Posts
Official Girls trailer!!! There is seriously no way I could be more excited for this show, It’s going to be like, Tiny Furniture, the show! AH!
As per usual, the mainstream media didn’t “get it” I guess any press is good press?
wonderful quotes from the article include:
“Here are a few other things we learned while perusing with the unwashed hipsters.”
cool, lets stereotype people for a “more edgy” article!
“…there’s never a shortage of young, lonely and funny chicks.”
what. the. fuck. I don’t even. 1. creepy. 2. fuck you. 3. CHICKS?! REALLY?! YOU’RE REFERRING TO WOMEN AS CHICKS AS YOU WRITE ABOUT ZINEFEST?! That’s like describing a story to your mom and calling all the girls in them “bitches” HAVE SOME FUCKING RESPECT. (clearly they don’t have any) I’m sure all the feminist zinesters LOVED being referred to as “chicks” uhg uhg uhg
“Cassette radios and typewriters may be making a comeback. No, they’re not equipped for social media, but everything old is new again in the hipster world.”
again with the use of the word hipster! I could go into why typewriters and cassettes are better than the alternative. But it’s similar to the reason people still print zines instead of just “making a blog” (if someone asks me that ONE MORE TIME!) and clearly you don’t get it! gah.
Also, a 1/5th of the article was about LaBeouf
gag me gag me GAG ME
zine fest RULED AND WAS AMAZING! This article is a poor poor representation of zine fest.
REALLY?! with Seth and Amy! This is the BEST. You know politics are fucked up when Seth and Amy can tear it to shreds in under 3 minutes
Hey LA what are you doing? Cause you should be at LA Zine fest! 5th and spring street! upstairs from the last bookstore! Free! Until 5pm!
Zinemaking in the 21rst century. I just finished laying out the guide to la zine. HELL YES
Reason i’m posting this photo of Eryca and me:
1. Eryca is helping build a planter box for my backyard while in her On-The-Way-Back-From-A-Bar-Mitzvah party dress
2. Due to Eryca’s recent swing into partially political fully Rah-Rah state of feminism this photo seems appropriate
3. David took it.
All of the above!
Watch out boys, I know how to use a staple gun and I build shit.
I think that people in the phase between being someone’s kid and being someone’s parent have always been uniquely narcissistic…
Lena Dunham at The A.V. Club (via elanormcinerney). everyday, always, forever, ethos. (via karaj)
LENA DUNHAM!!! My Tiny Furniture DVD came in the mail yesterday! I’m not going to have time before zine fest to watch everything :/ also, missed her tonight at amoeba. bummer.
Robyn/Whitney - Dancing in Houston
That straight vocal track from How I Will I Know everyone passed around this weekend got put into this awesome Robyn track cause the internet knows what Mikey like.
Thank You Meredith
Trailer for “Damsels in Distress.” The fourth film by Whit Stillman.
I’m really very very excited for this movie. The trailer makes it look so charming (I hope that’s the case!)
Here are my Downton Abbey Valentine’s Day cards!
(I made some Game of Thrones cards earlier)
Audio
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mikescollins: Robyn/Whitney - Dancing in Houston That straight vocal track from How I Will I Know everyone passed around this weekend got put into this awesome Robyn track cause the internet knows what Mikey like. Thank You Meredith107938 plays
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Posts
February 21, 05:34 PM
You probably didn’t see everything at The L.A. Zine Fest, but I hope you got a chance to see I Love Bad Movies’ zines of movie reviews and illustrations. If you didn’t, you’re going to get a second chance! If you did, you know you should come check this out at Home Room tomorrow night!
I Love Bad Movies presents:
Bad-movie aficionados Kseniya Yarosh and Matt Carman, co-editors of the zine I Love Bad Movies, present this special screening of the film that proves that a comedy doesn’t need jokes as long as it features identical bodybuilders in ridiculous ’90s fashions.
Watch as beefy twin “stars” the Barbarian Brothers protect bad seed 10-year-old twins from the mob, bankrupt a carnival, and physically assault people using playground equipment. (Warning: Barbarian Brothers’ clothing accessories include Troll dolls, telephone cords for necklaces, bird nests for hats, and an overabundance of sheriff badges. May cause injury to eyes and/or brain.)
Featuring a trivia round with prizes, and a brief pseudo-scholarly presentation condensing the long history of “burly babysitter” movies into five minutes of fun facts and film stills.
Director: John Paragon. 93 min. 1994. DVD.
$5
February 18, 12:00 PM
Lauren Eggert-Crowe
Galatea’s Pants
What was your first zine about and when was it made?
Technically, my first ‘zine was Chrystelian Weekly, a newsletter I made on Microsoft Publisher ’95 when I was twelve years old. It was a newsletter from The Land of The Unicorns. For almost two years, I made one every few weeks and sent it to my two cousins, Raija and Nicole. It was filled with notices about upcoming Crescent Moon festivals, serious reportage on pegasus kidnappings, history lessons about Fairy Rights, and breaking news about the corruption trial of the dreaded Fawna Louise. All illustrated with extra-awesomely pixelated clipart, of course.
Describe your most recent zine.
Most recently, I completed the 10th Anniversary Issue of Galatea’s Pants, the ‘zine I’ve been making since I was sixteen years old. I wanted to celebrate not only my own accomplishment of producing a ‘zine for over a decade, but the accomplishments of other creative women around me. I interviewed several of my friends about their own projects. Food blogger Nishta Mehra of Blue Jean Gourmet. Aisha Sloan of the Seminole Street Artists Colony in Detroit. Printmaker Melanie Cervantes of Dignidad Rebelde. Activist Claire Tran of Right To The City. And columnist Anna Pulley. I also interviewed my 16 year old self about what it was like to make a ‘zine.
Of all the things you’ve ever made, zine-related or otherwise, what’s your one favorite?
It’s almost impossible to choose a favorite thing that I’ve made. But I’m really proud of my poetry chapbook, The Exhibit, forthcoming in January 2013 from Hyacinth Girl Press. It’s my first big publication, and I’m psyched.
Name three of your influences and how they affected your work.
When I began Galatea’s Pants, my biggest influence was Kate Flannery, the author of the ‘zine Sneer. It was straight up 1998 Riot Grrrl. She wrote about feminism, John Hughes movies, Sylvia Plath, craftiness. I was hooked. Right now, in poetry, my biggest influences are Jane Miller and Lisa Ciccarello. Jane is a master of lyricism. She can do breathtaking short lines that feel like perfect round pearls, or long run-on prose poems with gorgeous detail. Her language is very deliberate, as is her reading voice. Lisa is my contemporary, and we’ve collaborated on several projects. Her poetry has this haunting, lulling rhythm to it, like a spell or an incantation. She infuses her lines with magic, transforming the mundane into the magnificent through poetic alchemy, even if she’s just writing about a video game.
What do you do when you’re not creating and how does it help or harm what you do artistically?
Watching TV, staring at Facebook, grocery shopping, cooking, hiking, exploring L.A., traveling. Sometimes these are sources of inspiration. Other times they just give me an excuse to turn my brain off for awhile.
February 17, 04:00 PM
We’re going to be putting together a slide show after the Fest, and we’d like to add your photos to it. Join the LAZF Flickr pool and add your Zine Fest pictures!
In the mean time, you should also post any of your pictures from L.A. Zine Fest events on the pool! We’ve got some great photos up there so far, but it’d be even better if we had yours.
February 16, 12:57 PM
Nice one, LA Coffee Club! These awesome downtown coffee purveyors offered to supply presenters with free coffee in the morning. What a great bunch of folks!
We’re also really interested in their Draw Coffee contest, where they invite people to doodle online here or at the LA Zine Fest and submit them for a chance to win free coffee!
February 15, 04:00 PM
February 14, 07:00 PM
Jon Vermilyea
Pizza Time, The Breakfast Crew, The Princes of Time
What was your first zine about and when was it made?
The first zine I made was called Barnacle Bill Saves the World. I made it in 2004 during my sophomore year at SVA. It was about a barnacle named Bill who travels through Hell to stop the Devil from destroying earth.
Describe your most recent zine.
I recently made two zines. One is called Progress Quest 2, which is a compilation of recent illustration work I’ve done. The other is called Problem Solved, a comic con exclusive zine for the cartoon The Problem Solverz.
Of all the things you’ve ever made, zine-related or otherwise, what’s your one favorite?
The favorite things I’ve ever made are probably my He-Man and Mars Attacks influenced silk screen books. I love print making and both were really challenging projects.
Name three of your influences and how they affected your work.
I’m often inspired by movies and television. Buffy and Twin Peaks have a lot of good ideas.
What do you do when you’re not creating and how does it help or harm what you do artistically?
I try to get out of my apartment and ride my bike a lot. I think its easy to get overwhelmed with things or lazy when you’re not active.
February 14, 10:00 AM
Home Room says…..
“L.A. Zine Fest will be releasing their Guide to L.A. zine, which even the most knowledgeable Angeleno will appreciate. Who knows what secrets await you between the covers!? FREE with admission, while supplies last!
Ezra Buchla Wielding his viola, he creates layers of sound through improvised “acoustic-controlled synthesis”
Van Exel Including former members of Bad Dudes and Howl, and members of Corima, Van Exel is a 6 piece band heavily influenced by Devo, the Velvet Underground and Black Flag.
Infinite Body “Yearning, thoughtful drone music” which “[evokes] the melodic dreamscapes of Fennesz or even M83″ (Tom Breihan, Pitchfork)
$5, All Ages”
February 13, 10:05 PM
“Please join us on Friday, February 17th at 7pm to celebrate the release of Li’l Depressed Boy, Volume Two!
LDB artist Sina Grace will be here signing books. Both Sina and his sister Salomeh will both be unveiling new artwork for the event, both of Li’l Depressed Boy and based off themes explored in the series. Sina’s brother-in-law Benoit will be DJing the event with tunes that may sound a bit familiar, if you’re reading the book closely enough. There will be prints for sale and free adult beverages for those that are so inclined.
See you there!”
A DJ set, drinks, and art for sale? You’d better RSVP here to let them know you’re coming!
February 13, 11:00 AM
The 2012 L.A. Zine Fest Comix & Zine Reading:
Saturday Feb. 18th
8pm
show starts at 9pm
A curated collection of artists involved in the L.A. Zine Fest perform or display their works for a live audience!
A mad blast of Comix, Zines, Video, and Performance brought to you by the creators themselves!!!!!
We’ve got a talking Zebra w/a Battleaxe for a tail, Bed Bug infestations, a breakdown of the classic piece of shit/E.T. rip-off movie Mac & Me, excepts from the neu-classic Henry & Glen Forever, a day-glo story of a steroids dealer shot into space, Garfield psychedelia, awkward conversations overheard, and so much more!!
Kick off the beginning of the L.A. Zine Fest w/us and see some of the best in comix and zines blow your mind!
featuring:
Champoy - Discoral USA
Mari Naomi – Sleep Deprived
Jed McGowan – Work and Play
Shalo P – Cosmic Bummer Funnies
Malachi Ward – Sweet Dreams & Top Ten
I Love Bad Movies (Presented by Matt Carman, Co-Editor) -
“A Pseudo-Scholarly Analysis of the E.T. rip-off Mac and Me”
Chris Graybill (ZFA Works)- Zebratron’s Popular Operators (video)
Yumi Sakugawa – Mundane Fortunes For The Next Ten Billion Years
Keenan Marshall Keller – Galactic Breakdown #1 + Minimum Rage
Bianca Barragan – It’s Because Of My Penis, Isn’t It?
Gabrielle Gamboa – Miss Lonelyhearts
Igloo Tornado – Henry & Glen Forever
Levon Jihanian – Danger Country
Robin Enrico – Life of Vice
Jen Tong - rainbow & I
Tom Neely – Garfield
FREE SHOW
Saturday Feb. 18th
8pm (show starts at 9pm)
at
HOME ROOM
3121 Beverly Blvd
90057
homeroom101.org
L.A. Zine Fest
Sunday Feb 19th
upstairs from THE LAST BOOKSTORE
453 S. Spring St., 90013
lazinefest.com
Recent tracks
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Zero by Yeah Yeah Yeahs7 days ago
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Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs7 days ago
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Soft Shock by Yeah Yeah Yeahs7 days ago
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Your Lips Are Red by St. Vincent8 days ago
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Jesus Saves, I Spend by St. Vincent8 days ago
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Now, Now by St. Vincent8 days ago
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Your Lips Are Red by St. Vincent9 days ago
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Jesus Saves, I Spend by St. Vincent9 days ago
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Marry Me by St. Vincent9 days ago
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Your Lips Are Red by St. Vincent9 days ago
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Posts
July 22, 02:03 AM
By:
Kimberly
As I was growing up in Columbus, Ohio, there was one thing I absolutely loved doing and was lucky enough to do: leave Columbus, Ohio. This resulted in my Dad taking me to Walt Disney World about eight times. While this may sound like enough to spoil a kid rotten, I feel I’ve instead learned a few life lessons that come with putting into practice all of the “WDW” tips you read in your very own guidebook made for kids, by kids.
The guidebook that gave birth to my smarty-pants attitude toward "park-hoppin'".
1) If you want to be sure to see everything, you better take advantage of Extra Magic Hour. It’s not everyday that you’re going to be able to walk right onto Rock ‘n’ Rollercoaster first thing in the morning or while everyone else is scrambling to find a decent spot from which to watch the nighttime fireworks. It really is extra magical (and, well, sometimes a bit surreal, to be honest) feeling as though you’ve got the park to yourself and that group of really happy German tourists you seem to keep running into. Sure, you’ll have to wake up an hour earlier and/or miss the fireworks (which I never much cared for anyway) but you’ve got to consider when or if your parents will schedule another Disney World vacation. (Turns out I didn’t really have to worry much about that, but it certainly kept me on my toes.)
2) Sometimes the ride has to stop momentarily. And it’s not your fault – unless you’re the d-bag who decided it was a good idea to hop out of the boat on Splash Mountain to take a picture next to your hero Brer Bear. (They have character meet-and-greets, dude!) But sometimes people simply need special assistance getting on or off a ride vehicle and we just have to be patient and wait, because they, too, paid park admission. Other times, shit just happens. The Pirates of the Caribbean is an old ride. One of the boats might be backed up and you’re stuck underneath the pirate dangling his hairy, greasy leg over the bridge. The thing is, however, the ride always starts back up again, and once you get off you’re probably going to want to go back on at some point. Kind of like your youth, only, yes, you can experience it again.
(Source)
3) Listen to your crying child as s/he begs not to get on Tower of Terror. It’s actually park policy not to let a crying child onto a ride, and thank God. Some parents seem to have it in their heads that an 8-year-old is going to get onto a scary rollercoaster kicking and screaming and somehow walk off a full-fledged adult with a stable, well-paying job and a suitable spouse. (Insta-parenting!) That is probably why parents tend to whisper harshly, “You big baby!” into their child’s ear as they are asked to drag their wet, soppy-eyed offspring from the ride just before getting on. Because only infants are scared of rides that are meant to be spooky! No ride at Walt Disney World, or any theme park for that matter, is going to turn your son into a “man”. If you’re spending upwards of $1,000 for a week’s vacation in the Happiest Place on Earth thinking that The Haunted Mansion will, say, teach your children not to be afraid of death, then you probably should have neither children nor $1,000.
4) If you can keep walking onto Space Mountain or Rock ‘n’ Rollercoaster and it’s not right after a meal, do so to your stomach’s content. Because next time you’re waiting 2 hours in line, you’re going to be kicking yourself. There’s something still mystical and relaxing about stepping into the cool, galactic tunnel that is the queue to Space Mountain. If I had the chance, that’s what I’d do all afternoon. So do it while you’re there, because once that cheerleading convention starts it’ll be rather difficult to beat those bouncy teenage girls with glitter gel in their hair to the Fast Pass machines.
5) Apply these tips to life situations where you feel it’s appropriate, and you’ll be having so much fun that it’s criminal! Well, perhaps not always outside the Disney property of central Florida, but it taught me to get the most out of each trip without feeling cheated or ungrateful. And while I certainly recognize that Disney World and Real Life World are two entirely separate playing fields (I’m not necessarily Becca from Bridesmaids, so give me a little credit, here) it definitely takes some extra critical thinking skills to determine when and where to apply them.
Not me, but we could probably share some tips.
Overall, Disney World has not only taught me that trolls have eight fingers and eight toes (thank you, Norwegian pavilion at Epcot,) but also to be patient, take advantage of what opportunities come your way, and that you don’t have to be forced to ride a ride to learn these things.
Troll statue in the Norway gift shop at Epcot's World Showcase. Educational!
May 31, 11:21 PM
By Lani
So you all might be saying, “What have you been doing with your life since August, Lani?”
(Just kidding... none of you are saying that, but I am going to tell you anyways).
Well readers, I made it, I survived my junior year of college. It tried to kill me, but I survived with my 4.0 unscathed. Suck it school.
I also had my first boyfriend (!) and first break up ( :\ ). Wah wah. Over it.
Kind of... I really need to thank every guy I’ve dated for making me a stronger, more bitter feminist. I really do know how to pick ‘em, I swear.
I got dumped a week before Spring Break, and thankfully so, because I go to go to the Wisconsin Film Festival in Madison instead of spending another moment with that loser.
At the festival, I saw three films that solidified my feminist-y-ness. I managed to convince my parents to go to W.A.R!: Women Art Revolution. The film is fantastic and should be required reading for anyone who calls themselves a feminist. Seriously, make every effort to find a showing. Even months after seeing the film, I think about it often. The artists profiled (Judy Chicago, B. Ruby Rich, Arlene Raven, to drop a few) in the film are stuck in my consciousness and I stand of in awe of all that the “militant” feminists of the 1960s and 70s accomplished. They make me want to pick up the torch.
The second film I managed to see was a reprint of Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1955 film Le Amiche (The Girlfriends). It reminded me of the importance and power of female friendships. The film shows how female friendships can slip from healthy to toxic in the matter of moments. Clelia, the main character has to deal with the hyper-modern problem of career vs. romance. For a 50s movie, it is eons ahead of its time with topics like working women, suicide and abortion.
The third film a modern French comedy, Francois Ozon’s Potiche, staring ma reine, Catherine Deneuve. The film takes place in 1970s France, Deneuve plays a trophy wife to the owner of an umbrella factory. In true French style, the workers go on strike, leading them to take their conservative boss hostage. After being held hostage, the high-stress situation leads to a heart attack. Deneuve’s character steps in as the new manager while her husband is out, working with the unions to make labor conditions more fair for the factory workers. Clearly, you have the making of everything I ever wanted in a movie: unions, strong women, groovy suits, Austin Powers-esque humor and subtitles.
Needless to say, after it all, I was thoughtfully empowered. I said, I’m a lady, I can make movies, I can be funny, I can write. Then I said, OH WAIT, I’VE GOT A BLOG DEDICATED TO ALL OF THAT. That’s when I promised to resurrect Half the Audience.
July 22, 02:03 AM
By:
Eryca
The Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or MPDG) is a fictional character stereo type that has been pushed around the entertainment industry for years. The term MPDG was coined fairly recently, after A.V. Club writer Nathan Rabin saw Kirsten Dunst in Elizabethtown (a movie I was never quite able to sit through)
Eryca
The MPDG is described as "...that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and it's infinite mysteries and adventures."
This is a problem. To continuously perpetuate the notion that women are only there as character foils. Even if they are the main character in cases like Amélie (yes, I just called Amélie a MPDG)
But I'm not here to argue the validity of the MPDG. Or the fact that it's completely anti-feminist and pretty sexist if I do say so myself. I'm here to make it very clear that I am not, nor will I ever be, your Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
For most of my teen years, I looked and dressed something like this:
and when I say "something like this" I mean, this is a picture of me when I was 15.
What can I say? I hated high school and this was my small little way of making the day to day awfulness ever so slightly bearable.
Now, because of this "look" (which I have since grown out of, however I still wear those boots constantly) I have been perceived as somewhat "aloof" or "bubbly" as Nathan Rabin put it. Which, at 15, isn't such a big deal, except for the fact that I was trying so hard for every authority figure to take me seriously as I was galavanting around town with bubblegum pink hair.
But as a 20 year old member of American culture it pisses me off that to most of the world, I am perceived as a real life version of the MPDG.
"You like Indie Music? OH MY GOD YOU'RE JUST LIKE NATALIE PORTMAN IN GARDEN STATE"
"You dyed your hair crazy colors? OH MY GOD YOU'RE JUST LIKE KATE WINSLET IN ETERNAL SUNSHINE"
"You're a bit manic and actually say what you're thinking? OH MY GOD YOU'RE JUST LIKE DIANE KEATON IN ANNIE HALL"
"You don't want to get super serious but you like hanging out with me? OH MY GOD YOU'RE JUST LIKE ZOOEY DESCHANEL IN 500 DAYS OF SUMMER"
Okay, so no one has actually said these things to me, and I am not claiming to be as attractive, or talented as any of those actresses.
But every time I meet a guy who likes me in any capacity, that is what I imagine their internal monologue to be.
(if you are a guy I've dated who is reading this right now, please, feel free to argue with me, I would be highly amused)
Now, I'm not going to get into all this personal mumbo jumbo, but let me say this; I have a very strong feeling that part of the reason every single one of my "relationships" (or what not) has ended was partially due to the fact that I have been minimized to a movie character that does not exist in real life!
I feel like I speak for all women who have ever been called "quirky" or "weird" as a compliment, when I say that we do not want to be boxed in your MPDG mind-box where you store all the qualities you think you want in a woman based on sexist stereotypes that help our society continue to place these "quirky" women on ridiculous pedestals based on the fact that they are cute, and the guy always gets them in the end (in some way or another)
Why would any woman want to be reduced to a two dimensional fixture of the male imagination? Haven't we moved past this as a society? Women are (obviously) just as dynamic and interesting as men, why do we constantly need to be categorized by the male writer-directors? The MPDG ultimately becomes this helpless female, a modern day damsel in distress.
the A.V. Club illustrates it so perfectly "the Manic Pixie Dream Girl archetype is largely defined by secondary status and lack of an inner life. She's on hand to lift a gloomy male protagonist out of the doldrums, not to pursue her own happiness."
All women have an inner-life, come on now! Do we really need to see another movie with the MPDG? And do we really need to introduce the MPDG to a whole new generation of impressionable minds? I think it's about time we started writing better, more dynamic female characters! and not ones that are quintessentially adorable and run through IKEA in pastel colored clothing thankyouverymuch.
So just because I'm a tad neurotic, shorter than average, and on the cute side does not mean I am your dream girl.
Okay, so I may be a walking clichè. I was born with dimples (which is kind of a deformity if you think about it) and I have a unique sense of style. But, this should not make me "that girl" this should not make any real person "that girl"
So, for the last time, I am not, nor will I ever be, your Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
On that note, I'm single and accepting applications on a temporary basis.
July 21, 04:23 PM
By Lani
First there’s the whole business of his birthday. In the pilot episode (March 1960), he says he just turned 26, but no one gives him a belated birthday card or throws him a party, so I am assuming he means ‘just’ in a relative sense. His birthday could have been a few months before, in say, December or January... making him a Capricorn.
Capricorns! The Other Chosen People!
Speculations aside, what makes me really convinced that Pete is a Capricorn is Hazel Dixon-Cooper’s Born on a Rotten Day, which I purchase on sale at 15 (the peak of my magical thinking). The chapter on Capricorns reads like a character sketch of all of Pete’s worst traits. To Pete, Mad Men might was well be retitled Pete & Pete (where the second Pete is Pete’s ego, rather than his id as in The Adventures of Pete & Pete). In his mind everything is about Pete and Pete’s slow, bumpy, arduous climb to the top of the socioeconomic mountain. Capricorns are represented by the goat, and every goat wants to be the king of his mountain.
Where as to Don, the whole world looks like one giant whorehouse.
From the first episode we see Pete wants to pretty much Single/White/Female Don’s life away from him, while still looking to Don as a mentor and pseudo-father figure. He’s getting the pretty, rich wife, and he sets out to find himself a mistress and settles upon the naive, new secretary, Peggy. He woos her with sweet-nothings like:
Every Capricorn loves to recite the tale of how he pulled himself up by his bootstraps to get to the position he’s in now. Pete, however, can’t really do that, he’s an well-educated, upper-class WASP. And his mother’s family, the Dyckman’s, just owned Upper Manhattan before the stock-market crash. He mostly just resembles a J.D Salinger (Capricorn, born Jan. 1st) character.
No, we just think you're a phony.
This drive to reach the top is what pits him against Don, who the unofficial head of Sterling Cooper. I go on step further, that Pete attempts to blackmail Don out of jealousy; Don has the “bootstrap” story that Pete longs for. Pete also runs to Bert out of a sense of duty, he thinks he’s doing what’s right. But just as Dixon-Cooper paints it, Pete comes across as “pompous, domineering, social-climber waving Robert’s Rules of Order.”
I want your neck/I want the seat that you sit at /I want your cheque
Pete’s other rival around the Sterling Cooper offices is the fun-loving playboy, Kenny Cosgrove. In season three, under the new British management, both Pete and Kenny are up for the ‘Head of Accounts’ position. Of course, Pete wants the job so god damn bad he can hardly contain himself. Both he and Kenny are given the job, in a twist of weird British mind-play. Then a few episodes later, Pete is demoted, and Kenny, who once tackled a secretary to see what color her panties were, secures the promotion. Kenny is Pete’s foil and most annoying adversary, because Kenny has the ability to treat work “like its the most fun he’s ever had,” which how you gaslight a Capricorn according to Dixon-Cooper.
HAHA! Buisness!
After Pete is demoted, he sulks the rest of the season. He’s frustrated and confesses to Harry: “I have no future here.” This invokes in Pete a kind of flippancy that we haven’t seen in him since he refused to go to the adoption agency with Trudy, losing him the Clearasil account his father-in-law got for him. This time Pete refuses to go to Margaret Sterling’s wedding, held the day after the Kennedy assassination. "It's all just business!"
I look for the news, somebody to abuse/ I look at myself, but its so chancy
/I see things that I don't fancy
Speaking of Pete and Trudy, they seem closer don’t they? Going out and dancing the Charleston together? Fucking adorable. But something still seems off. One would assume they are not doing it on the reg. The second Trudy leaves more than a few hours, Pete goes searching for somewhere to stick his dick and ends up
Though, I can’t blame Trudy. I wouldn’t want to sleep with a guy who never told me he loved me either. Sure Pete’s got close to saying the three little words, but he never gets it quite right. This is typical Capricorn behavior according to Dixon-Cooper too, “he may forget himself and choke out an, ‘I love you.’ Even if he marries you, he probably won’t say it again. He will figure that if he made it legal and allowed you to... stay home and wait on him, that’s proof enough.” The bad news for Trudy, is that Dixon-Cooper also says that Capricorns often marry for life.
She's your baby now/You can't keep her
Pete leads a life of “do as I say, not as a I do” which Dixon-Cooper calls the motto of the Capricorn male. He expects “loyalty and blind devotion” and so far Trudy’s been more than happy to give just that. She shows up with sandwiches and wears nice dresses to the Christmas Party and all around looks the part of the perfect wife. But honestly, honestly, I can’t wait to see her undoing.
ATTN: 'Chop chop, Joey!' is the new 'Hells Bells, Trudy!'
As clueless as Pete is to Trudy’s pain (which is probably just lots of boredom) he’s even more clueless to any of Peggy’s suffering. (To be fair, for a long time Peggy herself was oblivious to Peggy’s suffering). But at the end of season two when she and Pete have that little chit-chat and he’s all like, “You have it so easy!” To which we all responded: WAT?! Are you high Pete? ... No, he’s just being a Capricorn again, “He’s condescending and completely oblivious to anyone's feelings but his own.”
She's no angel/He's no saint/
They're all covered up in white wash and grease paint
Pete is the “oppressed white man” because the only problems he can sympathise with or even see are his own. He can’t see that Peggy has infinitely more problems as the only woman copywriter at a huge advertising agency. He was just as oblivious to her pregnancy as she was and he doesn’t realize the repercussions of the situations effect on Peggy. When he cries, all I see in his tears are: Why can’t the good things all come at once? Why couldn’t my baby come out of my own wife?
Accidents will happen/ We only hit & run/
I don't want to hear it cause/I know what I've done
And as much as Pete says he loves Peggy and thinks she’s perfect, I don’t buy it. At least not fully. Pete is too much about Pete. He’s too worried about his own bag to even stop to thinking about carrying someone else’s. Pete tells Peggy this partially because deep down, he really does mean it. Capricorns have a tendency to deny themselves emotions, to channel them all inwardly. There’s so much intensity between Pete and Peggy because Pete is unable to express his emotions. (Let’s face it, Peggy and the rest of the characters are pretty unable to express their feelings too. Mad Men takes place in the ‘Swinging 60s’, but emotionally it’s characters are stuck in the Repressed 50s).
See that girl/Watch that scene/ NOT digging the dancing queen.
Pete’s other motivation for confessing his undying love to Peggy, I believe, is to pacify another coworker that he views as a rival. Pete is intimidated by Peggy. (He turns her off in the one moment where she’s feeling free to express herself as a woman--when she’s doing the twist. And what does she get? “I don’t like you like this.”) She’s a woman with power, not just as a creative, talented copywriter either. She has the power to black mail Pete the way he tried to black mail Don. And, if she was less naive, living in the present day, she probably would have blackmailed him--or at least sued him for sexual harassment.
Despite, or maybe because of all his baggage and flaws, Pete Campbell continues to be one of the best written characters on TV. Whether or not he’s Mad Men’s villain is up for debate, but he does utter the basic-cable show’s only, “fuck you.” The greatest thing Matthew Wiener achieves on Mad Men is commenting on today's society by using the past. Pete Campbell is the archetypal "that guy." That guy who's always has a smirk on his face. That guy that brags about his great-grandfather to impress people. That guy who is oblivious to everyone else and to the fact that no one really likes him. Pete Campbell is a proto-bro of sorts, the worst kind of bro: the kind of bro that has no bros, bro! And Vincent Kartheiser portrays Pete so well, that it disgusts and reviles (Kartheiser himself is pretty fucking weird too). I will watch the show, until Pete is the headcheese of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. And I will relate to him on a closer level than most, because, I too am a Capricorn.
July 22, 02:04 AM
By:
Kimberly
Kimberly
Based on the articles I've written so far and my little blurb in the Contributors section, you all are well aware of my affinity for Spanish culture and language. That, I don't have to tell you. But I do have something else to tell you:
I am also pretty obsessed with the Spanish television teen drama Física o Química. (Translation: Physical or Chemical or Physics or Chemistry) To give you a general, cultural perspective, it's basically the Spanish Degrassi. (Or, having premiered in early 2008, it could also possibly be Spain's answer to UK's Skins.)
More specifically, however, the show follows the students and teachers of Colegio Zurbarán, a high school located in Spain's bustling capital of Madrid. What makes it interesting, of course, is the series of dramatic hookups, breakups, and rumors that circulate amongst both the students and the staff. (See? Spanish Degrassi, in Canadian and American terms.)
| Students of the first season |
However, I'm afraid I cannot compare specific characters, storylines, and events of Física to those of its Canadian predecessor. No, it's not that Física o Química is any better or worse than Degrassi, or that some things "just don't translate." (After all, we can agree that these are purely guilty pleasure shows, at least for those of us aged 18 and older.)
It's just that I can't enjoy Degrassi. At. All.
For one, I find the acting appalling. I remember sifting through television channels at the Degrassi-appreciative age and cringing in response to the acting even then. So I would wait until someone said "sorry", giggle, and then change the channel. Thus, I could never get into it.
| All I know about this picture is that the kid in the wheelchair raps. Right? |
One great thing about it is that each episode, or capítulo, lasts approximately an hour and 20 minutes long, so basically, if you were living in Spain, you'd have an entire feature-length film's worth of sex, lies, and Maxi Iglesias' piercing blue eyes every week.
So why and how do I like this and not "Degrassi"? Is it because I watch it to maintain my listening skills? (Maybe all that corny dialogue doesn't sound so corny in Spanish.) Is it the fact that the Pilot episode premiered when I was studying in Madrid? Is it because I want to put a nervous/confused Javier Calvo (who plays Fer, the only openly gay character until he gets a steady boyfriend in season 3) in every future film I hope to make? Am I hoping to recognize areas of Madrid in the background of exterior scenes? Is it because I eagerly anticipate who is going to be the new gym teacher each season? Maybe I'm just waiting for one of them to jumpstart his/her rap career.
| Alright, fine, it's because of the hunky jailbird waiter of the cafeteria, Berto. |
Whatever the reason, I'm sure a large part of it has to do with being there since the very beginning, during each character's arc. I hear there is an overwhelming number of seasons of Degrassi, so I suppose catching up with the current season (if it exists) isn't a task I hope to take on anytime soon. I was there when Irene, the philosophy teacher during the first four seasons, had her first day at Zurbarán and discovered that Isaac, her one-night-stand from the night before happened to be a student in her class. I was also there when Gorka, of all people, helped deliver the child of Olimpia, the hard-headed English teacher and former principal. I even watched as Fer's parents were relieved to hear that Fer was gay and not an alcoholic.
As cheesy and silly as it all seems, it's an educational, (in terms of maintaining Spanish listening skills,) cathartic, and sometimes even vicarious way to be entertained. It works in the same way soap operas and telenovelas do, but I'd like to think that Física o Química has a much higher production value and a vague yet existing sense of cultural relevance. (There are definitely lessons to be learned in each episode, thus giving it a dash of "after-school special.")
| Julio (Gonzalo Ramos) was even a nazi skinhead for a few episodes, despite having a gay friend, a Chinese friend, and a liberal ex-girlfriend. |
And I'm sure you Degrassi people can say the same thing for your beloved albeit often underdeveloped characters, such as: "I was there when Jimmy got shot."
-You can watch and/or download episodes of Física o Química (no English subtitles, unfortunately) here.
-For selected episodes with English subtitles, here you go.
-Física o Química blogspot
July 21, 04:24 PM
By: Lani
Don’t tell the Missouri department of motor vehicles, but I really can’t drive. Sure, I am much better at it than I was at 16, when I failed my driving test twice and was a few points away from failing a third time. But I’m only on the roads thanks to that nice old man, the driving proctor, who passed me out of sympathy on my third test. The fact of the matter is that I didn’t even know left from right before I started driving. I don’t even have a very good grasp on it now. What can I say? I’m left-handed, but I always think I’m “right.” Also, I hate driving, I hate cars, I hate filling up my gas tank (though I am very fortunate to have car that gets descent mileage). But, alas, I live in St. Louis, and I have no choice. If you want to get to work, if you want to get to school, you have to drive. There is basically no public transportation, especially not out here in the ‘burbs (it brings in those kinds of people...).
Come here Rudd boy, boy... is you big enough?
"You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet."
It has a lot more to do with being surrounded by guys who resemble Elton in personality (not in looks, because Jeremy Sisto is “my type” in that department) my whole life. I’m sorry that I am not turned on by blatant (or subconscious) misogyny and/or classism. I don’t care what car you drive, who your father is, how much money you have, or what you drink. If you’re an asshole, you are not fucking me. That’s just how it works, because I have standards and lack daddy-issues (i.e. - my biggest issue with my dad is that he's one of my best friends).
Elton, trapped behind the veil of Male Privilege.
And seriously, my post-secondary education is even more full of Elton types than before. My school has every sport ever. We have sports I didn’t even know were sports before I start going to Lindenwood (including bowling, shooting and weight lifting). I hate sports. It comes after a lifetime of getting hit in the head in gym class whist playing any sport that ends with “-ball.” In my time at Lindenwood, I’ve only ever been to ONE football game. I think that might be a record. I’m surprised I haven’t been bullied into going to more, since most of my friends are in marching band. Also, we have a shit-ton of frats, like co-ed service fraternities. And hey, good for you if you like helping people and being involved in extra-curriculars, but I am not paying money to partake in mandatory community service.
I’ve done pretty well at making friends in college with out being on a sports team or joining a frat. I have found some people whose idea of fun doesn’t solely revolve around playing table tennis (or some other ridiculous “sport”) or beer pong (they’re cousins!) Mostly, my idea of fun at school is going out to eat with friends, hiding in the library or hanging around the TV station/video editing lab. While this might not be incredibly well-adjusted, it’s not too maladjusted either.
God Forbid, I want to have sex with my Step Brother.
I watch way too many movies and in the past couple movies I’ve seen: If you lose your virginity and you’re a girl, BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN. You will get the clap, you will get raped, you will get pregnant. It’s just like the Sex Ed / Gym Teacher in 'Mean Girls' said:
Coach Carr: Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die! Don't have sex in the missionary position, don't have sex standing up, just don't do it, OK, promise? OK, now everybody take some rubbers.
And this is the message that has been around a long time before Nancy Reagan came up with her “JUST SAY NO!” Policy in the 80s. For women, it’s almost always been there. And at the same time the opposite message is always around too.
Just do WHAT? I need you to be more specific!
Which makes modern life and sex and sexuality pretty goddamn confusing. Tina Fey, while she may not be the perfect model for feminism, must know how I feel, seeing as she had her V-card until she was 24. (She claims that she “couldn’t give it away,” but I am pretty sure this is part of her old “single-lady” schtick. I’m not falling for it any more, TINA). Mean Girls (Clueless for the 2k’s, amirite?) does, however, pass the Mo-Movie measure and it actually discusses the issues young girls face everyday.
Save a horse, ride marry a Playgirl Centerfold.
Coach Carr’s line about sex is a parody of abstinence education. It might be a stretch, but it could also be a parody of the continued fascination with the Madonna-Whore complex in our culture and media (especially film). Bret Easton Ellis is already on my bad list, but here’s the thing, I liked 'Rules of Attraction' - I liked it a lot. You know, before I saw the unedited version where Lauren loses her virginity by getting raped. My biggest complaint with 'The Last Days of Disco' is that Alice contracts the Clap her first time (and that Robert Sean Leonard gives it to her). In 'Les Parapluies de Cherbourg' (or 'The Umbrellas of Cherbourg'), Genevieve gets pregnant after giving it up to Guy. And even on my favorite TV show, 'Mad Men', there is the message of “lose your vigitinity and you shall suffer." Peggy gets pregnant and fails to notice until she’s giving birth, and the whole story line is at least PARTIALLY to show that Pete is not impotent... Oh the dramatic irony!
If this is what *really* happens when you lose it, then I’m joining a convent now. We shall be the order of The Virgins Who Can’t Drive. ... But since it isn’t what happens, it’s just the overly-dramatic, neo-Freudian visions of men with mean mommies, I’m okay with losing my virginity. On my own time. With the right guy. While using protection. And then making movies with realistic, albeit boring, sex scenes...
"I don't like you like this!"
If this is what *really* happens when you lose it, then I’m joining a convent now. We shall be the order of The Virgins Who Can’t Drive. ... But since it isn’t what happens, it’s just the overly-dramatic, neo-Freudian visions of men with mean mommies, I’m okay with losing my virginity. On my own time. With the right guy. While using protection. And then making movies with realistic, albeit boring, sex scenes...
July 21, 04:25 PM
A good number of people I talk to seem to have their wacky stories of the first time they became inebriated. As in most of these story-telling situations, I'm half-listening to the story being told, half-thinking of a similar story of mine to tell and maybe one-up. Then, I find myself zooming through my past to uncover the first moment I felt all woozy and wobbly after a cup of bubbly (or other alcoholic drink.) But once I think I've backtracked to that very moment, I then remind myself of an even EARLIER time I hit the sauce.
And then it actually hits me - I've been drinking since the 3rd grade.
For my fellow Roman-Catholics out there reading this, I'm sure you're thinking, "Psh, BIG DEAL." That's because A. Your first drink was also a sip of Jesus' blood at your First Communion, B. You're also Italian and/or Irish, or C. You were playing in Mommy's liquor cabinet again, weren't you? I happen to be an Italian-American Roman-Catholic, so I'm pretty sure my first alcoholic drink was the one presented to me as the blood of my presumed Lord and savior (which, at the time, explained the "icky, bittery" taste to it.) But transubstantiation aside, I remember feeling just the tiniest bit of joy in knowing that I was drinking a grown-up drink.
Then, of course, there's the inevitable cousin's wedding. This is where I learned that appearances - when it comes to figuring out the difference between champagne and sparkling apple cider - can be deceiving, especially when the caterers have already poured the glasses and emptied the bottles. "Gee, this sparkling apple cider tastes kinda funny,"said a naïve, 14-year-old me. I didn't get drunk (or the slightest bit tipsy, for that matter,) but my brother, a college Freshman at the time, totally did. It was an interesting 2-hour car ride from Cincinnati back to Columbus, to say the least.
Let's skip ahead to high school, when I started drinking at family functions and during my school's Europe trip. Now, to give you an idea of the group of people I was traveling with, I'll mention this: I attended the high school that Heathers (1989) was based on. No joke. Needless to say, it was uptight, mostly conservative, and, like all high schools, teeming with assholery. We traveled to Spain, Italy, and Greece, where the respective legal purchasing ages for alcohol are: 16, none (16 in certain public places), and... none. Of course, what do the chaperones so pleasantly and courteously remind us before we go out on the town? That the drinking and purchasing age in all those countries is 18. I mean, I can understand that they didn't want a bunch of obnoxious, idiotic, drunk teenagers on their hands, but to flat out lie? I'm still pissed about that. I was 16 at the time, so I whenever I would order alcohol at a restaurant or bar I was thinking that I was getting away with something, only to discover the truth back in the good ole U. S. of A.
A sneaky 16-year-old me on a boat between Capri and Sorrento.
Two years after my Europe trip (which I took the summer after my Sophomore year,) I studied abroad in Madrid during the final semester of my Senior year. I ended up meeting a lot of great people from all over the world. This was mostly due to the "Copa de bienvenida", a little event my language school provided every Monday evening at a bar located right around the corner from the school for new incoming students to meet and mingle with others.
That takes us to my college days, those of which I am currently experiencing. Still underage, I've almost developed my alcohol tolerance perhaps to the highest it's ever gonna get. Other than sangría and Desperados beer, I know what my North American "poisons" are (rum and Coke, Stella Artois.) These are the glorious four years of discovery, in which halfway through I will be able to flash my driver's license with confidence.
Aware of my status as a citizen from (arguably) the most douchey country in the world, I was quite nervous for reasons that today seem pretty silly, because everyone I met was incredibly gracious and excited to meet one another. But I believe it was one of the first instances in which I discovered alcohol as "liquid confidence," as they call it. Thus, I always credit the Copa de bienvenida for both giving me the chance to meet some amazing people and discover the social lubricating powers of sangría and Desperados beer.
That takes us to my college days, those of which I am currently experiencing. Still underage, I've almost developed my alcohol tolerance perhaps to the highest it's ever gonna get. Other than sangría and Desperados beer, I know what my North American "poisons" are (rum and Coke, Stella Artois.) These are the glorious four years of discovery, in which halfway through I will be able to flash my driver's license with confidence.
But really, there isn't (and shouldn't be) any shame for already having a "drunk history". (At age 20 and a half, I should have a drunk history, despite the U.S.'s rather strict drinking laws.)
Unless I did something so completely and utterly terrible and unforgivable whilst under the influence or developed an unhealthy, socially damaging habit, then I consider myself a-okay in the drinking department. I'm sure a good number of you have more epic, illustrious stories to tell, but unlike the situation mentioned in the very first paragraph, I'm not looking to win Best Drunk Story or Best Text From Last Night 2010.
Instead, I'd like to think I have left a beautiful, shining tapestry of empty bottles, cans, and glasses through which I've drunk alcoholic beverages -- one that illustrates the development of my alcohol tolerance and adult self, from my First Communion up untl that last bottle of 312 Urban Wheat Ale I nursed last night.
July 21, 04:26 PM
By: Valerie
For the musically inclined, finding one or multiple summer soundtracks is key. Something about the summer air not only uplifts your soul, but also your ears. Like plants, we lean towards the sun. UV rays seeping into our pores, outdoor barbeques, watermelon slices and a plethora of smiles- only to be accompanied by the melodies that define your glorious months. You look back upon those moments, those sounds that evoke the slightest sense of warmth as fall’s cold air rushes through rustling leaves above your head. Its is July, so lets us bask on a little bit longer, tap our toes, and lie down in the fresh cut grass.
Avi Buffalo’s self -titled debut (released in April 2010 on Sub Pop), is an album that has been sitting patiently in my iTunes library awaiting its rotation amongst a cluster of brand new music and has slowly but surely made its place in my go-to summer picks. Avi Buffalo, is a quartet hailing from Long Beach, California. Sheridan Riley on drums, Rebecca Coleman on keyboards along with vocals bring the estrogen to the group while Avigdor Zahner-Insberg (where the ‘Avi’ comes from) provides lead vocals and the strum of the guitar complimentary of Arin Fazio on the bass. While their album has had much buzz and success, the majority of the band members are simply recent high school graduates, most of them being between the ages of 18 and 19 with the exception of Riley, age 21. With an album with tracks titled “Summer Cum” and “Five Little Sluts,” how can you not be intrigued? I suppose I am a bit of a pervert, so on I listened.
The album’s first track “Truth Sets In” sets the pace for the breezy forty minutes you have left to hear. A whirlwind of ease flows through the crooning voice of Zahner-Insberg mumbling his awkward woes. Being such young individuals, they write about what they know best- youth, and dealing with it. Free of clichés, there are no tracks about cliques, varsity football games and the cafeteria’s mystery meat. (Well, there is that line “your lips are like tiny pieces of bacon” in their first single “What’s In it For?”) Track after track brings forth that feeling we all once knew, that vulnerability and naivety every teenager felt. The critique of yourself in the mirror for hours, the dread of school dances, and the about face you did at the sight of your crush in the hall, and the longing expectation felt within interactions with members of the opposite sex. The moments we thought meant the world to us then that we can’t help but cherish now. As J.D. Salinger epitomized the tale of coming of age with “Catcher in the Rye,” Avi Buffalo attempts their stab at it with tales of romance, warped relationships, and questions of existence, death, along with odes to self-discovery and doubt.
Musically, they are talented. Avi Zahner-Insberg’s raspy, child like howls reminisce those of Karen O. in the Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, simply more understated. The tone of Avi’s voice is also very similar that of The Thrills’ lead singer Conor Deasy. Each world stumbles upon another, only adding to each songs quirky, awkward element. On tracks such as “One Last” where Rebecca Coleman’s vocals truly come forth, both singers bounce of each other’s sounds. Both scratchy voiced singers, Coleman and Insberg achieve a harmony that is a ying and yang. While Insberg coolly instills himself in our presence, Coleman picks up the pace and brings a tinge of life to our mellow. Though frequently compared to The Shins, I being a devout Shins listener, beg to differ. I would consider this band to be what would become the result of a fusion of Rilo Kiley and Woods-if that makes sense to my fellow music heads. Each song on the album has a quality that makes it easy to enter; each track can be hummed along to. Their one flaw is in the endings of their songs, sometimes dragging on when one could have made due without the dramatic winding. But hey, they’re young! They have plenty of time to correct a very promising start. While many other artists in various bands make tracks to jab our brain in an instant, Avi Buffalo simply sinks right in. The melodies are simple and sweet sounding, constantly blended with soft, eerie echoes. Perfect listening for the nights you spend drinking beers for your friends, thinking of your current crush, and even on your adventures walking around in the summer sun.
Key Tracks: “What’s In It For?” “Summer Cum,” “One Last”
Watch their video for "What's In It For?" HERE.
For the musically inclined, finding one or multiple summer soundtracks is key. Something about the summer air not only uplifts your soul, but also your ears. Like plants, we lean towards the sun. UV rays seeping into our pores, outdoor barbeques, watermelon slices and a plethora of smiles- only to be accompanied by the melodies that define your glorious months. You look back upon those moments, those sounds that evoke the slightest sense of warmth as fall’s cold air rushes through rustling leaves above your head. Its is July, so lets us bask on a little bit longer, tap our toes, and lie down in the fresh cut grass.
Avi Buffalo’s self -titled debut (released in April 2010 on Sub Pop), is an album that has been sitting patiently in my iTunes library awaiting its rotation amongst a cluster of brand new music and has slowly but surely made its place in my go-to summer picks. Avi Buffalo, is a quartet hailing from Long Beach, California. Sheridan Riley on drums, Rebecca Coleman on keyboards along with vocals bring the estrogen to the group while Avigdor Zahner-Insberg (where the ‘Avi’ comes from) provides lead vocals and the strum of the guitar complimentary of Arin Fazio on the bass. While their album has had much buzz and success, the majority of the band members are simply recent high school graduates, most of them being between the ages of 18 and 19 with the exception of Riley, age 21. With an album with tracks titled “Summer Cum” and “Five Little Sluts,” how can you not be intrigued? I suppose I am a bit of a pervert, so on I listened.
The album’s first track “Truth Sets In” sets the pace for the breezy forty minutes you have left to hear. A whirlwind of ease flows through the crooning voice of Zahner-Insberg mumbling his awkward woes. Being such young individuals, they write about what they know best- youth, and dealing with it. Free of clichés, there are no tracks about cliques, varsity football games and the cafeteria’s mystery meat. (Well, there is that line “your lips are like tiny pieces of bacon” in their first single “What’s In it For?”) Track after track brings forth that feeling we all once knew, that vulnerability and naivety every teenager felt. The critique of yourself in the mirror for hours, the dread of school dances, and the about face you did at the sight of your crush in the hall, and the longing expectation felt within interactions with members of the opposite sex. The moments we thought meant the world to us then that we can’t help but cherish now. As J.D. Salinger epitomized the tale of coming of age with “Catcher in the Rye,” Avi Buffalo attempts their stab at it with tales of romance, warped relationships, and questions of existence, death, along with odes to self-discovery and doubt.
Musically, they are talented. Avi Zahner-Insberg’s raspy, child like howls reminisce those of Karen O. in the Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, simply more understated. The tone of Avi’s voice is also very similar that of The Thrills’ lead singer Conor Deasy. Each world stumbles upon another, only adding to each songs quirky, awkward element. On tracks such as “One Last” where Rebecca Coleman’s vocals truly come forth, both singers bounce of each other’s sounds. Both scratchy voiced singers, Coleman and Insberg achieve a harmony that is a ying and yang. While Insberg coolly instills himself in our presence, Coleman picks up the pace and brings a tinge of life to our mellow. Though frequently compared to The Shins, I being a devout Shins listener, beg to differ. I would consider this band to be what would become the result of a fusion of Rilo Kiley and Woods-if that makes sense to my fellow music heads. Each song on the album has a quality that makes it easy to enter; each track can be hummed along to. Their one flaw is in the endings of their songs, sometimes dragging on when one could have made due without the dramatic winding. But hey, they’re young! They have plenty of time to correct a very promising start. While many other artists in various bands make tracks to jab our brain in an instant, Avi Buffalo simply sinks right in. The melodies are simple and sweet sounding, constantly blended with soft, eerie echoes. Perfect listening for the nights you spend drinking beers for your friends, thinking of your current crush, and even on your adventures walking around in the summer sun.
Key Tracks: “What’s In It For?” “Summer Cum,” “One Last”
Watch their video for "What's In It For?" HERE.
July 02, 06:20 PM
By: Lani
If you’re my age, you remember certain things about the 90’s. A lot of these things transcend generational lines, like Titanic, the Macarena and owning a pair of Guess jeans (I got my pair at a resale shop). But mainly you remember things marketed towards children, things on Nickelodeon, or if you’re parents were loaded (or like me, your dad worked for the cable company), Cartoon Network.
However, if you’re in your early 20’s, I’m willing to bet, you definitely don’t remember the Whit Stillman movie The Last Days of Disco. Actually, I’m not sure if anyone remembers it. Well, besides the Criterion people, who added it to their DVD collection (supposedly one of the best collections in the world… supposedly) and the programming people on the Style Network, who’ve been playing it in the late night slot for the past month. I’ve caught the movie (from different random points) a few times.
Jarvis is judging you.
The Last Days of Disco is one of those things from the 90’s that I’m just now experiencing, over 10 years after the fact, like the band Pulp. I had heard of Pulp a few times, mainly mentions of the William Shatner version of ‘Common People’ on Vh1, (did you know buying into something for the sake of irony existed before 2003? ME EITHER). I had to come around to listening to them (and loving them) on my own. Now I can’t stop listening to Pulp. Once I had a revelation while listening to “Common People”, but I don’t remember it now. Unlike my affection for Pulp, The Last Days of Disco did not fill me with second hand nostalgia.
The Last Days of Disco is supposed to take place in the “very early 80’s,” but it’s totally 90’s. It stars Chloe Sevigny and Kate Beckinsale for Christ’s sake… and that guy that dated Lorelei in ‘Gilmore Girls’ …and that other guy that was Mandy Moore’s future brother-in-law in How to Deal… you know, people who hold zero social relevance anymore.
Like almost all of Pulp’s songs, The Last Days of Disco tells the [melodramatic, boring] stories of a small group of young people: their trials, their tribulations, their love affairs. And in an attempt to add more subtext, the whole thing is set against New York City in the disco days of Studio 54.
Like almost all of Pulp’s songs, The Last Days of Disco tells the [melodramatic, boring] stories of a small group of young people: their trials, their tribulations, their love affairs. And in an attempt to add more subtext, the whole thing is set against New York City in the disco days of Studio 54.
Chloe Sevigny plays Alice, the “narrator” of the story. She says less than the assholes that surround her, but we get to see Stillman torment her the most. Alice and her coworker/roommate Charlotte (Beckinsale), both work at a publishing house and spend their free time going to the discos. They have a third roommate, but she says nothing of value. Because she’s a woman, duh… She just goes on dates with assholes that make Alice and Charlotte ~judge~ her - not that they really have any room to do so.
Can't you see the torment in her eyes?! ... or at least the boredum...
Alice has a one-night-stand with another disco goer, played by Dr. Wilson, I mean Robert Sean Leonard, and Alice contracts herpes and gonorrhea from him. It’s later revealed that Alice was a virgin before this roll in the hay with Dr. Wilson.:
Alice Kinnon: If when making love, the man... *spurts*... outside the woman, does that count as sexual intercourse?
Tom Platt: "Spurts"?
Alice Kinnon: If it... *squirts* outside, without getting in... does that count as losing your virginity?
Tom Platt: No part of the man got in at any time?
Alice Kinnon: I don't think so.
Tom Platt: I think part has to get in to be considered sexual intercourse.
Alice Kinnon: So then I was a virgin.
That’s right, if you surrender your purity, you must suffer! Alice tries to keep her V.D. on the D.L., but Charlotte, the bitch, blows her cover. Right in front of all their “friends” too.Charlotte, Queen Bitch Face
And that’s the thing that struck me most about this film; Charlotte and Alice pretty much hate each other. They are each other’s foils and they’re companions with each other because they went to [a “prestigious”/expensive] college together and work together, but they don’t really like each other at all. It’s all about convenience with them. Honestly, I have been in a relationship like that. My best friend growing up and I were exactly like this. We grew to not even like each other, have almost nothing in common, but we couldn’t face school alone. We just needed someone to commiserate with and it didn’t hurt that the other person lived on the same block. Of course our friendship ended in a big blow-out, just like Alice and Charlotte.
Actually it’s hard to believe that anyone in this film likes each other. The characters are just not likeable. They’re not even endearing in the quirky-amusing way that Juno and every other character is today. They’re all just assholes and I guess that’s a form of “realism.” They’re all just like the people in Pulp’s songs. Except, because Jarvis Cocker isn’t narrating, it’s hard to feel anything for these hollow shells called people. The dialog is painful, but not because it’s particularly bad (except for Charlotte’s line: “You and Holly are the first female friends I’ve ever had!”), but because it’s hard to watch these people interact so rudely with each other.
...I'm so ashamed to be seen with you...
The whole thing is set in the Disco Clubs of the late 70’s and early 80’s, but that becomes inconsequential, because the characters never dance on screen (except in the subway), they’re never shown enjoying the fun parts of “clubbing” (assuming that there are fun aspects of it). They usually lounge around languorously, drink and bullshit. They talk about the kind of stuff you’d expect from recent college grads, gossip, drugs, and one particularly “deep” conversation about whether or not people can “really” change and the effects of media.
[Josh describes Lady and the Tramp]
Josh Neff: [referring to Lady and the Tramp] There is something depressing about it, and it's not really about dogs. Except for some superficial bow-wow stuff at the start, the dogs all represent human types, which is where it gets into real trouble. Lady, the ostensible protagonist, is a fluffy blond Cocker Spaniel with absolutely nothing on her brain. She's great-looking, but - let's be honest - incredibly insipid. Tramp, the love interest, is a smarmy braggart of the most obnoxious kind - an oily jailbird out for a piece of tail, or... whatever he can get.
Charlotte Pingress: Oh, come on.
Josh Neff: No, he's a self-confessed chicken thief, and all-around sleazeball. What's the function of a film of this kind? Essentially as a primer on love and marriage directed at very young people, imprinting on their little psyches the idea that smooth-talking delinquents recently escaped from the local pound are a good match for nice girls from sheltered homes. When in ten years the icky human version of Tramp shows up around the house, their hormones will be racing and no one will understand why. Films like this program women to adore jerks.
Well, in that case, films like The Last Days of Disco program young people to adore the sounds of their own bullshit, write it down and make a movie out of it. (That is what mumblecore is right)? Whit Stillman has had an influence on some formally young people, who are now formidable directors. Stillman is said to have influenced Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach, and I get it, but I feel like this is the best case of Godard’s idea of “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.” Sure, both Anderson and Baumbach write about upper-middle/upper class white people with emotional problems, but they take Stillman-esque characters to a different place than Stillman. Anderson takes them to the story-book absurd and Baumbach takes them to a place where they can be emotionally “real” (instead of just assholes spouting opinions).
It’s not hard to picture any of these characters being taken aside, by JC (no not that one, this one) and told to pretend they don’t have money, pretend they never went to school. And that’s what it boils down to: these people have enough money to live in the city (even if they have a few roommates) and they have jobs and they are upwardly mobile (ie- not common people). They do cocaine and they don’t have to pay for it. They dance and drink and screw, but not because there is nothing left to do, or because their lives have slipped out of view. They do all this because they can afford it and nothing more is expected of them. And because it is Disco.
No matter how much Alice and Charlotte and the gang hate each other, I hope they can resolve their issues enough to meet up at some point in the future, say The Year 2000.
Listen to Whit Stillman talk about the commercial failure of The Last Days of Disco.
July 22, 02:22 AM
By:
Kimberly
Kimberly
This is just a guesstimate, but I'm certain that about 99.99% of all cinephiles have that go-to movie to watch upon feeling lovesick, unstable, or, as Mexican singer Lola Beltrán warbles in one of her painfully exquisite ballads, infeliz (unhappy.) For most red-blooded American women born after 1968 or so, that movie has been one of the John Hughes variety (Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, blah blah blah.) While I'm unashamedly guilty of eating a bag of popcorn in bed and watching only the scenes that contain Duckie, I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a large part of me that identified with Pepa from Pedro Almodóvar's 1988 comedy Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.
Yes, I know, it's a foreign film. The fact that I'm even writing an entire article on some hot-shot "furn" director in my debut post is enough to get some eyes rolling and some voices muttering, "pretentious." But after watching this film several times over the past four or so years, it still amazes me the lack of recognition and popularity it has gained, despite its inclusion in the Viva Pedro DVD box set and a number of other reasons I will get to - but I musn't get too ahead of myself.
Set amongst the background of a brightly-colored, bustling Madrid, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (WOTV) tells the story of Pepa, a television actress and voice-dubber desperately trying to contact her estranged (and married) lover and co-worker Iván before he sets off for Stockholm. Her attempts, however, are continually thwarted by Iván's wife and Pepa's distraught supermodel friend Candela, who seeks help from Pepa after realizing that she has become romantically involved with a wanted Shiite terrorist. Coincidentally, as she is also in the process of hopefully renting out her penthouse apartment, Iván's son and his fiancé visit the place as prospective residents. All of these appear to be distractions and roadblocks preventing Pepa from getting to Iván, but the (supposedly) feminist lawyer whom Pepa seeks to defend Candela happens to be - *gasp* - Iván's new lover!
While Almodóvar is known for cleverly switching the genre of a film without the audience realizing the shift*, WOTV seems to consistently be two genres at once. "It's a comedy, but no one is laughing," quips the narrator in the English-language trailer. It is a comedy, but not so much so that we don't become detached from Pepa, making her a punching bag for which to relieve our romantic fallouts. (That's pretty much Decent Screenwriting 101, but I can appreciate and point out the small accomplishments to make my argument, can't I?)
Another thing Almodóvar is known for is his familiarity and understanding of the wild and wonderful World of Women. With a majority of his oeuvre containing films centered around female characters, his insatiable fascination is undeniable. He admits that he doesn't quite know where his interest stems from, but the important part is that it's apparent, and that, as a member of the female sex, I happen to think he's right on the button when it comes to sympathetically and understandably portraying Pepa's distress.
For a large part of the film, Pepa struggles to remain emotionally, mentally, and, at times, physically stable. In order to sleep at night, she takes barbiturates and misses a dubbing session with Iván, who, of course, she's been trying to contact since their break-up. She faints, calls his home and curses out his wife, wanders the city at night searching for him, tosses a telephone out the window, and accidentally sets the bed she and Iván shared on fire, despite her prospects of renting out the apartment as soon as possible. We watch her as she weeps, mopes, and stuffs Iván's remaining possessions and silly gifts into a suitcase. "Soy infeliz", the Lola Beltrán song mentioned above, is the gut-wrenching theme to Pepa's unhappiness, and plays during the opening credits.
But there comes a point in Pepa's hysteric state of being (which comes before the bed fire) when she decides to face her problems head on, whether on the verge of a nervous breakdown or not (and, hell, she has every right to be.) "I'm sick of being good," she proclaims, as she chucks a handful of sleeping pills into a blender of gazpacho. When I'm fed up with something, I often repeat this line to myself in the original Spanish: Estoy harta de ser buena. (It's quite therapeutic - I highly recommend doing it.)
Like most of you probably reading this, I've been through my fair share of heartbreaks and romantic torments. While I may not have stood outside an ex-lover's apartment at night, hurled a rotary telephone out the window of a swank penthouse apartment I'm hoping to sublet, or felt the need to take sleeping pills in order to get some shut-eye, I wouldn't blame Pepa for doing it. Also, it's just so cathartic to watch Pepa go to the lengths that we only wish we had to guts to go to. In this sense, Almodóvar seems to have tapped into this desire that I, at least, can relate to. As the auteur so insightfully says, "Cinema can fill in the empty spaces of your life and your loneliness." (via) In the case of WOTV, he certainly has done that, using his understanding and interest of the World of Women to make a film that allows us to cheer on and sympathize with a character who, in any other film, would likely be portrayed as a "crazy ex-girlfriend" - an all-too-common and extremely condescending theme in most movies.
I don't want to imitate life in movies; I want to represent it. -Pedro Almodóvar (via)
Another thing Almodóvar is known for is his familiarity and understanding of the wild and wonderful World of Women. With a majority of his oeuvre containing films centered around female characters, his insatiable fascination is undeniable. He admits that he doesn't quite know where his interest stems from, but the important part is that it's apparent, and that, as a member of the female sex, I happen to think he's right on the button when it comes to sympathetically and understandably portraying Pepa's distress.
For a large part of the film, Pepa struggles to remain emotionally, mentally, and, at times, physically stable. In order to sleep at night, she takes barbiturates and misses a dubbing session with Iván, who, of course, she's been trying to contact since their break-up. She faints, calls his home and curses out his wife, wanders the city at night searching for him, tosses a telephone out the window, and accidentally sets the bed she and Iván shared on fire, despite her prospects of renting out the apartment as soon as possible. We watch her as she weeps, mopes, and stuffs Iván's remaining possessions and silly gifts into a suitcase. "Soy infeliz", the Lola Beltrán song mentioned above, is the gut-wrenching theme to Pepa's unhappiness, and plays during the opening credits.
But there comes a point in Pepa's hysteric state of being (which comes before the bed fire) when she decides to face her problems head on, whether on the verge of a nervous breakdown or not (and, hell, she has every right to be.) "I'm sick of being good," she proclaims, as she chucks a handful of sleeping pills into a blender of gazpacho. When I'm fed up with something, I often repeat this line to myself in the original Spanish: Estoy harta de ser buena. (It's quite therapeutic - I highly recommend doing it.)
Like most of you probably reading this, I've been through my fair share of heartbreaks and romantic torments. While I may not have stood outside an ex-lover's apartment at night, hurled a rotary telephone out the window of a swank penthouse apartment I'm hoping to sublet, or felt the need to take sleeping pills in order to get some shut-eye, I wouldn't blame Pepa for doing it. Also, it's just so cathartic to watch Pepa go to the lengths that we only wish we had to guts to go to. In this sense, Almodóvar seems to have tapped into this desire that I, at least, can relate to. As the auteur so insightfully says, "Cinema can fill in the empty spaces of your life and your loneliness." (via) In the case of WOTV, he certainly has done that, using his understanding and interest of the World of Women to make a film that allows us to cheer on and sympathize with a character who, in any other film, would likely be portrayed as a "crazy ex-girlfriend" - an all-too-common and extremely condescending theme in most movies.
After all, life is both a comedy and a drama - especially when it comes to breaking up with douche bags who most likely don't deserve us anyway. (We can surely agree on that, right?) Almodóvar just chooses to represent it as it is - both, while using that signature bright color palette to accurately depict those burning emotions one gets as s/he suffers a break-up/rejection/any other romantic failure. And it's this representation of life, of desperation and lovesickness, that makes me slip this DVD into the player whenever something major-ly shitty happens in my so-called love life and makes wonder why I feel like the only 20-year-old American college student who has seen this movie and cherishes it like any Sixteen Candles or Pretty in Pink.
SO WHY AREN'T ANY OF YOU PATHETIC, LONELY PEOPLE WATCHING IT?!
*Watch Volver (2006) and try to keep track of when these genre-switching points occur.
SO WHY AREN'T ANY OF YOU PATHETIC, LONELY PEOPLE WATCHING IT?!
*Watch Volver (2006) and try to keep track of when these genre-switching points occur.
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