Balls and Walnuts
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A romance of violence
When Viggo Mortensen’s character, Tom Stall, first appears in David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, he pauses near the door to the diner where he works and picks up some litter. A casual detail — blink, and you’ve missed it — yet it resonates with the film’s opening image. A young man leaves a dumpy motel room and pauses to straighten the rusted-out chair which sits beside the door. Moments later, he commits an unthinkable crime, something which even to this day is nearly taboo for Hollywood.
Thus, when Tom Stall picks up that soda can, we’re left to wonder: was the opening a flashback? Is our hero that very same creep?
Better than the book
I have a confession: I never finished reading the graphic novel, V for Vendetta. The novel loses steam after Evey’s imprisonment, so I suspect some other book from my TBR pile snagged my attention, and V went unfinished.
After seeing the movie, though, my curiosity got the better of me. I had to see why Alan Moore was so tweaked by the screenplay that he refused to have his name associated with the movie. By the end of the novel, I had gnashed my teeth to bloody stumps —
Okay, that’s hyperbole. Still, V for Vendetta (the graphic novel) made me think about the few times where the movie improves upon the book.
Bits and pieces
Not sure why, but I’m feeling sapped this evening. The muse wants me to read, not write, and I’d be a fool to ignore her.
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We watched movies this weekend. We watch so few movies that we would lose money on Net Flix, that’s how video-starved we are around here. Here’s the rundown:
David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence: four thumbs up. This one is worth a blog entry of its own, particularly as the subject matter dovetails well with our discussion of the violence in V for Vendetta.
Kronk’s New Groove, Disney’s sequel to The Emperor’s New Groove. Jake watched this by himself. Afterwards, he came upstairs and announced that it sucks balls, whereupon I corrected him, saying that the proper phrase was, “it sucks monkey balls,” preferably using a colorful adjective to modify ‘monkey.’ This sparked an argument as to whether ‘monkey’ was strictly necessary. I countered with the intrinsic funniness of words containing ‘k’ sounds (as I learned in my Comedy Writing Secrets book), so Karen said, “Okay, then, ‘it sucks toucan balls.'” This led to a discussion of whether toucans have balls, and whether the birds in my novel have external genitalia. (No. The males’ penises evert during intercourse, snake-fashion.) Jake stuck to his guns and insisted that the movie only sucked balls. End of argument.
No word as to why it sucked balls.
Good Night, and Good Luck: again, this one is worth a post of its own. In brief: while this film choked me up several times, it is deeply flawed. I’ll get into that some other time. We forced Jake to watch most of it, even though “It’s in black and white!” Karen countered with, “Didn’t you know that in the past, everything was in black and white?” and I added, “Yes, color is a relatively recent invention of the human mind,” thereby proving that you don’t need marijuana to talk like a stoner.
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Maureen recently recommended Chez Piggy’s Caramel Pecan Tart. I made it yesterday, and I must say, Maureen, you know your pecans. Also, welcome to WordPress. How does it feel to say no to the dark side?
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One last note on the pecan tart recipe. As written, the recipe neglects to tell you to add the sugar to the flour when you make the crust. It’s an obvious error, but if you’re the kind of person who follows recipes to the letter, you’ll be left with an icky, tasteless crust.
I added about a half teaspoon of salt to the crust, by the way, and another half teaspoon of salt to the nut mixture. It didn’t seem right to omit the salt. Since I have never tried this one without the salt, I can’t say whether I helped it or hurt it.
Time to work on the morning post!
D.
Last call for orgasms
The other day, I asked you to email me your favorite orgasmic passages. Thus far, my in box is orgasm-free. I ask you: how would you like to have an orgasm-free in box?
Romance or other genres, I don’t care. Right now, I don’t even care if they’re your favorites, or merely examples of execrable writing. This will be a blast, people, but I need your help.
I need you. Smart Bitches Day needs you. Do it for the orgasms.
For my email addy, scroll down to the bottom of the Le Petit Mort, Redux post below.
And thank you.
D.
Ambien, Drug of Darkness
Egalia at Tennessee Guerilla Woman has posted full text of Maureen Dowd’s Saturday column, Valley of the Rolls. (JP has it, too — and don’t miss his contest, either!) I have my own Ambien story to share, but first . . .
V . . . for Virtue
For the Short Attention Span Theater-goers among you: V for Vendetta gets four BIG thumbs up from Walnut and Balls. Bear in mind that Balls is one tough customer when it comes to movies.
On to the review.
I wish I wasn’t afraid all the time.
Imagine being a movie reviewer, and living in fear that someone might mistake you as a terrorist sympathizer. From David Denby’s review of V for Vendetta in The New Yorker:
“V for Vendetta,” a dunderheaded pop fantasia that celebrates terrorism and destruction
Okay, that’s quite enough out of you, Mr. Denby. Meanwhile, around the block at The New York Times, Manohla Dargis chimes in:
Is the man in the mask who wants to make Parliament go boom Osama bin Laden or Patrick Henry? Or just a Phantom of the Opera clone who likes to kick back to the cult sounds of Antony and the Johnsons? Your guess is as good as mine, and I’ve seen the film.
How about that other rock of journalism, The Washington Post? From Stephen Hunter’s review:
“V for Vendetta” is a piece of pulp claptrap; it has no insights whatsoever into totalitarian psychology and always settles for the cheesiest kinds of demagoguery and harangue as its emblems of evil. They say they want a revolution? Then give us a revolution, one that’s believable, frightening, heroic, coherent and not a teenagers’ freaky power trip.
Doesn’t anyone get it? Sure — Peter Travers in Rolling Stone:
Calling Warner Bros. irresponsible for releasing a film that rouses an audience to action is like calling the Constitution irresponsible for protecting free speech. The explosive V for Vendetta is powered by ideas that are not computer-generated. It’s something rare in Teflon Hollywood: a movie that sticks with you.
I haven’t done a comprehensive survey, but it seems like the mainstream reviewers want you to see this movie with a prejudiced eye. It glorifies violence. Its politics are simplistic on the one hand, confused on the other. It is, in David Denby’s words, “a disastrous muddle.” Yeah, I wish I weren’t afraid all the time, too.
Le petit mort, redux
You know what I want to know?
Why is this woman wearing her glasses?
Yeah, you guessed it, I’m hanging out at Beautiful Agony again.
If my blog brings one more client to Beautiful Agony, I’ll get a month of free orgasm videos. Wouldn’t that be the coolest thing, not just for me, but for all of us? Think of the blogging splendor you will have. A full month of sexual snarkiness. It could be special.
Okay, story time. On the last Smart Bitches Day, Kate was bemoaning the lack of pirate romance, so Beth posted this great snippet. I asked my billing person, Catrina, whether she knew of any pirate romances. Catrina reads romance novels — lots more than I do.
“The Captive series by Fern Michaels,” she said, and since I was ordering Laura Kinsale’s The Shadow and the Star anyway, I picked up what I thought was the first Captive book, Captive Embraces. Turns out I got #2. Why am I always doing that?
Damn, thought I, now I’ll have to go buy #1 so I can read them in order. But it occurred to me, maybe I ought to look at this one to see if I even like Ms. Michael’s style.
Mmm, not so much. The novel opens with a love scene. From page 2,
Each of her senses was heightened and filled by this man who could make her feel as though she’d never known another lover, who could make her believe she was created for his pleasure alone and, in giving that pleasure to him, find her own.
But I’m not one to pass on a book after two pages. Oh, no. I have to give it three.
Together they spun over the threshold of sensuality into the universe, whirling on a roll of thunder and blinded by a flashing bolt of rapture.
I can’t make this stuff up.
Today, I told Catrina, “Um, that Fern Michaels book? Sucks. Opens up with this sex scene where they come together, only she doesn’t say they come together, only some bullshit about spilling over into alternate universes and shit.”
“You were asking for pirate romances,” she said. “I never said it was any good. I couldn’t even finish the first one.”
Now she tells me.
But, it’s not all a waste, since Catrina indirectly gave me an idea for my next Smart Bitches Day post: the orgasm in literature.
Suggestions appreciated. This weekend, email me your favorite orgasm passages, and I’ll work them into what I hope will be a fine contribution to SBD. That email addy again:
azureus
at
harborside
dot
com
Later tonight, I hope: my review of V is for Vendetta.
D.
The Friday morning spew
Comments to my Pad Thai post jogged a few memories.
Alton Brown mangling the recipe reminded me of a horror Karen and I witnessed during my Stanford days. (more…)