i went to the morning press screening for Shame yesterday, directed by Steve McQueen and starring Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan. i tried to review this film during TIFF but all the international press packed the house and there was no room for me in the lightbox. boo.
and this film is a perfect example as to why i’m such a huge fan.
Michael Fassbender gives me a Michael FassBoner.
i’m glad carey mulligan is getting more adult roles as well. i remember when she was just a giggling piece of flotsum in Pride & Prejudice, in the background to Keira Knightley. then suddenly, Keira Knightley was in Carey’s background in Never Let Me Go.
of course, i can’t give you my full review here (there’s a moratorium on pre-release reviews), but when my review is published, i’ll link it here, ‘natch.
suffice it to say, you will want to see this film when it is released in December. i’m predicting Oscars. it’s sicko-brooding-mesmerizing-depravity-undertones-beautiful-cocksure-tinted-symphonic-fuckery that will WOW you until your wow-er is sore.
As I say in the review, after watching it, I wasn’t able to stop thinking about it. That was over a year ago now.
For some reason, the DVD is only available for purchase in Ireland (it’s an Irish film and Irish co-production) and they can’t ship overseas. So recently I downloaded the torrent online.
I can’t stress the magnitude of force this film exacts on your heart. While watching it (and even long after the credits have rolled), you sit there feeling as if someone has just taken a butter knife to your heart, and scraped out the inside until it is left raw, seething, and rigid to the touch.
I feel like I have been through what the character Samira has been through. I have never been brutally assaulted, I have never been interned at a concentration camp, nor have I ever been through a war (although I have been to Bosnia-Herzegovina and other warzones). But this isn’t about the specifics of war, rather about much larger behaviours that affect women.
At any moment we can be the punching bags for aggression, or the object of desires. And we’re struggling to understand the difference.
Watch the film.
TIFF is coming up, and I’ve been invited to so many advanced press screenings that I’m debating whether or not I should throw myself face-first into the fest like I did last year. Last year was amazing, I reviewed the festival for FOUR different media outlets, including the CBC. I met some amazing people in the industry, attended some hoity-toity parties, saw a record-breaking 35 films (including The King’s Speech, where I knew from the press screening that it would win the Oscar), and feasted on the visual stimuli flashing through a darkened cinema. Static flicking off the beams of light.
So why the debate?
Mama’s got a book to write.
* * *
sneak with me as i disappear into the back alleys. keep your feet pedaling, the bike leaves no footprint. the night will swallow us like a python, opening its mouth, and then holding its breath.
all the kids in the ghetto call me Don chris estima.
gauzed in red, the colour tearing through my flesh, this painted city belongs to me.
we discover art.
and you will know i was once here
by the looks thrown over my shoulder.
Rob introduced me to Poser, who does these smooth rabbits all over town. Now you won’t be able to walk around without noticing them. I love how the rabbits are holding spraypaint cans whilst almost saying “Eyyyyhhhh, sup gurrrrrl.”
that single BlogTO tweet sent my blog traffic batshit crazy through the roof, kiboshing all previous records. fanks hombres!
hello new munchkin readers! enjoy my neurotic blogjaculation.
relax, i’m hilarious.
now shut up and show me your tweets.
rob takes a decent graffiti snap.
rob and i snuck around the back alleys for about four hours, well past midnight. darkness creeping in on secrets.
first obvious target: graffiti alley, then up the ossington alleys, then through kensington market. i think our next destination should be the rail path which runs through the junction. i know there’s some amazing shit there, my camera is gagging for it.
does anybody else think this looks like a concentration camp?
zejko? that sounds yugoslavian . . . maybe serbian or croatian or bosnian. i wonder who this guy is.
political figure? martyr? writer? philosopher? just some dude?
andy warhol just rolled his eyes.
ha, i love this little gas-can fucker.
oh hello mr elliott. we meet again.
i’m surprised to still see some of the Andrew posters around, they’re quite old (in terms of street art shelf life), so this was a rare find. however, considering the way Andrew died, tagging the poster with a mouthful of blood and a speech bubble with “liberal lies” is rather upsetting.
what kind of tagger writes “liberal lies” anyway? i’m sorry, is Andrew’s tragic story offensive to your conservative graffiti ethos? fuck off with that shit.
my last post detailed some Tokyo tags, and now we know who he is. Rob found him on facebook, so we have a face with a (fake)name now. Sup guy.
i also recently blogged about the posters and stickers that have gone up around queen and spadina, commemorating the kettling and brutality that occurred last year during the G20 summit. the stickers say “our civil rights were lost here.” the posters show sombre photos of the attrocities done against peaceful toronto civilians.
the “tokyo” is almost gone. i wish rob ford was rubbing away too.
this headless frowner reminds me of our unhappy hipster run-in while rob and i took a break at 416 Snack Bar. some loud hipsters with massive, square, black-framed specs, and nostrils brimming with white coke, shouted at me from across the table to smile.
i turned into them and gave a fatal grimmace.
coked-up hipster goes, “that’s the worst smile i’ve ever seen. why won’t you smile for me?”
to which i leaned in and coo’d, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”
and at that, his balls crawled back up inside his body.
from what i can gather here, someone stenciled “supreme” then someone with a spray can tagged it into “supremely stupid” but they spelled “stupid” wrong…. studpid? stucpid?
this freaked the shit out of me, because in the darkness of the alley, you couldn’t see all those details. you could see a bit of the face. my flash revealed the bleeding ghost.
some daytime shots from the back alleys in parkdale.
is that elvis presley or chris cornell?
when horses are this lame, they shoot ’em.
hi c-saw, i will respond to that question with this.
good call, speaking of bikes …
i’ve got more THE GOOD BIKE finds!
a basket filled with a potted plant, untouched!
AND it’s bolted to the ground. you ain’t stealing this, fuckfaces.
the photo of me at the top of this post is of me taking this photo….
wow, that’s so meta.
and the moral is: the easiest way to make guys lose their shit is to have yours together