Det MEST edderkopper?

Some American blog I ran (back) through Google Translate:

Hvis du kan lide film (eller måske rettere: hvis du ikke kan lide filmen som sådan, men som intelligent, udfordrende, ikke-kliché-skamridte og cool film), så anmelderen selv den fantastiske Lindy Vesten fra den alternative Seattle Media The Stranger.

Lindy West opnåede kortvarig, men tjente berømmelse med måske det mest edderkopper og præcis gennemgang af Sex And The City 2-film.

No, actually I do like this:

http://lindywest.net/mentions/entry/the_MOST_spiders/

No ideas and no surprises

Nu skal det her ikke blive en filmblog, men den her artikel om Hollywoods manglende vilje til at gå nye veje har noget generelt over sig og diskuterer marketingens og brandingens indtog i filmverdenen. Her er hvad Hollywood disker op med af film denne sommer:

With that in mind, let’s look ahead to what’s on the menu for this year: four adaptations of comic books. One prequel to an adaptation of a comic book. One sequel to a sequel to a movie based on a toy. One sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on an amusement-park ride. One prequel to a remake. Two sequels to cartoons. One sequel to a comedy. An adaptation of a children’s book. An adaptation of a Saturday-morning cartoon. One sequel with a 4 in the title. Two sequels with a 5 in the title. One sequel that, if it were inclined to use numbers, would have to have a 7 1/2 in the title.

Og grunden? Top Gun! Hvemskuhatroet? Temmelig sjovt. Eller sørgeligt. Eller noget. Læs hele artiklen her.

How The Social Network Should Have Ended

Hey! Kontrafaktisk parodi af en semidokumentarisk quasi-portrætfilm. Uhh, meta:

Originalen er bedre. Via her

Den bedste f***ing filmanmelder i verden

Og apropos ingenting specielt:

Hvis du kan lide film (eller måske rettere: hvis du ikke kan lide film som sådan, men kan lide intelligente, udfordrende, ikke-kliche-skamridte og fede film), så er anmelderen for dig den fantastiske Lindy West fra det alternative Seattle-medie The Stranger.

Lindy West opnåede kortvarig, men fortjent berømmelse med måske den mest spidende og præcise anmeldelse af Sex and The City 2-filmen. Hvorfra bl.a. det berømte citat:

SATC2 takes everything that I hold dear as a woman […] and rapes it to death with a stiletto that costs more than my car

…stammer fra. Anmeldelsen er fantastisk og fortjener at blive citeret mere ekstensivt:

It [SATC2] is 146 minutes long, which means that I entered the theater in the bloom of youth and emerged with a family of field mice living in my long, white mustache. This is an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls. But I digress. Let us start with the “plot.”

Carrie Bradshaw: At the end of the first SATC movie (2008)—after eleventy decades of chasing his emotionally abusive jowls through the streets of Manhattan—Carrie finally marries Mr. Big, the man of her shallow, self-obsessed dreams. It has now been two years since their nuptials. Carrie already hates it. She hates that he sits on the couch. She hates that he eats noodles out of a take-out box. She hates that he wants to spend quality time with her in their incredibly expensive and gaudy apartment. She hates that he bought her an enormous television. When Big suggests that they spend a couple of days a week in separate apartments (they own TWO apartments, because life is hard!), Carrie screeches, “Is this because I’m a bitch wife who nags you?” Congratulations. You have answered your own question.

Miranda Redhairlawyerface: Miranda is a lawyer who has red hair. She also has a child. As a working woman, Miranda is forced to miss every single one of her child’s incessant science fairs (as though children know anything of science!). Also, her lawyer boss is a cartoon dick. Miranda quits her job, and everyone is much happier. This is because women should not work. It is terrible for the children.

Charlotte Goldsteinjewyjewsomethingsomethingblatt: Life for Charlotte is unbelievably difficult. As a wealthy stay-at-home mom with two children and a live-in, full-time nanny, she sometimes has to bake cupcakes! Also, one time her little child got finger paint on a piece of vintage cloth. Therefore, Charlotte cannot stop crying. “How do the women without help do it?” Charlotte (crying) asks Miranda. “I have no fucking idea,” Miranda replies. Then they toast their disgusting glasses of pink syrup. To “them.” To the “women without help.” “If I wasn’t rich, I’d definitely just kill myself right away with a knife!” says everyone in this movie without having to actually say it. Clink!

Samantha Jones: I told you we are never to speak of this.

In order to escape their various imaginary problems, our intrepid foursome traipses off to dark, exotic Abu Dhabi (“I’ve always been fascinated by the Middle East—desert moons, Scheherazade, magic carpets!”). When they arrive, Carrie, because she is aprofessional writer, announces, “Oh, Toto—I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!” Each woman is immediately assigned an extra from Disney’s Aladdin to spoon-feed her warm cinnamon milk in their $22,000-per-night hotel suite. Things seem to be going great. But very quickly, the SATC brain trust notices that it’s not all swarthy man-slaves and flying carpets in Abu Dhabi! In fact, Abu Dhabi is crawling with Muslim women—and not one of them is dressed like a super-liberated diamond-encrusted fucking clown!!! Oppression! OPPRESSION!!!

This will not stand. Samantha, being the prostitute sexual revolutionary that she is, rages against the machine by publicly grabbing the engorged penis of a man she dubs “Lawrence of My-Labia.” When the locals complain (having repeatedly asked Samantha to cover her nipples and mons pubis in the way of local custom), Samantha removes most of her clothes in the middle of the spice bazaar, throws condoms in the faces of the angry and bewildered crowd, and screams, “I AM A WOMAN! I HAVE SEX!” Thus, traditional Middle Eastern sexual mores are upended and sexism is stoned to death in the town square.

At sexism’s funeral (which takes place in a mysterious, incense-shrouded chamber of international sisterhood), the women of Abu Dhabi remove their black robes and veils to reveal—this is not a joke—the same hideous, disposable, criminally expensive shreds of cloth and feathers that hang from Carrie et al.’s emaciated goblin shoulders. Muslim women: Under those craaaaaaay-zy robes, they’re just as vapid and obsessed with physical beauty and meaningless material concerns as us! Feminism! Fuck yeah!

If this is what modern womanhood means, then just fucking veil me and sew up all my holes. Good night.

Fantastisk. Hvis jeg kunne skrive, ville jeg skrive ligesom Lindy West. Se samtlige af hendes filmanmeldelser og artikler her. Fuck yeah og god nat.

Vans Syndicate x Luke Meier

Overbevisende film fra Vans og Kahlil Joseph for at promovere de nyeste Vans sneakers designet af skoguruen Luke Meier: Vans Syndicate Zero Low “S”. Mixet af musikken, billederne, skaterne, naturen, og ikoniske bygninger fra downtown Seattle er lige i øjet. Og den meget underspillede rolle, selve Vans-skoene spiller i videoen. No Logo. Simpelt, rent og perfekt.

Kaiser Karl

Var inde og se dokumentarfilmen ‘Lagerfeld Confidential‘ i Vester Vov Vov i går. Film om modeskabere, arkitekter, kunstnere, forfattere og designere interesserer mig, dels fordi indsigt i kreative og skabende sind er fundamentalt spændende, dels fordi store kunstnere som oftest er nogle ordentlige egoer med excentrisk syn på tilværelsen.

Kaiser Karl er ikke anderledes, men filmen var en skuffelse. For overfladisk, for berøringsangst, for venlig. Dokumentarfilm behøver naturligvis ikke være hverken journalistiske eller afdækkende for at lykkes. Men ‘Lagerfeldt Confidental’ fanger slet intet af det (hverken personligt eller professionelt), der gør Karl Lagerfeld til en succesrig og dybt interessant modeskaber.

Så den behøver man ikke se. Til gengæld bør man læse John Colapintos fremragende portræt af Lagerfeld ‘In the Now‘ i The New Yorker. Eller se Loïc Prigents dokumentarserie ‘Signe Chanel‘, der følger Lagerfeld og hans horde af ansatte under tilblivelsen af Chanels F/W 2004/05 kollektion.

Très chic, non?, som Kaiseren selv ville sige.