Thursday, March 23, 2006

In which I rediscover that bald is beautiful and sex toys are not a sin.

Remember when I said there might be movie reviews in this space occasionally? I probably lied, Unless of course, I happen to see an absolutely mind-blowing movie that I can summarize and praise without spoiling its surprises or over-hyping it to the point that it's a dissapointment were any of you to actually see it, and I also happen to be three feet away from a computer with an internet connection when the credits finish rolling.
I'm just not a movie person, or rather, a movie theater person. The other day, my brother told me he wanted to see "Inside Man", like, a lot. Resisting an eye roll, I asked an honest question: what is that movie about? There's like a bank robbery or something, and that guy (Me: "Denzel Washington?" Brother: "Yeah, I heard he's a pretty good actor." Mom: "Yeah, he is. Do you know the movie Philadelphia?" Brother: "No.") is a hostage negotiator, but there's (I quote) more depth to it than that. I then correctly inferred that he drew this conclusion from Denzel screaming "This ain't no bank robbery!" in the last four seconds of every commercial. It's a clever trick, really, but overused. They don't tell you what the movie's about, but they promise a twist, and you fork over upwards of nine dollars to find out what it is. Call me cheap, but I'm spending my ten dollars on something I actually know I'll like, say, a pizza, or a vibrator.

Totally unrelated note: I had a revelation about sex toys and television the other day while I was meditating. Yes, I gave up meat for Lent, and now I'm trying for yoga and meditation every night. I would undergo full hippification and stop shaving my legs for Lent, except I already did that around November. It's winter, people, and I work in long-legged uniform. Who's going to care? Anyway, my epiphany. I set up my yoga mat (yes, I own one) in the middle of my living room, and was at one point facing the family television in the lotus position. My family went without cable for a year or two, and now that we have it back, it fells dirty. Sure, I watch, but I always feel bad. I realized in a calm, clear moment that watching television was an equal sin to an affection for vibrating silicone- it was unproductive, perhaps even a waste of time, but it did no harm to the person watching/coming, and most importantly did no harm to others. There are better things to be doing, sure, but unwinding by watching fashion designers rush towards a deadline is not a wrong, nor is twisting one's toes in the privacy of one's own bedroom. Of course, the most revelatory bit of this was not the fact that vibrators were probably ok by the higher power. It was the fact that I shouldn't be getting angry with myself or others for watching TV, lest I be a hypocrite. If I demand to be allowed to relax by pleasuring myself, it's only right that I let others sit back and worry about the CSI unit's problems instead of their own for a few hours without complaining. Treat others as yourself, the golden rule, and all that nice hippie stuff.
Of course, if sex toys are ever outlawed in my state (as they are in Mississipi), I'm calling out cable TV as equally masturbatory and campaigning for it to be outlawed, too. I can legitimately tell everyone that I was told so in a vision. I wonder how long dildos would stay illegal if half of the population's glowing fetish went down with them.

Right, so, anyway. My original point was that I don't go to movie theaters more than once a year, and that's if I'm feeling adventurous. However, I might have to fork over nine dollars pretty soon. Why? Because the boy is away at school for a record eight weeks, and V for Vendetta is in a theater near me. It's not that I'm bored without him, and interested in seeing a film to satisfy my casual interest in graphic novels. It's that I'm longing for someone to oggle at, Natalie Portman is a total hottie, and I want to see her get all bald and angry.

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I saw this picture in a magazine at least six months ago, and my tingling loins told me that no matter what this movie was about, I was going to see it. I later learned that I had heard of the story, and that Natalie was actually playing a lesbian. That should be a plus for my lust, but I was actually a little disappointed that lesbians in action movies keep getting short haircuts in what seems to be a cheap method of getting a point across. Hey look, they're not a damsel in distress- they're butch!
(edit: a reader pointed out that Natalie herself is not playing a lesbian, just that lesbians and gays are part of the plot. Well, someone lied to me. Thus, my point is invalid, but my disappointment relieved.)
I probably won't work out the logistics to actually see this movie, but I swear I'll be renting it the day or so after it comes out. Until then, I have a perfectly beautiful woman to oggle at on DVD.

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Oh, Clea Duvall, you get me every time.
That review for But I'm A Cheerleader? It's still in the works, I just always get distracted somehow while I'm watching. I usually end up in the privacy of my own bedroom.

2 comments:

Jen said...

Damn, I heard about that sex toy ban. Me and my room mate are totally going to Amazing Superstore and buying some this weekend.

Anonymous said...

Natalie Portman isn't a lesbian in this movie. Lesbians are, however, mentioned in the movie as part of the main plot.