NETFLIX QUICK PIX!!!

MAD MEN

This is one of those shows that EVERYONE is talking about, and EVERYONE kept telling me I had to watch because it was SO Craig. Well, everyone is right. I do love this show. Unfortunately, since I REFUSE to pay for cable because the rates are ridiculous, and , like, who the hell needs a zillion channels of nothing-ever-on?! So, for that reason, I wait for things to come out on NETFLIX. At least I can have some semblance of control over my TV watching, rather than sitting through endless hours of The Cooking Channel or wishing the John Wayne Marathon was OVER on TCM.

But. I digress.

I'm not going to go into a bunch of long winded reasons why the show is so great. Oh, the attention to detail is astounding and the writing is swell and JON HAMM could share a bunk with me any day. I heart him. But I will say that this show reminds me of my "Duck and Cover" childhood, my grandparent's membership to an exclusive country club, where, you guessed it, those colored folks could only work. (My grandmother, Loyce, was pretty shocked that my best friend in HS was one of THOSE.) For me, with my love for the Atomic Age, the nifty ads and the oh, so cool clothes....well. I have LPs simply because of the cover art, and not what's on the album itself.

MAD MEN is apparently going through some sort of classic CAA greed-a-thon which could probably bring the show to it's knees before it even got off the ground. But c'est la vie. I can watch old Donna Reed re-runs and still be happy as a pig in shit.

Check out this link for more on the pissing contest:

http://www.deadlinehollywooddaily.com/lionsgate-must-be-staffed-by-mad-men

Deanna Durbin was one of Hollywood's biggest stars in her day, neatly making a transition from "child star" (she was almost 15 when she started) to adult. No one knows who the hell she is today, or why she ditched the scene at 27 and fled to the French Countryside. But her films still endure. IT STARTED WITH EVE is a happy little movie that features Durbin in one of her adult roles. Playing a hat-check girl thrown into a situation she wasn't expecting, Durbin sings, flirts, acts silly, then sorta angry, then gets the guy (Robert Cummings) in the end. It's formulaic but it sure as heck is great to watch her and Charles Laughton trying to upstage one another. Frankly, Durbin has a little bit of that spunk that we now think of as Doris Day-itis. Durbin is cheerful to a fault and gets just about as angry as Day do. Errr. Does. You could pretty much call her a precursor to Day, if you want to.

Anyone who reads this blog knows I am purposefully NOT political here. I don't really want to bother with it, especially now that I've voted and sent what little cash I could to OBAMA. However, if you really want to run the gamut and read a spectacularly well written rant (along with other entertaining tid bits), check out DEREK'S BIG FAT DEMOCRATIC ADVENTURE by clicking on the link on the side bar. Not only is Derek my OLDEST friend (he's the one Loyce was so appalled by) but he's also turning out some really interesting posts.

Humorous, charming, and angry as he wants to be.

All TOO Derek.

Let's hate him.

NETFLIX QUICK PIX!!!

THE NAKED KISS

OK, sometimes you feel like a really great baaaaad movie, be it some Lana Turner weepie or a sudsy made for TV biopic. But every so often, when you least expect it, you come across something at the local library that leaves you aghast.

Directed by Sam Fuller, and made for about $37.49 in 1964, THE NAKED KISS has everything you could want in bad movie fare. In a mere 90 minutes you get prostitution, deformed kids, weird musical numbers, bad acting, and, of course, The Naked Kiss. And that kiss is a wow. Starring Constance Towers (Mrs. John Gavin) and nobody in particular, this film opens (pre-credits) with a woman beating the hell out of a man with a stiletto heel. Though he has more than 800 bucks on him, she politely takes what's coming to her...75. (Oh, did I mention that he reaches up to pull her hair and IT COMES OFF?! revealing that she's BALD?!) Credits roll, with Towers reapplying make up and reattaching hair beneath. You can tell this is going to be good. It is. From the time Kelly (spelled "K-E-double L-Y") breezes into a perfect town, with a valise of ANGEL FOAM (a pricey champagne at $10) and meets up with a really cheap version of Jack Webb (if there is such a thing) copper. Now, he won't have any prostitution on his beat, though he does fork over to sample her wares. Then he suggests she make it over state lines to CANDY'S, a tavern with liquor and bon-bons named Marshmallow and Hat Rack (everyman wants to hang his fedora on her) served up for masculine pleasure. But meandering through a nice suburban neighborhood Kelly comes upon a sign. "PLEASANT ROOM TO RENT." Kelly smiles, and soon the room is hers, and the next thing you know, she's working in the local hospital, blithely teaching kids to walk. But not before she goes over to settle a score with Candy, thereby beating the hell out of Virginia Grey (former MGM starlet turned everybody's best gal pal turned, well) with her clutch. I do so love accessories as weapons, don't you? Then Kelly shambles into a relationship with the town benefactor, played by a really cheap version of (insert any swarthy heartthrob of the era here) suddenly finding herself engaged. Oh the joy! Bye bye Nurse K-E-double L-Y, hello town benefactress. Naturally, swarthy fiance has a secret, and this one is a doozy. Sordid, lurid and an utter delight. I couldn't stop gaping at this one. Only Charles Busch could pull off a remake.

Oh, did I mention that future Russ Meyer girl Edy Williams makes a cameo?

Speaking of Edies. Edie Adams finally kicked the bucket. The last of the Great Broads died on October 16th. Formerly Mrs. Ernie Kovacks and star of stage and screen, she was one of those gals you thought would go on forever. And she will, as the Fairy God Dame in the original Cinderella starring Julie Andrews (available on DVD).

Also starring Julie Andrews: VICTOR/VICTORIA. Take away my Gay Card when I admit this: I have never liked this movie. It has to do with some psychological damage done by my first boyfriend, who I had the misfortune to see this movie with in theaters YEARS ago. I've always associated this flick with VAUGHN (I used to be a felon but it was white collar crime so it doesn't count) WELTY, so I've never been able to sit through it again. However, I'm a sucker for Special Features, and when I noticed on the back that there was a commentary track with Andrews and hubby Blake Edwards, I thought, hell. There's nothing else on the library shelf. What a pleasant surprise. I started with the audio commentary, got about 15 minutes into it (Blake's had more lucid years, I'm sure), switched off the track, and watched the damn thing and enjoyed the hell out of it. The finale is classic, looks like an old Carol Burnett episode because Robert Preston LOOKS LIKE he's having a little too much fun in that dress. Sure enough, that scene was done with little rehearsal, and in one take. TOO MUCH.

UNDERSTANDING CATS WITH ROGER TABOR. Well, I didn't really see it, but Gus sat on my lap enraptured. I was laughing at him watching the damn thing, worrying that he'd think my chortling was at him rather than with him. You know how cats are.

Maybe not such a good movie for people.

But your pussy will love it.

MIRACLE DRUG FOR BOOZE HOUNDS???

What in the hell?!

I started this medication over a month ago, and I haven't had that "Omigod! It's almost 7! I better get dressed an run out to a bar before HAPPY HOUR ends!" feeling. Actually, the turning point was when I fell out of a cab, hit the curb, blacked-out and was held hostage in the ER until I could blow better than .18 on a breathalizer. Oh, yeah. That was a turning point. A big one. And after getting firm admonishments and lectures from family (drunkards), friends (lushes) and doctors (shrikes) I decided that I had to do SOMETHING. AA was OUT. I hate those sanctimonious fuckers. And to be quite honest, I had no intention of having someone "sponsor" me through a non-drinking spell. Not only that, if I want to have a fucking drink, I will, just watch me.

The label SOBER is SO not moiself.

The crux is, the Falling Out Of A Cab Story is Craig personified. I came to with more money than I left home with.

Now THAT'S what I call DRINKIN'!!!

My therapist told me about this Campral stuff. My doctor (god love her) wanted to put me on Antibuse, which makes you sick even if you have a mere SIP of a toddie. Like putting a leash on a cat, for chrissake. But my beloved Psychiatrist gave me a prescription to this new medication, and after a couple of weeks, I didn't have the impulsive urge to run out and buy a box of wine to quaff in a night. I actually managed to get through birthday dinner FORTY FIVE sipping cranberry and soda with my Surf n' Turf. My friends were drinking, and I touched nary a drop. I didn't even want to.

Ask anyone who knows me. It's amazing.

Now, I'm not one to lecture anyone about imbibing. But I definitely had a problem. Have, I should say. If I can make it through the HOLIDAYS without sloshing the nogs, awakening to find we have a new president in office, well.

Amazing.

Slightly different note. I went to buy a stamp for my ballot yesterday, and the nice post office lady gave me a Happy Face Sticker because "You won't be getting an I VOTED! sticker." Wasn't that nice? I wore it all day on my forehead.

AWWWWWWW.

CHEERS TO MY FELLOW TIPPLING PIXIES!

MOVIES THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU WANT TO VOTE PRO-CHOICE!!!

Years and years ago, back before the word BLOG became the standard in publishing, my High School pal Derek and I published something called a 'ZINE. Now, for those of you who don't remember such things, it was merely a scant five or so Xeroxed pages stapled together, then distributed, guerilla-style, in a variety of venues where it would garner attention and rankle those that we wanted to irritate (read: the gay community). Titled BUSTER! Derek and I, as co-writers and editors, had a smashing time writing it while drinking Bellinis (Vodka, Orange Juice, and Crushed Clonazapam), howling our asses off in my little apartment in West Hollywood. From the writing, to the printing, to the distribution process, to the invites to parties, oh, we had fun! All done on a word processor, in cut and paste style and financed by a lovely grant from PEN Center USA West, who had no idea what the hell I was going to do with that money. (It was for Fabulous Hell...shameless plug.) Here's a review:

CHEAP FLIX


Don't let Buster Commence!


Tuesday afternoon Buster saw CITIZEN RUTH. For whatever reason, Mirmax (under the Disney umbrella) has chosen to release on limited screens a dead-on satire of our times. NOt to be lofty, but Proust or Camus could not have more succinctly nailed a culture in upheaval.

Laura Dern and a cast of pros (Swoosie Kurtz, Mary Kay Place, Kelly Preston, Burt Reynolds and a resplendent cameo by Tippi Hedren) have given us a relentless spoof of the false piety on both sides of the abortion issue. Example: Ruth Stoops (Dern), paint fume sniffing, pregnant degenerate white trash is taken in by the Baby Savers, whom she finds herself momentarily imprisoned with. Ruth is presented with a choice: Abort the fetus or face hard jail time for Child Endangerment. Have you ever driven by an abortion clinic under siege? Picture 90 minutes of theatrics. Swoosie Kirtz, an undercover spy for pro-choice (with wig and powder-blue polyester pants) kidnaps la Stoops and "fairly" presents the option of choice. However, none is without agenda. Both sides attempt to bribe Stoops with $15,000. Then the ante is upped! A welcome appearance by Diane Ladd as Ruth's mother acidly skewers today's media fixation with the sordid and lurid.

Laura Dern will probably not get so much as a passing nod from THE ACADEMY, but from Buster's perch, this is one of the years five best lead actress performances. Tour de force, as our French friends would say. Rated S for Savvy.


Fun, no?

On a more serious note. Mike Leigh's brilliant film, VERA DRAKE features Imelda Staunton as a lovely little English gal who goes around doing housework, favors for neighbors, sings to herself while darning. She's a jolly woman. Mother of two grown kids, and also anyone in need. Including girls who are in trouble. Never using the word Abortion, Vera just helps start the bleeding with the use of a syringe, cleaning solution and carbolic soap. She doesn't do it for money. She's simply living by her life's calling. Set in post-war England, this sad little tale about a woman with the best intentions will break your heart (providing you have one). Staunton gives an amazing performance, garnering an Oscar nod. The point here is, girls who are in trouble will go on getting out, choice or not.

LOVE WITH A PROPER STRANGER stars Natalie Wood and Steve McQueen as a duo who had a fling on a drunken night. Wood ends up preggers, and seeks out McQueen to help her find someone to help her fix it. Both are at their peak looks-wise, give very strong performances, but the scene where they show up in some abandoned building and meet up with a smarmy couple with frightening instruments to "help get the bleeding started" is enough of an example to anyone who wants to outlaw what is a womans right.

The right to choose.

And not die in some dank alley.

NETFLIX QUICK PIX!!!

THREE STINKERS AND A PEARL
OR HOW NETFLIX CAN FUCK UP YOUR WEEKEND

Well, as can sometimes happen, just as you planned your weekend around some frothy affair, NETFLIX manages to send some irrelevant CRAP that you had on your queue for months, scolling down past the things specifically chosen for a couple of days of light-hearted viewing. What you end up getting some obnoxious fare that was chosen months ago out for whatever reason making Life resemble a really bad pseudo-MGM movie.

Generally speaking, I really enjoy those Stage to Screen adaptations of classic dramas. However, I could not even remotely get into HOGAN'S GOAT. Based on William Alfred's play, and starring Faye Dunaway, this torrid period piece of early 20th Century political tripe set in Brooklyn (of all places) would better had it been called HARRY'S SWINE. Dunaway (post Best Actress Oscar nod) hams it up and chaws scenery. Why she EVER got an Oscar is beyond me.

PINK NARCISSUS. Well, this ART film of the 70's stars no one in particular, features a bunch of naked guys wandering around doing nothing. Just because it's old and gay, doesn't make it vintage or good. Think: Kenneth Anger, and you'll get the picture.

Speaking of hams: THE SCARLET EMPRESS stars an early Marlene Deitrich. No, she's not the pig in this one, it's director Josef Von Sternberg. He lights, choreographs and manipulates the story of Catherine the Great to the nth degree. What comes out?! Nothing. I mean, where the hell is the legendary horse?! Dietrich is as Dietrich does. Frankly, I expect more from The Criterion Collection.

The game breaker: KM. O. This film from Spain is a delight. Following 14 intertwining lives on a hot summer day, this film was funny, poignant, eye popping, well written and by-gosh, I just got a kick out of it. The men are gorgeous (and I bet stinky, like cheese) the women stellar. This was a dreamy little film that just made me feel warm all over. I can't say it was like a lovely pitcher of Sangria would have been, but in that I'm swearing off the liquor, it was a close as it could get. 4 Star Fare!

Yes, NETFLIX can be as unreliable as the Stock Market, but sometimes, they do deliver.

(THE MOVIES I WANTED ARE ON THE WAY TODAY!)