Archive | Feminist Matters

Bibi’s Touch (RIP Lady Andersson)

I’ve had this picture of Bibi Andersson taped to my icebox for as long I’ve lived in my apartment, which, coincidentally, is as long as I’ve been a sexually self-possessed woman. Really, it’s no coincidence at all, because Andersson was a wonderful role model in this department. Traditionally cinema has been a place where women mirror men’s desire rather than channel their own, and even now realistic female orgasms are the unicorns of the silver screen. Through all this Stepford sexuality strode Andersson, she of the cupid mouth and shark eyes—-a supreme subject rather than object. Once I invited a suitor up for a proverbial nightcap, and he took a long look at her flinty mug and said, “Why do you have this pissy blonde on your fridge?” “Cuz like seeks like,” I answered and swiftly showed him the door.

Caturday Night: Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Grace and I are rewatching the brilliant Can You Ever Forgive Me? on this Caturday night and once again are appalled it didn’t score a best picture or best director Oscar nom. Its nostalgia for 90s NYC–which was all about nostalgia for midcentury Manhattan and paying the cultural piper– is pitch-perfect, as is Melissa McCarthy as Israel, reminding us what a terrific actress she can be when her husband doesn’t have his meat hooks in her projects. Continue Reading →

April Fools in the Neighborhood

Exhibit A (knickers twisted)

I was rushing down Graham Ave today, doing my shop at the pork store, mozzarella store, pasta store. (It’s the kind of weather that calls for a meat ragu.) Bogged down with parcels, dressed in sweaty, schlubby workout gear, shuddering in the shitty cold wind, I rounded the corner to my house. And came face to face with one of the neighborhood old-timers who’s never acknowledged my existence in the 20 years I’ve lived here–not being Italian in East Williamsburg means I’ll always be dismissed as a Janey-Come-Lately. This time, though he stopped short. “You’re still pretty, honey,” he said. His consoling tone–that still–is cracking me up even now. Cuz, you know, he really was trying to be nice. P.S. The ragu turned out molto buono.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy