Monday’s Lovely Lesson
So a few months ago, a pair of fratty-bratty young guys moved in next door, replacing the quiet fellows who’d lived there for two years. I’d liked that couple because I neither heard nor saw them, a quality I deem ideal in neighbors. Continue Reading →
The Worst Boyfriend Ever
I’m having a nervous breakdown about tomorrow’s debate, mostly because I’m convinced nothing good can come out of it. Sociopathic Trump has treated this country like his romantic prey for a year now. The Democrats are the women he’s dumped (“Don’t listen to that bitch; she’s crrrrazy.”); the Republicans are the sorority sisters he’s still trying to shtup. (“Let me say exactly what you want me to say while I unhook your bra.”) Ultimately, anyone unfortunate enough to date a malignant narcissist knows that there’s no besting such a black hole except to change your number, leave town, and get thoroughly tested for STDs. Pray for Hillary; I’ve been doing it all day.
9/26 Postscript: Given that I have not been able to turn my head to the right for four days (I have a pain in the neck; ah, body as metaphor), I’m leaning toward not watching the debate at all, just turning off my electronics and beaming Mz. Clinton pure light.
Of ‘Goat’ and Toxic Masculinity
“Goat” is so far from what you’d expect from a Jonas Brother movie that calling it a Jonas Brother movie misses the boat. It is true that it stars Nick Jonas. But given that he delivers a considered, nuanced performance as someone besides himself, and given that this adaptation of Brad Land’s 2004 eponymous memoir is about as far from a pop-star vehicle as an American indie about white men can get, let’s dispense with any biases you may bring to this film. I had to, and I’m glad I did.
Ironically, this is about a fraternity, which easily could qualify it as a boys-will-be-boys lark a la “Animal House” or “Neighbors.” Directed by Andrew Neel, “Goat” is a more serious venture – one that tackles the sadism of this all-American institution with a refreshing candor.
The film begins with a blurred close-up of a mass of shirtless frat brothers bounding up and down and howling in a primal scream drowned out by a wordless, ambient Arjan Miranda composition. It is a shot that summons the ecstasy of a primitive tribe. Continue Reading →