you can be addicted to a certain kind of sadness.
• Watched The Help tonight with Mum and sobbed like a hormonal bitch. Well, yeah, duh. And I read the book months ago for bookclub and did the same thing -- felt a ton of feelings, mainly a huge swelling of rage directed at Miss Hilly Holbrook and dear God I want to punch that fucking manipulative racist bitch in the eye, and cried like a running tap -- and yet I recognize how problematic the entire story is. As that Tumblr poster-remake says, this film could have been called White People Solve Racism. And that's just not fair, AT ALL, to the narratives of the African American characters and to the history behind it and the entire sweep of the Civil Rights movement. I'm getting really frustrated with Hollywood's (and modern white authors') take on the struggles of African Americans throughout this nation's history.
All of that having been said, there were some stellar performances in that film. Viola was heartbreaking, Octavia was perfect as Minnie, and mah gurl Emma did a good job as Skeeter, too, making her a bit more real and relatable (at least for me) than she was in the book. The scene where she finally makes her mother tell what happened to Constantine -- AND HER FACE -- oh God just let me die. And can I just proclaim my undying love for Jessica Chastain right now? Dear God, I love that woman.
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• Was in a dreadful awful terrible no-good mood at work all day. There was no discernible reason for this. It was just like my switch was turned from "okay" to "moody bitch with pain issues". Blargh.
• Started a new book: Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. Yet another British period mystery, only instead of being set in the Victorian age this is shortly after WWI. What can I say? I'm predictable as the sun. In an attempt to balance all of my Anglophilism, I also picked up Mary Roach's Spook from the library. I read Stiff years ago and LOVED it, and I think Roach has a wonderful writing voice, so I'm looking forward to her take on paranormal beliefs, ghost hunters, and seances. :D :D :D
• HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'LL FINALLY GET TO SEE THIS HANDSOME MOTHERFUCKER CHARM THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF EVERYTHING TOMORROW MORNING? CAN. NOT. FUCKING. WAIT. Just from the clips I've seen and his acceptance speeches, I am so prepared to be madly in love with Jean "I Have Independent Eyebrows" Dujardin. It really saddens me that it took this long for a film so acclaimed to make it to Peoria. Fucking ridiculous, especially considering this town's illustrious history in the arts (Ever heard the phrase, "Will it play in Peoria?" No? Well I'm sorry for you then; go Google that shit). But whatevs, Ashlee and I are going to fangirl like none other in the morning. So glad she was interested, because she is hands down the best (and perhaps only) person to see such a film with. She's definitely the only person around here who properly appreciates black and white/silent/old style films. Plus, FRENCHINESS!
• God, I hope this weekend is a good one for writing. The urge to get something accomplished creative-wise has been growing all day, and now I'm too tired to do anything about it. DRAT. Well, hopefully the desire won't have ebbed away by the time I finish with The Artist tomorrow. Knowing my luck, it will have. But I can hope. *crosses fingers*
All of that having been said, there were some stellar performances in that film. Viola was heartbreaking, Octavia was perfect as Minnie, and mah gurl Emma did a good job as Skeeter, too, making her a bit more real and relatable (at least for me) than she was in the book. The scene where she finally makes her mother tell what happened to Constantine -- AND HER FACE -- oh God just let me die. And can I just proclaim my undying love for Jessica Chastain right now? Dear God, I love that woman.
(™)
• Was in a dreadful awful terrible no-good mood at work all day. There was no discernible reason for this. It was just like my switch was turned from "okay" to "moody bitch with pain issues". Blargh.
• Started a new book: Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. Yet another British period mystery, only instead of being set in the Victorian age this is shortly after WWI. What can I say? I'm predictable as the sun. In an attempt to balance all of my Anglophilism, I also picked up Mary Roach's Spook from the library. I read Stiff years ago and LOVED it, and I think Roach has a wonderful writing voice, so I'm looking forward to her take on paranormal beliefs, ghost hunters, and seances. :D :D :D
• HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'LL FINALLY GET TO SEE THIS HANDSOME MOTHERFUCKER CHARM THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF EVERYTHING TOMORROW MORNING? CAN. NOT. FUCKING. WAIT. Just from the clips I've seen and his acceptance speeches, I am so prepared to be madly in love with Jean "I Have Independent Eyebrows" Dujardin. It really saddens me that it took this long for a film so acclaimed to make it to Peoria. Fucking ridiculous, especially considering this town's illustrious history in the arts (Ever heard the phrase, "Will it play in Peoria?" No? Well I'm sorry for you then; go Google that shit). But whatevs, Ashlee and I are going to fangirl like none other in the morning. So glad she was interested, because she is hands down the best (and perhaps only) person to see such a film with. She's definitely the only person around here who properly appreciates black and white/silent/old style films. Plus, FRENCHINESS!
• God, I hope this weekend is a good one for writing. The urge to get something accomplished creative-wise has been growing all day, and now I'm too tired to do anything about it. DRAT. Well, hopefully the desire won't have ebbed away by the time I finish with The Artist tomorrow. Knowing my luck, it will have. But I can hope. *crosses fingers*