I HAVE A CALL FOR SHIRLEY TEMPLE
I bought grenadine because I decided to make my own, at-home kiddie cocktails, complete with maraschino cherries. However, I have now run out of ginger ale and cherries, and I still have a giant amount of grenadine left. It’s like cilantro or parsley. I never use a complete bunch of cilantro, and it ends up going wet and rotten in the crisper. Luckily that should not be a probably with grenadine. But still — any tips? Tricks? Recipes? So far I’m only able to find recipes for making your own grenadine, and links to snooty small batches.
OMG SO BAD
In the movie roster this week we have:
- More Poirot (SHOCK SHOCK)
- Schindler’s List (no plans to make out during, especially since I’ve never seen it all the way through. Am feeling in the mood for it, though. Probably all the Captain America fanfic I’ve been reading. *ducks*)
- Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
- The Outsiders (don’t ask me, I don’t know why. Bleah)
- St. Elmo’s Fire
Naturally I started with the worst one. Have you ever seen St. Elmo’s Fire? Also known as one of (or perhaps, THE) definitive Brat Pack movie? Oh my god, it is so bad. I’d only seen bits of it and I (why? why?) had nice memories of watching those bits, so I thought, why not? I will now tell you why not: because it is so bad. So bad. I recognize that lately I’m feeling pretty class-warrior and all, but damn if I didn’t want to strangle all these little shits. Except Ally Sheedy, because Ally Sheedy is always wonderful. Except except, her character keeps talking about her career, oh her career, she needs to develop her career — and I can’t ever remember learning what the fuck she even wanted to do? We see Wendy working the welfare office and the soup kitchen. We see Jules (briefly) working as a banker/thinger before she starts banging her boss and snorting an entire ski mountain of coke. We see the guys sort of working, (especially Judd Nelson). But Leslie/Ally Sheedy? I have no clue what she did all day long. Anyhoo, some points:
- Kirby (EMEEELIO) is a creepy stalker about Dale (Andie MacDowell) and as per usual in Movieland, this shitty stalker behavior isn’t seen as shitty or creepy. Just persistent! Aw, let the poor guy down easy, Dale! He’s so in love! BLEEEEEEEAAAAAAH. At least they did not get together in the end, which would’ve been A) bullshit and B) horrible and C) bullshit.
- According to Wikipedia, Kevin is “a writer with a sullen streak.” We never see him write. He gets a dumb thing about Love! published after he gets laid for the first time in ages, and he talks morosely about “deep” topics, and plays the bongos. Yep.
- One person of color with a speaking part. She’s black! Guess what! She’s also a prostitute! At least she has a name, I guess — Naomi. Would much rather watch the Extended Adventures of Naomi as she navigates the garbage kids of Georgetown.
- Lots of bitching about dudes can’t just have no-consequences sex anymore; they have to pay child support when they get someone pregnant and it’s nooooot fair. But also, bitches, please stop ruining the moment with your diaphragms? Or something? Agh, I hate the fucking eighties.
- Jules tries to kill herself by stripping naked and opening all the windows to their apartment in like, January, or something. I take it back, I love the fucking eighties.
- People wear pearls really weirdly, and during weird circumstances. Example: Jules wears pearls but she drapes them halfway down her back. Ally Sheedy wears her pearls while she and Kevin have an extended multi-locale bang session. I cannot believe they did not get caught on anything.
- Mario Machado plays a Korean businessman, because it is impossible for Hollywood to A) find an actual Korean actor or B) I dunno, change the script so he’s Chinese-American, instead? What the actual fuck is the point of this person being a Korean businessman? He could be Russian or Italian or Nigerian, for all the time we spend on him. Arrrrrrrrrrrgh. I think I’ll just go watch the news segments from Robocop again to feel better. In fact, here:
In conclusion: I can’t even remember everything I hated about it, but uggggh, so gross. And now Wiki points me to this beautiful thing:
St. Elmo’s Fire Might Be the Worst Movie Ever at Consequence of Sound (by Justin Gerber)
and I realize I’ve wasted some serious blog space. Ah, well. Consider it a venting session — I certainly feel better, like I’ve sicked it up.
OH WAIT ONE LAST THING
I thought of the perfect fucking metaphor for this movie and the people in it, while watching the ending scene where Billy goes to New York to become rich and famous and totally not a New York drug addict. He’s walking with his sax strung on his back, loose, no case, because you know, he’s such a badass. At least I assume that’s what is being shown — this bro is so bro he don’t need a case to protect his FUCKING LIVELIHOOD or anything. Musicians use cases to protect their instruments so they don’t need to repair or replace them. But it’s realistic, right? Because he probably hawked the case to buy hair gel.
Anyway. That careless treatment of the thing he’s planning to use to make money to eat/live on, to live out his dream of being a musician — that’s such a beautiful example for the characters in this movie! Because if he accidentally sits on the sax or if the bus doors close on it or someone slits the cord and runs off with it two steps out of the bus station, well — fuck it! He’ll manage! He’ll land on his feet! Probably some nice guy will loan him a sax, or maybe he can call Judd Nelson who will wire him the money to buy another one. Mistakes aren’t lasting or even that expensive for this group of kids. I wonder why that could be…
No, I don’t.
Now, on to World War II and atrocities.