Asshole 400

If you're feeling superficial: You're in good company! This is my 400th fucking post and instead of making a boring list of films or bitching about the Oscars, I'm just going to post 20 photos of filmic individuals who I'd give the business to (for a variety of reasons...). Yeah, I'm shallow. And no, I'm not sexually confused, but would you really turn down Asia Argento or Grace Jones? Not this faggot.

In no particular order:
Rosanna Arquette (pictured with Thom Yorke, to whom the business would not be given)
Monica Vitti (I like the variety in hair color I get with L'avventura or La notte)
PJ Harvey (Um, she was in Hal Hartley's The Book of Life, so it counts)
Paul Schneider (In George Washington)
The Renier brothers, Jérémie et Yannick (Together... in Private Property)
Romain Duris (Yikes, I'll take him in anything, especially The Beat That My Heart Skipped)
Grégoire Colin (Again, in anything, take your pick, but how about Beau travail?)
Harry Baer (in Gods of the Plague, definitely)
Jane Fonda (pre-exercise tapes, maybe even in Vietnam)
Jean-Marc Barr (Post-The Big Blue)
Lior Ashkenazi (Late Marriage, Walk on Water)
Daniel Hendler (Family Law, though really anything)
Emmanuelle Seigner (particularly in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and with Roman Polanski watching)
Gina Gershon (hell, and Jennifer Tilly too)
Grace Jones (!!!!)
Aiden Gillen (Either with crazy hair or as Mayor Carcetti on The Wire)
Alain Delon (Purple Noon or L'Eclisse)
Asia Argento (with blood, lots of it, and her dad filming)
Béatrice Dalle (Betty Blue 4-ever)
Bibi Andersson (Persona)

Erections and what to do with them

The Weinstein Company released the 2-disc Indie Sex collection this past Tuesday which features three hour-or-so long specials from IFC with filmmakers, critics and actors discussing the history of sexuality on the screen. I can save you the trouble of watching it by informing you that it's precisely nothing new or eye-opening and perhaps better addressed in films like This Film Is Not Yet Rated or Inside Deep Throat, to name a few. Jami Bernard manages to make a few interesting points, and of course, Shortbus and Hedwig director John Cameron Mitchell is always on board to take any opportunity to let you know how groundbreaking of a filmmaker he is in the realms of sexuality. Curiously, IFC decided to interview a bunch of other folk whose contributions to cinema or even sexuality in cinema are slight at best. Shadowboxer director Lee Daniels and The Quiet and But I'm a Cheerleader director Jamie Babbit are on hand for no apparent reason, not to mention actress Piper Perabo, who seems uncomfortable during the whole interview process. In fact, burlesque dancer Dita Von Tresse, who has no physical relationship to cinema, makes for a much more game interviewee than most. And Peter Sarsgaard is also on board to assure you that all the gay sex he's had onscreen has never slipped into his personal life. Hm.

If you really must indulge your curiosity, the best part of the collection comes on the second disc, which includes a half-hour segment on Sex Taboos, which features wonderful commentary from The Sweet Hereafter director Atom Egoyan, one of the few people with a direct relationship to cinema who appears to have something to actually say about it. The segment is really only worth watching for the much improved crop of talking heads which also includes Allison Anders and the always-reliable John Waters, though the segment itself places most of its importance on Blue Velvet and Crash and not many others. There's also some deleted footage which asks the interviewees a series of questions in which you'll find out that the first sex Ally Sheedy ever saw onscreen came from the film Cabaret and that Rosanna Arquette is finished taking her top off unless Bernardo Bertolucci comes knocking at her door.

Off to See the World

This will be me as of tomorrow. I'm taking a much-needed escape from Saint Louis to New York City, so there won't be many updates until late next week. Some planned events in NYC include:

Finally seeing John Cameron Mitchell's Shortbus, as it doesn't come here until Thanksgiving.

Going to Grey Gardens: The Musical.

And POSSIBLY, dressing up as Rosanna Arquette from Crash for Halloween. I'm not much for dressing in drag, even for Halloween, even though I went as Yoko Ono performing "Cut Piece" last year. So, if it does happen, expect lewd photos sometime in November. Adieu!

Into the Groove

Desperately Seeking Susan - dir. Susan Seidelman - 1985 - USA

As I'm listening to Ciccone Youth's (a side-project of Sonic Youth) cover of Madonna's "Into the Groove," I couldn't help but remember the bizarre scene in Desperately Seeking Susan where Rosanna Arquette's loser husband confronts Madonna in a dance club, where they're weirdly playing "Into the Groove." As a child, I always found that peculiar -- but now as an adult, I find it weird that I'm thinking about Desperately Seeking Susan. Other than Dick Tracy and maybe (a very large maybe) Evita, this film stands as the only bearable Madonna vehicle, her first post-stardom. It's a silly film about mistaken identities, amnesia, and a bored housewife who finds herself. But why do I like this film (or think I like this film)? Of course, considering I had to open this blog with a reference to Sonic Youth to establish my hip status, I feel guilty. Do I want to like Madonna? Do I actually like her and cannot bring myself to admit this for it's socially uncouth? I very honestly find her recent music to be a huge bag of lousy, not to mention finding her social presence utterly contemptable. Yet, for some reason, there's an unhealthy liking of Madge deep within me. Even when I'm hating her, it's a hatred that stems from love and from fond memories of watching VH1 marathons of her videos and, yes, Desperately Seeking Susan. This is all sick and twisted, so much so that I don't even want to post this blog. Madonna? What the fuck? A friend of mine was telling me about her ex-boyfriend and how he had a room in their apartment dedictaed to Madonna (filled with plenty of posters depicting her chameleon-like personas). When I asked why, the simple response she gave was "why not?" Why not, indeed. Fuck you, Madonna.