Posts Tagged by Watching

Roger Corman’s The Oklahoma Woman

The Banana, The Fastest Fruit

Art Car Weekend embodies everything I adore about Houston. It’s not just that I love the parade and it’s accompanying festivities, it’s that Art Car is a normal, everyday aspect of Houston life that people who don’t live here rarely get to experience when they come to, say, Greenspoint for a business trip.

For example. This weekend was the inaugural screening of the Tex Hex, an artist-built boat that floats along the bayou and shows movies on a screen to people sitting on the banks. In keeping with the Art Car theme, the Tex Hex showed short films regarding car culture, from personal faves Kenneth Anger, Buckminster Fuller, Buster Keaton, and the short below, about what is possible the most amazing soap box derby to ever take place.

It’s easy to see how this event, in San Fransisco in 1975, could have been the genesis for the Art Car Parade.

R.I.P. Cleopatra

Elizabeth Taylor has died. I loved her in nearly everything she did, from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf to A Place In The Sun, but the above scene has always been my favorite. The Film That Changed Hollywood, a feature-length documentary on the troubled production of Cleopatra, is an absolute must-see for anyone with an interest in the way cinema works, then and now.

Update: Here’s the obit I wrote for the Houston Press on her best movies.

Finders Keepers

These chicks stole my favorite (thrift store) nightgown.

Yes, I wear a nightgown from the thrift store. Whut.

Put your hand inside the puppet head

This week in “I Love My Job,” here is how I spent my morning.

And here is the accompanying story.

In a past life I was an entertainment writer, though covering music has really always been my thang. I went to this as a last-minute assignment. Covering kids’ puppet shows ain’t exactly my idea of a lively beat but it was a super fun laid-back interview and they insisted after the fact that I try my hand at it. My job, it is so hard.

In approximately 24 hours

This is what I’ll be doing.

Warning

And now a Patric Swayze reference.

God, that trailer is so ’90s. But there are two things I love about this movie (besides the obvious, because it’s awesome): 1. it was directed by a woman, and 2. the three main actors did all their own stunts.

Girl 27

The story of Patricia Douglas is fascinating, depressing, and deserves to be told, but David Stenn is not the person to tell it. I watched this documentary over the weekend, and I agree with the commenter who said Stenn ruins the story with his fame-whorish attempt to insert himself into the story (not to mention his somewhat weak story line based almost entirely on speculation). Wish someone could do the story real justice. Still, it’s fucked up and you should watch it anyway. You’ll be a better person for the knowledge of this crime.

Their pool was perhaps the oldest in the country, a fieldstone rectangle, fed by a brook.

Years ago, when I was a teenager, I caught a past-midnight screening of The Swimmer on Turner Classic Movies. I think I fell asleep before the film ended, and in the days before Netflix I was never able to find the movie to finish it.

Since then I’ve harbored a longstanding fascination with the film. It’s in the list of 350+ on my queue now, but last week, when Maud Newton tweeted about a story of the same name by John Cheever I realized the movie was based on the same short story, which you can read online here.

Summer ends today. Maybe I should bump the film to the top of my list?

Never kept a dollar past sunset

My friend Lance and I went to the one-night-only screening of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones Thursday night. I’ve always liked the Stones, and for years have nursed a crush on the dandy-esque Mick Jagger (yes, still). They are, after all, the greatest rock-n-roll band of all time, and they provide the perfect antidote to my dislike (but tolerance of) The Beatles.

But until Thursday night I would not have called myself a Rolling Stones fan. Since Thursday night, I’ve been reading obsessively on the 1969-1975 line-up, probably the best line-up in the band’s decades-long career. (Check out this awesome, informative chart.)

And also since Thursday I have become totally infatuated with Keith Richards. Mick Jagger’s onstage antics seem contrived and performance-arty, but when Keith Richards closes his eye and shakes his hair you can tell it’s because he feels the music, not because he’s on display. It goes without saying, but Keith Richards is so fucking cool. That I am 30 years old and just discovered this is some kind of pathetic, but hey. Better late than never.

My dream outfits

Black and white, geometric figures. And I used to have that haircut, for like 10 years. Their version ain’t great, but I’ve also always loved this song.

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