Hard Candy

Ellen Page will fuck you up in Hard Candy. And, she might even make you hard. This is not the same girl who got knocked up in Juno and who never--to the praise of conservatives everywhere--seriously considered having an abortion. Yes, in Juno, Page was ballsy and outspoken in a snarky, ultimately appealing way. However, Hard Candy is the Ellen Page before she got it on with uber wimp, Bleeker.

Let me tell you, this is totally the Page I prefer--muscle-y with a butch dyke haircut. She really doesn't look frail and little here, as she does in her other movies. Her bravado adds five inches to her height and twenty pounds to her frame. Easily. Hard Candy is a vehicle for Page at her best. She plays the changeling, and I'll only say a little more about plot because the movie is better if you don't know too much about the story line.

Hard Candy starts out with Page meeting a lover or a friend or someone she's clearly only met virtually and not in person. The hunky, older man ends up taking Page home, and it's evident that he is attempting to get her drunk with the intent to get her into bed. (And, homeboys, for all of you who do not know, that is called rape. Any time you have sex with someone who is intoxicated--even if you are, too--that act can be construed as rape.) So, he fills her drinks and plays loud music. Then, the turn comes. So, no more talking about the plot. Instead, I'll talk about the tone.

Page sets the tone in that she (and, by extension, the movie) is methodical and plotting. There's no sex, per se, but the sexual organs are definitely involved. Well, less than involved; they're more like innocent bystanders who may not be so innocent after all. Think of Page as the ultimate master in sadomasochism. She's sexy as the dominant one, and her total commitment to the sexual games may get you off as the watcher. Don't be alarmed; we're all freaks at heart. It's just that in the sex games the characters play, there is no safe word.

The Pornographers

JAPANESE SEX DOLL, the making of. I've seen my share of crazyweirdhonest2thepointof mysticism japanese films (Birdy Hilltop ring a bell with anyone?), films that start off ok but then become deranged. (This review, as well as future subsequent reviews under my name, will be incoherent, but please stay with me.) But it is that very crazy honesty, or crazy surrealism, that whets my appetite for more Japanese films. Or maybe I am simply very into black/wht films of the 50s and 60s. "The Pornographers" are a group of men who make pornographic films and literature. But they are not slimy at all. In fact, one of them is effeminate, possibly asexual, possibly gay. The main operative is a devoted boyfriend/husband and step-father/father figure. He considers the distribution of porn to sexually hungry Japanese men a public service. (One scene in which a group of Japanese businessmen screen a porno flick involving a Caucasian male lead is particularly revealing. One of them cracks a joke when he sees the size of the white male endowment. The group laughs. Either the Japanese have very good self-deprecating humor or they know that size is no indicator of sexual prowess/pleasure. Or maybe both. Anyways, I was surprised when that topic was addressed, and from the Asian male perspective.) His, um, occupation is the least scandalous part of the movie. The movie also addresses the dynamics in a claustrophobic lower middle class four-member family, such as the sexual and domestic potentials between a coming of age young woman and her mother's live-in boyfriend/second husband. Surreal (but real) scenes include an orgy, a recurring carp, and yes, not to disappoint, a sex doll. Watch it if you've ever found yourself asking, "what is the japanese's fascination with sex/ roricon?" 4.5 out of 5 stars.

BOLERO by Maurice Ravel

I'm sure you've at least heard this piece. Torvill and Dean (the most famous ice dancers) won the 1984 Sarajevo Olympics with this song. The song is Bolero and it is amazing.

While away at school, I happened to come across the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra website and they were set to perform Bolero. It was during finals and no one was interested in going with me, so I went by myself. I remember running into my friend, Jeff, on campus. I was all dressed up, even wearing heels to walk around SF. I only had my clutch and an umbrella with me. He was like, Where are you going? To the symphony, I said. During finals? Yes. And, it was totally worth it.

I was the youngest person there by 50 years. The tickets were pretty cheap because it was a matinee. I had never been to the symphony before, and I really did not know what to expect. They played, I think, four songs total. Bolero came after the intermission. Bolero is about 20 minutes long. It starts out quiet, a whisper. And, then it builds and builds and builds until you can actually feel the instruments pulsate through your body. It really is like sex. The whole song takes its time, priming you, readying you, steadying you, rocking you until the triumphant climax. My body swayed to it and I was on the edge of my seat, wanting to embrace the whole orchestra.

I got a cup of coffee after, and walked back to the train by myself. I couldn't stop thinking about Bolero. I was kind of sad after. It was all done, and I knew that even though I ended up buying a Maurice Ravel cd, listening to it on a stereo would not be the same as in person. Sometimes, I do listen to it on my computer or something. If you see me sitting in the library with head phones on, and suddenly I'm all hot and bothered, you can figure out what's going on.