Just venting....
OK, this rant started to be included in a movie review I was going to write, until I realized that the actual details of the film were rather irretrievably lost in the sea of commentary. So I'm subjecting you to it:
There's a trend I've been noticing of late, and it disturbs me. Last year about this time, Diane Lane was being touted as a serious Oscar contender and showing up in every popular magazine one could think of, looking sexy and luminous. Now I have always been a fan of Ms. Lane's and have long considered her an unrecognized treasure, so this pleased me; however, I didn't get around to seeing "Unfaithful" until just a few weeks ago.
I was not impressed.
Let me elaborate. It was an OK movie, and Diane was luminous and trembling and sexy, but that was pretty much all. Her performance largely consisted of her allowing Olivier Martinez to fcuk her into the floor, and then feeling extremely guilty about having let Olivier Martinez fcuk her into the floor with her yummy long-suffering hubby Richard Gere at home. All I could find myself thinking was, "OK, everyone looks really good here, but what was the big deal about?"
I think I've now figured it out. Having missed the subject of all the hype last year, I was promptly sucked in by all the excitement and burbling engendered by Meg Ryan's performance in "In the Cut". Meg was breaking away from all the cloying cuteness and upbeat persistence, and going for dark and sexy and dangerous. Ooooh, cool; I'm there. And to round out the feminist lovefest, the film is co-written and directed by Jane Campion. I showed up for the first evening showing the first day it opened. This turned out to be an error.
In place of "dark", "sexy" and "dangerous", think "distasteful", "sordid" and...well, dangerous. Like EVERYONE'S dangerous. The good guys, the bad guys, everyone. And everyone's apparently addicted to sex. Sordid, sleazy sex. Tops on this list is Jennifer Jason Leigh (another underappreciated treasure), who is apparently alternately bouncing on and stalking her psychiatrist while living above a freaky strip club and engaging in quasi-sexual sleepovers with her half-sister, Frannie (Meg Ryan). Ew. Meanwhile, Frannie is dancing on the edge of the knife, working as a teacher while spending her spare time tutoring and flirting with her students, and picking up questionable men in bars so unrelentingly skanky you can practically smell them.
One memorable night, another of the denizens of one of these watering holes is murdered outside Meg's window, leading to her introduction to Mark Ruffalo's Detective Malloy, who, after a cursory investigative interview, apparently forgets Frannie could be either an important witness or a suspect, and starts hitting on her with a bluntness equaled only by that of one of his stubby fingers. Honestly, he invites her out to a bar, spends a good five minutes ignoring her and talking trash with his equally disreputable-looking partner, then turns and basically growls "Let's get buck-naked and fcuk" in her ear. The really incredible part is that this apparently turns her on. Bleah.Things only get worse from there, as the film degenerates into a standard-issue slasher flick. So again, I find myself asking, "What's the big deal?"
The "big deal", it appears, is that trend I mentioned at the start of this rant -- the breath-taking discovery by the film community that women over 35 can be sexual beings. Gasp! Clutch the pearls! This is apparently such a stunning surprise that every time an actress demonstrates this fact, she is greeted with breathless talk of Oscar nominations and laurels lowered onto each mildly wrinkled or carefully Botox'd brow. I thought I was imagining this, until I actually saw Diane Keaton (Diane Keaton, of all people!) being interviewed about "Something's Gotta Give", gushing about how she felt this film was a great one for young women to see because it told them, "Don't worry! This can happen to you even when you're 55."
OK, let's just put our cards on the table, shall we, Hollywood? Women over 35 have sex. Women over 35 enjoy sex. Women over 35 have wild, kinky, frankly bizarre sex. There are even some men who *like* having sex with women over 35. Over 45. Over 55. Who find them sexually desirable, often more sexually desirable than their 22 year-old counterparts.
Now can we stop being so amazed by it?
S. (aged, in case anyone was wondering, 36. And a half.)
There's a trend I've been noticing of late, and it disturbs me. Last year about this time, Diane Lane was being touted as a serious Oscar contender and showing up in every popular magazine one could think of, looking sexy and luminous. Now I have always been a fan of Ms. Lane's and have long considered her an unrecognized treasure, so this pleased me; however, I didn't get around to seeing "Unfaithful" until just a few weeks ago.
I was not impressed.
Let me elaborate. It was an OK movie, and Diane was luminous and trembling and sexy, but that was pretty much all. Her performance largely consisted of her allowing Olivier Martinez to fcuk her into the floor, and then feeling extremely guilty about having let Olivier Martinez fcuk her into the floor with her yummy long-suffering hubby Richard Gere at home. All I could find myself thinking was, "OK, everyone looks really good here, but what was the big deal about?"
I think I've now figured it out. Having missed the subject of all the hype last year, I was promptly sucked in by all the excitement and burbling engendered by Meg Ryan's performance in "In the Cut". Meg was breaking away from all the cloying cuteness and upbeat persistence, and going for dark and sexy and dangerous. Ooooh, cool; I'm there. And to round out the feminist lovefest, the film is co-written and directed by Jane Campion. I showed up for the first evening showing the first day it opened. This turned out to be an error.
In place of "dark", "sexy" and "dangerous", think "distasteful", "sordid" and...well, dangerous. Like EVERYONE'S dangerous. The good guys, the bad guys, everyone. And everyone's apparently addicted to sex. Sordid, sleazy sex. Tops on this list is Jennifer Jason Leigh (another underappreciated treasure), who is apparently alternately bouncing on and stalking her psychiatrist while living above a freaky strip club and engaging in quasi-sexual sleepovers with her half-sister, Frannie (Meg Ryan). Ew. Meanwhile, Frannie is dancing on the edge of the knife, working as a teacher while spending her spare time tutoring and flirting with her students, and picking up questionable men in bars so unrelentingly skanky you can practically smell them.
One memorable night, another of the denizens of one of these watering holes is murdered outside Meg's window, leading to her introduction to Mark Ruffalo's Detective Malloy, who, after a cursory investigative interview, apparently forgets Frannie could be either an important witness or a suspect, and starts hitting on her with a bluntness equaled only by that of one of his stubby fingers. Honestly, he invites her out to a bar, spends a good five minutes ignoring her and talking trash with his equally disreputable-looking partner, then turns and basically growls "Let's get buck-naked and fcuk" in her ear. The really incredible part is that this apparently turns her on. Bleah.Things only get worse from there, as the film degenerates into a standard-issue slasher flick. So again, I find myself asking, "What's the big deal?"
The "big deal", it appears, is that trend I mentioned at the start of this rant -- the breath-taking discovery by the film community that women over 35 can be sexual beings. Gasp! Clutch the pearls! This is apparently such a stunning surprise that every time an actress demonstrates this fact, she is greeted with breathless talk of Oscar nominations and laurels lowered onto each mildly wrinkled or carefully Botox'd brow. I thought I was imagining this, until I actually saw Diane Keaton (Diane Keaton, of all people!) being interviewed about "Something's Gotta Give", gushing about how she felt this film was a great one for young women to see because it told them, "Don't worry! This can happen to you even when you're 55."
OK, let's just put our cards on the table, shall we, Hollywood? Women over 35 have sex. Women over 35 enjoy sex. Women over 35 have wild, kinky, frankly bizarre sex. There are even some men who *like* having sex with women over 35. Over 45. Over 55. Who find them sexually desirable, often more sexually desirable than their 22 year-old counterparts.
Now can we stop being so amazed by it?
S. (aged, in case anyone was wondering, 36. And a half.)