking chairs. I really loved this. It had humor and got across perfectly what it was meant to (the scramble for the top chair by a group of individuals whose alliances changed moment to moment) even while doing something that would never be accepted in movies but was fabulous on stage. I could watch this scene again and again. Maybe because it was one of my favorite little lines from the movie that was an entire song.

            “One always picks

            The easy fight.

            One praises fools,

            One mother’s light.

            One shifts

            Left to Right.

            Politics

            The Art

            Of the Possible!”

 

Yes, I did just type that up from memory. Because I love it that much.

 

Soon upon this giddiness of new interpretation was the scene of Evita meeting Peron. At first, I was unimpressed. I thought it was a rather important scene because these are the major players of the entire story. But they seemed to just have Evita standing next to Peron and Peron standing next to Evita. Singing. However, it redeemed itself towards the end. It had Peron walking away from Evita and continuing to shmooze while watching her out of the corner of his eye. One of his top soldier guys walks past her, obviously interested. She ignores him. That’s when Peron comes back and is serious about her “preposition.” Obviously, he was testing her to make sure she didn’t jump just any man in a high ranking uniform. That had its own charm and I really appreciated it.

 

Another thing I found pretty amusing about this scene was that it started in the scene that in the movie had Peron throwing a fundraising event for the victims of an earthquake. There was a shot in the movie that had him at the mic and he’s preaching about having “The People” finally running the government. It was supposed to be ironic since he’s preaching to the very rich people of Argentina. People already running things, obviously. And at this point in the show, I was just smirking to myself since I was sitting in a version of that audience right then. And the main character of this movie is screeching out “Screw the middle class! I will never accept them!” Meanwhile, a very great deal of this audience for the show was solidly middleclass. For god’s sake, a woman from BMW or whatever introduced this movie! It was very amusing to me to be sitting in that audience for that play at those times. It’s still hilarious.

 

I loved the chorus throughout this entire show. They did a great job with getting across the feeling of being a larger group. The movie showed huge overshots of hundreds of people in one place. This small chorus was able to get that across very well. I did enjoy little things like the mistress Evita throws out of Peron’s bed soon after their meeting. They had this mistress singing the song “What happens now?” which in the movie was mostly Evita’s song. But really the lyrics of this song was much more suited to the woman who is more beaten down by the world and not aiming too high.

            “I don’t expect

my love affairs

            To last

            For long.

            Never fool myself

            That my dreams

            Can come true.

            Being used to trouble

            I anticipate it.

            But all the same

            I hate it.

            Wouldn’t you?”

Yes, by having that pushed-aside mistress singing this instead of Evita, it showed the difference between the women who often lined these men’s bed and Evita, who made something of it.

 

I also really liked how this show did a better job at illustrating Evita being so popular because she represented what the workingman/woman dreamed of making themselves. For example, Peron and the men working for him took off their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and said they were ordinary men. Meanwhile, Evita came up to the mic with a full ballgown and jeweled choker. Both represented what the commonman/woman saw in this power couple. I remember during a scene where Che is singing about Evita being High, Flying, Adored. There was a little extra (could it have been the same actress playing the mistress?) who had helped Evita out of her ballgown. While Che and Evita sang, the little extra hugged that ballgown to herself and was obviously dreaming about wearing it herself, about being the woman on that podium, about being Evita. That was a great little moment. This show did a very good job at incorporating the feel of Argentina political turmoil throughout the whole thing. I loved how they often showed real photographs above the scene. However, the last half of the show felt a bit sloppy. Like it was unsure how to wrap things up.

 

The movie did a good job because they really linked the beginning of the show (big funeral scene) with the end. Classic story arc and it worked really well in the movie. I think they probably should’ve done that here. Evita’s illness and decline made me more uncomfortable than sympathetic or particularly moved. She was hunched over and moved like an old woman. I suppose they felt this was the only way to get across the extent of Evita’s illness. But it pretty much just made the actress look like she pulled a muscle or was constipated. In fact, at the end of a scene with Che where she stumbles away and is supposed to fall while the stage goes to black, her shoes must have squeeked on themselves or something. It sounded like a fart and right on that constipated stomach hold, made me roll my eyes. I think the extent of her illness could’ve been better portrayed with far less. Considering the exuberance and high-power that Evita ran across the stage (and life) with, she could’ve gotten across the same thing with just the absence of that spirit. I suppose, I could’ve enjoyed the second half more with a different actress.

 

Sadly, I really was mentally urging Evita to die sooner to put the actress out of her misery. Again, the chorus and Che was great. But in this instant they were great despite the mess going on onstage. Peron was pretty good. Definitely played second fiddle to Evita and Che but he as a character was really supposed to do that. He seemed to have a little bit of a darker edge to him and I liked it. At one point, he was somewhat flirtatious with one of the women on his lap (that were supposed to be young, perhaps early teen?). Usually, for me darker is better and I think that helped his character stand out at certain moments.

 

In the end, I think the show went too far trying to get across the history and not enough taking into account the format of the story. At the end, Rain turned to me and asked, “Was that the end?” The fact that she had to ask that at all (and I took a moment to be certain for myself) says a great deal.

 

It was really a very good show that made a great movie and would perhaps make a great show on the right nights with the right actors. Am I happy that I saw it? Most certainly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t write up such a long review of what I thought about it. I want to preserve the memory of the entire experience. That’s what really made this show great to me; the entirety of the experience. Alone, it was probably a very good show that did a great job at using new ideas and perspectives on the stage even while falling to some very old and familiar pitfalls.

 

I really loved going to see this show and would definitely be up for seeing it again. Of course, I still look forward to watching the movie with Rain so that she can have the chance to see it a little bit like I do. Thank you, Rain, for bringing me to see a new take on one of my all-time favorites!

This week I have finished two books:

 

 

And

 

 

I would recommend both so I thought I'd give a short review to both of them. I tried not to be so specific as to give spoilers. Both are nonfiction, which is common for my reading material. It's very strange. I only write fiction, yet I tend to read non-fiction. I suppose it's because I like to learn something from my reading. Both reviews were written rather quickly and are meant to get across the tone of the book and my general thoughts on it.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Review of:

Self-Made Man

One Woman’s Year Disguised as a Man

By Norah Vincent

 

This is one of three books that I bought while visiting Powell’s New and Used Books in Portland. Strangely enough, all three books I picked up while in the Women’s Studies room. Strange because I’m one of those people who are usually repelled by the misandry so commonly prevalent in Women’s Studies. However, I came across three books that called to me anyway. One was Self-Made Man.

 

The concept: To better understand how society (both on a larger and smaller scale) react differently to someone who appears to be a man as compared to someone who appears a woman. The author accomplished this by a rather carefully constructed disguise of a masculine counterpart, Ned Vincent. Now, Norah/Ned is neither transgendered nor transexual so this book is not about living out a need to be a man. It was about a woman adopting the disguise of a man and putting herself in various locations and situations to learn and observe.

 

How could a concept like that not catch you?

 

Some of my reservations were nullified by reading the first chapter, “Getting Started.” Right off the bat, she admitted the facts that she was not a scientist nor unbiased, these were her impressions of her experience being received as a man and not as being a man, and that she was quite aware of the moral murkiness she entered with the deception required in the project. I respected that and it helped me not feel so defensive of the people she was purposefully deceiving. There were still times that I didn’t agree with how she acted but I do believe that she never acted with purposeful maliciousness.

 

All the chapters were broken up into certain experiences so that, though they connected with the larger picture, they could be read and taken on their own. They also were mostly chronological so as Norah/Ned got deeper and deeper into it, so did the reader.

 

I enjoyed the different situations into which she put Ned. For the first, she joined a Bowling Team and explored friendship as a man with men. Secondly, she investigated Strip Clubs and the sexual culture as a man. Followed by dating as a man, joining a monastery for several weeks as a man, working as a man, and finally joining a men’s movement group. Though I may have had favorite chapters, all of these experiences offered invaluable insights into American Men’s Culture vs American Women’s Culture. Often, I was struck with surprise by how often Norah/Ned admitted to her previous prejudices or misconceptions even while relating her new insights.

 

However, though I admired her willingness to look at her own expectations alongside those of society and individual people at large, there were several points where I disagreed with her tactics. At first, I was deeply surprised that she ever intended to tell those she fooled of her deceptions. At the end of each encounter, when she decided to reveal herself for the woman she was, it felt to me more like a child who jumps out from the bushes nearly scaring the daylights out of you but instead of apologizing for the trauma it caused you yells, “I got you! I got you! Did I scare you? You didn’t see me, did you? I hid really good, huh? You didn’t see that coming, did you? Did you?” Overall, the revealing seemed more for her benefit than the benefit of those she duped. She fully admitted each time to fears of receiving their anger for her deception but it wasn’t until much further along into the experiment and book that she began to understand the response that would’ve nurtured anger.

 

Embarrassment.

 

It was very unfortunate how she underestimated this emotion and her subject’s innate right to it from the beginning. Perhaps that was her greatest failing at the outset of the experiment, to take into consideration the feelings of men, but that was also her greatest lesson learned by the end.

 

Self-Made Man was a compelling study demonstrating that walking a mile (or year) in another person’s shoes not only gives revelations about the goods and bads of others, but also one’s self. Not only would I recommend this book to those interested in reading the initial premise of a woman infiltrating and learning the secrets of men, but I also recommend it for what it reveals about the original woman and women in relation to men as a whole.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Review of:

Brothel

Mustang Ranch and Its Women

By Alexa Albert

 

Warning for sexual explicitness. Of course.

 

This is another of the books that I picked up in the Women’s Studies room of Powell’s in Portland. It was a short distance down the aisle from Self-Made Man and its initial premise captured me as surely as the other book.

 

The concept: A Harvard medical student is granted access to one of Nevada’s legal brothels, Mustang Ranch. Initially, she only pursued a three week study investigating the condom practices that has led to the precedent that not one single, legal prostitute in had HIV in the history of testing, spanning back to 1986. Once granted access, a very uncommon thing for squares (those outside the brothel life), the study grew beyond its original concept. What she found was a horde of social issues never investigated in such a manner. Over a course of many years, Alexa Albert returned to Mustang Ranch to observe and learn. Along the way, she made friends and was faced with conflicting feelings over the pros and cons of legalized prostitution.

For the first 100 pages or so, I wondered if it was a good or bad thing that I had read Self-Made Man before this book. Brothel barely touched on the men affected by the brothels and then only in a rather shallow manner through stories from the girls or the outside observations of the author between when they arrived and were brought back to a prostitute's room. It was difficult for me to automatically look down on these men with so little effort being put into exploring them beyond a shallow level. Perhaps that was one manner in which I thought the author took the easy route. However, in a study, one often has to draw the boundaries. Her study was of life inside the brothel, so I can’t quite blame her for not putting as much energy into exploring the men that patronized it. Though I do believe she had a predisposition to look down upon the men, for the most part I believe she did a good job of restraining herself from expressing that in the book.

 

At some points, I think she took advantage of her status as an intellectual observer to satisfy her curiosity. I do not believe it was strictly necessary for her to sit in on two separate parties (servicing of a client). As someone in the medical field, her scientific license (kin to artistic license) gave her freedom of exploring how their safe sex practices left them with negligible STD rates.  However, I don’t see how her observing these two parties brought her any new medical knowledge. Each time, she entered after the men had already gone through the process of the prostitute washing his groin and checking him for signs of STDs. The first party she dropped in on was of a man getting anally penetrated by one of the prostitutes wearing a strap on. The prostitutes really had negligible opportunities for contracting STDs in that instance. So, in neither of the instances was she able to observe how thorough and astute the women were in one of two practices having to do with disease protection. The second was a more common half and half (oral and vaginal). This did allow her to see the prostitute apply the condom. However, she had already examined the condoms in her first stay for the rate of holes and had been told by the prostitutes themselves how they were applied. So in these cases, though I believe in some ways it was enlightening to see what went on behind closed doors (nothing outright surprising), I believe her observer excuse was just that, an excuse for her curiosity.

 

I really enjoyed reading about the women themselves, how they interacted with each other, and how they interacted with the staff. It was amazing to see the restrictions put on these women. For example, the bedrooms they slept in and the bathrooms they used as their own, they also had to use for their clients. They were also hired as “Independent Contractors” so that the brothels did not have to give them such things as health insurance. Their split with the brothel they worked in was 50-50. And they had to pay a fee for room and boarding per day (though this was also their work room) and also a fee ($3 a day per) for each of the staff. They had to buy their own clothes, their own make-up, their own products. They had to pay out of their pocket for their scheduled tests and examinations. During the time they worked at the brothel, sometimes 5 days on with a couple days off and sometimes 3 weeks on with 1 week off, they were not allowed to leave the brothel compound without permission and an escort. Though this was the restriction put on them (even as “Independent Contractors”) they had to pay their escort 5 – 10$ for each run. Then there were the cabbies. Legally, brothels are not allowed to advertise. So, they created an agreement with the cabbies. When they brought in a client, they got 20%, 10% from the prostitute’s cut and 10% from the brothel’s. Some brothels make the prostitutes pay for each individual meal, all their condoms, all their lubricant . . . Essentially, the prostitutes seem to be making a lot of money but are being nickel-and-dimed to death. The brothels also still encouraged the prostitutes to have their own individual pimps.

 

This pimp was called in to deal discipline when the brothel found a girl unruly. The pimps also encouraged the girls to work longer and for higher prices than they otherwise would on their own. Consequently, many of the girls ended up having stories about money lost to pimps who contracted them out to brothels. Often, the pimp would have several girls working away in the brothels at a time, staggering their schedules so they only returned home when the others were away. While all a pimp's prostitutes were away, he’d seduce more to send off to the brothels.

 

Alongside the tales of how the prostitutes were being taken advantage of, the author also wrote of how the brothels allowed the girls to build a sisterhood and a security away from the pitfalls of hookers out on the streets. Brothel does an excellent job of illustrating the pros and cons, the legalities and moral questions of legal prostitution. During the course of the book, surprisingly little is actually spent on the classic question of “How did a girl like you end up in a place like this?” It certainly has its tales of women sent into prostitution by husbands, lovers, and other family members. Overall, each prostitute worked out of a desperation for money and security. However, the majority of the book delved into the relationships and competition established (or not) between and amongst the prostitutes, the community, and the men in both. Brothel gives the reader a pass into the often shrouded personal lives of legal prostitutes. I’d certainly recommend this book to anyone looking to expand their understanding of the complexities of self and society involved in selling the body.

 

 

  

Alright and if you'd prefer to see a movie with Morgan LeFay and some magic, I'd recommend this TV movie.

I know my favorite character in that should be Morgaine (Julianna Margulies):

 

 

But my favorite of that movie is Anjelica Huston's character. I love Anjelica Huston. I want to be Anjelica Huston. Her father was an asshole but everything Anjelica Huston does is absolutely wonderful. She's just all around awesome. She's my Cher, but elegant. Meaning she will be awesomeness and elegance forever. I kid you not. I love that woman. And I could see myself making the decisions she did in The Mists of Avalon as Viviane, the Lady of the Lake:

 

I just did not like Gwenwyfar (Samantha Mathis). I know she was supposed to be a good person. But she was one of those naive type of "Good People" who I avoid in real life because they are no fun or just plain annoying in their "Goodness."

I was rather disappointed with King Arthur (Edward Atterton) in that too. He seemed a lot less of a visionary and charismatic than I usually portray Arthur as in my mind. It could have just been my impression. A lot more things seemed to happen TO him than HIM making happen:

 

 

Overall, even the characters I didn't like, it was plainly personal. The story was very good. I like the variety of characters. The story was very tragic and even the Roman Catholic Church does not like the ending, I did. I definitely would recommend it. But I'm sure most of my friends have seen it. However, here's a little music video put to the relationship between Morgaine and Viviane. It's a great video and wonderful song. Not made by me:

 

 

First Knight is a far superior film about King Arthur.

 

 

 

So, I was looking through my pictures a couple minutes ago to look for the ones I'd wish to put in the last post. I came across this icon and it reminded me of my review of the movie King Arthur. And I decided I'd post this icon and the review of King Arthur. Plainly because it's nice revisiting funny memories. And I can do more things with the review in vox. Spoiler Warning. Here's the Icon:

 

You Suck and Your Romans Suck and Your God Sucks...

And Your Movie Sucks Too!

(Review of King Arthur)

By: S.E.T.

Don’t you hate when you’re really looking forward to something for a long time so it allows for you to build up great expectations and fun anticipation? Like a dance where the guy you went to flirt with doesn’t show up to. Instead, his ugly, misogynistic brother named Bart shows up and still is able to make an ass of you. Even better, it’s like going to the prom with Bart in hopes of seeing his brother but, right before, finding out they weren’t brothers at all. Bart’s brother, the one you dream of sexing up and getting down and dirty with, isn’t Bart’s brother but a secret spy. Not just a secret spy with a big gun and access to all the hidden info (Like is OJ guilty and did Bush really choke to death on a pretzel that horrible Sunday afternoon?), no, he’s a secret Prince of Xlandia that was hiding out with Bart’s family and is now in the next theatre over with Prince William having mad British sex. And you’re stuck in Theatre Nine watching King Arthur.

           

Holy fuck, what did you do to God?

           

Like Prom, it promises to be fun with a whole bunch of strange outfits and glamour and death and horses and British men with big swords and funny accents that aren’t really British at all. And like the Prom, it all ends in tears . . . And blue paint and talking beasts of burden and Merlin who takes the time to speak only to say, “Do you take this man?” and “Do you take this woman?” and “We are united . . .” And YADA YADA YADA. Really, Merlin wouldn’t shut up. Oh, wait, that was my gal pal cracking up beside me.

           

It didn’t start this way. Oh, no. At first, there was still promise of a good time. There was a promise of reason. But the reason really didn’t make any fucking sense at all. It started off with Lancelot, which I really didn’t understand, but –okay- I’m just the viewer who paid way too much for this bullshit and it’s only three minutes in; what do I know anyways? Apparently more than the producers, the directors, the writer, the story boarder . . . Hell, even the gaffer. Of course, they were paid and didn’t have to sit through the whole damn thing. Why the fuck did they start with Lancelot being pulled away from his home? Apparently so that his pappy could tell a really lame story about horses and great warriors that didn’t come in until the last two minutes of the story where these three horses were running across some unidentifiable hill in Ireland through artistically significant mist, no less. Don’t worry though, this was important, because they represented the three knights killed during these huge battle scenes where six people took out legions. Poor . . . Tristan, Lancelot, and . . . Damn, I wish I could remember that last man’s name, because then it probably would’ve been a better movie. So you may be saying, “Well, there’s a whole bunch of knights so if you forgot one that’s ok.” Oh, no, no, my poor friend. No, the movie already started out with most of the knights gone. No, there were only about six or seven left when the movie began. Including Arthur and his horse. Why? I think it’s because they already had too many characters in the movie and there weren’t nearly enough characterization or lines to go around. You see, the writer was paid by the line. And the movie already spent too much on the blue paint. So they had to cut back somewhere. Thus, I remember a handful of names from the movie. Let’s list them, shall we?

 

 

 

Merlin – Blue dude who seemed to forget he was there most the time he was onscreen. At one point, he seemed to want Arthur to kill him. I empathized with this character the most.

 

 

 

Arthur – Duh. The movie’s only named after him. Why, I’m not so sure because it really wasn’t about him. He reminded me too much of the guy who played Sinclair on Babylon Five. Neither could deliver a line but both were able to say nothing and still come off as stupid, idiot, poo-poo heads. But, don’t worry; he was a good Christian-Roman-Irish-something. Come to think about it, for having a bit of everything in him, he really amounted to zip-point-shit. Of course, in the end, he cried because he didn’t die with Lancelot and the other guy whose name still evades me. I cried too.

 

Lancelot – He began the movie and he died. Lucky bastard.

 

 

 

Guinevere- She could’ve been an interesting character. But, alas, no. I swear to god, I still have to pause to remember her name. I think that’s why they kept repeating it over and over whenever she came on, because this woman just does not remind one of the regal Guinevere of legend. In any way. Her clothes seemed in a constant state of abandonment; as if they realized what a horrible movie they were in and were embarrassed that someone they’d know would see them. In the end, they must have abandoned her completely because she was reduced to belts around her nipples and nether regions. Somehow, these belts and body paint repelled blows and winds alike. The feat I was quite in awe of was that they were able to make this beautiful actress look FAT! There was this moment where Lancelot makes reference to there being a lot of lonely men coming after them and she replied, “Don’t worry I won’t let them rape you.” That was great and I actually enjoyed that microsecond, but then she had to go on and be able to do stupid things like have sex with Arthur. Bad sex. Bad cow sex. Bad I’m-going-to-howl-to-the-moon sex. It was horrible. Even worse, it started with this cliché, “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” Hmm . . . there’s a legion of murderous, bad people coming to kill you good people. Hmm . . . hard one. I’d put my money on DEATH! But why not have bad sex with Arthur in the mean time? I mean if you’re going to die tomorrow, might as well numb it today. That girl should not be allowed to have sex ever again. Ever. Never. Just say no. And then she does the killing-kick-ass-warrior-woman routine. She kicks ass making cat noises while wearing belts around her nipples that must be able to cut glass while out on this freezing battlefield. But, woe is me, she goes a little too far and tries to kill the bad guy’s son and gets her ass kicked. However, don’t worry. Good job at trying to take a second class bad guy, here comes Lancelot who has given you the eye while a lady of Rome gave you a bath and somehow gives a fuck about you. Then watch him die later. Grieve. Why? Apparently, Guinevere gives a fuck about Lancelot because she can. Build-up? Relationships? Characterization? What’s that?

 

 

 

Tristan: Christy had a crush on this guy. I think he’s the one that launched an arrow across the whole of a battlefield over a wall into a tree to hit a guy square in the chest hiding in the tree. Legolas couldn’t have made this shot. Does anyone remark on the extraordinary circumstances of this shot? No. He did have a nice hawk. I liked the hawk myself. I don’t think he said much of anything. But no one really did. He dies, Christy cries, the hawk flies away. Woopty-freaking-doo. There was no build-up or characterization for him. The audience had no reason to care when he died. When most of them died, there was no reason to care. On a different note: he had the most amazing cheekbones.

 

 

 

Gawain: Great eyes. Only reason I took note of him is because they used his name wrongly. He was King Arthur’s nephew and the real hero of the whole round table before some brit came up with the idea of Lancelot. I’ve written a character based off Gawain. I changed his name to Gedain. Read my short story Woman of the Night. It’s much better than this movie.

 

Then you have Bad Guy Number One and his son, Bad Guy Number Two. Why are they bad? Because they can be, “Grr!” Then there’s the other knights. One was funny. He had eleven illegitimate children which is funny. Then there’s some Christian dudes. They’re BAD and like to torture LITTLE BOYS and HOT women in BLUE PAINT. The Roman Catholic Church is investigating how they found out about Ash Wednesday’s secret rites. Then there’s a boy who somehow develops affection for the first knight to die. I remember neither of their names. But they really didn’t say anything so who cares. Then there’s the needed short, fat, evil, rich Roman guy and his son who is apparently really important but the only time he spoke it was just to say, “It’s okay you killed my dad.” I love his voice. It wasn’t British but, god, that boy could talk all day and I’d listen. He had a pretty mom but she didn’t say anything and I suspect they put her in just to pout and give Guinevere a sponge bath because Roman, noble women give savage peasants sponge baths. Lastly, there’s the legions of people put there just to die and they played their parts the best.

 

The movie was all about balance. I think there were about ten separate battle scenes and about ten separate lines of dialogue. See? Balance. It’s a Buddha thing.

 

And it’s all tied up in the end by a voice over. I must suspect that they realized what a horrible movie this was because they started the movie with a written semi-explanation but by the end they knew that all who had wits were so dulled so as not to see straight. The director was so considerate and in response put that voice over in for his unsuspecting vict– err . . . movie goers. But could he leave it at that? Oh, no, my fine feathered feline. He had to throw in three horses. Two black ones and one white one. Why not all black or all white? I have no fucking idea. However, with the horses, it appeared that the galloping animals were actually giving the voice over and the nostalgia was complete.

 

With “Willll-Burrr” on my tongue and tears in my eyes, I was allowed to leave Theatre Nine and walk the red carpet of shame to the front desk where I was terribly tempted to demand my money back. Or at least ask for tickets to Theatre Eight where the Prince of Xlandia and Prince William got a standing ovation. Apparently they had animals too. It’s a British thing. This is where Bart would grab your ass and ask if Guinevere got you hot too. And you realize that . . .yes, yes she did and Bart’s just no longer your type. The secret goals of the Hollywood  elite have been accomplished: you have the hots for blue paint and belts. You little masochist you.

 

 

Here is a video that is better than the movie but of course, it captures some of the moments I told you about.