Dressed to Link

Today's Must Read
The Hairpin's "Being Maleficent", on play-acting, female aggression, and iconic villainy

'Me, please,' they said. 'I want to be Aurora.'

I chewed my fingernails and felt my glasses slip down my nose. I wanted to be Aurora too. I wanted to be the center of the play. I wanted the woodland creatures to dance around me and the whole room to talk about my beauty, even if it was just pretend. But at seven, I was already hyper-aware of my skinned knees, my knobby elbows and my boy haircut. I stood up. 'I’ll be Maleficent.'...

More Recommended Links
de film Krant loved this impassioned vote for Brian de Palma as a sensibility shaper and the problems with "greatest of all time" lists
Grand Old Movies looks back at a Norma Shearer movie I hadn't heard of - Let Us Be Gay (1930). With deglamming! 

/bent Tilda Swinton reteaming with her Teknolust director and she will reportedly play a "phosphorescent talking cat" rather than the female lead. Um...
Pajiba the first teaser for Kenneth Branagh's Cinderella if you feel like looking at a shoe for a minute 
The Stake has a response to that much discussed MZS article on how boring/interchangeable superhero movies are 
VF smart piece from Joanna about how Samuel L Jackson's star cameo on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. exposed the show's core flaw. Co-sign.
Variety Harrison Ford for Blade Runner 2. I guess maybe he doesn't hate it anymore?
Film School Rejects so they're making a Morrissey biopic that's not called Morrissey and won't include any of his music and which he didn't approve. okay.... 

Fonda and Ziyi at the Grace of Monaco premiereWe Cannes Cannes Cannes
And here's a reminder to check out our extensive Cannes coverage. I'm so happy we've gone full French. Now to pester Diana again for more info on what she's up to...

Diana's Diary - we finally have someone on the ground
Opening Gala Tidbits - in which critics attack, buyers buy, and Kidman still owns my heart
Best Palme D'Or Winners ever? - we made a group list
Competition & Un Certain Regard - Nick and I chatted up the lists of mouthwatering possibilities 

Weight Watching

Earlier today I read Matt Singer's essay at The Dissolve about audience's attraction to the flabbiness of Seth Rogen (vote on our related poll!) in Neighbors. I like this essay which raises good points but it's depressing that no one ever extends this kind of enthusiasm or 'justify our love' ink to seeing less than perfect physical women on the screen.

Unrelated but coincidentally apt: On the bus home from my weekend in Boston on Sunday night the guy across from me was watching Bridget Jones's Diary on his laptop. I haven't seen it in years and years and every time I glanced over (I know it's not cool to eaveswatch but screens hypnotize me) I just thought "Zeéeeee* looks so pretty" Of course this is the movie wherein she was meant to be 'unattractive'.

Weight is a tricky emotionally loaded topic but the truth, at least according to me, is that there's room for all physical types in the world and "ideal weight" can vary quite a lot from person to person at least in terms of aesthetic pleasure. Some people look good at any weight, the lucky bitches. I personally think I have a tiny range of weight wherein I look my best (and I'm 20 lbs over it right now so I'm in Rogen territory. sigh) but some people look their best with some chunk and others when they're razor thin. Zellweger was one of the actresses that launched a million essays about standards of beauty and aspirational anorexia and all of that in the Aughts but if you ask me she was never more beautiful than when she was meant to be frumpy. I've never understood why the producers of Chicago didn't actually want her Bridget Jones body (especially since the films were close together) since it would have been a lot more period appropriate, sexier while dancing, and a better physical match for CZJ's traditional beauty hourglass physique. 

As for me I'm desperate to get back to the gym. But that might just be because I've been trapped in my apartment for two days with this awful cold. Tomorrow I will go for a jog if I have any strength at all. I've been half tempted to start an email self-help group for those of us who want to lose some weight, using movies as inspiration. But then that might give Hollywood the wrong idea and suggest that we only want Efron-style bodies. Can't we have a happy medium? My ideal body type both to look at and to have is definitely between the superhero (way too much work and boring as f***) and the schlub (way too much letting yourself go and ice cream... sweet sweet ice cream)

*Yes, it's true the Smackdown did a whammy on us and we keep thinking about Renée Zellweger

Mad Men @ the Movies: Mutilations, Model Shop, and Mojo

Don't open the box, Peggy, don't open the box! DON'T OPE

Too late. With so much time, cameras and distance between us Peggy didn't hear the shouting from my apartment. Yeah, I was actually shouting. I am generally as quiet with the TV as I am in movie theaters... unless the show calls for raucous participation like, oh, Election Night or Drag Race. And though Mad Men invites gasping and laughter and speculation and veritably lives to provoke responses those responses are generally of the sort that take time to unpack. 

Which is, perhaps, why I never write about the show. Or at least not weekly as intended. I'm always still unpacking; the show seems denser than ever what with its ever expanding universe (now bicoastal and double-floored in NYC) and ever growing cast of characters to populate the agency which has tripled (at least) in size since Season 1. That's a lot of baggage to unpack. And not just of the personal damage variety... though there's always been plenty of that in Matthew Weiner's masterwork.

A trip to the movies, intruding showbiz, and a couple of stray observations after the jump...

Click to read more ...

I Forgot About "Belle" But The Story Shouldn't Be Forgotten!

A Brief Housekeeping Prologue: Behold the troubles of rapid festival-blogging and ill fated attempts to "save some for later" and plan ahead. What you're about to read are my first impressions of Belle, a costume drama which opened in theaters on May 2nd when I intended a fine tuned version of this review to go up. I first wrote this back in September at TIFF and when I learned the film was not yet "locked" as to its final cut and would open in May, I saved it, fully intending to revisit the film, in case further editing sharpened its compelling premise or performances. While searching for Godzilla showtimes just now (priorities) I've realized  that it's been in theaters for two weeks and I never published this or saw the film again! (In most professional blogger ways I vastly prefer Squarespace, where the site has been housed since January 2011, to Blogspot but scheduling posts for weeks ahead in the future -- a super handy function - is a trickier and less user-friendly feature here.)

I never did revisit the film so if you've seen it I'd love to hear your opinion of the final product... 

Beautiful British actress Gugu Mbatha-Raw is the star of Belle, a costume drama about the life of Dido Elizabeth Belle Lindsay directed by Amma Assante. Dido's life story is fascinating and ripe for cinematic exploration. She was the illegitimate biracial child of a British Naval Officer (Matthew Goode, giving Goodeian gorgeous righteousness in a cameo) who claimed her as his own despite the scandal he knew it would cause.

He demanded that she be brought up in England at his home much to the surprise and resistance of his stuffy family (Tom Wilkinson, Penelope Wilton and Emily Watson giving extremely Wilkinsonian, Wiltonesque and Watsonlike turns). Belle's life predicament stems from her skin color but is more than skin deep... it's existential. One obvious but psychologically upsetting scene has her confronting her beautiful dark skin in the mirror and momentarily attempting to rub it away. Though Dido is blessed with wealth and privilege she never fully belongs to the high society circles she travels in, and is not even allowed to dine with her family. Her 'coming out' into society, expected of women her age for courting purposes, is only considered by the family when they realize that her same-aged sister-cousin (Sarah Gadon not giving a very Gadonish performance) needs a companion. Meanwhile the debate over slavery reaches a fever pitch thanks to a gruesome court case her grandpa (that'd be Wilkinson) is judging about drowned Africans. 

forbidden love! Gugu & Sam Reid look great together

Belle isn't particularly accomplished as cinema goes, marred as it is by modern anachronisms in dialogue and behavior, and the unmistakable sense that it'd be miles better as a more fleshed out television miniseries. The acting, too, is highly uneven. Gugu has a few wonderful moments but spends too much (i.e. most) of the running time in wide-eyed confused victim mode. But the largest problem is that much of Belle makes no damn sense. Consider, if you will, that though the film begins with Belle as a child, we skip ahead to her adult yearsone or two scenes later but every single cast member (including Belle herself) reacts to the discomfort and unfairness of her peculiar situation like they've never considered any of the implications before; Every awkward interaction or racist affront is a virginal shock! Were they all cryogenically frozen until Belle was old enough to be dowried off to the highest bidder and the actress was old enough to carry both a romantic drama and a civil rights epic?

That said it's an easy film to watch, emotionally accessible and earnest of heart, which is just what I needed that morning at the festival and sometimes being the right movie at the right time on the right day can endear you to weary eyes... especially if you hand them some eye drops*. A- Story / C- Execution

*That's code for tears, which I did shed.

Cannes Diary Day 1: Trains, Badges, and Nicole Kidman

Diana Drumm is reporting from Cannes for The Film Experience

After delays, a cancelled train and discovering the local bus line just went on strike, I hurried from the Cannes train station in an ill-chosen bulky trench coat, swooping up my overfilled laptop bag. Following my newly made acquaintance-guide who I'd bonded with over the inefficiency of French trains (as you do), we scurried through the maze of narrow boutique and cafe-lined streets. The city is brimming with people: the tanned and about to be sunburned, the stiletto-heeled and Doc Marten-ed, the maddening tourists and the maddened locals. After approximately two turns and nearly body-checking at least three walkers of a more leisurely pace, she stopped and I looked up. There was Guido Contini (Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini’s 8 ½) peering over his sunglasses seductively, with a look that falls somewhere between cheekiness and contempt (let’s just call it “rawr”), plastered on the Palais des Festivals. 

Regaining my breath, heart still pacing, I got into the queue. Four of them actually (bag-check, press badge, press queue, another bag-check) all the while terrified as the clock struck closer and closer to the festival’s first press screening. Praying and stroking my good luck charm (a piece of Errol Flynn’s suit) I made my way up three flights of stairs to a seat in the center of the balcony. The lights dimmed, the curtains separated, and the festival’s Opening Night film, the already much-maligned Grace of Monaco, began to roll. (Full review forthcoming)

Though no one booed, there were enough ill-placed guffaws, lit-up mobile phones and hushed chatter mid-screening to indicate that this crowd was less than enamored with Olivier Dahan’s latest about model turned actress turned princess Grace Kelly. As the credits rolled (sappy music over images of red and white roses), I attempted a mad dash to the stairs in order to get to the Grace of Monaco press conference and catch Her Highness Nicole. Unfortunately, almost everyone else had the exact same idea and the handsome security men proved unbribable.

I was one of those left in the celebrity-less cold. Although tempted to leap over the blockade, I'll save that one strike surely ban-worthy offense for Michael Fassbender. But there she was… An ethereal vision in white, with slightly curled longer-than-shoulder-length blonde hair and oh-so-fair skin (lips as plump as cherries), Nicole Kidman walked briskly by the throng of still-waiting and exiled press, surrounded by a posse and giving off her characteristic aura of A-list-seclusion grace. In the midst of my awe, I attempted to snap a few photos of La Kidman, but all three turned out too blurry for your visual consumption.   

Eating my feelings of slight disappointment, I scarfed down a “Croisette” sandwich (smoked salmon, cucumber, radishes, cream cheese and lettuce on ciabatta bread) and the best tasting in-plastic chocolate mousse ever at a film festival food counter. With time to kill before the next screening (not enough for writing, plenty for wandering), I got my bearings around the International Village and the film market -- look out for Jail Caesar starring Derek Jacobi, not coming to a theater near you. Then I queued up yet again for Timbuktu, which, unlike Grace of Monaco, got laughs in the appropriate places and warm, appreciative applause.

Onto Day Two!

Cannes Diary: Day 2 Grace of Monaco | Day 3 Mr Turner & Timbuktu  | Day 4Amour Fou & The Blue Room | Day 5? The Homesman Press Conference and The Homesman Review | Day 7 Mommy, Maps to the Stars &  Two Days One Night

Diana Drumm, who recently completed a stint as one of 8 young critics to take part in the 2nd annual NYFF Critics Academy became a member of our team this February. You can follow her on Twitter or visit her home page. See her previous posts for The Film Experience here.