The Antisocial Network

The Antisocial Network

by Steve Dollar

No one has to hold their breath to discover how the Swedish literary phenomenon/cult film trilogy launcher The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has been Fincherized. As Karen O. ululates on the soundtrack, over the tribal throb and industrial crunge of Trent Reznor's reboot of Led Zeppelin's Viking hoedown "Immigrant Song," the title sequence splashes the screen in mysterious black ink. Abstract anatomies and data-delivery devices twist and morph in a hallucinogenic, sensual swirl, suggesting a James Bond opening as imagined by Panos Cosmatos in Beyond the Black Rainbow.

OK, then. Maybe we can hope for David Fincher to one-up J. J. Abrams and snatch up the 007 franchise on the next round? Or, more to the point, perhaps the remakes of the so-called Millennium Trilogy are to become the director's own version-of-a-version: a mass-cult template that can be seamlessly utilized to project the filmmaker's own obsessions and compulsions with technology, subversion, black leather, forensic drudge-work, serial killers, gothic funk, underground conspiracies, bipolar freakiness, pulse-quickening displays of the art of montage and the antisocial network.

If there is a single human being yet breathing who is not intimately familiar with the workings of late Swedish journalist Stieg Larrson's posthumously published psycho thrillers... that human being would be me. I didn't even see the Swedish movies, which played U.S. theaters in 2010. Aside from some general plot and character details, mostly regarding the celebrated persona of uber/anti-heroine Lisbeth Salander, there wasn't much to sully my expectations. Rather, the story was another jagged-edged fragment in the evolving crime-scene investigation of Fincher's career?a mutant, ice-veined spawn of Zodiac and The Social Network, with a dose of Se7en's creepy Biblical fixation, and, thanks to cast, remote northern locale and twisted family saga, occasional glimmers of Ingmar Bergman.

That slick opening is a bit of a toss-off, really. Much of Dragon Tattoo is origin myth introduction/explication, mapped out in microscopic detail, as if clicking away on a laptop, whooshing a Google Street View icon ever closer to pixelated revelation. Indeed, that's what the novel's twin sleuths?disgraced investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig, Mr. Shaken-Not-Stirred 7.0 himself) and feral, cyber-punk savant Salander (Rooney Mara)?spend much of their time doing themselves. The glue that binds their parallel biographies is a theme of bad reputation and the return of the repressed. When Blomkvist accepts an insane assignment to solve a decades-old murder from an industrialist (Christopher Plummer) with one foot in the grave and a clan full of Nazi kooks, decadent miscreants, gun nuts and that smug sonuvabitch Stellan Skarsgard, he really has few other options. The money's nice, but what he really wants is to even the score with the man who has stripped him of his honor.

Salander, a wild-child ward of the state whose fierce intellect doesn't come close to exceeding her taste for revenge upon the flesh of her abusers, is in it for blood. A motorcycle-racing Valkyrie with a pierced nipple and a hacker's regard for institutional regulation, she's a magnificent invention because she evokes so many associations. In Mara's kohl-eyed, blond-browed incarnation, she's by turns an alt-porn possum blinking into a video surveillance camera and a whippet-framed cousin of Sigourney Weaver's alien-blasting Ripley, all sinew and no fear?until you peel back the tough facade to find the shivering soul underneath. If anyone ever succeeds in turning William Gibson's dystopian classic Neuromancer into a movie, well, here's your Razor Girl. But she also calls to mind Rilke: "Every angel is terrifying." (In what is sure to be the movie's second-most-talked-about scene, Mara/Salander turns the tables on a scumbag guardian in what has to be the most creative use of extremely amateur tattooing skills since Bellflower).

Character dynamics and infinitesimal (and seemingly infinite) digging drive Fincher's adaptation, which like all good whodunits is littered?nay, scattered, covered and smothered?with dead-end distractions. You, good reader (and watcher) know all about them in advance, I'd presume, so when Craig hauls out the Old Testament and starts matching up dire verses from Leviticus with graphic photographs of a hooker's slaying, seeking clues to the long-ago vanishing of a (putative) 14-year-old virgin, one's mind begins to race all over the place. (What of this sub-sub-plot turn of Blomkvist's teenage daughter passing through his middle-of-nowhere outpost on her way to Bible School?) Like the Nazi skeletons in the family closet, and darkening intimations of more unspeakable horrors, its substance is mostly so much smoke?not that there isn't a surplus of that already. Between the two of them, Salander and the backsliding nicotine addict Blomkvist annihilate enough butts to keep a Bowery mission full of panhandlers fully stocked and wheezing 'til next Christmas.

The sexual connection between Mara and Craig's characters, which strangely does mimic the usual course of affairs in one of the latter actor's secret agent scenarios, feels at once inevitable and kind of a sell out. The bonking isn't exotic; it's purely functional, although perhaps designed to show off Mara's American Apparel model's bod and somehow lend more conventional, hetero-normative appeal to Salander's androgynous Psycho Spice persona and approach/avoidance aura. But it also establishes a deeper urgency for when the shit hits the fan. In the film's most thrilling montage, both she and Craig's out-of-his-depth, anything-but-Bondian Blomkvist discover who the villain is at more or less the same moment, a sequence that faintly emulates the finale of The Silence of the Lambs. Plus knockout gas. Plus Enya!

Long before the new age marvel's "Orinoco Flow" lights up the screen with its American Psycho moment, an instance of perverse levity after two hours of soundtrack composers Reznor and Atticus Finch's persistent, percussive disorientation, I'd been thinking that Dragon Tattoo was a tad cheesy in stretches, especially for Fincher. And here, at its cheesiest, it was most brilliant. If he opts to shoot the next two Hollywood remakes in the series, Fincher could be the rare adaptive franchiser to make his source as compelling as his own vision without chipping away at an otherwise impeccable auteur rep. In fact, the more the material skews Fincherwise the better. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the film's weaknesses (the essentially stupid plodding premise for the mystery that never adds up to anything) are Larsson's and its triumphs both a matter of directorial style and of Mara's raw-boned performance, at once as ravished and laser-like in focus, certainly, as anything in mainstream American cinema this year?if we can call a film "mainstream" in which not one but two acts of violent non-consensual sodomy are prominently featured. The hammer of the gods? Um, thanks, I'll try the decaf.

Posted by ahillis at December 27, 2011 1:09 PM

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The Antisocial Network

The Antisocial Network

by Steve Dollar

No one has to hold their breath to discover how the Swedish literary phenomenon/cult film trilogy launcher The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has been Fincherized. As Karen O. ululates on the soundtrack, over the tribal throb and industrial crunge of Trent Reznor's reboot of Led Zeppelin's Viking hoedown "Immigrant Song," the title sequence splashes the screen in mysterious black ink. Abstract anatomies and data-delivery devices twist and morph in a hallucinogenic, sensual swirl, suggesting a James Bond opening as imagined by Panos Cosmatos in Beyond the Black Rainbow.

OK, then. Maybe we can hope for David Fincher to one-up J. J. Abrams and snatch up the 007 franchise on the next round? Or, more to the point, perhaps the remakes of the so-called Millennium Trilogy are to become the director's own version-of-a-version: a mass-cult template that can be seamlessly utilized to project the filmmaker's own obsessions and compulsions with technology, subversion, black leather, forensic drudge-work, serial killers, gothic funk, underground conspiracies, bipolar freakiness, pulse-quickening displays of the art of montage and the antisocial network.

If there is a single human being yet breathing who is not intimately familiar with the workings of late Swedish journalist Stieg Larrson's posthumously published psycho thrillers... that human being would be me. I didn't even see the Swedish movies, which played U.S. theaters in 2010. Aside from some general plot and character details, mostly regarding the celebrated persona of uber/anti-heroine Lisbeth Salander, there wasn't much to sully my expectations. Rather, the story was another jagged-edged fragment in the evolving crime-scene investigation of Fincher's career?a mutant, ice-veined spawn of Zodiac and The Social Network, with a dose of Se7en's creepy Biblical fixation, and, thanks to cast, remote northern locale and twisted family saga, occasional glimmers of Ingmar Bergman.

That slick opening is a bit of a toss-off, really. Much of Dragon Tattoo is origin myth introduction/explication, mapped out in microscopic detail, as if clicking away on a laptop, whooshing a Google Street View icon ever closer to pixelated revelation. Indeed, that's what the novel's twin sleuths?disgraced investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig, Mr. Shaken-Not-Stirred 7.0 himself) and feral, cyber-punk savant Salander (Rooney Mara)?spend much of their time doing themselves. The glue that binds their parallel biographies is a theme of bad reputation and the return of the repressed. When Blomkvist accepts an insane assignment to solve a decades-old murder from an industrialist (Christopher Plummer) with one foot in the grave and a clan full of Nazi kooks, decadent miscreants, gun nuts and that smug sonuvabitch Stellan Skarsgard, he really has few other options. The money's nice, but what he really wants is to even the score with the man who has stripped him of his honor.

Salander, a wild-child ward of the state whose fierce intellect doesn't come close to exceeding her taste for revenge upon the flesh of her abusers, is in it for blood. A motorcycle-racing Valkyrie with a pierced nipple and a hacker's regard for institutional regulation, she's a magnificent invention because she evokes so many associations. In Mara's kohl-eyed, blond-browed incarnation, she's by turns an alt-porn possum blinking into a video surveillance camera and a whippet-framed cousin of Sigourney Weaver's alien-blasting Ripley, all sinew and no fear?until you peel back the tough facade to find the shivering soul underneath. If anyone ever succeeds in turning William Gibson's dystopian classic Neuromancer into a movie, well, here's your Razor Girl. But she also calls to mind Rilke: "Every angel is terrifying." (In what is sure to be the movie's second-most-talked-about scene, Mara/Salander turns the tables on a scumbag guardian in what has to be the most creative use of extremely amateur tattooing skills since Bellflower).

Character dynamics and infinitesimal (and seemingly infinite) digging drive Fincher's adaptation, which like all good whodunits is littered?nay, scattered, covered and smothered?with dead-end distractions. You, good reader (and watcher) know all about them in advance, I'd presume, so when Craig hauls out the Old Testament and starts matching up dire verses from Leviticus with graphic photographs of a hooker's slaying, seeking clues to the long-ago vanishing of a (putative) 14-year-old virgin, one's mind begins to race all over the place. (What of this sub-sub-plot turn of Blomkvist's teenage daughter passing through his middle-of-nowhere outpost on her way to Bible School?) Like the Nazi skeletons in the family closet, and darkening intimations of more unspeakable horrors, its substance is mostly so much smoke?not that there isn't a surplus of that already. Between the two of them, Salander and the backsliding nicotine addict Blomkvist annihilate enough butts to keep a Bowery mission full of panhandlers fully stocked and wheezing 'til next Christmas.

The sexual connection between Mara and Craig's characters, which strangely does mimic the usual course of affairs in one of the latter actor's secret agent scenarios, feels at once inevitable and kind of a sell out. The bonking isn't exotic; it's purely functional, although perhaps designed to show off Mara's American Apparel model's bod and somehow lend more conventional, hetero-normative appeal to Salander's androgynous Psycho Spice persona and approach/avoidance aura. But it also establishes a deeper urgency for when the shit hits the fan. In the film's most thrilling montage, both she and Craig's out-of-his-depth, anything-but-Bondian Blomkvist discover who the villain is at more or less the same moment, a sequence that faintly emulates the finale of The Silence of the Lambs. Plus knockout gas. Plus Enya!

Long before the new age marvel's "Orinoco Flow" lights up the screen with its American Psycho moment, an instance of perverse levity after two hours of soundtrack composers Reznor and Atticus Finch's persistent, percussive disorientation, I'd been thinking that Dragon Tattoo was a tad cheesy in stretches, especially for Fincher. And here, at its cheesiest, it was most brilliant. If he opts to shoot the next two Hollywood remakes in the series, Fincher could be the rare adaptive franchiser to make his source as compelling as his own vision without chipping away at an otherwise impeccable auteur rep. In fact, the more the material skews Fincherwise the better. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the film's weaknesses (the essentially stupid plodding premise for the mystery that never adds up to anything) are Larsson's and its triumphs both a matter of directorial style and of Mara's raw-boned performance, at once as ravished and laser-like in focus, certainly, as anything in mainstream American cinema this year?if we can call a film "mainstream" in which not one but two acts of violent non-consensual sodomy are prominently featured. The hammer of the gods? Um, thanks, I'll try the decaf.

Posted by ahillis at December 27, 2011 1:09 PM

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Russell Brand files for divorce from Katy Perry, how shocking (not really)

Russell Brand files for divorce from Katy Perry, how shocking (not really)

Opposite of shocking, party of two. After a lot of reports about their crumbling marriage, it looks like Katy Perry and Russell Brand are over. Who would have thought? Oh, right. Everyone. The only thing that is somewhat shocking is that it looks like Rusty is the one who is pulling the plug.

A year after their fairy-tale wedding in India, it seems Katy Perry and Russell Brand won?t be living happily ever after.

Brand, 36, filed for divorce in Los Angeles on Friday, citing irreconcilable differences.

?Sadly, Katy and I are ending our marriage,? he said in a statement to PEOPLE. ?I?ll always adore her and I know we?ll remain friends.?

The Superior Court filing, which lists Perry by her given name of Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson, does not list a date of separation.

The pair have been spotted without their wedding rings in recent days amid reports they spent the holidays apart, with Perry in Hawaii and Brand in the U.K.

The California-born pop star, 27, and the British comedian-turned-actor began dating in 2009. Brand popped the question four months later, and they were married in October 2010 in a lavish ceremony ? that included two elephants as well as acrobats and jugglers ? at a luxury resort in northern India.

In the early months of their marriage, the two were giddy in their compliments to each other.

Perry called Brand her great man of God, while Brand said his spiritual and emotional connection to his bride made him ?love everyone.?

In Redbook?s April issue, Brand said he had been more than happy to give up his partying ways to settle down.

?I think I was ready for it,? he said. ?If you?re wild, like a wild animal, marriage won?t contain you. I think that?s how a lot of people get into trouble.?

But in recent weeks, they faced a drumbeat of rumors of trouble in their marriage. Both laughed off the reports, with Brand telling Ellen DeGeneres earlier this month, ?I am really happily married.?

[From People Magazine]

Look, I?m not one of the people who is going to pretend to get all sad about this. This union had ?disaster? written all over it. The single biggest signal for me was that Rusty & Katy got married on literally their only free week in a year full of competing schedules. Just after their wedding, Katy was promoting her album and on tour, and Russell was promoting and shooting films. And when they were together, it was constant fighting and bickering, despite the denials and photo ops. The writing was on the wall during the VMAs in September, when Katy was wasted (and talking about how wasted she was) and Russell was only there to discuss Amy Winehouse and sobriety. Disaster. Oh, and I totally think Russell was screwing around too. He and that blonde were looking very friendly.

Oh, and they can both eat a bag of dicks for announcing this late on a Friday before a holiday.

Photos courtesy of WENN.

Written by Kaiser

Posted in Divorces, Katy Perry, Russell Brand

- Best print ads of 2011 [Pajiba]
- Is Goop full of laxatives? [D-Listed]
- Wynonna Judd is engaged to a dude named Cactus [Go Fug Yourself]
- Kat Von D hangs out of her pants [Celebslam]
- Owen Wilson stages a kiddie photo op, predictable [Popsugar]
- The best instant celebrities of 2011 [Gawker]
- 5 favorite Meryl Streep performances [Wonderwall]
- Mark Wahlberg loves Justin Bieber [Evil Beet]

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1. Report this comment as spam or abuse

2. this has nothing at all to do with them getting divorced, but god she looked better with the long black hair.

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3. idiots are as bad as kim kardashian. marriage is becoming such a joke

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4. Haha! I was thinking the same thing. Those bitches announced at the last possible moment. Was hoping you guys would have a post about it.

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5. I do feel a little sad, just because they were both so darn optomistic about their marriage.

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The Doc Option: Instead of "The Iron Lady" Watch "Tracking Down Maggie"

Is there any reason to see "The Iron Lady" than to watch Meryl Streep knock another one out of the park? Was there any reason to watch the Bulls in the late '80s other than to see Michael Jordan? I don't know. I haven't seen the new Margaret Thatcher biopic, and I don't know anything about basketball. I do know docs, though, and so I have another Doc Option for you.

One criticism against "The Iron Lady" I've read is that it doesn't offer any insight into who Thatcher is, nor does it apparently provide much analysis of her character during the focused time leading up to the Falklands War. Well, this week's Doc Option isn't going to take you into the mind and soul of Lady Thatcher any better than the dramatic version does. But at least Nick Broomfield's 1994 goose chase, "Tracking Down Maggie," is an awkwardly humorous lark.

Plus, it features the late Christopher Hitchens talking about his fantasies of Thatcher following a sexually tense bowing experience involving a spanking and "saucy" look.

Especially for its time, the made-for-Channel 4 "Tracking" comes off a bit like an early Michael Moore copycat. Broomfield trails Thatcher and her entourage during a UK and US book tour (for The Downing Years), attempting to confront the former Prime Minister at every chance. It's like "Roger and Me" as a road movie, yet of course Broomfield has been around longer than Moore and is no follower. It only really occurred to me to make the comparison because if there's any film "Tracking" reminded me of it's Broomfield's latest, "Sarah Palin: You Betcha!"

Like with the Palin film, here Broomfield is more pest than inquisitive documentarian. His initial point to find the real Thatcher gets lost in the settled efforts to merely get clear shots of the Iron Lady, during book signings, getting out of cars and giving speeches on aircraft carriers. His paparazzi tendencies are especially disappointing when he gets a taxis to follow her motorcade and when he shows up to a hair salon where she's scheduled to get a wash and style. She ends up unable to get her perm and certainly he ends up even less likely to get his desired interview.

Broomfield knows what he's doing, though. I think. Nobody could really believe that after so much mischief and meddling that they'd get access. And when the filmmaker turns his focus onto Thatcher's son, Mark, and allegations about secret arms deals, tact goes completely out the window (it's no surprise that the filmmaker says he received death threats while making the movie). Could Broomfield think that if he ever got near enough to Thatcher to ask for a comment on these tabloidish claims that she'd actually indulge him? An inappropriate scene at the Holocaust Memorial Museum implies he could.

Yet I've always had a soft spot for Broomfield (as I say in my "You Betcha!" review). This film doesn't offer the kind of interesting and unbelievable characters we get from him in better-known docs like "Kurt & Courtney" and "Biggie and Tupac" and his two Aileen Wuornos films. It barely gives us anything of value regarding Thatcher outside of what her discarded toilet looks like repurposed as a decorative fixture, and numerous old ladies yelling "I won't talk about Mrs. Thatcher! No! No! No!" before hanging up. That's somewhat the conclusive point, and 17 years ago the harassment humor might have come off a lot funnier than it does today.

In any event it's still worth a look, and it's easy to watch via SnagFilms. Whether as a substitute or accompaniment to "The Iron Lady," I hope you can enjoy it as one of the classic faux-naive adventures of Nick Broomfield and his trademark boom mic. Just don't expect the film's subtitle, "The Unofficial Biography of Margaret Thatcher," to have any relevance whatsoever.

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Battle of the billboards: Emporio Armani sunglasses vs Michael Kors eyewear...

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Katy Made Russell File Because Of Jesus

TMZ says that the reason Russell Brand filed for divorce yesterday and not Katy Perry is because she didn't want her super-religious parents slapping her with their King James. That's a bible, not a dildo brand.

Since Katy's parents are evangelical Christians, we're told she didn't want to be the one to "officially" end the marriage by filing the docs ... since she was raised to believe divorce is wrong.

So are stunt weddings. Her parents' values didn't seem to concern her too much when she MARRIED his ass. Or when her first hit song was about dyking it out. Also - someone told me that (no, "someone" isn't me, I was at a Miley Cyrus show that night) at her concert she talks about giving head and her audience's average age is pretty much 12. Smurfette is riding a cherry-picker when it comes to her Christian values.

They also reportedly have had divorce on deck for a couple of weeks after realizing their marriage "just wasn't there".

They were an incongruous couple, right? She tries way to hard to be Rainbow Brite or whatever and he looks like he was born from an oil slick. People tell me he's funny? My problem is that I can't watch Get Him To The Greek to find out because Jonah Hill's in it. Jonah Hill is the worst. Both versions - depressed mastadon and neurotic Gollum. Didn't have lap band, my fat Irish ass!

This divorce story could all be a filthy lie. The real reason Russell was the one to file could be because his wife is terrible. And exhausting. Argh, the costumes, and the wigs, and the big candy props. Desperation Tour 2011.

Speaking of desperation - here's where I plug Manhunt Daily! One of the only reasons my Manhunt bosses let me come over here to help Michael K. out was because I promised to throw a plug into each of my posts. Free advertising! Unfortunately, I, err, forgot to include a few. So before they spank me (literally, it's Manhunt) and then fire me, click a link if you like dick or seeing pictures of it.

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Birthday Sluts

* blank stare*

There was nothing offensive on there. Well, except the subject matter itself (gutter skank whores) and maybe me cussing out China.

Nothing makes sense anymore... Or maybe it never did. Who knows?

Educate yourself on the badass, not-fuck-giving honeybadger, Olivia! ~MK

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Russell Brand Isn?t Wearing His Wedding Ring and Other News

- Kelly Clarkson endorses Ron Paul. It goes over well. [Dlisted]

- Draco Malfoy shirtless photos, anyone? [Lainey Gossip]

- Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt sang a song together in case every single one of your female Facebook friends hasn?t informed you with ?omg LOVE!? yet. [Too Fab]

- Ali Larter is still hot. Thank God. [Popoholic]

- Lindsay Lohan is saying she ISN?T hosting a party in Dubai now, so just assume she is. [TMZ]

- 2011?s Hottest Athlete [Bleacher Report]

- If Adam West Starred in ?The Dark Knight Rises? [BuzzFeed]

- Debra Messing is dating a married dude already. [HuffPost Celebrity]

- Claudia Galanti is still wearing bikinis. [DrunkenStepfather: Site is NSFW]

- UFC 141 Weigh In Photos [Heavy]

- Hilary Duff isn?t thanking anyone with mouth hugs, but let?s look at her anyway. [Hollywood Tuna]

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Photos: Flynet

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Jennifer Lopez & Boy Toy Casper Smart -- Yacht Si!

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Jessica Biel: The Fugstory

Sometimes at GFY HQ, when we?re not trying on our Grinch suits or objectifying dudes in Hollywood whom we might need to hire to open our mail (Hamm, do you own a letter-opener?), we sit around and ponder important questions. Like, remember when Jessica Biel was just that girl from the mushy Brenda Hampton show that clutched its pearls about teen sex? And now she?s wearing couture and dating Justin Timberlake. How did that happen? How does a girl go from The WB to dating and re-dating and re-re-dating Hollywood?s most eligible bachelor while serving as a utility player in Garry Marshall?s sprawling and inane ensemble ?comedies? in 50 outfits or less? The answer: She doesn?t; this is 52 and I even edited it quite a bit. Still, Shailene Woodley, who is kind of Biel 2.0 in the sense that she TOO is on a Brenda Hampton show that clutches its pearls about teen sex, should take notes for the day she ends up wearing couture and dating Justin Timberlake.

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The After Show With Wendy Williams

By Doshka Harvey You've got to love Wendy Williams! She says it like she means it and now with her After Show, one can revel in her candid thoughts even more. The After Show can be found on the Wendy Show website where she shares opinions on the days' show, her guests and gives you the inside scoop on what she's noshing on while she chats to you, her viewers. We had a chance to sit with Wendy for one of her after shows and it was good. Wendy was dishing on her guest that day, Simon Cowell and the ladies from Jerseylicious. She also revealed which Bond she'd love to be Bond Girl to. BTW, Wendy how come I didn't get a taco? I'm coming back for my taco. In any case, here's the video. As Wendy would say, "Thank you for watching!" More Lady Doshka at Ladydoshka.com

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Rihanna, Jessica Alba, Vanessa Hudgens and Maria Menounos Wore Bikinis

True story: Today you were going to be peppered with the last of the Best of 2011 posts followed by a year-end wrap-up of our personal favorite stories, but that was before Rihanna, Jessica Alba, Vanessa Hudgens and Maria Menounos all decided to parade around in bikinis. So everyone be sure to thank Photo Boy who was supposed to have the day off but instead woke up to me opening the trunk I make him sleep in and luring him to the computer with Vienna Sausages which he?ll later find out are his year-end bonus. (I spoil the kid, I know.)

Photos: Fame, Flynet, INFdaily, Pacific Coast News, Splash News

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The After Show With Wendy Williams

By Doshka Harvey You've got to love Wendy Williams! She says it like she means it and now with her After Show, one can revel in her candid thoughts even more. The After Show can be found on the Wendy Show website where she shares opinions on the days' show, her guests and gives you the inside scoop on what she's noshing on while she chats to you, her viewers. We had a chance to sit with Wendy for one of her after shows and it was good. Wendy was dishing on her guest that day, Simon Cowell and the ladies from Jerseylicious. She also revealed which Bond she'd love to be Bond Girl to. BTW, Wendy how come I didn't get a taco? I'm coming back for my taco. In any case, here's the video. As Wendy would say, "Thank you for watching!" More Lady Doshka at Ladydoshka.com

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Rooney Mara, the star of David Fincher's Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Vogue Magazine November 2011

Rooney Mara, the star of David Fincher's Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Vogue Magazine November 2011

Rooney Mara, the star of David Fincher's upcoming Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, graces the cover of this month's Vogue with a profile by Contributing Editor Jonathan Van Meter.

The November issue hits newsstands nationwide October 25th, but the cover story is available now on Vogue.com:

It's approaching midnight, and the June sun is winking on the horizon, still hoping to conjure one last moment of spooky beauty for the good people of Stockholm. Rooney Mara, David Fincher, and I are walking home from a two-bottle-of-wine dinner at their favorite caf�, around the corner from Ingmar Bergman Plats. Both of them have been living in Sweden, on and off, since the previous summer, shooting one of the most anticipated movies in years: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. As we pass the Royal Dramatic Theatre, where Greta Garbo studied as a teenager, Mara points to the clock tower in Gamla Stan, silhouetted in the distance, and reminds Fincher that when it strikes twelve it will be exactly one year to the day since he first auditioned her to play the part of Lisbeth Salander, arguably the most coveted role for an actress since Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind (another film adaptation of a wildly popular book featuring a shrewd, complicated, difficult-to-love heroine capable of slaying a man).

"Really?" says Fincher. "A year ago tomorrow?" He shakes his head in disbelief and then fishes a vibrating phone out of his pocket: "Hello, Amy." It is the co-chairperson of Sony Pictures, Amy Pascal, the studio head who, if this movie takes off, will surely get credit for having greenlighted the first truly adult franchise to come out of Hollywood since the early seventies, when movies like The Exorcist--not Twilight--were winning the terrified hearts of audiences everywhere.

photographed by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott

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RETRO ACTIVE: A Boy and His Dog (1975)

RETRO ACTIVE: A Boy and His Dog (1975)

by Nick Schager

What's new is always old, and in this recurring column, I'll be taking a look at the classic genre movies that have influenced today's new releases. In honor of Steven Spielberg's kid detective-and-dog sidekick saga The Adventures of Tintin, this week it's L.Q. Jones' 1975 sci-fi cult classic A Boy and His Dog.

The world has gone to hell and man and beast are now equals in A Boy and His Dog, L. Q. Jones' uniquely bizarre adaptation of Harlan Ellison's novella of the same name. A five-day World War IV has transformed 2024 America into a desert wasteland full of roaming bands of armed marauders dressed in tattered outfits that are part Road Warrior-chic, part Civil War-era antiquated. Traversing this desolate landscape is dimwitted 18-year-old Vic (Don Johnson) and his dog Blood (voiced by Tim McIntire), who can telepathically speak with Vic as well as use a special sonar-like ability to locate nearby enemies and, more importantly, women. Blood cares primarily about safety and food (both of which are scarce), while Vic cares only about finding ladies to screw, a task in which Blood begrudgingly assists with a sarcastic aggravation almost as intense as Vic's horniness. Despite talk of finding a fanciful "over the hill" paradise, it's the hunger for food and sex that truly propel the duo, base motivations that immediately establish the material's caustically cynical view of man as a creature that?if denied education, proper parental upbringing, and basic social conditioning?is at best the equal of a pooch, if not (given Vic's inferior intellect and amorality) beneath one.

A Boy and His Dog's unfavorable view of humanity isn't hard to discern, but that's not the same as saying it's mundane, as Vic and Blood's rapport is surreal in its simultaneous affection and hostility. Theirs is a love-hate bond forged by necessity but, also, of genuine compassion for each other, all while their bickering exposes an almost brotherly relationship marked by petty insults ("Poodle!" "Jackass!") as well as more serious condemnations ("You're not a nice person Albert," Blood tells Vic, using his favored nickname for his master). Driven by survival and pleasure instincts alone, they're a rather unlikable pair made even more repellant by the fact that one of their two primary goals is the procurement of women for Vic to rape?a scenario that finally materializes when Blood helps Vic discover one at a movie theater playing scratchy pornos. The target in question, Quilla June (Susanne Benton), is first spied by Vic in the nude, behind cobwebs, as she dresses, her leisurely demeanor amidst this female-hunting post-apocalyptic civilization as ridiculous as her distinctly ?70s hairstyle. After a pitch-black shootout with faceless predators in an abandoned hospital that's most notable for its lack of spatial coherence or continuity, Vic, Blood and Quilla June shack up for a time so that Vic can get his rocks off with his surprisingly willing prisoner, all as Blood hilariously bounces up and down on the trio's sole, nasty mattress.

A favored character actor of Sam Peckinpah (having appeared in five of the Wild Bunch auteur's works), director Jones shows little visual flair but a sharp, biting, Peckinpah-ish eye for critiquing masculinity, which is here defined by unsavory selfishness. If its scenes don't always flow together, A Boy and His Dog nonetheless boasts an endearingly scraggly aesthetic that conveys a potent impression of a planet gone to physical and moral seed. That notion is only further confirmed once Quilla June convinces Vic to join her in "Topeka," an underground society?located via a metal-bunker doorway in the middle of the vast desert?that's ruled by a committee of three led by debonair Lou Craddock (Jason Robards) and populated by people in pancake make-up and red circles on their cheeks. They're a grotesquely clownish vision of southern society, one where everyone gathers on green pastures under dark skies for social picnics enlivened by marching band music, and where death sentences for disobedient citizenry are delivered by the committee in church-set meetings marked by an offhand, cavalier indifference to ideas of fairness and cruelty.

A Boy and His Dog's third-act revelation is that Vic has been lured to this nightmare "down under" to be a one-man sperm bank for the populace's women (the men have all gone impotent due to lack of sunlight), leading to a phenomenally striking sequence in which veiled brides are "married" to Vic as he's tied to a surgical table having his semen extracted by a tube. Throughout, and notwithstanding Topeka's bourgeois pretenses, societal breakdown engenders only ruthless carnivorous and carnal desires. Whether Jones and Ellison mean for their work to denounce the inherent misogyny of men when stripped of social concepts of decorum, decency and equality, or whether they're in fact promoting such a viewpoint (a reading bolstered by the relative fondness shown to Vic and Blood), the film is nonetheless infused with a disgust for women that's nigh impossible to shake or shrug off, despite Johnson's surprisingly effective portrait of Vic as an empty-headed embodiment of frightening macho appetites, and McIntire's sneering, sympathetic vocal turn as his canine sidekick. The result is a movie that, for all its wacko charm, is apt to leave a sour taste in one's mouth, especially given the way in which its notorious last scene?altered from the novel, and which apparently repulsed even Ellison himself?treads an uncomfortable line between satire and outright, gleeful sexism.

Posted by ahillis at December 23, 2011 11:14 AM

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The Doc Option: Instead of "The Adventures of Tintin" Watch "Tintin and I"

Two of the most anticipated movies of the holiday season open in theaters today. But if you're thinking of choosing "The Adventures of Tintin," don't. I have a new Doc Option for you instead.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I do not like Steven Spielberg's new animated film. Some of it has to do with the fact I never grow to care about the titular redhead journalist, who always looks like a child to me, while mostly I still just can't get into a motion-capture cartoon where everything is trying to look so real without actually looking real whatsover. Why not make a live action film or just an animated film? I'll never understand the reasons, and I'll never enjoy watching unblinking ghost-eyed people on the big screen. Cute dogs who will do anything, including sabotage a mission, to get a sandwich, yes. But not people.

Actually, in addition to the delightful little Snowy, I do like many of the supporting characters, such as Captain Haddock and the two Thompsons. Give me a cut of the film without Tintin or the uninteresting vilain, Ivan Sakharine, and I'll watch it again. It might not make much sense, but I don't think the full story is that great either. And the much-praised "single-shot" chase sequence at the end would only be truly amazing if it was actually filmed in one take and not drawn as such.

My dislike for Spielberg's adaptation has no bearing on my interest in the Tintin character overall. While I haven't read much of the original graphic novels, I am a big fan of what introduced me to the material: Anders Ostergaard's 2003 criminally under-seen documentary, "Tintin and I." The film is a biographical portrait of Tintin's creator, Georges Remi (aka Herge), and it goes into a lot of the history of the comics themselves using minimal animation and voice actors to bring some of them to life. Even Herge himself is animated to a degree in order to make archive videos of him now seem to be speaking other words.

The whole film is based around audio interviews with the writer/artist from 1971. It's a very clever documentary and somewhat anticipates later, more celebrated films that play with the mode when utilizing audio archives, such as "Waltz With Bashir," "Chicago 10" and "The Arbor." Actors play real people, though in voiceover only, and there is definitely a lot of other staged material, which could possibly permit the classification of hybrid. If you want soul-less fluff, you can see Spielberg's adaptation, but if you want a deep and respectful exploration of the hugely popular Tintin books, watch Ostergaard's film.

As far as I can tell, "Tintin and I" is not available on DVD in the U.S., but PBS aired the film five years ago on POV and someone has uploaded their copy to YouTube. Check out at least the first fifteen minutes this way below:

"Tintin and I" is sold together in other countries with Henri Roanne and Gerard Valet's earlier documentary "I, Tintin," another hybrid that mixes nonfiction material of Herge and historical influences with animated bits of the "Tintin" books. I haven't seen it in full, but it is available in parts via DailyMotion. It is subtitled in very literal English. I'd prefer to see it more properly translated, but if you're curous here's the first part:

Moi, Tintin - part 1 - English&French subtitles by quiestce88
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As for "The Adventures of Tintin," I shouldn't really discourage you from seeing it. Many people love it. I might also need to see it again when I'm in a different kind of mood, perhaps. Or after I've read others' thoughts on it. If you see it, let me know what you think.
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Kelly Clarkson And Wikipedia Aren't Friends

When I'm writing about gay porn stars and comparing and contrasting dildos on Manhunt Daily (I'm kidding about the dildo part, that's what I do in my free time at home. The dog is SCARRED for life), I think very little about politics. Luckily, I have politically active celebrities like Kelly Clarkson to do my thinking for me! Bitch has knowledge! American Idol's very first hooker winner pointed her finger at MSNBC, her digit landed on "that old guy", and she then blindly endorsed Ron Paul's presidential campaign on Twitter. It went really well for her.

"I love Ron Paul. I liked him a lot during the last Republican nomination and no one gave him a chance. If he wins the nomination for the Republican party in 2012 he's got my vote. Too bad he probably won't."

Twitter is an essential part of your celebrity brand, but some of these dum dums need parental controls on their phone. Kelly can endorse whomever the fuck she chooses, but the following exchange made it clear that bitch had no fucking clue who Ron Paul is, was, does, fucks, discriminates against, supports, what sex he is, whether he's an actual human and not a character on 30 Rock, what he feeds his goldfish with, nothing.

@uglybenny @michellebranch classy response.�

@Cibuloid very mature of you. Someone says something you disagree with and you lash out at them. Very mature.�

@Jcourt3 I respect your opinion and I am about progress. Ron Paul is about letting people decide, not the government. I am for this.�

@my_warden I have never seen or heard Ron Paul say anything against gay people?�

@BarkingTurtles I love all people and could care less if you love a man or a woman. I have never heard that Ron Paul is a racist or a homophobe?�

@Deethers I have never heard that he's a racist? That's ignorant. [Ed. note - *eye-roll*]

Miss Independent later released a statement saying she loves everyone, blah blah blah, but still supports Ron. �Honey, "Since U Been Gone" is a rad song to drunkenly fag out to (what? shut up!) but this does not make you Christiane Amanpour. Damn. Shit, it barely makes you Connie Chung.

(via Oh No They Didn't!)

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Giant Haywire movie billboard...

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The Doc Option: Instead of "War Horse" Watch "The Battle of the Somme"

Two Doc Option columns in the same week? Hey, if Steven Spielberg can release two movies back to back, it's only fair that I get to provide alternatives for both. So yeah, here's another Doc Option for you:

I didn't love "War Horse" any more than I loved "The Adventures of Tintin," which is a shame since I'm usually a fan and defender of Spielberg's work. I'm going to one day look back on this whole season's disappointments and blame myself, or at least my final semester of grad school. For now, I offer up the best nonfiction alternative to the filmmaker's new World War I horse play adaptation: "The Battle of the Somme."

Considered by many to be the first feature-length documentary, this 1916 British propaganda effort depicts the famed title battle, which Spielberg also recreated for his movie. And actually the 95-year-old doc is notorious for obvious reenactment footage of its own. One laughable moment features a "dead" soldier turn his head back as if to see if the camera was done rolling. This material was apparently shot before the battle even began, as was common for early propaganda cinema of the time. Of course it also presents some amazing real footage, as well.

Partly shot by Geoffrey H. Malins, who went on to write many of the early Eille Norwood "Sherlock Holmes" films I wrote about recently, the British production was released to theaters in the UK while the battle was still going on, as an effort to promote enlistment and support for the war. It was an enormous success, and I've seen it written up as still to this day holding the box office record in Britain in terms of ticket sales. Even the Royal Family saw it in a private screening held at Windsor Castle.

Later, the film played other countries, including the United States and France, where it continued to boost morale for the Allies. The release in America was also reportedly employed as propaganda by the U.S. to drum up support for and defend its entry into the Great War the following year. If only it was still so popular in the States.

Obviously, like most of my Doc Options, "The Battle of the Somme" is not easily available to watch on DVD or any other way in the U.S. This is a tragedy nowhere near as large as the war itself. But in terms of First World, 21st century problems, it's a real shame. Here is a short clip uploaded by the Imperial War Museum, which has preserved the film since the 1920s and recently had it digitally restored for a DVD release in the UK. Maybe they can partner with a distributor in the U.S. so we can watch the whole thing.

There are no horses in that relatively peaceful segment above, but you might be thankful for that. Below is a part of some recent documentary featuring footage shot during the battle, and immediately shows numerous dead horses, including one up in a tree.

Follow Christopher Campbell on Twitter: @thefilmcynic
Follow Spout on Twitter: @Spout

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Review and Interview: Wim Wenders' Exceptional 3D Doc "PINA"

One of the best films of 2011 finally hits theaters in the U.S. today. Wim Wenders' "PINA" is a marvelous, magnificent, necessary and pioneering 3D documentary. I reviewed the film back in October during the New York Film Festival. Here's an excerpt.

What I found especially tremendous is the way I felt so much of the weight of people and objects on the screen. I literally tensed up more in my seat than I've ever been conscious of, and I couldn't immediately understand why. Was it that the dancers have such an illusion of weightlessness that down below I felt my own gravity? Was it the tension of their muscles that reflected back in my own body's mimicry, perhaps for identification? I believe it had most to do with the dancing that wasn't as airy, the moves that are graceful yet still very heavy. You can see the gravity in footprints -- dirt is outside and on stage -- in the splashing and downpour of water -- again, some of the indoor acts include a lot of natural elements, in the snapping of cords and the intentionally slow motion of a woman with a man on her back. Sounds definitely enhance this sense of gravity, but it's certainly the result of the 3D's rendering of the physical space and all of its laws.

I also talked with Wenders this week for an interview posted at the Documentary Channel Blog. He talked about "PINA," why 3D is the future of documentary if not all of cinema and shared some information about his exciting next 3D documentary, which is about architecture. Here's an excerpt from our chat, his response to my suggestion that 3D is a great way to get audiences into the cinemas to see nonfiction films:

I think it is an excellent tool for documentaries, for the future and even now. In the beginning obviously, when we started, it was a little extravagant because of cost. But when we finished, in the last days of shooting, when we had little money left, we did the last shots with two Canon 5D cameras. And that worked well. And I did shoot with my students in 3D, and everybody made either a ten minute documentary or fictional film. So it is affordable now.

Apart from that, I think it?s a fabulous tool for documentaries because you get so much closer to your subject, and the audience is so much more in the presence of the person that the film is about and the world that you take them into. It?s more there. You can transport your audience to the universe of the film. I really think it?s a much better medium for the documentary in the long run than for the narrative form.

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THE SON OF NO ONE Trailer and Poster

THE SON OF NO ONE Trailer and Poster Anchor Bay Entertainment, has released the TRAILER and film poster for the upcoming film THE SON OF NO ONE, in theatres November 4, 2011! Starring: Channing Tatum, Tracy Morgan, Katie Holmes, Ray Liotta, Juliette Binoche and Al Pacino Director: Dito Montiel Synopsis: A young cop is assigned to a precinct in the working class neighborhood where he grew up, and an old secret threatens to destroy his life and his family. Run Time: 95 minutes

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?Tom Felton is shirtless, pale and surprisingly sexy in Miami? links

?Tom Felton is shirtless, pale and surprisingly sexy in Miami? links

Written by Kaiser

Posted in Links

- Hobbit production videos: so cool [Pajiba]
- Which celebrities sold the most magazines this year? [Lainey Gossip]
- Ben Stiller is buff! Who knew? [Popsugar]
- Marc Jacobs and his ex fiance are also super buff [D-Listed]
- Halle Berry: a retrospective in fug [Go Fug Yourself]
- The 50 best movies of 2011. I haven?t even heard of most of these. [Fark]
- The year?s worst Christmas gifts [Gawker]
- Bryan Cranston for Coffee Mate! [Evil Beet]

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1. Report this comment as spam or abuse

   • He filmed a movie here in New Orleans last year ? and one scene was filmed next to our backyard (!!!). He?s adorable. Precious, really.

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2. Pasty to you, darling Kaiser, is a deep tropical tan to this wee British lad.

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3. Have no idea about the blinds but they are good!

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   • Ooh, what blInds? I missed those!

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     • On Gawker?.have any idea?

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4. *lovelovelove his shorts.

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5. Not a total Baldwin, but very Ryan Goslingesque, and me likey. I?d totally.

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6. You can keep him. That pony tail is a deal-breaker.

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7. My guesses for the blinds are:
   1) Zac Efron and Rumer Willis
   2)?
   3)Khloe and Lamar
   4)Gosling and Mendez
   5)Wil and Jada

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   • Oh that?s good, I like the Zac Efron-Rumer one?I remember pictures of them but did they date?

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