anastasija

the overpouring white contrasted with such striking red

+the skewed symmetry & arresting gaze

incredible

anastasija kondratjeva for russian vogue

(via Jeremy Dante)

...

Antichrist

What director Lars Von Trier had to say on Antichrist: "It comes from my mind,so I have to accept it.I've allowed myself to make a film where I didn't hold myself back from anything."

A couple lose their young son,and the husband (a therapist) begins the process of attempting to cure his wife of grief,at first trying to isolate the source of her panic attack-inducing fear.A place is mentioned: a forest called 'Eden',but denies that it is the thing that scares her most-her biggest fear is still unknown,so they make a trip to Eden in search of clarity.

There are two extremely graphic scenes,both on genital mutilation-after the first,7 people walked out of the cinema-a few holding glasses of wine and sushi.It pays being a movie snob,at least you've read and researched enough on Antichrist to know that it is not at all the kind of film fit for wine or food to be consumed with.

Beyond those two scenes-which will inevitably characterise the film (see this poster)-there's a rich and intense psychological drama,superbly told as nature itself begins to reflect the couple's perplex and anxiety.The script is minimal, and untelling of the things that truly underlies each conversation-tension slowly shifts to the cabin's surrounding environment,there are alien noises that sweep the forest,animals going around bloody and with their insides exposed,the only two characters in Antichrist begin to feel overwhelmed by Eden.Which grows darker and more menacing with time,forcing inward horrors to spill out: in the form of the film's morbid sexual energy,channelled through in its preoccupation with pen*s-smashing,cl*t-cutting violence.

The film,as I pointed out-sure does have it merits,but the gore and violence is simply not worth enduring.There is nothing that can justify the desperate lengths the film has gone to-it was just too depraved,too sickening,too much-and whatever good the film has to offer,is seriously outweighed by its bad.

...

Amreeka

Saw Amreeka.

I won't go too deep into it,but it has Alia Shawkat from Arrested Development-I'm willing to take anything of hers at the moment,even if a movie features a 5-second cameo of the Shawkat.She's got a rare,natural comic charm and a genuine smile and I have no doubt she'll be going places in her career as an actress.

The film has a wide array of characters,and tries to concern itself with a lot of things.The son's accused as a terrorist at school,the mom struggles to hide the fact that she's employed at a fast food restaurant and the family is crumbling on nearly every front.

I thought there was something hysterical about the main actress' smile,the scene in which she goes through interviews,and smiles even through all the rejection had me in fits.Her acting,especially in the emotional scenes with her son,can be slightly affected.But the film is tied together well,rarely do films progress so seamlessly with a multi-faceted plot,it ends with a take-home message that is worth noting: loneliness can bring strangers together,and home is where your family is.

...

moving crowds

...

it took a life span with no cellmate

the long way back

sandy,why can't we look the other way?

The Kellies: A Nepalese Prodigy Pt. 2

Santa spun the best stories for Killian, winning him numerous film and TV offers-from which only the highest bids were considered, her growing commission as manager/publicist propelled her into the music industry-where she found equal success as an alternate persona: Mary Tightcheeks, whose chart-topping singles were disguised as ‘Come-Together’-type messages, but were subversive to the impending Crazy Cougar movement, and as talk-show host, psychiatrist and canine-trainer David Pavlovia wrote: “her music, especially the ubiquitous hits ‘My Body is A Theme Park’ and ‘Getting drunk at Disneyland’ were telling of the artist’ own struggle with maintaining a healthy sex drive, her decrying of age and her simultaneous marriage to three men, a pink Bottlenose dolphin and a paraplegic mega-celebrity which she saw as a mistake too late”.

The two, having earned an enormous success both as individuals and Hollwood’s No. 1 Power Couple, surpassing musicians Jay and Kiki Vingles whose invitation for a country-song duet they declined, it would be many years before the truth was uncovered: the fact that Killian was gravely sick and in ill need of thorough and expensive treatment they could easily afford, except blocked by Santa’s desire for fame and immortality-soon Killian would pass his final breath in a wheelchair, found by their maids and Santa whose mind grew wild thinking their grip on the world would loosen and she’d find herself slipping into oblivion-continued to wheel a now month-old-dead Killian, even having his rotting corpse act in several movies and often proclaiming his total lack of movement an extended effect of a made-up syndrome she blackmailed several WHO officials into verifying.

It was during this prolonged period of Killian’s after-life, when Santa continued to make millions from his name-that allegations arose, connecting the two to recent cases of cyber-terrorism and for months envelopes unmarked were left on their doorstep, Santa promptly fed these to her two Doberman’s-whose diet of premium whale-meat, paper and imported baby-poop kept them strong and sleepless, proving Santa’s security impenetrable-only one envelope, marked INEDIBLE caught Santa’s attention-inside it a single clean sheet, a DNA test result that linked Killian to a newly-orphaned two-year old in the far-west of Nepal, where she flew to next and brought this baby home to raise, at the ripe age of 64 Santa resembled a gruesomely mutilated Barbie-multiple surgeries took a toll on her physical image, which the public renounced along with her rudely unresponsive husband, who she later staged a fake accident for and had cremated, his ashes made into a fine ankle bracelet she later requested to be buried wearing.

Santa knew her final years would be too late to stage a comeback, in any arena-even with funds in the bank set to outlast Earth itself, Killian’s absence rendered everything meaningless-but Santa invested what remained of her on this new baby, nurturing him with all the affection she could exert-this baby, she decided-would be her ultimate legacy, and hopefully undo her wrongdoings-to this baby she devoted every last moment to, choosing a name that would carry her message generations forward: Rumer Enke Jones.

...

a single man

i think there is something so beautifully melancholic about these posters

equally gorgeous trailer here

...

i should have loved a thunderbird instead

someday this madness

will have a name

that isnt mine

(pic via suzywire)

...

the only time economics will get people dancing

...

bye daul

we'll miss you

wayne levin

work of Wayne Levin

the ocean's a place of infinite beauty

i mightve been a mermaid in my past life

if your hearts unsettled with life on land

66% of the earth is made of deep oceans

...

my fave off battle studies

...

Come out angels

come out ghosts

come out darkness

bring everyone you know

if fear hasn't killed me yet

then nothing will

The Kellies: A Nepalese Prodigy

Killian Jones was an extension of the nickname “Killy” his father had given him at the age of 5, upon the slaughtering of a small chicken during which Jack (as he was known pre-fame to many relatives, but it has also been speculated that the names Ingrid, Michael and Birch had preceded Kelly’s now-worldwide infamy) proved his tiny arms quite capable, his father in an interview many years later noted a look of wild, transgressive pride flash across his son’s face as he saw the chicken’s corpse to its last quiver.

Killian had achieved a lot for himself-at the age of 25, during which many of his critics would argue Killian went through his most productive stage although it was more than two decades later that he won an Oscar, for his accidental undertaking as director and the main star of “A Fair Sickness”-originally meant as a bisexual romance set in the Middle East, Killian liberally altered its script to feature three complex but interlinked subplots, the most confounding of which had eight-limbed robots and humans fucking to produce a special multi-purpose liquid, which his protagonist, a dubious politician played expertly by Michael J. Fox, declared “would supersede demand for earth’s alternative energy sources and guarantee United States a strong position in global and inter-planetary negotiations come the year 2045”.

At 25, he was a bestselling author of children’s novels and an on-screen favorite-although his addiction to sniffing generic-brand butter and sexual proclivities involving numerous kitchenware and home electronics in ways even the Japanese would find stupendous-was uncovered by an overzealous journalist a year later, during which he lost the faith of his most loyal supporters- had his wealth and value as a performer dwindle to zilch-and he underwent a desperate period marked most significantly by having to sell sperm for money, five-fingered favors for lunch, but worst of all-physically mixing with the lowest underclass of society, he would discover much later diseases that would inevitably thrust him back into the spotlight, gaining the sympathy of new and old audiences who now saw a man forcibly cleansed of his old self: his name glowed on the front covers of dailies, glossy tabloids, all kinds of publications-all who sought this new image of him-skin pale as a corpse, a man built more on bones than flesh, skin riddled with scabs over which flies were normally seen trying to grab a bite. Killian’s reflection disillusioned him of a bright future, but to the public-in inexplicably and in large bold letters, spelt HOPE.

From the chaos of the crowd emerged one Santa Ballsy, a then middle-aged woman who had left her lawyering job in favor inventing what the New York Times editorial team would later deem the most memorable thing to have come out that year-by then she had hoisted Killian to his full potential, and for herself: burned all her plain, colorless flats and village-mother image in favor of towering, sharp stilettos that perked her newly-packed ass and heavily-corrected face to a stage of rabid popularity the President of Uruguay declared “preposterous!” in a press conference, Santa often pictured wheeling the now incapacitated Killian all over town and once in a while throwing tiny gold sacks of pennies into the face of stumbling beggars.

...

(part 2 soon)

britney's circus in melbourne

A few reviews have appeared of last night's performance,Britney's first ever gig in Melbourne-and like this one from local paper the Age,most predictably thrash her lip-syncing and the fact that she wasn't even doing that well.

To me,that wasn't much of an issue.It was a full-house stadium and as long as Britney threw us some easy dancing,lip-synced through her 27-song setlist without falling on her ass or accidentally exposing herself and yelled out some "Hello,Melbourne!" shit once in a while, the crowd would keep screaming.

I think the whole idea of her Circus tour was to make things over the top and freaky,we had trampolines and fire and all kinds of showy S&M/goth crap but there's something so unambitious and lacklustre in the entire presentation.Britney ushered in the Teen Pop genre and for a long time,was the amazing It girl,but today even as she sings about threesomes on '3' and tries to be sexy/cheeky with the obvious 'If You Seek Amy',and especially after having experienced her 'Circus' last night,I have to admit there is something distinctly 1998 and lazy about her.

Seeing Circus,its like Britney or any of her concert producers never saw a single So You Think you Can Dance? episode or Cirque the Soleil show,or even know Lady Gaga exist-to make today,you need to vamp the risqueness/vogue and I think there's a large part of Britney that thinks she can sell sold-out shows,lip-sync the whole way and still get a away with it because she's Britney Spears.

So yes,the most hardworking popstars today strive to be inventors,always ahead the average,but Britney's got her name and she no doubt realizes that alone suffices as a valuable asset.

Two last things.I think Britney used the massive 3-part stage well to her advantage yesterday,managing to connect to each part of the audience for the whole 150 minutes she performed.And secondly,yes she lip-synced despite people having paid good money to see her-to this I say who in their mind expects Britney to sing live-and,I've been to concerts where I paid more for and the performers sang live the whole way,but those gigs turned out considerably much worse-The Cure went through song by song singing monotonously and ignored the audience the whole time,and Jack Johnson sung live with the kind of heart and enthusiasm a twice-killed zombie would have.

So yes,I enjoyed myself a lot last night-and while I was there,wasn't bothered by her lip-syncing.I was surrounded by a bunch of fat girls who moved very little and only bothered to do anything when Britney came to our part of the stage,when they jumped a bit and whipped out their cameras (crowds can be SO lame-you pay this much,and you hardly even dance?).

As an entertainer,she's already being superseded by a growing number of singers,but she doesn't seem to mind much-as long as she keeps doing things the same way,its inevitable that the haters and journalists pick apart her concerts and public persona mercilessly.Keep playing to just your fans,and they'll be the only ones you win over.

...

The Kellies: Kelly 1 at the Doctor

Tell me about your childhood.

Well, there was my mum with her long, ghostly hands at the end of which always held something-usually it was a clove of garlic, basil maybe, there was something scented about her personality-to be honest I don’t remember what her hands looked like, much less her face, but I do remember her kindness-I’ve been quite choosy since young, and she’d pick out the bits I didn’t like before the plate came to me, and said absolutely nothing about it. They used to say I had her eyes, her nose, even her thighs a neighbor once said-but these days, considering what I’ve become-no one would compare me to my mother, though I’d like to think I have years ahead to live and time will unfold some beautiful, unexpected part inside me so I can claim to be my mother’s daughter again, or just to be connected, with someone something a dog, goldfish, a tree except they don’t speak much I hear-I’d give away whatever’s left of me, though anyone could see that it wouldn’t be worth much.

As for Daddy, I honestly don’t know why so many men, born gentlemen and white knights who inevitably lose that precious part of themselves to marriage, and turn out to be absent fathers. The friends I’ve had, or well, the people I’ve met in my line of business-technically colleagues, but I’d like to think us linked together by more than a shared payroll-anyway, none of these girls have had good fathers, I’m beginning to think they’re some clever Hollywood creation, just like fairies and flying ponies-manufactured so little girls have some fantasy to cling on, before the unreality of it comes apart. My father, for a while we were the closest buddies you’d ever seen, I’d insist to go everywhere he went-even braving the pre-dawn darkness to follow him to the factory, where he’d have paper and crayons to keep me occupied before we’d reconvene at lunch, and tea breaks. It was then I felt that someone was proud of me for exactly what I was, I didn’t have to be anything more. Only with Daddy, my mother was made of grace itself, but Daddy had more colors to him-tall waves of laughter, anger, sadness-always in the extreme and a little bit dangerous,but never from anywhere but the heart.

Anyway, Daddy vanished-he didn’t leave the house or anything, but there came a day when I realized how quiet the place was-and the few words exchanged between us, all trivial and empty-and when I strayed, “from the righteous path” as Aunt Mona herself declared to our church-of course Daddy emerged, the man I once knew and instantly recognized, passionate and full of things to say, except this time he was on the other side. Like the rest of them, all on the other side. My mother, she’d look at me and tear up and hold my hand meekly-as if what I’d done had blown all the wind out of her, she seemed frail and could barely manage a sentence in that condition-but at her weakest point, she didn’t even need to say it-she’d keep loving me anyway, that remains and I believe will eternally be my only encounter with love-its fierce, unquestioning and unconditional nature-when things changed, and darkness-my darkness-took everyone and everything I had, there she was. The only one on my side: my mother.

There you go Doc-tah, there’s all you need to know about my childhood. There were bigger events, more things-but I guess that about sums it up well: my own personal Pandora, inside it a ballerina jerking its way to a final dance.

...

From the file of Rashida Looms (or Kelly 1)

Age 18, McK****

From the desk of Doc. Phillip Staine,

(Notes to be referred to Case 14*A)

the ten

1. Been doing a lot of rigorous post-midnight house-cleaning right after I get back from the library-I've still got too much energy to drain before I go to sleep,so I don the Snow White apron and sing show tunes while I clean with an uncontainable sense of optimism which seems more appropriate for someone who's just given birth to a...why,its a beautiful...BABY......BOY! It's half-sealion and has a magic 8 ball for one eye,but other than that,he's fine!

2. And every time I sprinkle that vacuuming powder that stinks like a cheap bouquet of roses someone stole from a grave,I feel like Allison in Hocus Pocus when the house is struck by a pack of newly resurrected witches,she remembers a bogus remedy and reaches for a can of salt and starts pouring it all over thinking it'll magically with-proof the place.But of course it fails,and there's Bette Midler on her flying broom,mocking this stupid girl with her can of salt.

3. Was reading a forum on Wonderful Movies that Brought you Back to Your Childhood,I don't have any-there wasn't much movie-watching,as far as I can remember.But once a long time ago,I saw The Sound of Music and there's this scene-I won't specify which-but it had me bawling,and bawling,as if there was a bottomless well of tears right inside me that suddenly geisered. And they had the movie on two weekends ago,when the same scene came on and I had the same (over)reaction.

5. The XX on 90210! Take my word for it,they'll be the next MGMT/Phoenix and in a few months you'll hear their music on every TV show,commercial and everywhere basically.Speaking of which,on my way back a homeless man who passed me sung something I caught-I told you to be patient,I told you to be kind-and I immediately knew it was a song I'd heard before,turned out to be Bon Iver.Whether this is some kind of prophecy,or just that homeless people have some secret access to really terrific indie music (uh,radio?),I know not.

6. John Mayer performed in Sydney this recent weekend,but touring Melbourne next May.Sometimes it feels like Melbourne's set at the far edge of time,and a huge lag separates this place from the rest of Earth.Like there's this movie,House of the Devil,came out in the US days ago and I'm dying to see..but it doesn't even have a release date for Australia.And of course Where the Wild things Are is still a month away,by then there'll probably be two sequels and a theme park for it.

7. Speaking of John Mayer,he was on Alexa Chung a while ago, Someone needs to take this interviewand turn it into a feature film.Mayer was also on Rove on Sunday,of course it was a horrible interview where Rove asked the most tepid questions and had his VIP guests sit on that long couch saying nothing for the rest of the show while his local crew tell the worst ABSOLUTE WORST jokes-I swear to God that show would've been butchered anywhere else,I don't know what they feed the live audience to keep laughing or who's whoring out who to keep that crap show on air.

9. N pointed out a couple bones on my body,and said it wasn't normal for people to have bones in those areas-this inspired some rabid googling and apparently people have gone to surgeries and literally have these bones removed from their bodies and I'm not paranoid just yet,they're in quite unobvious places,I'm just worried that they may hide some quietly-growing disease,or one day a bone will portrude and pierce through my skin as a cute bonsai and grow into a tree that reaches the sky and they'll classify me as a nature reserve and everyone will gawk and be amazed by this massive tree and forget that I'm all the way down there.

* Nat Portman on V,I'll be practicing my You're such a Low Life being in the Same room with you makes me Want to Puke my Unborn Baby Out face all weekend.

...

playground love