Not Hating the Hateful Eight

I know I'm supposed to be preparing myself for the red carpet this evening... well, the red carpet in front of my television, but I can't stop thinking about seeing The Hateful Eight yesterday.
I am a pretty un-apologetic Tarantino fan. I have been critical of his preciousness with himself and dialogue diarrhea about hip things like mix tapes, but on the whole I have been impressed with how he has grown as a filmmaker. The Hateful Eight seems to me to be another complicated step in Tarantino's evolution.

There is very little I can say about the story of Hateful without ruining critical plot points.The film is a violent, western mystery thriller- Stagecoach meets Ten Little Indians meets The Wild Bunch. The plot twists are superb and Tarantino's love of the non-linear story comes to full bloom in the second act. In Inglorious Basterds (2009) Tarantino explored the use  of the length of a scene itself to create tension and he has continued that trend here- perhaps too much at times.

Robert Richardson's  Oscar-nominated cinematography is both expansive and uncomfortably closed-in by Yohei Taneda's wonderful one-room set. The actors are universally superb- with Samuel L. Jackson, Oscar-nommed Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Tarantino new-comer Walton Goggins standing out in a room crowded with acting talent. Ennio Morricone's tense yet familiar score that plays as the blizzard howls should win him the statuette.

But I don't want to talk about any of that. I want to talk about what the fuck Tarantino is doing.

Hateful Eight is a hateful movie. It assaults its audience with nausea-inducing gore, racially-vicious verbal warfare, and punishing violence towards women. It is too simplistic to say that Tarantino is being a provocateur or that he is just showing the West as it was- a place where racism and violence against women were commonplace- where death was bloody and drawn out.

The tenuous period after the Civil War where the truce between the North and South seemed always on the verge of exploding into violence over the issue of Blacks is the perfect setting for Tarantino's obsession with race. The gratuitous use of the "f" word of past films is replaced by a racheting-up of his characters' proud use of the "n" word. And it is used in its most hateful form- spat from the mouths that utter it. The disgust of hearing the expletive soon becomes numbed through overuse- uncomfortable laughter trying to muffle the sound of the word.

But like Django Unchained (2012), the hero of this movie is a black man. Samuel L. Jackson has starred in six Tarantino flicks- and this is the first one where he receives top billing. Major Marquis Warren is one tough, wily son-of-a-bitch, but he still has to deal with the indignities of black life after a barely concluded Civil War.

The Major is a flawed man- a bounty hunter with a history of shooting first and asking questions never- but he is the hero no matter how many times he is degraded. In his previous outting with Tarantino, Jackson's character was a racial capitulator- defending his white master to the death. Now he takes great pleasure in raining retribution on a cruel Confederate general (Bruce Dern in fine form) and punching a woman in the face who spits on a letter from Abraham Lincoln. So in that sense, despite the negative racial slanders, Tarantino is raising a Black Power salute, making his lead star a powerful, smart Black man.

But it's so complicated. Like the Blaxpoitation films that inspired Tarantino as a youth, the depiction of blackness is steeped in raging violence, as if blowing away all the racists was the answer. It was a depiction that shook white audiences in the '70's- and if the reaction to Beyonce's Superbowl performance is any indication- there are those who are still frightened of an image of Black Power.

I think Tarantino wants us to be uncomfortable with the issue of race- and partly achieves that sensation through the visceral use of vile language and gruesome violence- much of it heaped upon a woman. Maybe he is haunted by the image of himself as a quirky white boy watching Blaxpoitation movies in a crowded black theater, absorbing the culture of those around him through film, but still aware that he was "The Man." Whatever his motivation, three of his eight films have dealt directly with racism through the use of discomforting degradation and violence. And another two use the equation of Minority + Violence = Retribution? Revenge? Justice? (Kill Bill 1 & 2 (2003 & 2004)- Women and Inglorious Basterds- Jews). It makes me fantasize what the story of Stonewall would look like in Tarantino's hands. Drag queens marching down the street with machetes, castrating all those who stand in the way of marriage equality. The other F-word being spouted every few minutes.

Without ruining the ending- I think it can be argued that the film believes the races can come together in a sort of respectful partnership and serve justice- but the road of violence leads to a dark ending for everyone. A strangely self-destructive message from an artist whose whole career has been advanced by legendarily violent pictures.

The dear friend I saw the movie with will never watch a Tarantino film again. And I'm not sure that I will add The Hateful Eight to my film collection- but I can say that despite all the excesses of this film, I can't stop thinking about it- and that to me means there's more going on here than curse words and blood.

Lance's Werthwhile Top Oscar Losers

So The Oscars- or as I like to call it, My Superbowl- are fast approaching and everyone is busily prognosticating who will win which category. Will Leo finally get his man? Will Jennifer Lawrence win again because she showed up? How many times will people mispronounce Alejandro González Iñárritu's name?

Me? I'm more interested in what happens to the losers. Do they fight back the tears behind a maniacal grin until they get home and break expensive shit? Do they take out voodoo Scientology hits on the winners? Do they heave a sigh of relief knowing that in some categories (Best Actress I'm looking at you) the winners often disappear from the scene, unable to find roles that will top the performance they carted off the award for?

Oscar Losers is a much bigger club- and its members are pretty amazing. So here are my picks for Top Oscar Losers:

Best Picture- Sunset Boulevard (1950)

The Oscars of 1951 was a true clash of the titans with Sunset Boulevard up against All About Eve in all but one of the big 6 categories. The Best Actress category was a real Sophie's choice with Gloria Swanson up against Bette Davis and Anne Baxter. The joke was on all three of them when Judy Holliday nabbed the statuette for her fantastically ditsy work in Born Yesterday. All About Eve wound up taking Best Picture, Director, and Supporting Actor from Sunset. but did being the loser in those categories tarnish this great Hollywood classic?

Nope. Sunset Boulevard has endured as the definitive screen image of film obsolescence. Norma Desmond may be a silent film actress- but she represents all those elements of film that get left behind in the rabid advance of audience trends. She's the black and white film, VHS tape, 80's teen romance, Kodak celluloid, single-screen theater, Faye Dunaway- all those things that were once so much a part of the movies- but are now gone- relics tossed into the dustbin by the digital 3D superhero adventures that appear to replicate endlessly in multiplexes in malls around the country.

Sunset ends with an eternal, gauzy, fade-out of Norma's close-up, and All About Eve concludes with a shot of the new Eve reflected ad infinitum in a dressing mirror. Both seem to say that film is timeless, forever reaching across the years to speak to us... even if you don't win the Best Picture Oscar.

Best Director- Howard Hawks

Not only did film dialogue innovator Howard Hawks never win a competitive Oscar, but he was only nominated once! For so-so Sergeant York (1941)! The man who brought us such wonderfully lively comedies as Twentieth Century (1934), Bringing Up Baby (1938), His Girl Friday (1940), and Ball of Fire (1941) wasn't even nominated for any of those great films. And don't start with that old chestnut, "Comedies don't win Oscars." I know they don't. But It Happened One Night (1934), a comedy that won oodles of Oscars, came out the same year as Twentieth Century.

And Hawks was so proficient in many different genres: from early gangster flick Scarface (1932) to romantic dramas Only Angels Have Wings (1939) and To Have and Have Not (1944) to film noir The Big Sleep (1946) to sci-fi horror The Thing from Another World (1951) (he is uncredited, but it's pretty clear he had something to do with the dialogue) to sensitive western Red River (1948) to musical comedy Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). The man could direct anything! Shouldn't that get him an Oscar?  The Academy threw him one of those honorary Oscars in 1975, two years before he croaked, but honestly, those honorary Oscars just scream, "We should have given you a real Oscar. Epic fail."

Best Actor- Richard Burton

There are those who say that Richard Burton was the finest actor of his time- and considering that included his most excellent English mates Peter O'Toole and Richard Harris, that is quite a distinction. But Mr. Elizabeth Taylor never won an Oscar despite being nominated seven times. Burton was one of those actors who brought an inborn, thinking-man's masculinity to his screen performances. Stage-trained, Burton used his intense focus and strong voice to project mastery over his scenes and characters. And when it worked best for him was when he was playing someone who was not really in control.

In 1966 Burton starred with his then wife Elizabeth Taylor in first-time film director Mike Nichols' screen adaptation of the Edward Albee play, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Much was made of the fact that Liz and Dick were playing a dysfunctional married couple- much like the public imagined their real-life marriage operated (it was super-dysfunctional). And while Taylor often gets more attention for plumping and uglying herself up for the role- Burton is extraordinary as George.

He is alternately powerful and weak and hides and exposes himself as the story of these two sad people unfolds. He hates and loves this woman, and himself, and watching him bring the story to its tragic end- knowing that it is destroying both of them- is devastating. His performance is such that it is hard to imagine anyone else playing the role. But that wasn't enough for the Oscar that year.

Fellow Brit Paul Scofield won for playing Thomas More in another stage-to-screen adaptation, A Man for All Seasons. Burton got some cinematic revenge three years later when he ordered Thomas More's execution as King Henry VIII in Anne of a Thousand Days. But he would lose the Oscar for that role to the king of the cowboys, John Wayne for True Grit. It seems like Dickie just couldn't catch a break.



Best Actress- Judy Garland

 There are iconic movie stars and then there is Judy Garland. This sensitive dynamo energized an era and whether she was singing "Over the Rainbow" or "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" or "Come On Get Happy" Garland's voice and screen persona were unforgettable. But Garland fell into a common Hollywood rut. She was not really taken seriously. She was a musical star of great talent and fame- but she wasn't considered to be a serious actress because she danced and sang.

Not true. Aside from her unmistakable pipes, Garland was an expert at interpreting a song. What makes some of her greatest tunes unforgettable is her ability to evoke a pathos in songs that aren't obvious tear-jerkers. The best example of this was Garland's theme song "Over the Rainbow" where a childish tune about rainbows and bluebirds became wish-fulfillment for anyone longing for an escape to a better place. It was Garland's abilities as a song "actress" that made her performances unique.

In 1954, Garland staged a Hollywood comeback by throwing herself heart and soul into George Cukor's A Star is Born. The story about a young woman's rise to fame in Hollywood all while the husband who discovered her descends into alcoholism was not new. The original film in 1937 starring Janet Gaynor and Frederic March was a hit and the story seemed destined for re-visiting (its about to be re-visited again helmed by Bradley Cooper). But with Cukor and Garland this version became a musical highlighting the music of Ira Gershwin. Garland had a lot riding on this project. Four years earlier she had been summarily fired from MGM for erratic behavior, and this film would be her return to the silver screen after years of success on the concert circuit.

Watching Garland you get the sense that she is accessing every bit of her personal history to bring Vicki Lester, nee Esther Blodgett to life. Her degrading makeup session to fix what is wrong with her face seems far too close to home for L.B. Mayer's "little hunchback." And her performance of "The Man Who Got Away" not only evokes the sadness of lost love, but the survival mode that accompanies it. This number is a musical foreshadowing of the loss of Esther's husband to suicide- a scene she does beautifully without singing a single word.

From her hospital room where she had delivered her last child, Garland, along with everyone else, heard the Academy Award for Best Actress go to Grace Kelly for The Country Girl- a movie I've never heard anyone talk about. Judy got a juvenile Oscar in 1940 after The Wizard of Oz which was basically a studio marketing award- and she was nominated again in 1962 for Judgment at Nuremberg, but would never win a competitive Oscar- the man who truly got away.

Best Supporting Actor- Claude Rains

Holy cats, Claude Rains was in everything! Looking at the list of movies he made, it's amazing how many good films the English actor appeared in. From his first hit The Invisible Man (1933) to his final big screen appearance as King Herod in The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) Rains brought a fascinating moral complication to both his heroic and dastardly roles. He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor four times: Mr Smith Goes to Washington (1940), Casablanca (1942), Mr. Skeffington (1944), and Notorious (1946), but he could have easily been nominated an additional two times for Now, Voyager (1942) and Lawrence of Arabia (1962).

Particularly in Mr. Smith and Casablanca, his characters meld charm and grace with an untrustworthy quality. We aren't entirely sure Senator Paine or Louis are good guys or not. In Notorious, we know Mr. Sebastian is a Nazi Spy- but his Old World appeal makes you want to hang out with him- just don't drink the coffee. Rains was always a pleasure to watch because he played with the ambiguity of good and evil rather than the black-and-white of it. It's a shame he was invisible to Oscar voters throughout his career.

Best Supporting Actress- Thelma Ritter

Hattie McDaniels famously said she'd rather get paid to play a maid than to be a maid- and considering how many times character actress extraordinaire Thelma Ritter played a domestic helper, you'd think she might say the same. Ritter started her film career in an uncredited role in the Christmas staple Miracle on 34th Street (1947), and three years later she was nabbing her first Oscar nomination as Birdie, Margot Channing's sassy dresser/maid/confidante in All About Eve. In Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954), she is a chatty massage therapist. In the romantic comedy Pillow Talk (1959) she is Doris Day's tipsy housekeeper. In the Misfits (1961) she is a lonely Reno boarding house owner who goes along for the ride with Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable.

Glamour was not Ritter's thing, With her gravelly voice, and her pointed commentary, she was always the earthy gal on the outside looking in, letting fools know when they were fools. It was a refreshing read that put memorable sparks in the films she appeared in. Ritter was nominated six times for Best Supporting Actress but never made it to the top of the Oscar pile. After her fourth nomination she said, "Now I know what it feels like to be the bridesmaid and never the bride."
Don't worry, Thelma. The Oscar Losers Club is proud to have you.

So those are my Top Oscar Losers. What are yours?

Take It From His Cold, Dead Hand...

Have you ever wanted to own the broadsword from El Cid (1961)? How about an assortment of paintings of Charlton Heston from a variety of artists? What about his living room furniture? Well, you can have it all at the TCM Bonham's Charlton Heston Auction Event! On March 22nd the estate of Charlton Heston goes on sale and the selection of 322 lots ranges from Chuck's silverware to his laminated SAG card. Heston was a true movie star- and even if his politics became complicated (he went from a Democrat who marched with MLK Jr. to a fire-breathing NRA Reaganite) his screen presence could not be denied in the '50's and '60's.

Whether he was playing Moses in The Ten Commandments (1956), a Mexican lawyer in Touch of Evil (1958), a Jewish prince in Ben Hur (1959), or a monkey-hating astronaut in Planet of the Apes (1968), Heston always played himself- and it was always entertaining. Not as sensitive as Burt Lancaster, nor as energetic as Kirk Douglas, Heston relied on a righteous strength that flowed through his characters, elevating normal men to greater heights and deeds. Not to mention, he looked great in a loincloth. So check out the auction and you too can own a slice of Heston's legacy. Only take your stinking paws off the Omega Man suitjacket and frilled shirt you damned dirty apes!

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of...

TCM Big Screen Classics is bringing one of my favorites to movie theaters around the country on Sunday, 2/21 and Wednesday 2/24! It's the 75th Anniversary of The Maltese Falcon (1941) and if you've never seen it, now's your chance!
Maltese Falcon isn't the first film noir. In fact it's not even the first time this Dashiell Hammett story was adapted for the screen.

But John Huston's version has the definitive, dark, gritty look that would be copied in detective movies throughout the '40's and '50's- a style that would later be called Film Noir. Quite an accomplishment for Huston's directorial debut. While Huston certainly grasps the shadowed look of noir- what I think he really excels at in his films is wrangling a talented cast- and Maltese Falcon is a tour de force.

Humphrey Bogart had made a name for himself as a world-weary tough guy in films like The Petrified Forest (1936), Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), and High Sierra (1941), but none of those roles impacted his career like Sam Spade. Bogart seemed tailor-made for this tough-talking, conflicted private detective whose baggy eyes have seen more than their fair share of tough breaks. This is the movie where Bogart's screen persona found the perfect vehicle to become legendary. He'd do it again a year later in Casablanca (1942).

Mary Astor had been making movies for about twenty years when she took on the role of Brigid O'Shaughnessey. Some would say that at 35, Astor was looking at the backend of her Hollywood career. But some of Astor's best work was just ahead. Astor's usual stock in trade was portraying high born ladies who had to struggle with a hidden, burning desire like her third side of the love triangle in Victor Fleming's classic Red Dust (1932). Astor exuded an upper-crust vibe with a smoldering, lower class inner life. So, O'Shaughnessey's hidden layers of truth were right up her alley. As Spade peeled her slowly, Astor was both sinister and vulnerable, making this broad's tearful downfall warranted- but regretful.

The character actors filling out the rest of the cast were just as well-suited to their roles. Sydney Greenstreet made his screen debut as blimp-like criminal boss Kasper Gutman, laughing and grunting his lines with delicious abandon. Peter Lorre gets to play an early gay character, perm-headed Joel Cairo. How do we know he's gay? Cause he "smells like lavender" and practically fellates his cane in one scene. It's those little cues that directors like Huston liked to slip by the censors of the time.

Bogart, Greenstreet, and Lorre were so great together, Warner Brothers teamed them up again in Casablanca and Passage to Marseilles (1944). Rounding out the team was reliable Elisha Cook Jr. doing his best neurotic toughie act, getting smacked around and getting heated about it.

So there are plenty of reasons to go and see The Maltese Falcon. Much fewer to miss this classic bird.

Bitches with a 'W'.

For the next two weeks BAM is showing an interesting festival called Witches' Brew that features movies about our favorite necromancers. Highlights include The Blair Witch Project (1999), Suspiria (1977), The Wicker Man (1973), and Bell, Book and Candle (1958). There are also some '90's witch movies that have gained cult status for being exceedingly ridiculous- but I'd rather watch all 8 seasons of Bewitched than ten minutes of Hocus Pocus (1993).

One witch movie in particular holds a very dark and terrified place in my heart. When I was a kid, KSHB-TV Channel 41 out of Kansas City had a latenight classic horror movie show called "Creature Feature". Hosted by tongue-in-undead-cheek Crematia Mortem (Roberta Solomon), the show introduced me and my siblings to the world of cheesy horror movies like The Blob (1958), The Curse of the Werewolf (1961), and Scars of Dracula (1970). While we found ourselves laughing at most of the movies rather than hiding under the blankets, one movie haunted my young mind.

Black Sunday (1960) is an Italian horror movie directed by genre maestro Mario Bava that was originally called The Mask of Satan. It was the mask that really got under my skin- mainly because the flashbacks to the witch-burnings of the Middle Ages showed condemned witches not only burned at the stake- but masks with big spikes in the inside were hammered onto their heads. It sounded like terrible torture for people who I guess deserved it- but I'd heard that sometimes the good Christian folk of the Middle Ages burned people at the stake for crimes as awful as being left-handed. I was left-handed. And that mask looked very uncomfortable.

Fast forward to the 19th Century when lovely Katia Vajda (scream queen Barbara Steele) comes back to her ancestral home to find out that she is the reincarnation of her witch-y ancestor. The proof is in the painting hanging in the castle showing that the two look exactly alike... well except for the big puncture wounds in her ancestor's face from having a mask pounded onto her grill. There's a creepy, maze-filled castle, a zombie brother who rides around in a ghostly carriage, and Barbara Steele with pits in her face that would discourage the best Proactiv Formula.

I can't explain why this movie terrified me. Maybe it was the extreme hatred of a group of people. Burning alive wasn't enough. They had to hammer masks onto their faces. Who does that?! Maybe it was seeing those witches rise from the grave, yank those masks off their faces and work really hard to punish descendants for crimes of the past.

Maybe it was the creepy zombie brother who looked like Prince Valiant with a bad case of acne. Whatever it was, it scared the bejeesus out of me. The minute I went to sleep that night I immediately plunged into Bava's shadow-filled, badly-dubbed world and could not escape the clammy, grasping hands of those pock-marked witches. I rose screaming from my bed and ran across the house to my parents' room.

But my nightmare only intensified as I ran right into my nude mother getting ready to join my father in the shower. I can't remember ever seeing my mother naked before. I probably had- but my Freudian brain had carefully shielded me from it. Now as I tried to awaken from a terrifying dream with spiky masks and pert-breasted zombies, I stood face-to-face with my naked mother... and I screamed even louder. I ran back to my room and closed the door, shooting under my covers and rolling up into a fetal position. My mother (who thankfully had put on a bathrobe) came in to try and soothe me, but the damage had been done. I would now forever equate the naked female form with witchcraft, spiky masks, and cheap, Italian horror movies.

BAM is showing Black Sunday today. Go see it- but don't go with your mother.

A Dreamy Read

I love to read history books- but I really love to read history books written by people I know. My dear friend, and Hollywood history idol, Steve Vaught has, along with co-author Tracy Conrad, just completed a gorgeous book about the historic Palms Springs home/inn, The Willows. Einstein Dreamt Here achieves the wonderful goal of making a home the main character in a story that stretches all the way back to the beginning of Palm Springs itself. With plentiful pictures and immersive detail, the book chronicles the story of the design, subsequent ownership, and revitalization of a true desert icon. Einstein's stay at the Willows is the titular focus- but he wasn't the only luminary to put their feet up in this oasis. Of particular Hollywood history note, the silent-film star Marion Davies owned the Willows for five years in the mid-'50's.

Davies is one of those stars who have undergone substantial revisiting due to the passage of time. Her legacy was originally tarnished in the early '40's when Orson Welles publicly based the drunken, washed-up singer Susan Alexander Kane on Davies. The only problem is, that Davies and her career bore little semblance to the tragic character Dorothy Comingore portrayed in Citizen Kane (1941). But in true Liberty Valance style, it's the legend that people remembered. I highly recommend reading up on Davies and if you can, catch one of her films. I am particularly fond of The Red Mill (1927) where Davies is a sheer delight as an imaginative barmaid. And it's directed by another silent film star whose career went south due to bad press, Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle.

But before you do that, grab a copy of Einstein Dreamt Here and luxuriate in some great California architectural history from one of the most knowledgeable writers on the topic.

Werthwhile Valentine's Weekend!

Ah, Valentine's Day! The day where lovers share their enduring amore and various chocolates, and single people go on Tinder or Grindr to find next year's valentine.
Sadly, my main squeeze and I won't be able to share the day together, so if you, like me, are going to have to get your warm, fuzzy feelings from the big screen, here are some classic movie ideas for you to get tender with this weekend.

BAM is showing Sabrina (1954)

Love triangles are a frequent trope for the romance genre and Billy Wilder sets up a doozy in Sabrina. Linus (Humphrey Bogart) and David (William Holden) Larrabee are well-heeled brothers who couldn't be more different. Linus toils away in the boardroom of the family business while David chases fast cars and skirts. Both of their heads are turned, though, when the chaffeur's daughter Sabrina (uber gamine Audrey Hepburn) returns from school in Paris as a sophisticated young woman. Which brother will Sabrina choose? Will this girl from the wrong side of the garage ever fit into high society? Will we get to see more of William Holden's butt in the air because he keeps sitting on champagne glasses?

This movie moves and sparkles as only a Billy Wilder comedy can and the backstory is just as fun. Hepburn and Holden fell head-over-heels in love with each other during the shoot and an offscreen affair sizzled. Bogart didn't like being the odd man out, so he grumped and complained about his "untalented" co-stars. He might have also been peeved because his wife, Lauren Bacall was originally slated to play Hepburn's role.

If that's not enough Hollywood gossip for you, Hepburn had come back from a trip to Paris as a Givenchy devotee and insisted that she be dressed by the famous couturier in this film. But when the costumes for Sabrina won an Oscar, head of the Paramount costume department Edith Head accepted the award claiming that she had altered Givenchy's designs, and hence deserved the statuette. Givenchy would later say that the famous little, black cocktail dress was his design. Whether you come for the onscreen or offscreen drama, you'll fall in love with Sabrina.

Film Forum is showing Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast (1946)

One look at the trailer for Jean Cocteau's visual masterpiece  and you will have a taste of the optical treasures awaiting you in this French classic. Cocteau's treatment of the classic folkstory is so stunning, it is as close to a live-action fairytale as you're likely to find. Wonderfully imaginative, Beauty and the Beast (or La belle et la bete if you're a Francophile) has wall candelabra made of human arms, beds that turn down themselves, and costumes that are so opulent they would make Liberace blush. The film's conflicting ideas of beauty and the grotesque are mirrored by opposing elements in the design of the film: inanimate statues that move like living people, an indoor bedroom full of vines and flora bringing the natural and the manmade into the same space, an animal that walks and talks like a man.

Cocteau isn't just pointing out the differences between what is natural and unnatural- he is blending them together. Our "manmade" concepts of beauty and goodness cannot exist separated from the natural impulse to love and desire. In the end, the beast turns into a prince, but it is only through the love of a beauty, who acted like a beast. Sounds like some of my old OK Cupid.com dates.



If staying in and watching a DVD is more your thang...

There's nothing like a good old-fashioned lesbian lovestory to warm the lonely heart. Aileen (Charlize Theron) and Selby (Christina Ricci) are two outcasts who meet cute one rainy night in a Florida gay bar. Soon the two are going on dates at the local roller rink and moving in together to escape Selby's small-minded family. All of this would make a perfect romance if it weren't for the fact that Aileen has decided to start murdering her johns in order to make enough money to buy Selby a beach house. You guessed it- the romantic movie I'm talking about is 2003 bio-pic, Monster.

This depiction of the true life story of female serial killer Aileen Wuornos is complicated. On the one hand, Aileen was sexually abused as a child and early on fell into the sex trade- unable to pull herself away from the quick money and the self-destructive male attention. Suicidal, beaten-up and nearly killed, she defends herself and shoots a customer to death. Had her story ended there, perhaps the view of Aileen could remain sympathetic. But Aileen's tendency to not live in reality mixes with her need for money and a nasty temper and soon she is murdering and robbing men as a reprisal for the misdeeds of their kind, rather than for anything they personally do to her. By the end, her murderous temper tantrums are more like those of a lost, greedy child than an avenging feminist.

Charlize Theron is astounding. It's not just that one of the world's most beautiful women went ugly for the role. She becomes Wuornos. The false teeth, dark contacts, and the makeup are merely the trappings of an actress who fully inhabits this character who loves and hates with equal vigor. Her shifts in mood are terrifying and her failed attempts to fit-in make you feel like you're watching the awkward girl in junior high trying to find a place to sit in the lunchroom. Theron deservedly took home the Oscar for this conflicted portrayal where we are asked to empathize with and condemn a monster.

While we all walk away talking about the serial killer stuff, I do think the heart of this movie is the love between Aileen and Selby- as fragile and unrealistic as it turns out to be. And isn't doomed love what Valentine's Day is all about?

So dear Wearthwhile readers, I hope you all find love this Valentine's Day- even if it's just in a movie. Happy Valentine's Day!