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I realized this morning that I didn't pose my question on my post last night that I had thinking about throughout watching the movie DL. Prof Anne says that DL is set in the 18th century, but has an 80's feel. It won Oscars for best art direction/set direction, costume design and screenplay based from another medium so what is it about it that has that 80's feel?
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Just finished watching DL and CI back to back. I've seen them before a long time ago and it was kinda fun to go back and revisit them. I watched DL first and I was truly impressed with Glen Close's performance. I thought she was practically flawless--especially liked her in the ending couple of scenes. John Malkovitch I found to be a bit crueler at times than I felt he needed to be-- my sympathy for him wasn't really there, but I'm reading the book tomorrow and so this could be right in line with the novel--- he is fun to watch and perfectly cast. I thought Michelle Pfeifer and Uma Thurman were good, but not exceptional even though Pfeifer won the British equivalent for the Oscar for her performance. I really like her I just thought someone else would have been better sutited for the role. In the "bonus features" it stated that director, Stephen Frears, wanted theatre trained actors and the only one who wasn't in the main cast was Pfeifer--yes, kids, even Keanu Reeves was theatre trained-- who would have known-- he must have forgotten all his training when he traveled back in time in Bill and Ted's-- I actually like him, but not in this. Roger Kumble who directed and wrote the screenplay for CI-- funny...it says during the opening credits that CI was "suggested" by the novel Les Liaisons dangereuses--Suggested! Bloody stole the whole plotline and followed DL movie almost verbatim--just a few modern day twists and colloquial language. I'm interested to read the novel as much as I can make time for and see how it all ties together. Happy viewing!!!
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Please go find and check your links at


If I had trouble with your page, and I know about it, I've let you know. If you sent me a page, haven't heard from me, and don't see it, let me know when/ how you posted. Some of the links seem not to be working in all browsers. Let me know of any/all problems. As you can see, problem with images. If you have some small image files you'd like me to host, let me know. You should also identify your page in the comments below!! Most don't have names/identifiable marks, so it's hard to know who's who. I can change the names/titles.

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The new dietary supplement!

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Current Mood:
drunk excessive/lacking
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All these movies that we are watching at the end of this semester have made me ask myself the question: What happened to originality? I mean, I understand the virtue in mimicking other works, especially classics, with the whole pastiche thing, parodies and satires and even that these things can be very original, but still. It seems like everywhere one looks in society that involves creativity, all the creative juice has dried up. Everything, it seems, is a "re-make," or influenced by something or other. Why can't anyone now-a-days come up with something completely, whole-heartedly original. The re-make of "king-kong" and "charlie and the chocolate factory" for instance (and don't anyone throw "Brokeback mountain" at me, because even that has its share of sameness; the whole cowboy-western thing). Even stuff like candy bars and soda pop drinks fall into the notion of re-makes and copying. When was the last time a soft drink came out that was completely new and original. Instead, we get "sprite re-mix" and "coke....with vanilla." I, personally, blame reality t.v. Because of it, we no longer need writers and producers to be creative and original with plots and what not. Instead, they need one stupidass idea and the show writes itself. This generation is going to be known in the future as the generation that couldn't produce anything on its own, everything is just plaguerized and redone. Is it really the case that we've covered everything humanly and abstractly possible that there are no other ideas to come up with?
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I've got a copy of Dangerous Liasons at my house, which I will have until Sunday (it's the Library's) and I can have a copy of Cruel Intentions delivered to me by Thursday or Friday, depending on whether or not I find time this evening to watch a really silly horror movie. (I suppose I could consider it a bonus class assignment...) Anyway, if anyone wants to make watching these films a group effort I'm more than happy to do that. I can't offer a place to watch them, unfortunately, so if someone is willing to step up...

If you're interested reply here, talk to me or fire missives at sonamhermit@hotmail.com

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To squander your time and make a devil’s bargain with an excerpt from Scribbler Ratcliff's latest novel, read on... 

     “Is it a cannibal sacrifice?” some bloke asked as they waited at the Blackheath castle doors to get in. “No, a cd release party!” another croaked. The disseminating fliers hailed the release of The Gothick Fop’s latest album, Horror Fiction. It boasted:

     “The meanest and shabbiest kind of sound… worth a dozen of any Marilyn Mansons.” – Tom King
     “Like Vampyrs of Covent Garden, Horror Fiction is one of the greatest albums of male fiend-ship in our time.” – MacHeath (a.k.a. ‘Mac the Knife’)

     With virtually everyone in attendance, Blackheath was a-rage. It was the most haunted, doomed, and decaying building in Shooter’s Hill. Stories circulated about drunkards vanishing through trapdoors at the ’Heath, and bar fights were said to have been broken up by ghosts. Captain Gallagher, the freckly red-pomped record producer, was implored to stand and deliver a speech. He urged the crowd to buy the cd. “Your money or your life! -- ”
     “Bite me if I don’t know what all this ruckus is about!” Vicktor interrupted. And he ushered on the opening band, The Penny Dreadfuls. Their gig had scarcely ended when Vicktor – The Ghastly Fop – mounted the stage, claiming to be the first punk ever to set foot on the earth. The daemon stormed on through scratches and spit-full cries from his fan club: “Oooooh! Rock me, Vicktor Humphrey!” A cover of “Advocacy for the Devil” erupted vaingloriously into the microphone. The creature sang so well that he began to distort even the most clever female’s perception of fact and fancy. No one would have guessed that Vicktor was a mechanical dandy. When Falco, Adam Ant, and Bowie crawled out of his mouth, it seemed to all a threatrickal trick. 


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I would just like to say, in the most immature and inelegant way that I possibly can, that the new Pride & Prejudice (starring funky-toothed Kiera Knightley) SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I watched the 2005 remake over the weekend, at the recommendation of a great many (ex)friends. The 2-ish hour film was so ghastly that it seemed even longer than the 800-hour-long BBC version. The characters were SLAUGHTERED. That this movie sucked SO BAD made me consider how Austen's characters may very well be THE reason (ok, one of the big reasons) that there are endless remakes of her novels. As the new *crappy* P & P demonstrates, the plot alone isn't extraordinary. P & P hinges on its characters -- they really are quite brilliant, don't you all think?

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What did you all make of the mother's reverence to the queen considering India's colonial history? I thought that created an interesting dynmaic.

Also, Darcy's snub of Lizzy is central to all three films? Why is this so? It seems to me that this is considered vital because it makes all three more feminist texts (i.e., the man who doesn't love a girl at first, but gets to know her and grows in love) Any other ideas?

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A fragmentary diatribe:
As imyohukleberry posted below, this is a non-Bollywood film done in a self-consciously Bollywood style. Batman glossed some of the basic characteristics of this style, and I would just like to elaborate on that a bit by saying that this isn't just the way they do romantic comedy, this is basically the way they do everything. When I was in India I spent one very long trip on a bus with a videodisc player, and we watched a movie about a tough cop trying to kill some drug lords by going undercover in various guises, and it too was rife with boistrous musical numbers. One minute there'd be singing and dancing with lots of shoulder dips and hip shakes, guys beckoning girls and the like, and the next an epic shootout. I'm mentioning this because I think it's important to note that the one of the basic projects of this film is to blur the lines between the basic Bollywood aesthetic and the basic Hollywood aesthetic (even though this is a British film...)

This, I think is significant for two whole reasons:
1) It points to a major difference between itself and BJ, namely that BJ was a pretty straightforeward genre piece. It already had an audence in place for it. This, I'm going to guess, is both why BJ is so successful and why it inspires such wrath from some of us (me included): it knows its audience, and it caters directly to it, and if you like the genre of romantic comedy you'll like BJ, and if you don't you'll hate it. BP tries to traverse genres and blur the line between two of the biggest film industries in the world (India's is actually THE biggest), which makes it (for me anyway) more watchable and ultimately seals its fate at the box office, as it doesn't really have a predetermined audience waiting for it.

2) It's important for their discussion of the 'real India'. Now, on one level I, and probably my fellow Chengophiles will balk at this phrase. As seasoned postcolonialists we notice that this phrase smells pretty strongly of bs. How do you define India? Where do you even start? It implies that India is a homogenous culture and country, which is patently false. One of my biggest impressions on visiting India was that there was no cohesion to speak of. Nobody can really agree on anything, politically, culturally, spiritually, whatever, and it can be really frustrating. And anyway, how can a movie where everybody constantly breaks into song and dance at the drop of a hat represent the real anything? Well, I would argue that in a way it can. After watching this film I realized that, travelling from Hindu dominant to Muslim to Buddhist areas of the subcontinent, the only thing that seems to be consistant is this damn Bollywood style movie. Not language, not custom, not anything. People will kill themselves over religious quibbles but everyone can dig on big 3-hour musicals about whatever. Notice the multitude of different musical styles in the film, and not just west vs. east, but even the 'Indian' musical numbers are a pastiche of styles.

I guess you could argue that claiming the 'real India' as a pop aesthetic trivializes the matter quite a bit, and you would probably have a good point. But remember, this film isn't really trying to save any lives. It exists in a fluff zone and its ambitions are equally fluffy.

And for what it's worth I quite enjoyed it. Don't front.

(PS: What are the implications of uniting India under one cinematic aesthetic and turning its sights towards the west?)
Current Mood:
aggravated no life without wife
Current Music:
Neko Case: Fox Confessor
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