I have tried for a week to get into Blue Valentine. I don’t find it heartbreaking. I find it annoying. I’m not watching a delicate relationship dance being played out by two trembling souls on the verge of self-realization about wuv. Eh. I’m watching two sullen lumps mope about, wishing they weren’t married to each other.
I’m not charmed at all. There’s a kid. The family dogs gets found run over on the side of the road in the first ten minutes or so. After that I checked out.
Jen or Cindy or whatever, comes across as Kristen Stewart without the sparkling personality. Stewart from the Twilight movies, that low-energy, barely a facial ripple, smiling and frowning same twitch of lips.
Michelle Williams can act, I guess. I’m not really a fan. It seems she plays the same role over and over. Sad girlfriend/wife type. She seems to have one range. Which is– Sad. She does sad and it pays her bills. Go American dream, go! The American dream is alive and well when a person can make a living expressing a sad face a lot. Hallelujah!
I’m not that big of a fan of Gosling, either, for that matter. He’s the indy Mope Man. My opinion! But he does have actual range. I did like Lars and the Real Girl. Do not judge me.
I did love his SNL sketch on alien abduction, where Kate McKinnon got everyone there to break character with her version of what happened on the spaceship. It was kinda nice to watch Gosling snicker behind his hand as if they were in some high school play and somebody had farted.
But here, in Blue Bore, er, Blue Valentine, it seems the love of his life just settled for him, and finds him repulsive now. His character, George, Bob, Fernando? has all the charisma of a smashed banana peel. Ashley or Madison, whatever her name is, does a lot of sad faces around him.
He’s ACTING away at her, she’s giving back sad face. That’s about all I’ve gotten from this movie so far. BREAK UP ALREADY, YOU CRAZY KIDS. I should be weeping and begging this on-screen couple to make it work, right? Ugh.
I then popped in You’ve Got Mail, because I found it at the thrift store. Where I also found Blue Mopentine. Er, Valentine.
Cranky whiny Meg Ryan, charming affable capitalist gentleman Tom Hanks closing down her bookstore, and she falls in love with him. But!! But we do see why she would. He’s quick on the draw, he’s eye candy, he’s very New York-ish. He’s also non-threatening, not creepy while still being obviously straight guy who’s probably okay in bed. Not freaky/hot/scary/spank me again, daddy level but more, well, not that sort of guy.
Great. Now I have Tom Hanks dressed up in dungeon wear, with a cat-o-nine tails, ready to go. Stop it, brain!! No, do not show me the little airless room where Hanks cracks that whip and whispers to get in position, whore. Do not ruin Tom Hanks for me!! Bad brain!! I’ll make you keep watching Blue Mopentine! Okay, then.
–Now, do I keep that above in or erase it so no one has to suffer that image as well? Ha ha, suffer all one or two who read this! Suffer! Or not. —
Back to You’ve Got Male. Deliberate use of male for mail. In case you were wondering.
I don’t understand why he’d fall for her…as she does nothing but insult him to his face, but they do share a sort of chatroom/email intimacy. [[She’s skinny and blond, so of course he adores her. Yeah, there it is.]] Where he gets to read the ‘real’ her. He also knows most of the movie that she’s his internet pen pal, she has to find…ah. It’s so romantical! He has all the power here!! Just so romantical!!
That’s not a real word. I know, computer spell check. I know. Thanks.
If you haven’t seen this 90’s very chick flick, well! It’s based on the Shop Around the Corner, with Jimmy Stewart. I found that movie a lot cruel. I find You’ve Got Mail a bit cruel as well. I did mention I don’t have Netflix or Hulu, right? Because I’m poor? That’s why I’m not binge-watching Bob’s Left Elbow or whatever the newest series is that just got downloaded for binge purposes.
Oh well. At least I have nearly all of Glee on DVD! Life is barely tolerable!
Also– dial up! DIAL UP was yet a thing in that movie. Cute! I do remember dial up, waiting for the big fancy computer to hook up to that crazy internet. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Then having to try it again. Maybe it would hook up. You had to hope others were not also trying to hook up, as that slowed connection speed way way way down.
Then of course you looked up porn.
No, just kidding! Not really.
So, I’ve been wanting to see Blue Valentine. I’ve heard how GREAT it was. For me, not so much.
I hope I can finish it. I don’t want to. My life sucks, as the kids used to say. I don’t need to wallow in two people’s shallowness, rolling my eyes a lot, sighing those gigantic disgusted sighs you do, while wondering if I should just burn the DVD as an offering to the writing gods.
What does any of this have to do with writing, my writing? Or MY novels, plays, poems or essays against man’s inhumanity to man? Not a thing, darlings. Not a damn thing.
I had Wonderfalls, the first episode, earmarked for watching later. Months go by. There it is. Wonderfalls, crazy lady talks to statues or something. Lighthearted fun. Niagara Falls locale. Pretty!
Finally, I actually bothered to watch it. The anticipation, right? It was killing you?
At first, I LOVED IT. Oh my gosh!
Jaye, played by Caroline Dhavernas, the main gal who gets talked at by various stuffed animals and little statue thingies– that’s just the Everywoman character that we want to root for. She lives in a trailer, how quirky! Jaye went to Brown, yet she’s working in a gift shop as a clerk! Quirky squared! She’s pretty, young, and sarcastic! Ah!
She’s got a wacky family. Who does not? I wish, frankly and unabashedly, that they’d been the bulk of this show rather than trotted out now and then like show ponies.
The Tylers: Katie Finnerman as Sharon. Lee Pace as Aaron. William Sadler as Darrin and Diana Scarwid as Karen.
Lee Pace as the brother! Those eyebrows. I loved Pushing Daisies, so here he gets to play someone quite different than the guy who can bring dead stuff back to life for a minute.
The older sister, Sharon, an immigration lawyer and a closeted lesbian. She’s also awkward, ambitious, real, a smoker, sort of the one left out in the family dynamics.
The mother, now. At first she seemed a typical shallow WASP mommy type, then she wasn’t. The dad, same thing, then he wasn’t; they grew on ya.
The best friend is not white. She and Jaye do a lot of drinking. She’s sassy, this friend. Real sassy. Mostly a foil for Our Heroine Jaye. Tracie Thoms as Mahandra. Yep, that’s her name.
The boyfriend, played by Tyrin Leitso, a cute bartender whose wife went to town on some bellhop on their wedding night.
Remember this. Because. Yes, I will revisit this one. He’s pretty. And harmless as a Labrador puppy, the perfect foil for our sharp-tongued, snarky, yet gorgeous little heroine. She has a lot of foils around her. Well, two. He is BOYFRIEND POTENTIAL NUMBER ONE. Sort of like Luke over on Gilmore Girls. Well, this one’s scruffy and wears the guy outfit of plaid shirt, jeans, but he’s more puppy than snarling alpha wolf archetype we gals are told we really like.
Now, every episode deals with one of the objects around Jaye who give her rather cryptic sayings that she has to figure out. Which usually leads her to helping someone. Which is not her modus operandi! She’s a quirky, selfish, self-involved, people-hating store clerk, dang it! No ambitions like her go-getter sister! Does not pursue her education, like her brother! She has to open up! Be kind! Help others! She even goes to therapy because people think she’s cracking, because she’s acting nice to others a bit. Yep!
Which is actually funny. The writing remains funny and light enough in tone. There’s that air of whimsy one wants in a talking objects hour-long show. The objects that talk, a lion statue, a brass monkey, the fish at the bar, look natural enough. Whoever did the special effects, well done. Even on a grainy youtube video.
Ah, the brother starts to notice his sister is not acting like herself. The three siblings actually act like siblings. They fight, they hate each other, they get comfort from each other. Jay confides in her brother a bit, then a bit more, then enlists his help to rid her of her little tormentors. There’s also Jaye’s best friend getting involved romantically with Jaye’s brother, in secret. I really liked that pairing. It seemed far more interesting and complex than Jaye and the bartender guy panting politely over each other.
Okay, I’ve hinted at the Jaye and bartender guy blues I so obviously wish to send over the falls in a barrel. Yes, there was an episode on just that, with Rue McClanahan and Louise Fletcher, called Barrel Bear. I liked that episode, it surprised me. Did not go like I thought it would.
But. Jaye and Eric. That’s his name. I forgot it until I went to look something up just now. We get the hunky quiet guy and the obviously quirky sarcasm queen baking a little romance cake for several episodes. It’s building. It’s building. I’m sighing a bit, wondering when they’ll DO IT ALREADY. In the episode about the two macaws, they finally kiss. I think that was the episode. The two rare birds then decide to mate in the sister’s car. Ha ha.
Anyway, we don’t have to suffer any actual triangles or complications just yet. No real villain has shown up to actually disrupt Miss Quirky’s lifestyle choices. Mostly it’s just Jaye fighting her own nature, tee hee. The best friend is salty and honest. The family is weird and quirky and rather lovable. I kinda wish the show had centered more on the family than Jaye.
I’m starting to notice that odd thought more and more in my head. Wish they had centered more on her sister, brother, mom and dad than…um, Jaye. Ahem.
I do like Jaye. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t sit through the Wonderfalls marathon available if I had not. The actress engages, tackles the material with a right good will and seems to be having lots of fun. So I have fun, too!
Anyway. So Eric and Jaye are POISED FOR ROMANCE. When who shows up??? Yep! That not yet ex-wife of Eric’s, named Heidi.
No offense to the actress, but oh my God, did I hate her the minute she opened her mouth. Her voice. It just. Fingernails on a million chalkboards time. Jewel Staite. As Heidi Ho, as Jaye’s best friend called her. I just flinched. I had a hard time even sitting through the ep. I looked away a lot. Jaye, of course, gets advice that she has to cede the floor to Heidi, not tell Eric how she feelz about him. She’s got real big feelz for him. There’s a literal girl fight taking place. God damn it! Did the writers go out for a pizza or something here? Did they let actual lions write this one?
Eric actually got down to brass tacks with Jaye before all this Heido Ho biznass. Do you like me or not time. Our Heroine froze like a deer in headlights! Cute!
Okay. So, the not yet ex wife shows back up, wants her man back from man-eater, other woman Jaye.
Heidi? She’s awful. Truly so. I zone out so much that if she has layers or can garner sympathy, eh. Argh. Uck. Stop talking, you rat-faced product of a demon and a toy poodle! A squeaky toy brought to life! If I fast forward through her shit, will that help?
She and Jaye rumble. The best friend, who knows Jaye, has warned the bartender guy not to fall for Jaye, as Jaye allegedly chews men up and spits them out every other day. Jaye’s a heartbreaker, ya’ll.
Jaye’s talking posse of stuffed animals, statues and backpacks, even a snake on a shirt, guide her to not tell bartender guy about her FEELINGS. To make it seem she never had any real ones toward Puppy Man. To stand by while squeaky toy Heidi Ho takes center stage in Puppy Man’s life. There’s even Jaye thinking Heidi might be murdering Eric! It’s whacky! There’s ED pills involved!
And Jaye having to cry a lot, pretend she’s not crying over all this and Eric looking SAD a lot as Heidi looks MAD a lot. I also wondered if Heidi has a trust fund. Where has she been all this time? She can now drop everything, hang out in Niagara Falls with no gainful employment?
Oh this is getting long. Okay!
Yes, exactly what we think will happen happens. Eric and Jaye discover they’re each other’s dates for the Prom. By the time I get to the last episode, Caged Bird, I’m just enduring this thing. A repeat of Jaye telling Eric she doesn’t like him. The objects telling Jaye vague shit that she has to decipher. Give him heart! Whatever, caged bird! Yes, Heidi Ho discovering she’s not the one for Labrador puppy. I just. Yeah.
I can pinpoint my disenchantment with this show the minute the not quite ex wife shows up. The growing rift between Jaye and Eric seems oddly artificial and fake. I feel very manipulated.
The show, before this, cutesy a bit. Sure. Whimsy on overload, yes. But I rather like whimsy, and hey, a bit of cute and gentle, why not. But!! Adding that Heidi thing, fuck me with a brass monkey.
I checked out. I rolled my eyes a lot. I skipped ahead a bit, trying to find scenes that didn’t involve this triangle of idiots. I wondered what was on the other channel. Back when people still had channels and not streaming services. Ah, the good ole days.
I’d rather watch an Orange Hellbeast NuNazi Rally in MontaWyNebTexas than endure returning to the Heidi-heavy episodes. Which seemed all the episodes after eight or so.
Okay, I would not. I could not last more than five seconds through those Nuremberg-esque I’m the Greatest, Everyone Else is Shit rallies from hell.
So! I really enjoyed the first half of the thirteen episodes. That’s all there is. This show got cancelled before it could really get going. Sort of like Firefly, Moonlight, and Freaks and Geeks. Wonderfalls has cult status for a reason. It’s well done. The writing is sharp and funny. It’s character-driven. More or less. It’s not like everything else out there. Until the will they/won’t they crap starts up, of course.
Anyway! That’s my ramble on Wonderfalls. Below is the theme song, by Andy Partridge. Enjoy!
I thought I’d end August with some SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION.
The Ilkley Playhouse, in the UK, is doing an evening of my short works. If you’re near that area, hey, go see em! I’m sorta…not anywhere near the UK. My evil powers do not extend to Apparating where I want to or the reverse of that.
The following is from their website–
Sept 6-8, 2018.
Whalegirl and other short plays
by Ann Wuehler
Ann Whuler’s[Wuehler!] powerful and perceptive work touches every open nerve of human existence, displaying a true depth of understanding. The issues covered by these seven plays include the desperation of loneliness, casual relationships and forbidden love, parental guilt, personal failure, dehumanisation and flight from an unsatisfactory reality. Yet in her inimitable gritty style the author still finds empathy, compassion and wry humour. Disturbing and entertaining in equal measure.
Whalegirl: An intriguing play in which a man grieving for the death of his daughter from anorexia encounters an obese girl on a beach.
The Care and Feeding of Baby Birds: A dramatic monologue in which a young woman nurses abandoned fledglings while ruminating on her unsuccessful life.
Frog Loves Christy: A duologue in which two half-sisters discuss their future.
The Mating Season of Flying Monkeys: A comic piece in which two elderly sisters argue about love.
Doll Cargo: A powerful drama about human trafficking.
Cinnamon Rainbow: A comedy about a hopeless burglar who tries to rob a lonely woman.
Traces of memory: A dark drama about two women running away to escape their pasts.
It’s rather sobering how the people around you get revealed. How that top layer of niceness and decency just go away. And you see the rotting bones beneath, the strips of moldering flesh.
You notice you’re talking to ghosts, who cling to things they know with all their might and mistake the screeches of a selfish idiot for truth, beauty and the American way.
He speaks for us. He’s saying what we’re saying.
Um, wow, I hope not. Have you actually listened to that thing speak/shout at the multiple rallies?
This isn’t strangers around me saying that. I’m a lone island in a sea of blank-eyed eidolons.
I grew up around these desperate little spirits, who can’t understand that their wages going down, and everything else going up isn’t because of welfare queens taking advantage of the system.
Well, it sort of is. Those welfare queens run giant companies like GE and Exxon and Bank of America.
The welfare queens, usually portrayed as a black woman or an immigrant-colored sort of gal, that my relatives and others are told to hate, holds some sort of legendary status right up there with Bigfoot, Nessie and the Abominable Snowman.
Everyone knows about them, but nobody’s actually seen one. There’s the tales about so and so in line at the grocery store. This woman, with a fancy phone, fancy clothes, blah, is buying steak and lobster with food stamps. The details! The more details piled on, the more people lap it up! She’s got her hair done, she’s got fancy salon-looking nails! She’s wearing clothes!
How dare this food-stamp mama WEAR CLOTHES?
Outrage, outrage, get your outrage here! We need to cut those programs…! Yeah. Yep.
It’s on par with an urban legend.
Except. People repeat it and repeat it, like an urban legend. Going back, fact checking that, boring!
Welfare queens milking the system, sexy as hell. And the fault of the left who wants to give all your hard-working money to gang members, those welfare taker milkers of the system, slutty single women who want abortions every other weekend and…yeah.
I can hear Fox News from the other room. Hyde Amendment, ever heard of it? You have to wait five years to apply for any sort of assistance in America if you immigrated here legally or…ugh.
I hear the loud, very angry hectoring that makes up the bulk of Fox News programming. Hannity to Laura Ingraham, screaming how Pumpkincunt is a savior of the American Way of Life while Obama and Hillary and the Left want to turn everyone into scary words scary words. It’s not the words at this point, it’s the tone that people respond to. That’s what I get from just hearing that shit from another room. That comforting outrage that pours into the ears like oil squeezed from snakes. I get a sick, hot feeling and a need to FACT CHECK EVERYTHING around me, then a need to take one of those showers you take after exposure to anything nuclear. I’m contaminated. I’ve been exposed to radiation.
I’m in a terrible place right now. Mentally, physically, the whole kit and kaboodle.
I walked out to get the mail. A beautiful day. Cooler than it has been. Clear skies, that smoky haze pushed out a bit. My thoughts full of what am I hanging on for. What. What am I hanging on for. There’s no reason for this.
It’s just this passing clot of darkness amid, should I make some biscuits, is my pumpkin ripe, I need to find a play for such and such. There’s even some fancy name for always having suicidal thoughts. Being always on that cliff. Looking into the abyss. Wondering. How soon. How soon.
My relatives, over on Facebook, posted a meme. Here, you can see it, too. Or curse me, wash your eyeballs with bleach and go get drunk with bikers. Or acrobats, hey, I will not judge you.
I know her. She’s a good person. Like, deep down nice. Funny, tough, one of those women who stand by their man sorta woman. She’s a throwback country song, sung by George Jones, with Mo Bamby singing backup. A bright spot during the family Christmas Hell-Eves.
And yet…that meme. Does she believe that? Is there some part of her that goes, some tiny still voice in the center of her head, that goes…I’ve been fooled.
She’s got a medically fragile kid. She’s on all sorts of assistance to help that kid, to keep him alive. Medical bills that way, ouch!
To pay for those massive tax cuts, the regime that holds all three branches of the American government will go after everything she depends on. Those programs to help kids in that manner already cut to the bone or going away.
This will be blamed on immigrants clogging the welfare system…or lazy Millennials who don’t know the value of working or people with arts degrees or Hillary. Or avocado toast. Or Starbucks coffee runs. Or. Or anything but pointing out the hoary old there’s always money for anything military, none for social programs.
Oh sorry. Anything military contractor. As veterans getting help when they come back from the never-ending war/s, pfft. We’ve never taken care of our veterans, why start now?
It’s all the Democrats fault, of course, that veterans blah dee blah.
They’re into BIG GOVERNMENT and red tape! It’s not us nice Republicans who love family, the military, guns and Jesus and tiny tiny government! Wheee! Sorry, veterans. If only the demoncrats would work with President Orange Jesus, everything would magically just become magical!! Unicorns in every cooking pot!
We’re the party of Lincoln! We must all tighten our belts, some must tighten their belts so much they get cut in two and die under a bridge having frozen to death. But that’s the fault of Nancy Pelosi. Nothing is ever our fault, we’re the party of Lincoln!
Doesn’t…doesn’t she know this? Doesn’t that compute? Hasn’t she been paying attention at all?
No, she hasn’t. It seems my entire family turned into members of some sort of weird cult. I’ve never fit in with my family but this is…so much worse. I feel afraid. For me. For them. For all of us. I can’t forgive that they embrace that thing. They can’t forgive that I don’t. I don’t want to talk to them or be around them.
They don’t seem like my family anymore.
I think that’s the worse thing that has happened to this country, well…not even close, but still. Dividing friends, family into hostile camps dedicated to erasing the other.
Maybe this is a tiny taste of those pre-Civil War years. People divided so sharply that there was no reasonableness left. No logic, no reason. Just hasty words, slogans, propaganda and shouting. Promising things would be done to protect their side. Swords rattled. Before they really got rattled for four years.
Fuck, we’re still fighting that damn war to this day. It never ended. 1861-?. The South will Rise Again! Um, does that mean we’re gonna have to wear hoops skirts and own slaves and shout that cotton is king? Holy barfballs, ‘murikkka!
How long do you ignore this cult brouhaha from the ‘other side’?
When you remember a snowy Christmas Eve night– that hulking MAGA hat wearing sort used to be a tiny tot in a blue knitted stocking cap, delighted over all the Christmas wonderfulness.
When you remember your dad coming to get you after you flipped your truck but didn’t die or even get hurt that much. When…yep. How much do you have to give up to live with yourself a bit?
Because you can’t put the “nice” faces back on the rotting ghost visages.
You can’t unring the bells, that one is very true. You can’t unsee. You can’t unhear.
I don’t have any answers.
Others have cut all ties with their Trumpkin relatives and friends.
Others have given up on anything political, thrown up their hands with a ‘Can’t we all just get along’ darty-eyed look.
Others don’t discuss politics or religion with family or friends. I guess they talk about the weather or traffic. Or old Bewitched episodes. Who didn’t love Serena? Uncle Arthur! Dr. Bombay, what a hoot! Derwood!
And how, after all this is over and it will be, one way or another, how do you reconcile or reconnect? Or just find those you cut loose to point at them and laugh?
America will either right itself, ha ha, or it won’t.
We might very well find ourselves with an actual dictatorship in place.
And people writing careful puff pieces on the “right” people who had faith in Apricot Hellbeast and Sunny Jesus, and never wavered in faith for either. Because writing anything else. Mm. We’re already kinda there at that point. The lying media. Fake news. Enemy of the people. Yeah, we’re there. Fun!
We might find America will shake this off, with a lesson learned.
HA HA HA HA HA.
America flunks history every damn time. We have those Etch-A-Sketch memories. We in America are always AMAZED AND HORRIFIED at the latest wave of racism or awfulness.
America has never been this bad. Yeah, um, yeah it has. I’m outraged and horrified, this is unprecedented! Ten years ago, then five years before that and then…
It will all get blamed on the Democrats. All this now going on, when it’s over, will get that patina of Right Wing Blame It On The Democrats. People will fall for it, the same people now who think Hil Clinton is running a pedo international child sex slave operation out of a New Jersey pizza parlor. [See QAnon crap]
Or think that Obama is a secret Muslim born in Kenya to outer space lizard lords. Who then rigged the elections, twice, to ruin America so that Pumpkincunt had to save it…
to make amerikkka grate again and put amerikkka firstest. cause obummer fucked us for eight years and trump had sex like a boss with porn stars. he wasn’t prezident when he fucked them porn stars and cohen a big jew baby lied about all that, trump didnt no abut that money. he sed so i beleeve him. the russans helped killery not trump has anyone investigated the dnc?? lock her up!! crooked killery who had all those people killed but nobody went after her she’s a real witch kill that cunt we should kill her shes evil. baby killer killery. obama probably brought in those mexicans. maybe we should send the national guard to CHICAGO. fire muller it’s a witch hunt! clean coal! MAGA!!
That’s what I hear. That’s what I hear. That’s what I read.
And worse. And funnier. And far more jaw-droppingly WTF. With bad spelling and monstrous trembling outrage and jumbled conspiracy theories galore, oh my.
I dread any meeting with relatives right now. I don’t want them watching me as they speak about…whatever they heard on Hannity or the Five. I feel any love I bear them get a little bit less each time. Each time. Until they’re just strangers to me. And if it came down to it…I’d be very ready for the Nu Civil War. And that goes a little deeper than some cheap tears and a hasty blog post.
I took a trip. To Meridian, Idaho. Why, you might suddenly ask yourself. To go see a movie. Why??
Ah, because BlackkKlansman was not playing in a town near me. Mama Mia 2, sure! Spike Lee film, no. That’s fine. You gotta show movies that will turn a profit, I get it.
I’m totally a capitalist. I have that word as my tramp stamp.
I found the place, with about ten minutes or so to spare. The directions from MapQuest were shitty. Why didn’t it just send me to Millennial Avenue, as the Majestic is RIGHT THERE. Why send me to this barely marked street, then give me WRONG TURNS? I swear to Baby Jesus and Satan’s Nipple Piercings the MapQuest site thought, hey, let’s do something funny to the hermit girl.
Great big nice place. Comfy red seats that reclined. Great!
About three people at that first showing. Wheee! Saw some very earnest trailers and learned Sigourney Weaver’s first name is Susan.
Some things you can’t unlearn.
So. Briefly, the story– a rookie cop, in Colorado Springs, CO, infiltrates the local branch of the KKK, or the Organization, run nationally at that time by, wait for it, David Duke. Ron Stallworth sees an actual ad in the local paper and calls the number, setting up a meeting with the local good ole boys. Problem! Ron is black.
And the Klan, yeah, is against any skin color but European. So Ron gets another cop– Darth Vader’s grandson, no less– to pretend to be him. He even uses his “white boy” voice on the phone, because yep, you can tell a black person from a real American just by listening to em butcher the King’s English. Jive talk, ya’ll. Hijinks ensue!
We get to watch Flip or Philip, who’s Jewish, hang around these good ole boys and good ole gals. Oh yes, the Klan doesn’t exactly like Judaism, either. Or immigrants!
The KKK does seem quite a boy-heavy operation in the seventies. The women folk pretty much bring in the platters of spray cheese and saltine bites. Then speak with real hope that they, too, will be able to yell rape during a protest or march…sort of exaggerating there, but not really. That’s the impression I got from those shiny Klan gals. The women libbers were going hot and heavy during this time period, that seemed absent from the Klan Barbies. Kind of like now…mm.
Something that stuck out, to me, was the contrast between Kendrickson’s wife [Ashley Atkinson] and Patrice Dumas [Laura Harrier]. The good wife versus the liberated, gonna change the world firebrand. Because we still have that to this day. Who is considered a good woman and who’s not. The sexism, mm.
The ones who act like ladies and the rest of em, eh, boys, dudes, mens of all kinds? We never seem to shed that one. Ever. Okay!
Watching Flip flip that holocaust denier [Kendrickson] with hey, the Holocaust was awesome sauce, amen. Uncomfortable barely manages to cuddle that moment. Oh yes, the N word got thrown around, whee. And all the other words we pretend don’t exist anymore and that no one says them. Whee.
There’s of course some violence planned, some good ole cross-burnin’, not wearing the hoods in public. The Klan remade for modern times! The same turd gilded over with shit glitter. Way to go, Mr. Duke.
Then the ending, which marries what was going on THEN to what’s going on NOW. Boom!
Cinematography, it had that, a lot. I had to love that bright red VW Beetle tootling about town. Dang. The plaid and vests and guns against the Colorado vistas. My my.
I liked it.
That’s my in-depth, went to college and everything take on it. Was it on the nose, in your face, not trying to be subtle? Well. Yep, yep, it was.
And it worked.
If you can totally ignore the crap around you, you might say this movie was a bit too much or too broadly painted. If you can ignore the rather obvious rise of white nationalism in America and elsewhere, you’re probably at Mama Mia, we made a sequel! or watching reruns of Bonanza.
The racists were not presented as balanced or that deep. Cartoonish. Stereotypes. Except, eh. Well…!
I grew up to talk like that. I heard it a lot.
People don’t talk like that guy in the movie, I hear. And then I just laugh.
Yeah, people talk like that, people are talking like that right now, this minute. The string of words for people not white or Christian. The desperate frothing about taking back our country. The rabid weasel screeching about them people, them people. Build the wall! America First! Shithole countries. Actual Nazis are running for political offices in America. Nazis. Real ones.
Fuck a duck. Come on!
This happened near the ending of BlackkKlansman.
A story about a lynching, a real one, interposed with Duke, played by that guy from That Seventies Show. Who should probably get some sort of acting award, because he NAILED IT. That’s my professional writer take, uh huh.
Eerie, gut-wrenching, hands clenched moment. The hoarse tired voice of the storyteller [Harry Belafonte], the smooth reasonable speech about hating and killing people not of your race or creed [Topher Grace].
The back and forth between the two speakers. Taut, quiet film scene.
Breath being held to hear the two better kinda movie moment.
Remember that speech of Quint’s in Jaws? Yeah.
I was a kid when all that was going on with the fall out of the Civil Rights movement. The seventies where America started to lose her sparkle as the GREATEST THING SINCE JESUS.
The sixties gave us protests and love ins and freedom rides.
Seventies–Nixon bruising, quite badly, the “sacredness” of the office of the President of the United States. We can’t trust the president anymore. Watergate. Deep Throat. Washington Post. Oh. My.
The end of good wages and the advent of insurance companies taking over health care. Thanks, Nixon!
I’m not a kid now. We have our own updated version of FatNixon, our own kneejerks to people losing their rights. Get over it, snowflakes. Lock Her Up! Make America Great Again. Drain the swamp. Free speech, libtards! Clean coal! The intolerant left. Witch hunt. There is no Russian collusion. Dogs. Animals.
We have those standing up for some stuff and things, in some cases silently kneeling. Which has set off a shitstorm of retread-ish screeches about hating the flag, the military and America itself. [Get a haircut, hippie!]
That same ole Klan shit now called Alt Right with fucking David Duke still here, still making those soft reasonable speeches about hating everyone not white or a Christian. Richard Spenser doesn’t have Duke’s charisma, ouch.
I think Spike Lee hit this one out of the park and hit the rotting side of the moon with it. I also picked up a new, horrible bit of slang. Mississippi wind chime. Guess what that stands for.