Challenge Your Perceptions Change the World

There are many mysteries about the human brain still untapped, so why aren’t we tapping them? Does it ever occur to us that we can change the paradigm at any time? I observed an interesting and distressing pattern when I was teaching at a public school I was amazed at how the students were “tracked”, categorized according to their supposed ability based on some random IQ test they were subjected to at some point. They were given numbers like 01’s, 02’s, and 03’s which was code for smart to stupid. In the staff room the teachers would even refer to the students as “That 03.” or “What do you expect from an 02?” It sickened me really, and I wish I had fought it more because it went against everything I believe about human potential and education. In my ten years of teaching at that school I found some of the “03’s” to be the most artistically gifted young people I’ve ever met and they were just ignored, categorized, stamped, dehumanized. Conversely some of the students stamped as “gifted” were just nice average teenagers with highly ambitious and influential parents. Some times I would come into the staff room raving about the brilliance of some student and I’d get, “but he’s an 03,” or “she’s just an 02″. They just could not compute anything different.

I had a wild year when I was eight years old. It was 1969 and things were happening in the big world and happening in my little world. My brother with whom I was really close had been put into a private school and started seeing a psychiatrist. I rebelled and I don’t think anyone really noticed until I was in serious trouble at school. I would ride my pony, Vagabond, before school and my Levis would be covered in horse shit and this did NOT please my teacher very much. Her name was Miss Schwartz and she was a rail thin bull dyke with a gray crew cut and she hated me. I was a bad kid and I was at great risk for being labeled an “04″ probably. In her obscenely narrow mind, I only existed as this trouble maker who would prefer to play with the troll house I had stashed in my desk than listen to her bullshit. She had me pegged as a real dumb ass and future juvenile delinquent until the day of reckoning came when I somehow managed to win the district wide art contest for the best poster commemorating Earth Day. To get this recognition at that stage in my life was invaluable to me in recovering from what I now recognize as a complete childhood nervous breakdown that no one really noticed. I remember feeling pretty good about my prize when Schwartz came over to me and got real close (I can still recall the deep vertical lines running down her face) and asked me who I copied the poster from. You see, in her mind, she could not compute that this wild kid before her with the dirty jeans could also be an artist, could be someone with something valuable to contribute to the world. If looks could kill then the look my eight year old self gave that bitch would have killed her in her tracks. All I remember is I said nothing, just looked at her, and she backed up and walked away like a startled rat. I’m sure she is lying cold in her grave. Do I forgive her? My adult self is indifferent, my eight year old self would like to find her grave and dance on it, but that’s perhaps being too honest for anyone’s comfort level.

I still put up with this shit. Some people can’t compute seeing a woman as a filmmaker or specifically as a woman director with a somewhat unorthodox approach. How much do I have to do to prove that I know what I’m doing? Women, let me ask you something? Do you ever find yourself making less of yourself and your talents in order for other people to feel comfortable? Don’t. Remember Sylvia Plath. It’s not an easy road though. I’m still struggling and sometimes it gets pretty hard. So much of it comes down to how much you are willing to fight. Here’s a story about a man who was a musical prodigy and renowned classical pianist performing 50 concerts a year. Then he had a sex change and could barely get a job teaching piano lessons to kids in the Bronx.

Maybe it is time to break out of our comfort zones and change our perceptions, the ones we project onto others and the ones we project onto ourselves, and broaden our minds about human potential. In so many ways, I’m still that eight year old kid with the horse shit on my jeans screaming, “I don’t care!” and I can still shoot a hard look at someone who dares enough to go there. Sometimes that is all you have to hold onto. My Earth Day poster was all about changing the world (I wish I could still find it). Call me a dreamer, but I still believe it’s possible.

Why you gotta be ignorant!

When I was working as a teacher (which now feels like a hundred years ago) I was always amused when one of my students would shout to someone who was rude or who in particular ignored them, “Why you gotta be ignorant!” When I would try to correct their use of the term by explaining that ignorant meant “unknowing” as opposed to rude or obnoxious, they would usually respond with, “yeah, that’s what I meant – ignorant!” Maybe this is partly how language evolves (after all, etymology is a fascinating study) because lately I’ve found myself confronted with people in supposedly professional situations acting so obnoxious that the ONLY word that adequately describes them is “ignorant”. After all, if they were knowledgeable they would know that acting the way they do makes them a major asshole. So perhaps they are ignorant of that fact. Or, conversely, they don’t give a shit, meaning they not only act like an major asshole, they are a major asshole, of which I can now be less ignorant of the fact and treat them accordingly. Now I’m aware that I would be hypersensitive (I am already but it would be taken to an extreme) if I expected your average asshole on the street to act like a gentleman or a lady. I am not that ignorant. No, I am speaking of supposedly “professional” people who lack common courtesy. Speaking of which, “common” is an interesting word you don’t hear too much any more. I suppose it’s a bit politically incorrect to call someone “common” meaning of the common people, but I am finding that most of these ignorant assholes are people with degrees and so forth so you might expect them to act with a bit more class. Wrong! Class has nothing to do with income level or higher education. You’ll find “classy” people in the poorest sections of the deep south and common ignorant assholes at the Russian Tea Room (I know I’ve met a few), probably more in the latter in fact.

And what are these “ignorant” behaviors of which I vent? For me it’s mostly “professional” people with whom I have business who return a “Dear…” and “Sincerely….” email with a two word grunt or don’t email at all, who try to strong arm me at the last minute for more money after a specific amount was agreed upon, who think they’re above it all because they have a college degree (bulletin: the rest of us do too and it doesn’t mean a damn thing–get over yourself!), of trying to take advantage of the fact that I’m a nice (read: pushover) lady, who reads my “please” and “thank yous” as a sign or weakness that can be exploited.

I love Emily Post’s definition of what real manners are: “Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use.” Hear! Hear! That’s how I was raised. Those are the people I choose to work with and support. And the rest? Figure it out fast or remain ignorant!

Beaver Shots

Forget about “balls out” acting, what really impresses me these days are the actresses who bare their bushes, and it’s about time. I’m not talking your average porn star. I mean respected actresses who win prizes at Cannes (although I must admit that line is getting blurred all the time). Let’s take a look at some notable examples of renowned actresses who have exposed their nether regions for art:

A terrific actress and truly beautiful, Julianne Moore proved she was a real red head in Altman’s Short Cuts (1993).

Another fabulous redhead is the great Tilda Swinton in an equally great film Julia (2008). Tilda acts with her boobs and her crotch in this movie and she’s genius. Trust me, see it! Plus she utters probably the best line reading in the past thirty years of cinema, “You! I wouldn’t wipe my ass with you!”

Kate Winslet in Holy Smoke (1999). I love seeing Kate Winslet nude in movies and Jane Campion captures a nice full frontal shot of her young, gorgeously zaftig body in this film that I loved and hardly anyone saw. Kate Winslet is probably the best film actress alive today, and she’s famous for revealing a “less than perfect” body. Of course “less than perfect” means she’s a size 8 as opposed to a size 2, which by Hollywood standards makes her a plus size, which means that I’m really fat.

Isabella Rossellini went from gorgeous lounge goddess draped in a blue velvet gown to emerging from the hedges of a suburban lawn naked, brutally exposed and bruised in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986). Her full frontal reveal was done in a long shot, but it sent shock waves of fascination and repulsion. Lynch later trumped it in with his hot lesbian scene in Mulholland Drive (2001), but for some reason gorgeous brunette actress Laura Harring’s “down there” is digitally scrambled. WTF? I wonder why that decision was made. Ratings perhaps? Who knows, it’s one of the hottest sex scenes ever filmed. Mulholland Drive is a great film, probably my favorite film from the past decade. In fact, I think it’s time for another screening.

Speaking of Mulholland Drive, Naomi Watts’ masturbation scene is Oscar worthy for its realism, but the big prize for baring it all, and I mean ALL is Charlotte Gainsborough in Antichirst (2009). I just saw it last week and it’s still fresh in my mind and in my nightmares.
Charlotte Gainsborough looking like a young Patti Smith with a soft voice that is capable of escalating into horrific shrieks is the perfect casting for Von Trier’s twisted fairy tale of a movie. I threw my scarf over my head and closed my eyes during the genital mutilation scenes, but they were wide open during the scene when she’s down on the ground in a forest masturbating completely naked. Whoa! That shocked me just because it was so raw and so real.

I am sure there are other examples, but these are the ones that come to mind. Art cinema will always push the boundaries, and I think it’s about time that sex is depicted truthfully. I don’t know if Antichrist is a great film, but its power to break through a barrier of what can be considered appropriate for cinema versus pornography cannot be denied. I don’t think I will ever want to film what Von Trier does in Antichrist, but his willingness to “go there” encourages me to be bolder in my vision as a filmmaker. And the actresses who also “go there”? Sexuality is part of being human. For an actress to depict that truthfully in the hands of a director’s artistry is an exercise in trust. It’s very interesting to contemplate what separates a Charlotte Gainsborough, looking chic on the red carpet at Cannes and a porn star doing the same thing in Vegas. And while we’re showing it all, why not show the guys’ stuff too. Did Willem Dafoe’s dick double have to belong to a well-endowed porn actor? Couldn’t he just be an average size, or can’t we handle that naked truth yet?

It’s Fun to be Scared by a Woman Named Dare

Every good work of children’s literature is a little bit scary. Kids learn pretty quickly that the world is a tough place and they like to see that reflected in the books they read and the movies they watch. I am appalled when I am sitting in a movie theater watching an R-rated flick and some idiot parent has a five year old with him (sorry, but it’s usually Dad’s on their kid weekend), but a little bit of scary is good. Every kid knows that. I was no exception when I was a kid and my taste in children’s lit reflected that. I, like many of us, was a “Where the Wild Things Are” fan (I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I will although I’m a little scared I might hate it–Chris did, he said it was “emo” which really made me laugh, we’ll see), but the Maurice Sendak book I was REALLY obsessed with was Higglity Pigglity Pop. I don’t have a copy of it now although I really should get one (I’ve always dreamed of putting together a classic children’s book library so I should probably start now). Higglity Pigglity Pop is a story about a dog who wanders off and it’s terrifying (check out that lion ready to eat her and the loneliness–both resonating deeply with me as a child).

Eventually I graduated into harder stuff (Edward Gorey became a particular obsession). This is my bedroom wall I painted as a kid (my parents were cool that way–I also painted a giant pair of lips and the words “Don’t dream it, be it” but that’s a different blog). I do remember my mother becoming a bit concerned with my sisters and my obsession with Gorey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies (you have to remember Gorey wasn’t mainstream at all back then which made it that much more rare and forbidden). “A is for Amy who fell down the stairs. B is for Basil assaulted by bears.” Great stuff when you’re a kid.His books were in the library and we would check them out week after week. Always gothic at heart, one of my favorites was a well-read copy of the original Adam’s family illustrated book as well (much cooler and scarier than the TV show).

But before any of that there were the Lonely Doll books by Dare Wright. Dare Wright was beautiful, chic and her life story reads like a gothic novel (no happy ending here). Her artist mother Edith (something about that name) was a controlling monster who kept her daughter constantly by her side, literally (her biography describes how her mother died in her 90’s clinging to her daughter with whom she shared a bed in one final death grip–the horror!) Dare was a model, photographer, and artist with a unique vision. Her series of books with their signature gingham fabric covers were a fascinating and disturbing experience for me as a child. Every little girl knows that it’s fun to dress up and look pretty, and every little girl learns pretty quickly that if she misbehaves she gets spanked, in one way or the other.

After reading her biography, I surmised that Dare was the Lonely Doll and her mother Edith the alternatively loving and sadistic big bear. The little bear, often observing the violence from afar, her estranged and worshiped brother Blaine. The unhealthy mother/daughter bond is fascinating as well as frightening. The mother who alternatively loves and criticizes her daughter keeps her on a very tight leash, and it’s all to serve the mother (usually abandoned by the father) who is afraid to be alone. The daughter becomes crippled. Dare’s mother, a highly successful artist, controlled every move she made. Dare used art as a way to cope with it all. An innocent beauty (she remained a virgin until she was raped by a homeless man she invited into her New York apartment during a misguided 1960’s free love gesture), Dare fell apart when her old mother finally gave up the ghost. Her descent was a tragic decline into old age. But her art lives on! It seems like there are new Lonely Doll books. I haven’t seen them, but somehow I imagine they don’t quite capture the violence, and the truth, of the original books.

A little scare is good for children. When it comes from an honest place within the artist it is a comforting truth about a pretty frightening world.

Notes on Gemini Rising Video Journal

I’ve decided to start a video journal (about time eh?) on the making of Gemini Rising. Expect a new one every few days. In this first series of short videos I take a look at some of the locations that we have used in the series.

Paranormal Activity = RETARDED!!

Yes, I just used an obnoxious word “retarded” but I don’t give a shit. I’m pissed off so I’m going to let it rip. Last week, because I’m a horror buff like so many of us out there, I went to see the most RETARDED movie to ever try to pass itself off as screen worthy (lovely term). I may have fallen for the hype to get me in the theater (guilty as charged because I like many of my fellow/sister horror fans like a good scare around this time of year). The douche bags (how can they sleep at night?) who promote these movies know this (giving it that underground “indie” feel like it’s something rare–”Demand it”–b–aaa–fucking–arf!) and that’s why I found myself sitting in a dark, once sacred as a church, movie theater watching mental retardation at work. Someone was laughing all the way to the bank.

First of all, I don’t hate it because it’s “low budget” and “indie” so please don’t even go there. I am the queen (or at least the aspiring queen) of low budget indie. But what I despise right now is how low budget indie has degenerated into a “style”, much like a faded torn t-shirt you find at the mall for $40 tries to look “vintage”. Bulletin people: shaky camera work and “unknown” actors is a consequence of indie film making because you can’t afford a dolly or Malkovich’s salary, not the GOAL!!! This just shows how true and pure ideas and things get pulled into the mill, reconstituted and turned into shit. I know the Salo’ shit eating scene gave me nightmares, but more and more I find so much truth in that film and its ever lingering horror. The filmmaker was assassinated for making that film. THAT is the horror movie I want to see, the one that is so fucking scary that someone will assassinate the filmmaker. Where are the REAL filmmakers out there? These are not men. These are not warrior women amazons. These are not artists. These are mother fucking entrepreneurs POSING as artists and I despise them!! Some reviewers have the guts to point out the obvious, but even these people are too timid. Maybe they’re scared of losing their jobs. Listen, when you’ve got nothing and nothing to lose, the only thing you can afford is to speak the truth and I speak it here: THIS IS GARBAGE!

Oren Peli, whoever you are. I hope you are a smart as balls young entrepreneur who’s figured out a good P.T. Barnum angle. Good for you. I could certainly use A LOT more of what you got. But, if you really think you are an artist, please do some soul searching before you continue because I really have to wonder. Would anyone who considers himself an artist EVER cast two more boring people whom we the audience are forced to look at and “relate to” for 90 minutes. 90 minutes of my life, my friend. That your leading man is bland suburban hunky and runs the gamut of emotions from A to A- is bad enough, but your leading lady? This is the one with the “demon” on her tail? What demon would waste his time tormenting such a blob of a girl? Her tits are big and round but her acting is FLAT! From her shitty delivery (to make improvised dialogue sound stilted is really a challenge), to her mushy, fleshy face and body in drab wardrobe, everything about this girl is WRONG! For a trip to Walmart maybe she’s perfect, but for a movie where dreams are spun? This is your horror heroine of choice? Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe that’s the point! You want your actress to look and act like an everyday “normal” person so people can relate to it I suppose……ZZZZZzzzzzzz. Alright, enough. I’ve been really insulting in this blog and I hope I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings (not that I’m delusional enough to think that anyone associated with this cash cow would ever “stoop” to read a humble honest blog from a humble honest film maker like myself) but then I’m not advertising my film in superlatives. I’m not a marketing genius. If you can’t live up to the hype, expect to take some heat. Expect someone brave or foolish enough to call you out on your bullshit and expose you for what you really are: A FUCKING FRAUD!!

Alright, Gina, breathe. It’s only a movie, It’s only a movie. Sometimes I’m in the mood to see something low-brow. I love good horror movies and I even like shitty horror movies when they have guts (figurative but not necessarily literal), grit, and heart. So I’ll stick to the ones I know and maybe once in awhile I’ll find a real gem shot on digital video not because they’re trying to affect an “indie”look and style, but because that’s what he can afford by a REAL filmmaker with talent, passion and humanity. Larry Fessenden, Jeff Burton, Ti West and Dante Tomaselli I’m a fan and I applaud you.

Alright, so this is what set off my Sunday morning rant. Last night Chris (D.P./Editor of Gemini Rising par excellence)
finally sat me down and forced me to watch a movie he’s been raving about to me for a few weeks now. Julia starring Tilda Swinton. I was absolutely blown away by this masterpiece.

I’m not going to go into too much because it’s best served cold, but see it. You can watch it instantly on Netflix. If you care about cinema and acting, see it!!! But what inspired my rant was waking up this morning, with Julia still occupying my thoughts as every good movie love affair should, checking out the Rotten Tomatoes reviews and being appalled to see it only receiving a 72% percent fresh rating! I looked over on the side and saw that Paranormal Activity received an 85%. How is that possible? Mr. Ebert, I love you but what were you thinking?

I’m still scratching my head, though, wondering why the packed audience with whom I saw Paranormal Activity, seemed to enjoy it (meaning they were jumping and screaming at the “right” moments). “Maybe it’s just me,” I lamented to my friend R. James who saw it with me and hated it too. His take on that was a bit more sinister. He said that because the audience has been told (programmed) they’re going to be scared by a highly sophisticated media campaign, they actually think they are scared. In other words: they’ve been brainwashed. Now THAT is really scary!

The Movie of the Week

When I was a kid in the 70’s we were waiting around all week for the ABC Movie of the Week I remember that movie “The People” with Kim Darby (now she is a real actress!) which is about these weird Amish kids who are actually aliens. I loved it as a kid, and I bet I’d feel the same today. These films were mostly horror films and thrillers which were very well done for TV movies (many young directors got their start in these movies including famously Steven Spielberg for Duel). Kim Darby did several of these scary Movie of the Weeks. This one I remember was particularly creepy. To be honest with you, I’ve been watching some of them on YouTube. The terrible quality is annoying, but some of them still really hold up. The other day my older sister Bruna (the family historian with a encyclopedic knowledge of 70’s movie and music trivia) reminded me of one of these MOTW that I had completely forgotten about: “The Eyes of Charles Sand”.

Wow! I started watching it and I was hooked. Of course I watched all of it. Then I started searching for other titles I remembered and I found one of my favorites “Home for the Holidays” starring a very young and cute Sally Field. I watched it on my laptop in bed last night with the lights out and I have to say I was glued! Sure it was cheesey, but it was extremely well produced, well acted, and it has a great story with a surprising twist (and I had seen if before). For one thing, the cast was a great bunch of dames from Sally Field to the amazing Eleonor Parker (one of many Hollywood starlets converted to glorious 70’s B-Movie matrons)

and of course the incomparable Julie Harris. Even the great Walter Brennan appears in it. I was really amazed at how good the movie still is. Plus the actresses are a lovely feast for the eyes with their fab 70’s hairdos (I wore my hair just like Sally Field with the little barrettes on the side–now she’s doing “Boniva” commercials–yikes!)

Tis the Halloween season and I’m loving my late night forays into classic 70’s b-movie cheese. I must have been on a Christmas theme last night because I must confess to also watching Black Christmas on Netflix

with my favorite Margot Kidder and the incredibly gorgeous Olivia Hussey (too bad she didn’t do more films because I can’t keep my eyes off her perfection). I was even surprised to see a young, young, young Andrea Martin in it. After doing a little research (oh, how I do love wasting time on the internets) I see that Andrea Martin appears in the 2006 remake of it. Guess that’s on my Netflix queue next, but of course it’s probably going to suck.

I suppose I have the Movie of the Week to blame for my B-horror movie obsession. Were they really as good as I remember them? Some of them, yes! You really can’t go wrong with a tight script, good direction and a talented cast. So why can’t today’s B-movies do the same? I feel a personal challenge coming on.

Destiny! Destiny!

One of my favorite comedy films of all times is Young Frankenstein (the novel Frankenstein also happens to be my favorite novel so there is just something about Frankenstein that I love–the creator and creature perhaps?) One of the moments in that film that always makes me laugh is when the young Doctor Frankenstein discovers his uncle’s hidden library and finds the book “How I Did It”. Kills me every time, so maybe that will be the title of the book I’ve been writing which I plan to publish in two years. Cue eye roll. Yes, I know, here she goes again with her delusions, but you’ll see. It will be a book about how I managed to overcome my inertia and opened the sacred channels of my own creativity. It won’t be a “how to be a successful artist” because I am far from successful. In two years maybe things will change which will really help sell my book and that would be very cool, but that’s not what it’s about. What it’s about is how to go from a blocked and miserable person to living a life filled with abundant creativity. Last night I had two conversations with dear friends of mine, both whom I encouraged awhile back to follow their dreams and live in their art. I am happy to report that they are both doing this. Struggling (book chapters in parentheses) perhaps, but doing it. At the end of the conversations they both thanked me for my encouragement, and I felt really good that I was able to help. I know that for most true creative types (not the posers), overcoming the chorus of disapproval can be tough. I’ve made it my personal goal in life to be an antidote to that. No one can accuse me of being a pollyanna, but I do believe that the path of yes is best.

My book is actually being co-written by my sister Tara , the eminent west coat psychologist, who will write about the physical and neurological changes of the person who lives fully in his or her passion, versus the blocked and sick person who doesn’t. Now she is someone who really inspires me. For about six months several years ago, Tara was practically homeless, driving a beater and sleeping on my couch while she completed her PhD. She was coming out of a very difficult personal situation, yet she kept her eye on the prize and achieved her goal. Now she owns two homes in California and she’s replaced the beater with a hot new sports car, but that’s not really the point. The point is she was courageous enough to live on her edges and really challenge herself and in the process created an incredibly successful life. Her example gave me powerful incentive to overcome my own inertia and change the paradigm. It can be done. Accept your destiny, or not. It’s up to you.

Here is an early excerpt from my book (remember it’s still a draft).

No One Cares

This may sound harsh but it’s something you need to get through your head in order for the grand paradigm shift to take hold: no one cares. People may care about you as a person (which becomes one and the same when the paradigm is shifted but perhaps you’re not there yet), but no one really cares whether you do your great work or not. Let me qualify that, they won’t care unless they are financially dependent on you, and then they will only care that you are dedicating yourself to something which will not improve their “lifestyle” at all and they won’t like it. Because unless you are a Julian Schnabel and actually make money from your work, you probably will make your loved ones a lot happier if you just bring home a decent paycheck for them to spend and keep your misery to yourself. This is perhaps one of the toughest situations you can ever face, especially if you are attempting the great paradigm shift when you have a family to support because now your decision directly effects others. Because I firmly support the path of yes, I believe that even this situation can be overcome. If you sell your house and all your shit, buy an old bus and take your wife/husband and kids on the road to live out your rock and roll fantasy, chances are you will convince everyone you have absolutely lost your mind, but maybe the old mind needed to be lost. If your partner is cool and open-minded, it could be the beginning of an amazing adventure for the entire family, or it could be the beginning of a painful and expensive divorce. The path of yes comes with those inherent risks (and ecstatic rewards).

Unless you have a really loving partner who cares more for your personal happiness than your paycheck, be careful. If you have a rich and loving partner who cares for your personal happiness AND is willing to support you financially while you do your work, then you’ve struck gold. Marry him/her! Now you can start doing your work with a lot more ease than most. So now you’re ready for the real work (and the real suffering to begin).

Your work. Your work is your work. Does it suck? No one cares. The only one who really needs to care is you. If you care enough to get off your ass and do your work then you’re ready. If you’re still making neurotic excuses, like you need to make a living, then you’re not. The first step is admitting that you care enough to change the paradigm. Once you do that, an amazing chain reaction takes place and you will have to hustle really hard to keep up with the change you’ve created. That’s an exhilarating place to be, but you can’t get there until you’ve made the shift. If you’re worrying too much about what others think of your change you will remain blocked. If you face the truth that no one cares except you’ll be free to take the next step towards actually doing your work.

Bosoms and Neglect

Bosoms and Neglect happens to be a very excellent play by John Guare, but I’m referring to something else. Every time I check out the latest “hot” web series (you know the ones that are getting millions of hits while Gemini Rising struggles to find an audience) I’ve noticed that there are a lot of shots where girls either take their shirts off, or they don’t even bother wearing any. Hmmmm, titillating concept, although personally I’ve always preferred the covered from head to toe allure of Garbo to the shove-her-skanky-crotch-in-your-face Madonna (now I ask you, who’s sexier?)

but, hey that’s me. I’m not a guy, although I do engage my animus once in awhile.

It’s a funny story. We were shooting the last episode of GR in that sleazy motel on Route 13 and while doing the poker playing scene, I recall almost telling Chris to tilt the camera down to get Cat Miller’s, the actress playing Miss Hershey, beautiful bustline in the shot, but I stopped myself because I questioned my motivation. I can’t honestly say that it was an artistic as opposed to a cheap, calculated impulse to exploit a situation. You see this stuff seeps into your brain even if you try not to let it. Later, when we were looking at the footage I told Chris about this and he said, “No, that would have been wrong.” “I know,” I said, which is why I stopped myself. Chris is very pure (he may have a dirty mind like the rest of us, but as an artist he’s pure) and he’s kept me on track before. You know a lot of people may say, “What’s the big deal? Show some T & A!” A lot of people do this, so really, I’d rather buck the trend and keep it pure. What I mean by keeping it pure is a bit difficult to explain, but I suppose for me the difference is in motivation. There is a difference between the artistic motivation and the calculated one. I suppose sometimes that line gets blurred, and most of these oafs who call themselves filmmakers today wouldn’t even know that line because they have as much sensitivity and artistic sensibility as a block of cement, but they’re are all about the “bottom line” which translates to the cleavage line most of the time. Little boys like to play with their toy cameras and stick them down girls’ blouses and up their skirts..haw, haw, haw. Clowns, man, fucking clowns! And us women? Is that temporary power you gain in that situation worth what you lose when you give into that shit? Take it from a once(still?) hot babe who’s now pushing 50!–Never sell yourself short. EVER!! Or to put it differently, don’t put out!

There are times when showing a character in a revealing outfit or no outfit at all is appropriate. For example, when we were shooting GR6, the same actress Cat Miller was playing Lizzie, the teenage runaway, and we set up the shot where she is talking to Robert on this wooden bench that had these rusty nails sticking out of it. Cat was kind of straddling those nails to avoid getting impaled and I really liked how her legs were spread in the scene because Lizzie would do that, unconsciously, so we kept it and it worked. Plus those nails became an image that underscored the sexual tension of the scene. Will most people pick up on that? No, but it’s there.

Sometimes an actor acts with his dick or an actress with her boobs or crotch. You use what you’ve got because we all do it in life. But an actor acting with his dick because the character would do that (his best acting job ever in my opinion)

is different from me being a sleazy filmmaker just focusing on his dick because it’s getting me off. That’s crossing into something else, like porn, or just shitty filmmaking. Like I said, it’s a fine line, and a fun line to dance along as an artist sometimes to find out where that line is. I suppose I found that line in that poker scene and I’m glad I held back. Like I’ve said before, there is sex in Gemini Rising, but mostly it is icky sex because that’s what we’re finding as we’re mining for truth. It’s not about making yourself feel good. Truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable. I don’t know whose quote that is, but I like it.

I suppose the irony is that we have some really beautiful women (and men) in GR. Maybe we would have gotten more YouTube hits if we had the girls standing in the mud topless wearing only loin cloths instead of the guys, but that’s not what we’re going for. Neglected or not, we’re staying true. Life is short. Art is long. Stay true.

Don’t Look Now–Look at the 70’s!

Joe smirked when he saw that I had gotten “Don’t Look Now”, the 1973 psychological horror film starring Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland directed by Nicolas Roeg. “Oh, not that movie again.” Alright, granted he’s not a fan, but it had been about twenty years since I had seen it and I was in the mood. Now since I already know the creepy ending (I won’t give it away), I wasn’t quite as scared as I was the first time I saw it, but I have to admit it still creeped me out. I find the beginning of the film especially haunting when the slide turns red when the little girl dies. Great image, and when the dramatic music came in, my heart really started pounding. “Maybe the outcome will be different this time.”

I started out snickering a little bit at Donald Sutherland’s perm and marveling at Julie Christie’s wardrobe (more on that in a bit), but before long I was completely pulled into this horror masterpiece. The artsy camera work and quick editing combined with a highly dramatic musical score should date it (as should the graphic-for-its-time lovemaking scene–come to think of it this is not the first time I’ve seen Donald Sutherland’s ass) but somehow it all still works, maybe because it’s based on true emotions and what really scares us. The film is all about quiet dread, and the decaying city of Venice is a symbol of that, as is water a symbol for the unconscious link between life and death, and the bright color of red connects all the dots in a brutal climax. Venice itself becomes a character in the film and the Italians although polite, are strange, as if they’re characters in a dream, not to mention the two very weird sisters who play a key role. In fact, the entire movie has a very dream-like quality to it. And it takes itself deadly seriously, not in an I’m-being-a-bad-boy-David-Lynch kind of way, wink, wink. This is horror for grown ups, and believe me that is a refreshing change. Here’s my review on a recent horror film for more about my opinion of these things.

Scares aside, I’m really wondering if any fashion designer has ever based a collection on Julie Christie’s wardrobe in this film because it’s fabulous. Both she and Sutherland wear high quality tweed suits (we’ll forgive Donald that cobalt blue coat along with the perm). Sometimes she’s in a perfectly cut tweed coat, rust red boots, and in another scene a perfect trench with those boots again. Her best outfit by far is the houndstooth suit she wears in the last part of the film. The cut of the jacket and the shape of the shoulders is so divine it distracted me from the climatic scenes when she is running through a foggy Venetian street to reach Sutherland. The way she runs over those boats in those boots, wow! I will be looking for that very suit for fall or have a tailor make it, I just know I must have it!

I couldn’t find an image of that suit but I will sketch it soon since I memorized the line of every seam. But look how beautiful and natural Julie Christie is in this film. And yes, I did notice the Mary Quant lipstick (Electric Lady lives for these details!) I don’t think my recent obsession for all things 70’s is really about nostalgia. Maybe it’s because movies (not all, but certainly a lot) were better.

Somehow I doubt that one of the current horror films on the market will inspire a fall fashion moment for me as this one did. I can’t really see myself wearing this outfit.

Update: Here’s our friend R. James’ video review of Jennifer’s Body. Make sure you subscribe to his site. Good stuff!