I once got into an argument about Tim Burton that ended an affair. Let me be very clear when I tell you that I love movies but that I'm no movie geek. Hearing my at-that-time beau explain how he was never going to spend money on another Burton flick after being disappointed with THE CORPSE BRIDE was enough to make my stomach roil with frustration. His subsequent refusal to expound on his reasoning for such other than Burton had "let (him) down," lead to me verbally beating him about the head and then exiting the room in a dramatic fashion, never to allow him access to balcony privileges again.
Our offspring's foreheads could provide shade for a third world country.
I am described with a particular fondness as a "fangirl." I have a deep seeded love for what a friend of mine considers to be directors and/or actors de jour. Despite my many arguments to the contrary, the nickname has stuck and I have decided to embrace it. So, greetings from your resident fangirl! I like Tarantino, character studies and movies that have no discernable plot. If a movie was produced for under a million dollars and made the rounds at Sundance, chances are very high that I've not only seen it (most often more than once) but that I'm contemplating naming my unborn child after its lead character.
Alright, so I'm not that extreme. I do like most movies inappropriately labeled as "indies" and Quentin is welcome in my bed any time he'd like but I don't just automatically love a movie for the sake of loving it. Nor do I decide to hop on any bandwagon bashing an outing that everyone had high hopes for and ended up being indignantly disappointed by. To me, that's a person who exhibits traits far
worse than what go along with what my silly moniker entails. That's not a fangirl/boy. That's a movie geek.
Nice, um, acting talent.
I have a good set of knowledge about movies and I've watched more than the average Joe has masturbated to in the middle of a darkened basement when mom and pops were overhead enjoying Letterman, but that still doesn't mean that I'm a snob about it. I don't try to recite obscure quotes and then look down my underpaid nose at someone who has better things to do with their time than memorize Monty Python. Yes, I know THE HOLY GRAIL, but only by spleen and not by heart.
In fact, I have a tendency to enjoy movies that most reputable movie geeks would never admit to having willingly watched. ("It was on cable late at night and I was too tired to roll my fat ass over and find the remote, so I just suffered through it." Yeah, right.) THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS settles my stomach after a stressful day. MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING has always managed to elicit a giggle from me, even while in the depths of depression over hearing that they actually made OCEAN'S THIRTEEN. And David Bowie never sounded better than when he was conducting Ledger and Sossamon through that dance in A KNIGHT'S TALE.
Conversely, there are classically beloved entertainers and movies that make me retch while simultaneously causing a movie geek to have a coronary. Ever thought that you would meet a movie lover who would rather contract rectal cancer than suffer through another viewing of DR STRANGELOVE? Well, congratulations! You just did! Tell the stunned audience what they've won, Bob!
No, wait! You want me to go on? I
think Scorsese is a hyper-active prick. I'm of the opinion that Francis Ford Coppola's only claim to fame was getting lucky in selecting the right actors (A quality that his daughter seems to share). APOCALYPSE NOW bores me to a level that makes me break out in tears years after I was first forced to sit through it. And Oliver Stone, have I got a bus I'd like you to meet the underside of!
Randal never would have had to say it because Dante would have known!
Of course, I know my limits. I can exhibit detest for Michael Bay and wince at the mention of Jerry Bruckheimer with the best of them. I understand that Scarlett Johansson has blinded movie audiences with her delicious rack and confused them into believing that she's actually capable of anything more than an impersonation of a plank of cedar. I would never suggest that Hugh Jackman is the new Brando unless someone had slipped some vicodin in with my dinner entree.
I am simply a girl who used to hold Kevin Smith in high regard until he decided to sell out Randal and make him profess his heterosexual love for Dante. I haven't turned my back on my favorite fattie in a trenchcoat, as my aforementioned former lover had walked away from his googly-eyed goth messiah. I simply shake my head in dismay and continue to believe that I own him in some way and that he's on time-out until he can make mommy smile again.
Then I pop in a LaBute, break out the Redenbacher and begin my hour long rant on how Eckhart is the most underrated of all the Hollywood hotties. Because I love movies, I love actors and I'm of the opinion that my opinion is the only one that matters.
OK, so maybe I AM a little bit geeky.
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|Neglected Foster Child of Hollywood|
Every other Wednesday
Not-so-gentle musings from the girl who is saving room in her uterus for Tarantino's spawn.
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