July 4, 2007



The new Transformers movie is IN-FUCKING-CREDIBLE! What a hot damn motherfucking ass-kick of a movie! Shit, man. YOU MUST SEE THIS.

Review.
The plot is something about... um, some horny kid... and GIANT FUCKING ROBOTS... and a cube?... the AllSpark?... something... soldiers and lots of explosions... I'm pretty sure the cube is important. Whatever. The plot isn't the point and you so know it. The POINT is that Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchett, Barricade, Megatron, Starscream, Bonecrusher, and Frenzy are all REAL! THEY ARE REAL! This isn't a movie, it's a fucking dream. Goddammit, the first time Prime rolled through the inexplicable and omnipresent New York mist (??) and transformed I just about wet myself in glee. Not much of the "story" makes sense until all the Autobots assemble to kick Decepticon ass. And then all you need is the biggest screen and sound system possible and the ability to not blink and you're set. Seriously... this movie... I wept with joy... it was... man, it was just EXACTLY what Transformers should look like when they're real. Honestly, Michael Bay's total inability to find depth or profundity in anything and absolute lack of nuance and subtlety have at long last found the utterly ideal outlet: giant robots from space that transform into cool cars and planes at speed while blowing things up.

There are so many ways Hollywood could have fucked this up (see Miami Vice, Dukes of Hazzard, Nancy Drew for reference to childhood loves raped and pillaged to satisfy the bloodlust of the almighty dollar) but Michael Bay's complete inanity and orgasmic love of things that go KABLOOEY in the night paid off big-time here. Transformers is (to misquote Marilyn Manson) 'the new shit'.

The plot makes almost no sense. There's nothing in the way of subtext or backstory. The people are stereotyped robot fodder. None of it matters, man. All that matters is seeing Prime transform and utter the single greatest line since "All that matters is what you do with the time that is given to you": "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings." FUCK YEAH MAN!!


I really think I was meant to be born a boy. You couldn't pay me to watch When Harry Met Sally or Sleepless in Seattle or Steel Magnolias but 300 and Transformers make me vibrate with excitement. I like to think I'm a new breed of woman: the type who loves makeup and 'just talking' AND explosions and hot chicks in fast cars.

Moral of the post: Go see Transformers.

July 1, 2007

I remember when Spike* and I lived together in The Treehouse, he said one possible outcome of my life was to die alone in a flat completely filled with tiger memorabilia. We found that highly amusing at the time. Imagining various CSIs (all of whom look exactly like Catherine Willows when I imagine them, naturally) and police going through this crazy old lady's one million tiger artifacts post mortem is just funny. I then said it would be even funnier if my body was found wearing tiger ears and a tail. We cracked up. It was 3am at the time, in our defense.

Why did I just tell you that story? Maybe because Spike* recently gifted me with a torn magazine photo of a tiger taped to the wall of my backstage area. He's a regal beauty, this tiger, and he glowers out over wayward actors and errant props in blue-lit majesty. He's been dubbed "Lord of Backstage".

Maybe because I just wanted to connect with you all. And post a picture of a tiger. It's never NOT a good day to post a picture of a tiger. If I were Queen of Canada I'd change the official Canadian animal to a tiger (sorry Canadian Geese, but you suck) and have two free-roaming tigers as bodyguards. And I wouldn't have to make it "always winter and never Christmas" because it's CANADA - it's already there. I wouldn't wear fur but I would eat tons of Turkish Delight. Are any of the things I just mentioned native to Canada at all? Whatever. HAPPY CANADA DAY!!

Have a tiger.



*Spike is the chosen pseudonym for my lighting designer/former flatmate. Look, I don't pick the names, I just run with them.