« April 2006 | Main | June 2006 »
Boy Culture was won its first real award—it has been selected as the Best Narrative Feature Film for the 17th Annual Honolulu Rainbow Film Festival 2006. On top of that, the Gala Night screening (at the Doris Duke Theatre) was sold out. I've only been to Hawaii twice—once as a teenager and once with a teenager (not as dirty as it sounds). Perhaps it's time to go for some adult down time.
Opening to rave reviews and boffo box office, Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth is a film I'd recommend to anyone. Yes, it is the equivalent of a filmed lecture—there are very few bells and no whistles at all in this straight-on documentary. But it's indisputably honest and sincere. When it raises the fact that global warming is not disputed among all reputable scientists, and yet 53% of stories in the media have presented it as a "we're not sure" proposition, you realize what we're up against—we're up against greedy people who will stop at nothing to protect their bucks, and who aren't embarrassed to lie, and lie badly. The best line in the film is the title of this post, and it refers to the unprecedented series of natural catastrophes visited upon Europe and the world in general of late. I don't see why anyone would dispute global warming and the need to counter it. For one thing, it also makes excellent strategic sense to wean ourselves off fossil fuels. The only reason to keep doing what we're doing is to keep those profiting from it in the billionaire boys' club. I wish Al Gore had been declared the winner in 2000, but he's definitely a winner in 2006. I hope he runs in 2008—as much as I dig Hillary Clinton, I think Al Gore would find America by then a very healthy environment in which to run. For a couple of years after 9/11, it was popular for right-wingers to say, "Can you imagine how much worse off we'd be if Gore had won?" Can you imagine anyone but the most hardened partisan seriously saying that now?
I guess this means that openly gay actor Ian McKellen is on the rise as one of the box office's all-time winners. You know how they come up with lists stating actors with the largest hauls in box-office history? I believe Samuel L. Jackson was one of the top winners, as was Christopher Lee, mainly from their lucky Star Wars appearances. But with the Lord Of The Rings and X-Men trilogies and now The DaVinci Code, Ian must be bulleted on that somewhat meaningless—not nonetheless interesting—chart.
Another reason why I'll never buy the argument that gay actors should be allowed to stay in the closet since coming out might take them from making $5 million a picture to "only" $500,000 a picture is this. I think Memorial Day should be a time to remember and honor fighters of all kinds and from battles of all types.
I spent a nice evening with a prominent gay activist and found myself excited to speak with someone who agrees with me so strongly on one aspect of gayness that seems controversial—we both believe that being gay is not just a part of who you are, it's who you are. I've heard plenty of smart people argue that sexuality does not define you. It's the argument, spoken or implied, used by actors who everyone on earth knows perfectly well to be gay, but who feel that to be openly gay would somehow put them in a box. Let's call it the Hayes Code. I think you will gracefully get my drift.
But even though a passionate, convincing argument can be made from a political angle—asserting who you are must always come before lurking in anonymous comfort, silence equals death and other slogans that echo why Christians make such great lion chow—I think there is also an argument to be made based on philosophy, on common sense.
I can agree that the act of sex does not define an individual. We all talk about sex as if we've all been there and know what we're talking about, but we all have sex differently. Isn't that why it's so frustrating when you're with someone you don't mesh with sexually? Everything is working and then you get naked and he wants to be on top, on bottom, riding side-saddle or across the room in a bra and panties? Isn't the disconnect, sexually, what gives fetishes their intensity? If you're into being verbally abused or sniffing smelly socks or dressing in leather or eating things that most people flush unseen, isn't that why finding someone into the exact same thing can become an obsession...and can lead to unparalleled release...and can explain why outwardly mismatched couples stay together?
From Madonna's Confessions Tour comes this utterly thrilling remix of "Erotica," aka "You Thrill Me." This version is, without question, drastically superior to the original, rather joyless version that became a #2 hit for Madonna in 1992. (Back when a #2 hit was so-so for her.)
I can't help thinking of Ellen's dancing when I see the pictures of Madonna gettin' down with her bad self in full Travolta mode on The Confessions Tour. The show got a near-rave A- review in Entertainment Weekly, a magazine that loves to take potshots at her (sibling rivalry—it's a Time Warner publication). I can't wait to see the show at least twice, just like I've seen Ellen's talk show...at least twice. (The pic of Madonna is by Sergio, and is from Madonnalicious. The review scan is courtesy of DrownedMadonna.)
When the hugging doesn't work, a little fatherly fellatio often does the trick.
Yikes, even the great Prince has deigned to grace the American Idol stage. This is getting serious, people! Who's next? Bruce Springsteen? (Madonna's already done it—she sang on the French version and even interacted with the wannabe contestants, so don't think she's too good for it...like many stars, she just thinks only America really counts). American Idol ended with a bang, and frankly I'd say the bang was the hard screwing doled out to probably the 199 runners-up behind Taylor Hicks, a freaky non-talent who looks like George Clooney doing a stage version of Rain Man. Taylor is a novelty, so his win is an echo of when Ruben Studdard won—it's about the mascot effect, rooting for the way, way underdog. It's also about America despising excellence or, if you look at it in a less judgmental way, America despising impossible-to-achieve perfection. How so? People are voting for regular folks on American Idol. They're avoiding hot guys, bodacious babes and anyone who could easily be packaged. They're doing it in protest against all those surreal bods out there (can you imagine being a Pussycat Doll? I can, but then I'd be down by the docks picking up sailors and would wind up in a brown paper bag by the highway, discarded by the rest of the "litter'), all those sexified star images, all those incredible dancers, razzle-dazzlers. Of course, many of the same people doing the protest-voting and championing Taylor Hicks will not buy his second album, but will continue adding to their iPods songs by all the scarier, glossier, harder-to-mimic stars out there. To each his own. But if your own is Taylor Hicks—is it because you think he's the most talented dude in America at the moment, because you feel sorry for him or because you feel sorry for yourself?
