Creative use of scanner
Oct. 4th, 2004 07:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muck_a_luckIt has apparently been creative use of my scanner week.
Remembered the article below from Premiere Magazine and then further remembered to scan it in. Just edited it (my text recognition software sucks), and here it is!
You will see the first part is most relevant, but her discussion of Riddick and The Day after Tomorrow are also funny, so I left them on.
If You Ask Me
By Libby Gelman-Waxner
"Queer Eye for the Greek Guy. They're Here. They throw spears. Get used to it."
Premiere Magazine, July/August 2004, pp. 52-53.
Perhaps the most important aspect of cinema is the medium's ability to educate. Over this past summer, for example, the blockbuster epic Troy taught me that the Trojan War was actually fought in the Hamptons during Gay Pride Week. Everyone in this movie lives in either an open-air palace or a lavish beach front tent, just about all of the men in both armies are unbearably gorgeous, and all of the women have that tight-Iipped no-of- course- I -don't -mind-if -my-husband-spends- the- entire – battle -chatting- with – the - house boy look. Eric Bana and Orlando Bloom are both Trojan princes, and in one delectable scene they discuss strategy aboard their regal ship while wearing ethnic jewelry and matching sarong-y outfits that seem to have been stitched from batik place mats. My cousin Andrew remarked that Eric and Orlando are in the luscious tradition of brothers like David and Shaun Cassidy. Andrew has recently been hired by one of the new gay cable networks to create a male-oriented morning show titled "Good Morning, You."
Once the Trojan princes go to war, their Greek enemies recruit the pre-Christian world's ultimate hottie--Brad Pitt as the legendary warrior Achilles. It's as if Greece were announcing, "Maybe you guys have more soldiers and the home advantage, but we've got a blond." Brad is so hunky that I expected the Trojan troops to surrender immediately, and hand over not only Helen but their phone numbers scrawled on matchbooks. Eric, Orlando, and Brad are all photographed naked at least once, with their most powerful weapons only millimeters off-camera. "This is a movie about why there are so many gay guys named Troy," Andrew concluded. "And maybe there were other ancient cities named David and Scott. Brad is an unstoppable killing machine who's conflicted about his bloodthirsty gifts - he's like a bipolar florist called in at the last minute to save the royal wedding reception. He's also extremely attached to his cousin, Patroclus, who's played by a very preppy, Dead Poets Society-style actor. When Patroclus is slain, Brad gets so grief-stricken that I expected him to face the heavens and vow, "I can't go on! It's like Abercrombie without Fitch!"
Andrew explained that in Homer's version; Achilles and Patroclus weren't cousins, but lovers, which would be more understandable. "It would have been much more dramatic," Andrew commented, "if when Brad had his duel with Eric, he could have said, 'This is for my boyfriend!' " Instead, Achilles is given a vestal virgin as a love interest, who takes one peek at Brad and instantly rethinks her career choice. Brad and his buddies build the Trojan horse and hide inside it; the Trojans, assuming the horse is some sort of hostess gift, wheel it for miles, and no one inside ever coughs or giggles. Troy doesn't make much sense, but as Andrew said, "It doesn't have to--it's toga porn. Brad is so buff in his little white skirts that he looks like a female tennis player. First we had that dreamy Jim Caviezel getting flayed in The Passion of the Christ, and now this. It's all about targeting the gay audience. I hear that they almost renamed that new King Arthur movie Bea Arthur. "
Movies don't just inform us about the far-off past; they can also warn us about the future, as in the eco-disaster sensation The Day After Tomorrow. In this film, because of global - warming and the world's addiction to aerosol air fresheners, a new Ice Age covers most of the planet in only a few days. While much of Earth's population is buried under snow and ice, the movie wisely concentrates on America's East Coast, because that's where paleoclimatology professor Dennis Quaid and his equally scrumptious young son, Jake Gyllenhaal, are wandering around in parkas. Jake is a student trapped in Manhattan when hurricane winds and a tidal wave lash the city. The most unbelievable thing about all this is that as the waters rise, all of the taxis have their rooftop lights on, and everyone knows that you can't get a cab in New York when it rains. All that water freezes, and Jake and his pals hunker down in the New York Public Library, burning books to keep warm. Sadly, no one says, "We'll be able to last at least a year-we've got Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oates." Dennis is in Washington, explaining weather to the President, but he straps on his skis and slaloms out to rescue his son. He makes it through and discovers other survivors huddled atop Manhattan skyscrapers, all grateful that real estate prices have finally leveled off.
Eventually everyone left alive in the United States is instructed to head for Mexico, where it's dry. This movie proves that the answer to global warming is basically Spring Break in Cancun. I wanted to see all of the rich Americans forced to clean the Mexicans' apartments in order to get green cards, but maybe that's in the sequel. I also wish that Michael Moore had appeared in The Day Afier Tomorrow, blaming the new Ice Age on President Bush. Instead, I rounded out my cinematic curriculum by seeing The Chronicles of Riddick, a sci-fi flick about why the universe's greatest defense against interplanetary tyranny is Vin Diesel in a tank top. Vin is a moody tough guy who's shanghaied from a prison planet to save some other planets from a bunch of baddies called the Necromongers, who are half-dead and wear elaborate armor that makes them look like those bongs made out of pewter skulls. The evil ruler of the Necromongers can actually grab people's souls and say things like, "Take him back to my ship for mental regression." My favorite moment was right after a major starship battle, when the head Necromonger turned to the camera and declared, "I have lost an Ionizer!" And I thought, please, you can order a new one from The Sharper Image.
I'm not sure exactly what Riddick taught me, but those Necromongers did blather about traveling to a dark realm called the Underverse, where I'm sure they'll put on their underwear. I can't wait to see what Spider-Man 2, Shrek 2, and the next 12 Ben Stiller movies have on their minds, if you ask me.
Remembered the article below from Premiere Magazine and then further remembered to scan it in. Just edited it (my text recognition software sucks), and here it is!
You will see the first part is most relevant, but her discussion of Riddick and The Day after Tomorrow are also funny, so I left them on.
If You Ask Me
By Libby Gelman-Waxner
"Queer Eye for the Greek Guy. They're Here. They throw spears. Get used to it."
Premiere Magazine, July/August 2004, pp. 52-53.
Perhaps the most important aspect of cinema is the medium's ability to educate. Over this past summer, for example, the blockbuster epic Troy taught me that the Trojan War was actually fought in the Hamptons during Gay Pride Week. Everyone in this movie lives in either an open-air palace or a lavish beach front tent, just about all of the men in both armies are unbearably gorgeous, and all of the women have that tight-Iipped no-of- course- I -don't -mind-if -my-husband-spends- the- entire – battle -chatting- with – the - house boy look. Eric Bana and Orlando Bloom are both Trojan princes, and in one delectable scene they discuss strategy aboard their regal ship while wearing ethnic jewelry and matching sarong-y outfits that seem to have been stitched from batik place mats. My cousin Andrew remarked that Eric and Orlando are in the luscious tradition of brothers like David and Shaun Cassidy. Andrew has recently been hired by one of the new gay cable networks to create a male-oriented morning show titled "Good Morning, You."
Once the Trojan princes go to war, their Greek enemies recruit the pre-Christian world's ultimate hottie--Brad Pitt as the legendary warrior Achilles. It's as if Greece were announcing, "Maybe you guys have more soldiers and the home advantage, but we've got a blond." Brad is so hunky that I expected the Trojan troops to surrender immediately, and hand over not only Helen but their phone numbers scrawled on matchbooks. Eric, Orlando, and Brad are all photographed naked at least once, with their most powerful weapons only millimeters off-camera. "This is a movie about why there are so many gay guys named Troy," Andrew concluded. "And maybe there were other ancient cities named David and Scott. Brad is an unstoppable killing machine who's conflicted about his bloodthirsty gifts - he's like a bipolar florist called in at the last minute to save the royal wedding reception. He's also extremely attached to his cousin, Patroclus, who's played by a very preppy, Dead Poets Society-style actor. When Patroclus is slain, Brad gets so grief-stricken that I expected him to face the heavens and vow, "I can't go on! It's like Abercrombie without Fitch!"
Andrew explained that in Homer's version; Achilles and Patroclus weren't cousins, but lovers, which would be more understandable. "It would have been much more dramatic," Andrew commented, "if when Brad had his duel with Eric, he could have said, 'This is for my boyfriend!' " Instead, Achilles is given a vestal virgin as a love interest, who takes one peek at Brad and instantly rethinks her career choice. Brad and his buddies build the Trojan horse and hide inside it; the Trojans, assuming the horse is some sort of hostess gift, wheel it for miles, and no one inside ever coughs or giggles. Troy doesn't make much sense, but as Andrew said, "It doesn't have to--it's toga porn. Brad is so buff in his little white skirts that he looks like a female tennis player. First we had that dreamy Jim Caviezel getting flayed in The Passion of the Christ, and now this. It's all about targeting the gay audience. I hear that they almost renamed that new King Arthur movie Bea Arthur. "
Movies don't just inform us about the far-off past; they can also warn us about the future, as in the eco-disaster sensation The Day After Tomorrow. In this film, because of global - warming and the world's addiction to aerosol air fresheners, a new Ice Age covers most of the planet in only a few days. While much of Earth's population is buried under snow and ice, the movie wisely concentrates on America's East Coast, because that's where paleoclimatology professor Dennis Quaid and his equally scrumptious young son, Jake Gyllenhaal, are wandering around in parkas. Jake is a student trapped in Manhattan when hurricane winds and a tidal wave lash the city. The most unbelievable thing about all this is that as the waters rise, all of the taxis have their rooftop lights on, and everyone knows that you can't get a cab in New York when it rains. All that water freezes, and Jake and his pals hunker down in the New York Public Library, burning books to keep warm. Sadly, no one says, "We'll be able to last at least a year-we've got Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oates." Dennis is in Washington, explaining weather to the President, but he straps on his skis and slaloms out to rescue his son. He makes it through and discovers other survivors huddled atop Manhattan skyscrapers, all grateful that real estate prices have finally leveled off.
Eventually everyone left alive in the United States is instructed to head for Mexico, where it's dry. This movie proves that the answer to global warming is basically Spring Break in Cancun. I wanted to see all of the rich Americans forced to clean the Mexicans' apartments in order to get green cards, but maybe that's in the sequel. I also wish that Michael Moore had appeared in The Day Afier Tomorrow, blaming the new Ice Age on President Bush. Instead, I rounded out my cinematic curriculum by seeing The Chronicles of Riddick, a sci-fi flick about why the universe's greatest defense against interplanetary tyranny is Vin Diesel in a tank top. Vin is a moody tough guy who's shanghaied from a prison planet to save some other planets from a bunch of baddies called the Necromongers, who are half-dead and wear elaborate armor that makes them look like those bongs made out of pewter skulls. The evil ruler of the Necromongers can actually grab people's souls and say things like, "Take him back to my ship for mental regression." My favorite moment was right after a major starship battle, when the head Necromonger turned to the camera and declared, "I have lost an Ionizer!" And I thought, please, you can order a new one from The Sharper Image.
I'm not sure exactly what Riddick taught me, but those Necromongers did blather about traveling to a dark realm called the Underverse, where I'm sure they'll put on their underwear. I can't wait to see what Spider-Man 2, Shrek 2, and the next 12 Ben Stiller movies have on their minds, if you ask me.
