Seriously a good time. Directed by Steven Soderbergh, it has super fun casting, with Ewan McGregor, Antonio Banderas, and Michael Douglas, and MMA fighter Gina Carano in the lead. I loved the clean and lean look of the film, and I especially liked the lack of jump cuts in the fight scenes, which lent them precision and a gritty realism; it felt like a European action flick. Really well done.
OMG, and I so get the Michael Fassbender thing now. Holy everything that is holy. And let me just say straight up: I am a sucker who would totally be killed by Fassbender's sexy, charismatic British freelance assassin Paul. Oy vey. This is why: I was talking to Trevor after the film about Fassbender's role and how I thought he was made out to be a bit more sympathetic than the other black ops guys, and he laughed at me. "Paul is charming and handsome, but he was willing to frame an innocent person and kill her for money! Now you know what it's like to be a man around a beautiful woman." Touché.
But wait a minute: not only is he charming and handsome, he can kill a man with his bare hands while wearing the hell out of a suit. Hot. Oh wait, that also describes my husband. No wonder.
I first noticed Fassbender in the passably entertaining X-Men First Class as Magneto (also starring man-harem lifetime member James McAvoy as Xavier), though I had seen other films that he had smaller, ensemble roles in, like 300 and Inglourious Basterds. Most recently I saw him again in Steve McQueen's beautifully shot and acted, but sometimes wincingly trite, Shame. This film was when I starting sitting up and paying attention to Fassbender as an actor (I know what you're thinking, and no, really, it was the acting!). The sterility and quietude of a film like Shame requires someone who can convey a bevy of human emotion over the course of several uncomfortably long close-up still-shots, without speaking. He nailed it (and okay, yeah, that pun was intended). I was riveted.
Anyway, I digress. Haywire: fun, action packed film well worth the unspeakable amount of money you pay now for a movie ticket. The Fassbender Sexy: confirmed. And he's not only beautiful, but he's absolutely flawless as an actor in this film, as well as Shame. Looking forward to seeing if future projects and personal conduct deem him man-harem worthy.
This NY Times Book Review really got it. One of my favorite things about Gibson is his focus on Japan; love this bit in the review:
In Tokyo, Gibson detects “successive layers of Tomorrowlands, older ones showing through when the newer ones start to peel.” Lurking in the back corner of a noodle stall, he watches a man playing with his phone. The gadget is glossy, “complexly curvilinear, totally ephemeral-looking,” shining with “Blade Runner”-ish reflections of the city around it. Gibson zooms in on an accessory hanging from the phone — a “rosarylike anticancer charm.” According to Japanese pop-culture lore, such talismans are supposed to protect against microwaves. It’s the perfect Gibson detail: a hybrid of high technology and magic wand.
Lovely stuff. I imagine I may be able to afford only the (admittedly rockin') Cheetah tote. I see they have a showroom in Tokyo (where I will be traveling again in April -- yeee!) but it's by appointment only. That would probably be a (dis)appointment for them for a mere silkscreened tote. ;)
Oh well, my wallet may be thin, but lucky for me most of these looks can be brought together for my man in an afternoon in Goodwill.
Although what Baldwin creates isn't technically taxidermy, it is vegan because her creations - shorebirds, corvids, owls, raptors and extinct birds, as well as plants - are made entirely without animal parts. Instead, she uses crepe paper, glue, found objects and wire in the meticulous creation of birds so lifelike, they look poised to hop off their perches and flutter away.
Any notions associated with the term 'vegan' aside, Baldwin's birds are both incredibly realistic and breathtakingly gorgeous, and you can really see the love and care she puts into them. I also love to see someone so talented making a living doing what they love.
I often feel I am well-versed in poetry, given the predilections of my partner and many of my friends, and my own personal pleasure and interest in the medium. But what I need to remember is that I am not well-versed at all -- what I am is possibly better read in poetics than the average person.
This would certainly be an untrue statement in the early twentieth century, which was a golden age for poetry as a medium read by many, regardless of education, station, or what-have-you.
So, yeah, at any rate, I think I can definitely fake it really well at a cocktail party.
I am meditating on this as of late because I have just recently began reading the work of the late poet (and librarian!) Robin Blaser, one of the key figures in the San Francisco Renaissance. I had heard his name plenty of times, but I only recently have really taken a look at his poetry.
Will have to delve further into his work to make any deep declarative assessments, but as of now I can say I am feeling his earlier work enormously, and this one in particular speaks to me in a profoundly personal way. Enjoy.
LOL at how the two large lobes of the heart are filled with superficiality, with the "Country of Eligibleness" populated by the most grievous displays, including the "Province of Deception" and even a "Jilting Corner." How bitter (and probably single) was the dude who made this?
This idealized version of womanhood appeared everywhere: in advice manuals, fiction, newspapers, magazines and in American prints. Just as American prints employed a narrowly defined standard of beauty, images that showed exemplars of True Womanhood also imagined a limited sphere of activity for women.
The attributes of True Womanhood, by which a woman judged herself and was judged by her husband, her neighbors, and her society, could be divided into four cardinal virtues—piety, purity, submissiveness, and domesticity. … Without them … all was ashes. With them she was promised happiness and power."
Take the meager ambitions set forth for Victorian women (marriage), what constituted success (not marrying poorly), and the consequences of not marrying (or marrying poorly), and pair it with the truth of what one often received in return for following the aforementioned virtues of True Womanhood, and I can see how reality may have necessitated the Country of Eligibleness.
Anyway, at the risk of lending credibility to the "Promontory of Golden Fetters," I will say those Victorians sure made some beautiful propaganda.
NorCali foothills, baby -- born and bred. I'm mysterious, yet so fresh and so clean clean, and darkly handsome, yet brightly colored. My blood-filled, flesh-covered friends think I'm an upright gal.
I'm haunted when the minutes drag...
I was lost in a valley of pleasure
I was lost in the infinite sea
I was lost and measure for measure
love spilled from the heart of me
I was lost and the cost
and the cost didn't matter to me
I was lost and the cost
was to be outside society