



A blog currently wondering which of the One Direction boys will take him home. Other obsessions: hot boys, Britney Spears, the Disney pop princesses, French New Wave cinema.
If Christophe Honoré is the voice of the new French cinema, then France may as well call it a day and just stop making movies altogether. I know I've already complained about him ad nauseum after Dans Paris, but his latest film, La Belle Personne, was just too awful to ignore. I can't believe I waited four months for the English subtitles to appear online.
Bret Easton Ellis, an 80's icon famous for his novels about the disaffected children of southern Californian yuppies, wrote the collection of stories The Informers is based on and also worked on the screenplay for the film (the first time he's done that with any of his novels, which include Less Than Zero, American Psycho and The Rules of Attraction). Right from the get go, the script feels exactly like what you would expect an Ellis work to feel like with its collection of young, blonde, rich 20-somethings spending their time alternating between lying around the pool and engaging in meaningless sex. There are a couple of other subplots involving distant, cold parents going through an odd separation and reconciliation and a Mickey Rourke-led kidnapping that somehow involves a violent group of pedophile gangsters. But, aside from the screenplay, all touches of Ellis seem to have vanished from the finished product. Director Jordan seems clueless about how to bring what makes Ellis's writing so unique to life onscreen. To be fair, it takes a special director to make his spaced-out and drama-light plots and characters work in the film medium, but Jordan just isn't up to task. The cast feels completely random (Billy Bob Thorton married to Kim Basinger and banging Winona Ryder? What?) and no one seems to get into the Ellis-ian spirit. Jon Foster is pretty and certainly looks the part of the main douchebag, but I just couldn't muster any feeling for him--sympathy, hatred or otherwise. And the less said about my Jakey's BFF Austin Nichols and his abysmal performance, the better. Apparently, 40-something minutes had to be cut before its theatrical release and you can definitely feel it in the film's infinite boredom. Maybe a director's cut will reveal something not readily apparent, but for now we're stuck with this lackluster version. D+
The poster for David Moreton's Edge of Seventeen couldn't be more misleading if it tried. I was expecting a nice, charming 80's-set romantic comedy about two young men falling in love and what I got was something totally different. I'm not saying it was bad, just not what I was expecting. The film follows a young, inexperienced and doubting gay named Eric (the fantastic Chris Stafford) coming to terms with his sexuality in a small Midwest town in the 80's. He meets Rod, a gay man he works with who arouses something in him that he's never felt before. They eventually hook up in a hotel room, giving Eric his first male-on-male sexual experience. If this sounds like old hat, it probably is. But Moreton and the cast make it go down easy, even managing to make the clichés seem fresh. After this hookup, the film takes a drastic turn. Instead of focusing on a burgeoning relationship between the two, like the poster suggests, Edge of Seventeen turns slightly darker with Eric discovering the gay scene while trying to figure out his relationship with his best friend Maggie (Tina Holmes). It was at this stage where the film got extremely personal and I spent the whole time fretting about the bad decisions Eric was making regarding his choice in men. I don't want to say I've been there, because I haven't, but I almost empathized with the character and felt for him like he was a close friend. And that's where I feel Edge of Seventeen succeeds best. It may not be totally original or especially groundbreaking, but it really makes you feel for the characters. How many GLBT films--especially ones stuck in the "gay ghetto" of filmdom--can truly say that? B





When I glimpsed this last outfit over B's shoulder, I literally almost fell off the couch laughing at how ridiculous it is. YOU CAN'T SEE HER FACE! Some people think she's trying too hard, but I find it refreshing that we have someone who is so willing to go where few major pop stars are these days. And, speaking of "willing to go there," have you seen her performance of 'Paparazzi' last night? Holy fuckballs, I've watched it twice now and I don't even know where to begin with it. All I have in my head is the image of GaGa playing the piano with her left foot on the keyboard, the random person in the wheelchair and, of course, the insane finale complete with crazy intense eyes and blood. Yes, blood, like she's in a fucking Saw movie or something. I haven't been this worked up over a live performance since Britney's comeback performance in 2007. You simply must see this for yourself to truly get the full gist of it.

This madness would become part of Léaud's real life and a feature of his onscreen persona as it developed from the early 1990s. With Truffaut's death in October 1984, Léaud lost his mentor and protector. His dependence on this surrogate father had been reinforced by the director's insistence on paying him a monthly allowance rather than by the film; Truffaut academic Paul Michaud recalls that one month Truffaut withheld the money because of the state of the actor's personal hygiene and that the 35-year-old Léaud came to ask Truffaut to cut his hair and nails. Unsurprisingly, a period of psychological turmoil followed the film maker's death. Neighbours in Léaud's Parisian apartment block were said to have seen him stand ing naked in the courtyard waving a crucifix and bawling 'Back, Satan!' while in 1987 he assaulted an elderly woman he believed was spying on him with a flowerpot. He was given a three month suspended sentence; the psychiatric report stated that he was depressed following Truffaut's death.
The reason I bring this is up is because the role of aging actresses in a Hollywood that values youth and beauty over talent is the subject of Stuart Heisler's The Star. The film is best remembered as the one that earned Bette Davis her 9th (or 10th, depending on your view of the legitimacy of the Of Human Bondage write-in vote) of 10 (or 11, for the same reason) Oscar nominations, but it actually has some interesting points to make about actresses past a certain age. There's a scene where has-been actress Margaret Elliott (Bette Davis) is testing for her comeback role, the dowdy older sister of the main character. A montage shows the makeup artists applying the old age makeup on Margaret, grimacing to herself in the mirror. Eventually, she wipes all of that off and begins to "young up" her look and the role in the misguided hope that the producers will see her test and think that she can still play the young ingenue. Of course, it's the wrong move and she ends up completely bombing the test, but this scene brings up something deeper about Hollywood's place for 40-something actresses. Once a female star has finished her ingenue years and gone through her "peak" years, what does Hollywood do with these talents? Why, stick them in the "older sister" role (think Angela Lansbury after earning back to back Oscar nominations in '44 and '45) or, worse, the mother to an actress maybe 10 years her junior (Teresa Wright in The Actress). Margaret's attempt to make her role sexier may have been the wrong choice for that film, but she reveals a glaring truth when she tells the director, "Women of 42 these days don't have to look ready for the old ladies' home."
















5. Diane Kruger As a divalicious German film star, Kruger's Bridget von Hammersmark was totally up my alley right from the start. Luckily she did not disappoint with her Dietrich-esque double agent.
4. Michael Fassbender At first I barely recognized Fassbender since he wasn't emaciated and making me cringe with every shallow breath he took like he did in Hunger. But once I got over that initial shock, I was impressed by just how funny he was riffing on the stereotypical British "stiff upper lip" humour. Talk about doing it all--I'm excited to see what he does next.
3. Daniel Brühl Even while playing an Ally-killing Nazi, Brühl is still his normal charming, adorable self.
2. Mélanie Laurent Tarantino is obviously very deliberate with certain camera angles and shots that he's trying to make Laurent into his Uma, but Shosanna's revenge story is just as fascinating in it's own muted way. Plus that maniacal laugh at the end is the stuff nightmares are made of.
1. Christoph Waltz Everything you've heard about him and his performance is positively true. He's scarier than Anton Chigurh but also just as charming as Cary Grant. As frightening a contradiction as I've ever witnessed.