glitterface

say what you will but this cartoon has more action, drama, intrigue, explosions, music videos, bad catchy pop songs, dropping gargoyles, pastel eyeshadow at funerals than any cartoon i've ever seen. the squeaky holograms remind me of britney, while their trashy rivals, the misfits, are clearly ke$ha-esque, and watching it almost feels both allegorical and otherworldly. me and stoves have been watching two episodes a night on le tube and are always awaiting to see how jem gets out of her constant near-death experiences. just like a dream.

fluggenflygen

weimar wildness.

samo is alive

my long-lost uncle, yahurd.

bedtime story

tres fucked up, but i still love it.

cult classic: buffy the vampire slayer

cynics and die-hards may scoff, but the 1992 cinematic version of buffy the vampire slayer is one of those charming early creations that almost succeed their latter, cooler counterparts. set in a cushy californian suburb unharmed by bush sr.'s colossal economic mess, the film follows head cheerleader buffy (played wonderfully by the energetic yet mysteriously invisible kristy swanson) as she goes from planning the senior dance to killing off the local vampires, mixing a brilliant blend of teenage satire and horror movie stereotypes to a nice screwball romp. yes, purists, i get that sarah michelle gellar's buffy is the kick-ass-sass-queen-with-a-heart-of-gold, but kristy swanson's portrayal of buffy as a self-absorbed-valley-tart-turned-confused-slayer is less quirky and more approachable.

besides, this is a film rife with social commentary as buffy veers away from her upper-middle-class friends, who don't understand that she is the one saving their contempo casual'd asses from death, and begins deeply caring not only for her middle-aged fed-up guide merrick (donald sutherland) but also a wrong-sider (luke perry, in one of his truly attractive roles) whose best friend has been transformed into a vampire. most importantly, this film doesn't take itself too seriously and allows you to laugh yet also get sentimental about the main characters, which is not so easy in today's movieworld. surprisingly enough, this movie also birthed a slew of future stars such as ben affleck, hilary swank, and david arquette and managed to poke in a few veterans like paul reubens (mr. pee-wee herman himself!). with thousands of memorable quotes and the kind of humor that diablo cody tried so hard to encapsulate in that megan fox flop, buffy is a frothy candy-coated nightmare wrapped up in flannel shirts and alternative rock.

medieval couture galaxy punk trash

born this way is a pop masterpiece, plain and simple. what it is not: the fame nor the fame monster. don't expect "poker face," don't expect "bad romance." this is an album reflecting an artist in transition, drifting away from the old material in which became second nature and moving onto something new and fresh for the sake of complexity and growth. many people whom are not artists have a hard time it seems understanding this, which may be a reason why many critics choose to use words like "derivative" and "copycat" when reviewing the album. it is clear people only want what they are used to, but the point of this work was never to please the public. gaga said so herself that this would be for her millions of children, her "little monsters," those ravenous fanboys-n'-girls who bitch out anyone on youtube who talks about their mother and who loyally anticipate each new tweet and video that she posts with the kind of anxiety only mimicked prior by elvis and beatles fans. let's face it, even bieber doesn't have that kind of devotion.

it's with that devotion that gaga decided to concoct an album that combined her ever-growing obsession with eurodance and the obsession of her past, hard rock. what many forget is that before "just dance" and "alejandro," ms. germanotta spent many hours on her piano and playing wild variety shows with her best friend lady starlight, where she indulged her love for judas priest and motley crue. with born this way, gaga has finally indulged in that leather-clad love openly for the first time during her professional career and has created something quite new and different, something only she could create. but this is not "pop-rock" in the sense of ashlee simpson or even the knack. no, this is the true sense of what the word should mean: the passionate, uncompromising mix of catchy, dance melodies and the throbbing of tough-edged instruments that erupt through the wavelengths and shoot to your ears like a smash of glass. it's powerful, intense stuff yet it is only the beginning of what this album is truly about.



stylistically, this is, as i put it, a pop-rock album yet with the mindset of a club-hopping schizophrenic, simultaneously circa 1487 and 2068. each song could easily stand on its own or could be a part of another album completely, though together they all form as the latest greatest-hits collection served up by the heiress. from the defiant "marry the night" to the self-worth jingle of "born this way," gaga promises something for everyone and switches personalities and topics quicker than most people switch their underwear. in "americano," she reminisces on an affair with an east l.a. chica, the thriving sound of conquistadors bumbling in the background. with "bloody mary," she imagines herself as a gothic, passive-aggressive mary magdalene awaiting her fate proudly in a way that recalls riot grrl apathy. in "bad kids," she plays punk-disco rockstress to a parade of misguided youth looking for solidarity for their angst. "heavy metal lover" is a stealth beast that has the miserable coolness of electroclash and on the studded dream of "highway unicorn (road to love)," gaga envisions romance as a highway, for better to speed through, my dear.

but then we get to the others: the anthem-driven "you and i" which melds the sweet cornfields of the heartland with the kind of adolescent longing absent from a particularly popular pseudo-country starlet, "electric chapel" with its "love shack" theme for the jet-lagged and mildly hedonistic, and my two favorite tracks, "scheiße" ("shit" in german) and "government hooker." the latter are both runway power-stomps that are solid proof that gaga is the queen at her craft. easily, one could throw them away without a second glance, yet these are dirty, self-assured trash classics that will be throbbing on dance floors for years to come. with the weimar-republican hazer "scheiße," gaga confesses she wishes she could be free without "the shit" and in the jfk-marilyn-mosaic "government hooker," she promises to be "anything" and "everything" as long as she's "your hooker." even for the heavy criticism about her supposed lack of depth in lyrics, gaga manages to still pack messages into her melodies without seeming to try too hard in ways that her contemporaries fail miserably.



but really, what else is there to say about what has turned into one of the most amazing pop records to come out in the last 10 years? many will say it was hyped too much, that it is not "the greatest album of the decade," and maybe, just maybe it isn't (we are only in the second year). but gaga was addressing to her fans that for them, it will be the best, and she has delivered immensely with her continuing cycle of pop madness. for those who wanted this to be the fame or the fame monster, they're missing gaga's trademark thumpy beats and crude lyrics mixed in with the nouveau political and social subject matter. i mean, is "i want your whisky mouth all over my blond south" really much different than "i wanna take a ride on your disco stick"? true, she could have stayed in the safest of zones after becoming the biggest pop star on the planet, yet instead she chose to move into a totally fresh territory and for that, she remains as one of the most fascinating artists to emerge in the last 30 years. from the purposefully-cheap cover art to the glossy readymade titles of songs, lady gaga has produced a masterful commodity waiting to be consumed and god, what a lovely, decadent treat it is.

bogie

too cool for school.

morphin time

me and stoves watched 40 minutes worth of power rangers today. i think i'm in lurve again.

something must break

so long, moody boy.

word to the wise

"if you don't enjoy the doing, do something else."
--david lynch

modern

there is a face ahead of its time.

another gem from the kingdom

like clockwork, a little over an hour ago, the heiress-apparent of pop released yet another single off her upcoming album. "hair," which focuses on the brilliantly superficial notion that freedom is associated with the protein stemming from our heads, is an instant club masterpiece that seems to have been made almost solely for the purpose of dancing in one's bedroom mirror. through her storybook lyrics, gaga weaves a tale about how oppressive parents can stunt a youth's self-discovery and how, through hair, one can essentially find salvation. it reminds you of being a teenager and the desire to be understood through expression. its message brings materialism and narcissism to epic proportions. while stomping your feet and shaking your own hair to the thunderous bassline and explosive chorus, you can see the image of cher horowitz in her white bedroom getting ready for school or jim stark slicking that ace comb through his gelled locks or tony manero flinching from his father's reach for his head, and the youth culture of all eras combine into one, huge carnival of celebration. even though this is just a promotional piece, it still will probably find its way onto charts around the world and at least the club circuit here in america, where gaga has slowly weened a generation of nu-metalheads and pop-rap fiends onto eurotrash dance and industrial electro. with "hair," the heiress-apparent yet again proves her relevance and importance by serving up an anthem devoted to outer beauty and that proudly professes, "i am my hair." india arie, she is not. and we can be thankful for that.

who's bad?

sometimes i just can't believe all the shit he did. he's so mega.

my lord and savior

"i'll endorse with my name any of the following: clothing, ac-dc, cigarettes, small tapes, sound equipment, ROCK 'N' ROLL RECORDS, anything, film, and film equipment, food, helium, whips, MONEY; love and kisses andy warhol. el 5-9941”
--a village voice ad, 1966

trashbag

i just wanna write some lovely smut bullshit like this. is that so hard?!

back to earth

for almost half a year, much has been brought up about lady gaga's highly-anticipated third album born this way. from its meticulous finishing-touches to the mother monster herself declaring that it will be the greatest album of the decade, it's hard not to perk your ears up whenever there is a further development on something relating to it. and nothing has been more interesting than the unfolding of singles and subsequent videos that gaga has released before the album makes its consumer debut two weeks from now.



after the freaks-n'-geeks messianic anthem "born this way" charted its way to heaven along with its sci-fi-creationist video, the not-so angelic "judas" soon followed, bringing her back to earth and beyond. to me, "judas" was a way of getting over the constant madonna accusations received for the eponymous track, giving us a pop-religious banger smothered in industrial german-bondage-bar throbs and lyrics fit for a pre-british invasion girl group. further utilizing her bubbly yelps and the vampirish chills that saturated her last album, she finds common ground in a medieval-rap that uses words like "prostitute wench" and her usual pleas of the angst of bad romance. its video, in addition, is even more amazing. without the high-production looks of her previous work, the clip is directed by gaga herself and reimagines mary magadelene as a gypsy-biker chick, jesus as a sexy latino with cornrows, and judas as an older, gen-x scruff-god. it says everything and nothing at all, which has always been the brilliance of gaga's goal of sculpting the pop charts to suit her needs. here, she proves herself as artist and businesswoman, fanning the controversial fires with homages to botticelli and baz luhrmann.



but just when it seems to be over (at least until the album comes out), gaga decides to release the promotional single "the edge of glory." i'd read a few months ago about how it included a passionate (and bloody amazing!) solo by saxophonist clarence clemons from the e street band and how rolling stone thought it had an element of "cheesiness," but i never knew if it'd like it or not because, on paper, it sounded nothing like gaga herself. however, on monday, gaga sent down this charming stadium fatalist love story and i have to admit that i love it. it has the 80's revisionist fashion that only she could do, but in a totally organic way that harks back to my first thoughts of "born this way." "the edge of glory" is fresh, sweet, sad, optimistic and most of all, good-natured; the kind of jazz-pop electro song you wanna scream at the top of your lungs with your fist clenched and your body shaking with all its might. if anything, this seeps into gaga's love for freddie mercury and his ability to capture that overwhelming feeling of accomplishment without kitsch. however this is a song that can overall be viewed in two ways: one as an ode to romantic love and that fleeting emotion it gives; or as a desperate longing for keeping a person around you just before you let them go, which hints at the song's original meaning of dealing with gaga's grandfather's recent death. it is heartbreakingly beautiful to hear something so gentle and kind from this goddess of manipulation and mass-art, and makes the anticipation of her new album even more painstaking. pop goes the world.

1959's greatest: imitation of life

one of the few movies that can make me cry. so fucking powerful.

rich bitch

the genius of david lachapelle in a nutshell.

chapel of love

i don't usually review new movies that i've seen unless they're absolutely classic. and although jumping the broom is not something i would deem as such, it's definitely one of the best films about black culture in a very long time and deserves the praise it's not getting from the median of cinematic critics. in a post-precious world inundated by tyler perry's quasi-minstrel comedies and dramadies, it's hard to find any films that don't feature a cross-dressing comedian or get-rich-quick schemes. but here you have this simply-structured, class-conscious gem focusing on the hurried nuptials between two good-looking manhattan professionals (laz alonso, paula patton) over the course of a weekend set on a martha's vineyard estate as they try to keep their libidos in check and keep their families (spearheaded by loretta divine and angela bassett) from embarrassing themselves.

in many ways, this could be seen as a typical wedding comedy, however there are enough wildly dramatic unexpected twists and turns that equate the amount of laughter one produces while watching. indeed most of the humor does come from the sociocultural differences between the families, ignoring the perry-style, in which the have-nots are viewed as heroes against the haves' viscous inhumanity, and instead, reaching a bit deeper into the world of obama-era inter-race politics, including everything from color gradients to the neo-truth yet oft-unmentioned subject of black-owned slavery. however there is nothing more magnificent about this film than the use of facial expressions to convey feeling and emotion, making it deeply reminiscent to the moodiness of the silent era. each actor has the unique talent of widening their eyes, stretching a smile, or sinking into sadness without looking hysterical, ridiculous, nor campy. if this were made in 1923 and released by united artists, it would be hailed as a work of art.

yet that is where i differ with modern critics. where they find this to be a common "cliched" remastering of the 50's romcom, i find it to be a glossy cross-class examination of how one ethnicity will judge its own and how far we will go to destruct the very thing that the people we care for love. sure, it's lovely, cute, charming, and sweet. but it's also passionate, different, and something uniquely tailored but not exclusively for black audiences, who, whether you care to admit it or not, have always had to watch films populated by those of whom did not look like them and as such, have never denied seeing a movie because they did not believe they would understand. for blacks, understanding cinema is understanding life, and it would be wise if people of different ethnicities, would take the cue, take their heads out of their asses and follow suit.

didion quotes #1

"my mother thought being an actress was a nice idea, she used to cut my hair in bangs to look like margaret sullvan, and my father said not to be afraid to go because if certain deals worked out as anticipated he and my mother would be regular airline passengers between las vegas and new york city, so i went."
--play it as it lays

31 candles

always and forever.

jim hendrix joplin jones curtis

odd future's loudest member's brilliant debut goblin has leaked across the internet and i must say that it is nothing short of a masterpiece. framed like a visit to a shrink's office, tyler the creator positions himself as the premier teen idol for the stoned and disenfranchised, spitting his usual rhymes about personal demons, unattainable girls, and being young while polishing it with a day-glo production and an overburdened fear of consuming fame and the prospects of suicide. this is purely psychological and outrageously cynical, but there is a deep vulnerability about him that takes off his typically comedic mask and unleashes a more tragic soul, not exactly tortured by his art, but by the systems in which try to reel him in.

this charming man

the only clown to make somberness funny.

s'wonderful

wouldn't it be nice?

charleston

i miss the flapper era. there will never again be such a fascinating threesome.

ghosts pt. 6

the upside: she's playing john gotti's son's wife with a big middle-finger to the detractors. bring on the wilma flintstone-style frying pan fights in huge du beers diamonds.
the downside: she's going to jail, again. but at least she already knows how the food tastes.