My Weekend Crush

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m really more of a Team Lena kind of gal. Still I’ve always liked Piper Perabo and thought her cute as a button. A button that gets to kiss Lena Headey. But I never really felt that, well, umpf that makes my knees wobble and my pulse quicken. That is until now. Seeing her fight and flash that smirk. Seeing her kick ass and keep her cool in those tightly tailored suits. It’s all working for me, even if her new show rockets unapologetically into giddy preposterousness from time to time. “Covert Affairs” is all about Piper. That slip of a girl (well, not really a girl, we’re practically the same age), doing all those feats of derring-do.

There was a moment in this week’s episode when Piper, glistening sweat from hitting the heavy bag, looks over her shoulder and it reminded me in an instant why I love women. There was a grace and poetry amid the iron and grit. That duality – the hard and the soft, the head and the heart, the light and the dark. In that moment it all came together. I saw it along the epic curve of her cheekbones, the sweeping slope of her neck – those lines you want to follow forever. This is why books are written, this is why songs are sung. This is why we try and fail and try again. Also, have I mentioned she was wearing a sports bra? Yeah, sometimes it’s also that simple. Happy weekend, all.

Gun it

Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked “Inception.” It was like one of those M.C. Escher paintings from you college dorm room came to life, spun around a dozen times and then spit out that guy from “Titanic” and that gal from “Juno.” Also, who doesn’t love Ellen Page in an assortment of neckerchiefs? But what I really want is a little lady action. Sure Marion Cotillard gets to brandish a weapon here and there. But I crave is the big, bad-ass ladies with even bigger guns. I mean, damn Michelle Rodriguez, damn. So now the only question is, old school or new school? Decisions, decisions.

OLD SCHOOL

Gail DavisAnnie’s got not one, but two guns. As it should be.

Jane FondaWell now, Ms. Ballou, I like the way you point that thing.

Marlene DietrichThis is her just hanging at the shooting range in leather pants.

Pam GrierShe wasn’t called Foxy Brown for nothing.

Audrey HepburnAdmittedly, this is just adorable. I mean, a sun hat – come on.

NEW SCHOOL

Zoe SaldanaModern girls know how to double-fist it, too.

Noomi RapaceNo American version needed, thank you very much.

Milla Jovovich & Ali LarterTwo girls, one shotgun. So much better.

Yvonne StrahovskiIn my dream scenario Agent Sarah Walker and Agent Annie Walker meet and compare, um, guns.

Angelina JolieYes, I know, we already had a lengthy discussion about sodium content this week. But Ebert gave “Salt” four stars, and I want it to do well this weekend. Ladies first, ya know.

So, ladies – old school or new school? Or is it just fun to be schooled, period?

Wishful & Thinking

I only have one question about “Rizzoli & Isles.”

Why is this not a lesbian buddy cop show, again?

OK, I lied, one more question.

Why is a woman who looks like this and sounds like that such a nutso conservative, again?

So many missed opportunities. So. Many.

[Click any of the pictures to embiggen the regret.]

Sodium content

So the marketers of “Salt” have a new digital campaign meant to pique interest in Angelina Jolie’s new spy thriller. But try as they might, all they seem to be accomplishing is to make me worry about my sodium intake. “DON’T TRUST SALT!” “SALT MUST DIE!” “SALT KILLS!” Am I the only one who has a sudden urge to look into high blood pressure medications? Also, call me paranoid, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Dash is behind all of this.

Look, I know they’re trying to be all mysterious. I know they want to build buzz. But come on, they’re missing the biggest marketing advantage this movie has. Hello, your movie star is Angelina Jolie. No one cares about Salt, except possibly the Surgeon General. Everyone cares about Angelina Jolie, except possibly Jennifer Aniston. Just plaster her face all over posters and be done with it. Show her with a gun. Show her kicking ass. Show her with blonde hair. Show her with black hair. Just show her. She’s Angelina freaking Jolie.

I would even prefer slightly off-center, OCD-triggering Angelina Jolie to no Angelina Jolie. Unless, of course, I’ve misunderstood the entire film’s premise and this is really a probing expose of the Morton Salt Girl. Why is she carrying an umbrella while spilling salt? Is the salt some sort of chemical weapon? Is she a terrorist? Oh my god, SALT DOES KILL!

Though, now that I think about it, Angelina in a movie about the Morton Salt Girl, now that’s a movie that screams Oscar. The unwanted water retention alone would nab her a nomination.

Oils. And stuff.

To be honest, at first I was the tiniest bit appalled. What is this loud show about these obnoxious teenagers whose lives seem to be an endless blur of getting drunk, getting high, getting fucked, fucking each other and fucking up royally? But then, I kept watching. First impressions are important, but they rarely tell the whole story. Setting a locker on fire at least catches your attention, right? And then, all of a sudden, I knew. I knew that this wasn’t just about kids looking to party, but about kids realizing how weird and confusing and exciting and terrifying and disappointing and beautiful life can right at the cusp of adulthood – and often well thereafter.

So, now, well – I’m a believer. I hadn’t watched “Skins” ever before. Of course I’d heard all about it. Friends had raved about it. Writers had waxed eloquent about it. But I’d never watched, until this weekend. But then, boy, did I watched. I started with season 3, for obvious reasons. I watched the first six episodes all in one setting, finishing just as the sun was starting to make its presence known. Waking up later that morning, was like waking up after having great sex with someone new for the first time. You look over and think, “I get to do this again and again. FUCKING BRILLIANT.” The next night I marathoned the last four, swallowing them whole without bothering to chew. And as we speak (well, I type, you read – semantics), I am using all of my willpower to not make a few clicks and start watching season 4. Oh, that intoxicating first blush of love when you can’t keep your hands off each other.

Skins is so many things: Hilarious, overblown, sexy, fun, heartbreaking, confounding, joyous, randy, poignant, silly, absurd, wise, disturbing, courageous and real. Also, dude, how does every teen in Britain have such seemingly effortless access to weed? But mostly they’re just good stories, spun so well that we can’t help but care what happens to every single one of these obnoxious teenagers.

Gosh, and we haven’t even talked about Naomily yet. I’ve downloaded their episodes to my iPhone and carry them around with me in my pocket everywhere I go. That’s now I feel about Naomi and Emily. I’m not sure I’ve watched another show, another scene on TV that has made my wibbly bits feel all wobbly and then my spirit feel so shattered in a less than three minutes flat. In fact, I’m sure of it. And then the cat-flap. Even if they only existed in that one episode it would still rank as one of the most nuanced, most honest, most amazing portrayals of gay teenagers to be put on screen. “So be brave, and want me back.” Man, is that not falling in love in a nutshell?

Smitten, just smitten.

My Weekend Crush

I loved “The Kids Are All Right.” I really, really did – as you probably already realized. It touched me in ways that few movies have recently. I left the theater feeling so lucky, so great, so happy with the universe. I’ve mentioned that I cried like a baby, right? We’re talking Pixar tears, people. But I also laughed and cringed and fumed – the whole spectrum of human emotions. I started writing my review right away – taking notes on my phone as I headed to the parking lot. It came quickly, as all work that I feel truly passionate about does. I wanted to share this amazing movie, these brilliant performances with the world. I couldn’t wait. I was so excited. When you love something you want to share it, you want other people to love it like you love it. At the very least you want people to give it a chance.

So, imagine my surprise (though, I shouldn’t have been surprised – I blame love blindness), at the vitriolic response this movie has elicited, almost exclusively from those who have not seen the film. Now, I understand if you saw this movie and don’t like this movie. I don’t agree, but I understand and we can have a reasonable discussion about the whys and why nots. [Spoiler Alert: But, come on, you know.] And I understand if you are worried, wary, worked up by the idea of Julianne Moore’s character sleeping with Mark Ruffalo. I was, too – before I saw the movie.

Since my review has run I’ve been accused of being, in no particular order: a bad gay, an apologist for the ridiculous “lesbians-all-secretly-crave-dick” myth and – my favorite – paid by Lisa Cholodenko herself. Ha! If only! I am still, by the way, receiving angry emails. If you think I’m kidding, please witness one emailer’s decision to post our entire back-and-forth correspondence, without asking, on my review. Yeah. For real.

But this isn’t about the woe-is-me, but instead about the woe-is-this-film lament. This extraordinary movie could find itself in the strange position of being loved by everyone except the religious right and some lesbians, who both hate it on principle even though neither group – by and large – has seen the movie. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

I’ve already made my case for “The Kids Are All Right.” But don’t listen to me. Listen to the best critics in the country. This is the fifth best reviewed film in theaters right now. It has received glowing reviews from The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, San Francisco Chronicle, Entertainment Weekly and Roger Ebert – just to name a few. And gay women’s sites, besides AfterEllen, have sung its praises including AutoStraddle, SheWired along with wonderful lesbian bloggers like Scribegrrrl, Mombian, Lesbian Dad and Jenni Olson. This isn’t just a great gay movie, it’s a great movie. It’s what you want from cinema – to think and feel and empathize. And it does all of that while being subtly yet seriously subversive.

This weekend the movie opens wider to 28 more theaters around the country (and more next weekend) thanks to a very strong box office showing in limited release last weekend in NY, LA, SF and Chicago. If it’s coming to a theater near you, I would say run don’t walk. Seeing is believing, or at the very least knowing what you’re talking about if you still disbelieve.

I hate to say it, but some of the joy I felt in the theater has been muted by the response this film has received outside the theater. It hurts my heart to think that people are being so reactionary and closed-minded without seeing this film first. So this weekend I think I’ll go see it again. I want to recapture the magic and be reminded, once more, that everything is indeed all right. Happy weekend, all.

Gender Fuck Thursday: Special Agents

She runs. She jumps. She shoots. She looks damn good in a suit. Oh, secret agent lady. Come question me, I have information of national interest – in my pant. (Yes, yes – groan.) Piper Perabo made her debut this week into this most elite of groups. Ladies who speak softly and carry confidential credential – and a big gun, of course. In “Covert Affairs” Piper plays a young CIA trainee who gets upgraded to the big show a month early. Why? She speaks six languages. Why, really? She speaks six languages and can pass for a hooker. Why, really really? She speaks six languages and can pass for a hooker and while traveling in Sri Lanka had a brief but passionate affair with a man who said he was an English teacher but turns out to be wanted by the CIA for some reason. The show isn’t perfect, but it is plucky. And Piper, well, I’ve mentioned she looks great in a suit, right?

So in honor of Piper joining the sisterhood, how about a very special Gender Fuck Thursday welcome featuring the ladies in suits who put the “special” in “agent.”

CIA Agent Annie Walker (Piper Perabo), “Covert Affairs”If past is precedent, in one of her assignments she’ll play a lesbian.

FBI Agent Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster),
“Silence of the Lambs”Jodie was kind of born to wear a suit and a scowl, no?

FBI Special Agent Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson),
“The X-Files”Speaking of scowl, no one shoots a better skeptical one than Scully.

CIA Agent Sarah Walker (Yvonne Strahovski), “Chuck”Bonus points for the suit and glasses.

FBI Special Agent Renee Walker (Annie Wersching), “24”
If you play an agent odds are you’ll either be named Walker or have red hair, or both.

FBI Agent Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv), “Fringe”Someone tell me that the truth is there is Agent Dunham and Agent Scully fanfic out there.

CIA Field Agent Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner), “Alias”I wonder if she kept the red wig.

FBI Special Agent Emily Prentiss (Paget Brewster), “Criminal Minds”Good they’re bringing her back, even if not for every episode.

NCIS Field Agent Ziva David (Cote de Pablo), “NCIS”Leather jackets totally count.

Spanish Police Agent Pepa Miranda (Laura Sánchez),
“Los Hombre de Paco”Granted, this is really a vest, but I choose not to quibble with people who have guns.

EDIT: Heavens, I did forget FBI Special Agent Janis Hawk (FlashForward) and Secret Service Agent Myka Bering (Warehouse 13). I must clearly be punished. Any takers?