Days of Swine and Roses

Since that dismal week in which 30 Rock, The Office, Lost and Survivor all ended en masse, followed shortly by the demise of The Hills and Gossip Girl, there is really only one show that I’m currently following (as I can’t find episodes of Top Chef: Masters online yet!), and that’s The Bachelorette.

On this go-round, it’s Jillian – last season of The Bachelor’s third runner-up – who is taking a stab at finding everlasting love. Now let’s not pretend that there’s ever been a fantastic or even half decent season of The Bachelor or Bachelorette, but this one is particularly sub par. The men this time are really juvenile and - as my title suggests - swine-like, and to exacerbate things, Jill seems to have especially poor taste in picking from this disappointing pool of seeming adolescents.

Also, and this is lobbing a blow pretty far below the belt, or rather, below the eyes – that’s right, this blow is landing right on Jillian’s oversized nose – but Jillian is simply not pretty enough to be believably leading around a pack of twenty some mild to moderate hotties. Ok, to be fair, Jillian is a cool enough girl; I would even consider having a drink with her, which is not something I would endure with just anyone. Jillian’s personality is fine, and in a perfect world maybe bunches of hotties would flock to an awkward looking girl with an above average personality. But – and do I even need to say this? – we don’t live in a perfect world and the men on this season are clearly not above shallow behavior. In fact, so many of them are petty and full of testosterone that it makes watching the show unbearable at times.

There are a few decent catches on the show, however, and one who has earned the Film Noix stamp of approval. This lucky gent is Reid – a 29 year-old realtor from Philadephia.

I know, he sounds like a snooze fest but he’s actually really cute (don't trust that abysmal picture, it was the best I could find) and seems to have a good sense of humor. He’s hands down the one I would pick. I actually would go so far as to venture that – if he is rejected by Jill and asked to be the next bachelor – I might finally make my long overdue reality TV debut by competing for his undying affection on the show. Stay tuned.

Sorry (Again)!

Behold! I have emerged from my dormant cavern of blog silence, stiff and sore from what must seem to you like eons of literary hibernation. Indeed, it’s been nigh two months since I put fingers to keyboard and enlightened you with some exquisite insight from the rich and limitless stock of my imagination. And before you berate me with your grievances due to my prolonged and unexplained absence – I can only guess how hard it must have been for you to cope in lieu of my heretofore semi-frequent updates – let me just say that I’m sorry. In an attempt to win you back into my favor, I’ll share with you one of the things that has been eating up an enormous chunk of my time – granted it is only one facet of my infinitely busy life, but it is the one that I estimate will garner the most sympathy points.

Here she is: the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold, mommy’s little girl to have and hold. A precious gem, is what she is, and she’s mommy’s little girl. Ok, I’ll stop quoting lyrics and for once cut to the chase. I have a little kitty!

Technically, she’s not mine – she’s just my foster baby, but I’ve had her since she was a wee bottle baby and it’s been months now and I love her with all my heart. I’ve had other foster cats but they’ve all been adopted. While I’ve been sad to see them go, this one has been with me the longest and is quite simply, the most wonderful. I really hope no one wants to adopt her and that I get to keep her, even though I’m not sure this is such a good idea as I don’t think people should adopt cats unless they can guarantee a good home for the next twenty or so years. I also can’t come up with a name that is perfect enough for her – she’s too heavenly for any name to stick. Instead I just keep calling her Baby Angel Princess. I know this is cringe-worthy, but seriously, it fits her better than anything else that’s come to mind. Feast on these glamour shots you lucky bastards:

Ach yah!

The trailer for Bruno has been released and it is FABULOUS! Ish am so, so excited and absolutely can't wait! My favorite part is the "traditional African name" Bruno gives his baby. Further proof that Sacha Baron Cohen is the most brilliant mind of our generation. Check it out - it's so 2009!

Dial M for Milland

I love movies with creepy leading characters. From The Talented Mr. Ripley to Night of the Hunter to M that sort of thing never ceases to thrill me. The more I can empathize with the creepster, the better. A baddy with little motivation is pointless and not really worth watching (think Spielberg’s atrocious War of the Worlds – there was no reason why the aliens were attacking Earth, thus they were ineffective antagonists. And yeah, this is only the tip of the iceberg as to why this film was bad, but this is not the time or the place to discuss the film's multitude of flaws). No, you need to be able to get inside your villain’s head in order to craft a truly eerie, bloodcurdling film. I recently rewatched Dial M for Murder, a Hitchcock that I had virtually forgotten about altogether and am happy to report that I was totally creeped out by the brilliance of Hitch’s leading man.

The villain in question is former tennis star Tony (Ray Milland), who discovers that his wealthy wife Margot (Grace Kelly) has been having an affair with sleazy writer Mark (Robert Cummings) and – out of boredom, annoyance and lack of funds – decides to plot her murder. It’s a pretty straightforward story that could have dragged and lost its momentum with a less adept director, but Hitchcock – the self proclaimed “master of suspense” – keeps the ball rolling at an irritatingly gripping pace. I literally couldn’t stop watching.

While the bulk of the film’s dramatic tension and general success should be attributed to Hitchcock, I was no less than bowled over by the subtlety and nuance of Milland’s performance. I am a bit embarrassed to admit that I have only seen four of Milland’s other works, but in all these films he played sympathetic, charming and affable leading men. Even in The Lost Weekend – in which Milland delivers a heartbreaking performance as a deeply troubled alcoholic – he still portrayed a sweetheart for whom you couldn’t help but feel deeply sorry. In Murder, however, his character is cold blooded, calculated and passionless. His hatred for his wife is far from the sort of emotional fury you might expect from a jilted husband; it’s a smooth, detached, quiet sort of hatred that makes him all the more deadly. Seemingly emotionless, he is motivated to carry out her murder as much because of her infidelity and wealth as from a general boredom with his situation in life and a fascination with seeing if he can pull off a perfect crime. He’s a chilling, terrifying character that Milland plays with so much skill that I couldn’t help but find myself rooting for him every excruciating step along the way.

His cool villainous persona is all the more effective in contrast with Kelly’s and Cummings’ characters who exemplify the sort of watered down, irksome blandness it is near impossible not to loathe. I’ve never been a big Grace Kelly fan; I find her beautiful but drearily insipid. Long before she was the princess of Monaco, she was still an ice princess of the first degree and her frigid demeanor distances her from viewers. Also, her wooden, affected speech is grating, pretentious and distracting. No thank you. Cummings’ character is little better; he proficiently plays a hack but the role has little merit to begin with, and is thus not improved with his somewhat limited acting chops. However, the pair's shortcomings only serve to heighten the brilliance of Milland’s performance and further build audience complicity with his nefarious pursuits.

Shot virtually only in one room, it is a wonder that this film doesn’t feel constrained. It is a testament to Hitchcock’s innovative direction and camera choices (fun fact: the film was shot in 3D!), the fascinating plot developments and of course Milland’s phenomenal performance that the film not only doesn't feel fenced in, but rather soars. This is easily one of Hitchcock’s top films and one of his best villains. If you like creepy characters as much as me, or even if you just like suspense, or are merely fond of looking at Grace Kelly, I would highly recommend this film.

California Dreamin'

Awash in the homesickness that goes hand in hand with enduring a frostbitten New York winter, I have been yearning for a hiatus from the snow, a vacay from the oppressive winds constantly blowing my hair in my mouth, an escape from my dark little bug infested basement apartment where I don’t even get cell reception. The inimitable Tom Robbins says: “weather should be either celebrated or ignored,” and I couldn’t agree more, but truth be told I’m better at celebrating than ignoring and thus, it is hard to cope with the entirely uncelebratory weather. However, in an attempt to ignore the cold, I decided to flee to the comparatively balmy homeland of Northern California at least on a mental plane by watching Humbolt County.

The film follows Peter, a neurotic and sheltered UCLA medical student (portrayed by the oddly wooden Jeremy Strong) who – after studying for three days – fails his final exam, which is proctored by his father (Peter Bogdanovich) and winds up having a one-night-stand with a free spirited singer Bogart (Fairuza Balk) who drives up the coast to her home of Humboldt county while Peter is passed out from exhaustion in the passenger’s seat. Upon awakening he finds himself in an entirely mystical, secluded realm of redwood trees, pot groves and stunning headlands. The beautiful familiarity of the locale was almost too much for me!

After a few days of trying to leave Humboldt to return to his formative life, Peter decides to stay for a while as he grows closer to Bogart’s far out surrogate family, including her iconoclast adoptive father Jack (skillfully played by Brad Douriff), perma-stoned adoptive mother Rosie (Frances Conroy) and their son Max (played by the handsome Chris Messina), a cynical, flawed but deeply human pot grower and single father who becomes Peter’s close friend. From here, the story follows a fairly conventional route as uptight Peter – who previously never thought life had anything to offer beyond becoming a doctor – learns to appreciate a new way of life and lets go of his preconceived notions.

This all sounds pretty trite and clichéd, I’ll admit. But what redeems this movie is the strong character development. Apart from Peter himself (who I found the weakest of the bunch), each role is well written and skillfully acted and resultantly the film is full of nuanced, relatable dialogue and characters. Also, while writer/director team Darren Grodsky and Danny Jacobs certainly depict these Northern Californians in a positive light, they avoid idealizing them or their lifestyle. Instead, each of the oddballs Peter encounters is mired and lost in their own personal disconnect from reality just as much as Peter is himself. Additionally, Bogdanovich’s role as Peter’s hardened father is humanized rather than condemned for being straight and narrow. Ultimately the film does not suggest that one way of life is better than another, but instead urges its viewers to follow their own path, rather than feeling confined to a predetermined one.

My least favorite part of the film (without giving too much away) comes at the end when we learn that Max suffers from an as-yet-unmentioned drinking problem. For the sake of tying up all the lose ends, this development fit neatly into the film but seemed out of place in terms of Max’s already well established character. Thus, this alcoholic add-on and its subsequent repercussions on the overall plot seemed tacked on and forced. In short, this isn’t a brilliant film – it’s not going to blow your mind or change the way you live your life – but it’s well done and entirely enjoyable. In particular, Messina’s performance really shines. I'd recommend Humboldt County to all, but highly recommend it to Northern Californians, especially those who are currently stuck on the bloody East Coast dreaming of their beloved homeland.

I'm Back...

I feel like all I do is apologize to you for my near criminally negligent lack of posting. I won't even bother to explain this time; those of you who know me know that I've been inescapably detained and those of you who don't will have to live in the titillated darkness wondering to what I could possibly be referring.

Instead of excuses (though trust me, were I to elaborate, the excuses would be good ones), I'll propose a conciliatory gift of laughter through my old friend Bruno. Behold the sassy fashionista extract some deep observations from one Miami club owner. It's not just humorous, it's informative: you'll learn amazing new facts about how such catastrophes as WWII and Apartheid could have been avoided (who knew it could be so simple!), and you'll also hear a mind blowing story about Matt Damon!

Officially Famous Now

Granted I was already unofficially famous, but today I became officially a really big deal. That's right, I'm on IMDB now. Click here to see the page in all its glory.

This whole thing is very random to me as I have been in countless short films and this one (in which is have a tiny, negligible part) is the one that finally cements my status as rising star, it girl of the 2010s, witty and ingenious comedienne, etc. You get the drift. Anyways, three cheers for me.