oh Zee French...

Amidst accounting and finance learning, I somehow stumbled onto French popstress Yelle, whose techno/electro/80s stylings have monopolized my iTunes in recent days.

And Carla Bruni has managed to make a rentée into my life. Not so much for her music, but for this:A photo to be auctioned off. For all the fuss pundits have been making over this, they overlooked the fact that she was a model, which means she's bound to have taken plenty a nude photo, and she's Italian, so she's probably not so uptight (as Americans) about being nude.

I've also glimpsed Lou Doillon in this month's French Playboy, whose photos would make most fashion magazines jealous.
Très belle. Very Birkinesque, which is appropriate, I suppose, as Jane is her mother. Dieu merci for the French...

The 'Crying Game' twist...

Is Hermione...

really a...

TRANNY???

In the spirit of the release of the final book, I thought I'd do a Harry Potter post. I don't know what J.K. Rowling is playing at, but we're all expecting a big twist in the final chapter. Is this the twist? The Crying Game twist?

Just foreplay...

My latest British obsession (well, aside from notorious shit-talkers and rampant gig-cancellers Amy Wino and Lily Allen), Footballers Wives, finally returns to BBC America in its fabulous, fantastic, fifth and final series. So I'm a couple of weeks late, but I'm overjoyed to see that, in spite of all my fears, the show has not, in one particular personnage's absence, played out like its second-string sister show, Footballers Wives: Extra Time. Not only has it outdone Extra Time, it's outdone itself.

I'll admit it, in the year I've had to wait for new episodes, I might have already spoilt it for myself some by reading a few Series Five episode synopses. But reading doesn't compare to seeing all the drama and ridiculousness actually come alive on the big-screen TV.

Series Five picks up immediately following the fatal shooting of Sparks' most prized player Conrad Gates. With all the mystery surrounding Conrad's murder, Amber has become even more of a nutter, suspecting more than just a madman with a shotgun as Conrad's killer. Hiring psychics and praying to Conrad's spirit for guidance, Amber vows revenge on the one who is truly responsible.

We also find that, while abusive and a philanderer, Lucy has reconciled with Bruno. Only briefly, however. Once she discovers that Bruno's first marriage never officially ended, and that they in fact were never officially married, she decides to leave Bruno once and for all, humiliating him in front of all of Sparks and their friends on the day they were to renew their vows.
Broken down, Bruno curiously finds himself consoled in the arms of none other than Amber, the widow of his late best friend. Unbeknownst to Bruno, Amber's sudden affinity toward him is merely a tactic to learn the truth behind Conrad's murder. Suspecting Bruno in killing Conrad, Amber forces herself on Bruno, and into his house, so she can do some real sleuthing. The more she learns of Bruno's involvement, the madder she becomes, and the more she leads Bruno to believe he's going mad himself.

All the while, Sparks has been going through some major changes itself. The team welcomes new owner Garry Ryan, a former rock star and perennial sleazebag, who makes secret deals and uses his mob connections to bring the team success once again. Following Conrad's untimely death, Bruno is also promoted to team captain. But his glory won't last long.

Enter Tre Gidigbi, fresh from the slammer (for an allegedly race-related assault) and Sparks' latest hope, and his girlfriend Liberty, a world-famous supermodel whose bitchiness rivals that of some of our favorite footballers wives. We also meet Liberty's live-in assistant Urszula, and learn how Liberty's been able to remain 'faithful' to Tre while he's been in prison, when other men are concerned at least.

Sparks' other new signing Callum Watson, practically still a kid from the minor leagues, takes an instant liking to Shannon, but gets the cold shoulder at first. Eventually, Shannon reciprocates, but is slightly turned off by Callum's overbearing diabetic mother.

Meanwhile, Amber's plan to drive Bruno crazy must be working, since he is certain Conrad is haunting him. Bruno's descent into madness loses him his captaincy and nearly causes him to top himself. Once Amber is convinced Bruno is the murderer, and she is found out by Bruno and Lucy, she faces off with Bruno in one final, and very public, confrontation, during which she forces him onto his knees aiming a shotgun at his head. Her attempt to kill Bruno, however, is thwarted by Lucy, but the blast that goes off leaves Sparks' coach Roger Webb blind. We last see Amber being wheeled away to the loony bin.
Four episodes hardly seem enough to contain all this zaniness. But it's all just foreplay considering what is still to come. Conrad's death and Amber being put away only set the scene for the return of the original footballers wife, the infamous Tanya Turner, whom we last saw being forced into exile in Brazil by the Gates for scheming her way into Conrad's life, and bed, and switching her and Amber's babies at birth.
Footballers Wives is Tanya's show. And the show cannot go on without its star. We, the faithful fans of Footballers Wives, only knew it was a matter of time before Tanya returned. Her absence at the end of Series Four left us to focus on the ever-ennuiing marital disputes of Bruno and Lucy, whose constant back and forth was a far cry from Tanya's coke binges and manipulative nature. Let's not forget to mention she's a murderess (well, sort of; she just sped things up a little).

Watching Lucy and Bruno was a lot like watching Donna and Ian Walmsley from Series One, who were just not outrageous enough to compete with the likes of Tanya. Family drama is kid stuff in the world of Footballers Wives. And the fans probably seem to agree. I guess that's why the Walmsley's have "moved" on to Manchester.

Now that Tanya has returned, we'll be getting our show back! With three dead husbands, a dead baby, a drug and alcohol depedency, a stint in prison, and a lavish lifestyle to maintain (and not caring who she maims in doing so), who knows (well, I do, sort of. Fuck!) what other chaos she'll stir up. The bitch is back...and ready to reclaim her throne.
*photos courtesy of http://www.footballerswives.tv

The latest British Invasion...

For some reason, I seem to have missed the latest influx of British musicians to our fair United States. Usually, I'm right on top of things like this. I was listening to Goldfrapp, the Streets, Moloko, and the like well before anyone else here had even heard of them. Of course, living in Europe at the time might have given me an edge.

I am fortunate enough to have boarded the wacky Winehouse train before media outlets E! and Vh1 began reporting her drunken antics and congratulating her on her impromptu wedding. I was driving back from BART one afternoon and chanced upon her on the radio, a rarity for actual good music these days. And I'm happy I did. Despite all the media attention for her less than pristine behaviour, she managed to make a great album.

But one person I missed entirely was little Lily Allen, who's really too cute for her own good (seriously, it took me forever to choose a picture of her).
A couple weeks ago, I saw the video for "Smile," the first single off her debut album, Alright, Still, and even saw her on Vh1's Best Week Ever because, in true British fashion, she has a sharp tongue and likes to talk shit. But I just sort of brushed her aside then.

What enticed me to want to hear more was seeing a clip of Allen singing with Debbie Harry (Icon!) recently. From there, it was very simple. I listened to a few more tracks , mostly liked what I heard, and downloaded it. And now I can't help but continue to listen, and draw comparisons to other British artists I've heard in the past.

Alright, Still is a poppy, fun, and often funny album definitely worth a listen for Anglophiles like myself. Allen might not be the most original or talented singer, but she makes a good sound, which includes taking samples from 50 Cent, the Specials, reggae music, and the soundtrack to the erotic film Emmanuelle; knows how to please; and speaks her mind, which is always a plus.

Allen's style includes mixing an upbeat sound with darker, very frank lyrics, and a slew of gratuitous swears. She also raps! Well, sort of. Her half-singing, half-rapping is reminiscent of Mike Skinner from the Streets' "rapping" style. Some of her songs even mirror those of Skinner's from his past efforts.

The album opens with the mildly ska-laden "Smile," a song about getting back at an ex, and one of the album's stronger tracks. Allen keeps the energy pumping with "LDN," a reggae-inspired jam about how shitty city life can be in London, and her love for it. In "Everything's Just Wonderful," she woes about money, but manages to keep us feeling pretty good about it.

But she's not all about the good times; she also has a softer side. "Littlest Things," one of the few tracks whose music matches its lyrical content, deals with a potential break-up. It is slightly reminiscent of Skinner's "It's Too Late" from his debut, Original Pirate Material.

Allen then shows us her comedic side with the track "Knock 'Em Out," a song about trying not to get picked up by guys in bars, which is comparable to Skinner's "The Irony of It All" and "Fit But You Know It." Like Skinner, Allen plays different roles in the song, and the guy in the bar sounds surprisingly like Skinner himself. Also, like fellow compats Skinner and Amy Winehouse, she even sings about weed in the seemingly child-friendly "Alfie" to round out the album.

The result is a good, fun listen. Allen does a great job at making serious and sad sound fun and exciting. But she is also perfectly capable of making you feel down when she wants to. Her debut effort is just that, a great effort. Fuckers...

An Exercise in Hating...

In all my free time, I've decided I ought to polish up on my Photoshop skills, such as:

Learning about the 'Heal Tool,' finally.

And taking out some pent-up aggression on Larissa, aka Bootz, from Flavor of Love 2 and Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School, Vh1's latest time waster. Given her recent behavior on the show: scheming, picking fights with Brooke, Leilene, even Mo'Nique herself, I felt she needed some bling-bling text to expose her as the hater she is. And point out some of her more fashion faux pas.
My first: a play on the Bootz nickname. The Annie hair doesn't quite work for her.

I really have to give credit to Saaphyri for this one. Now, she might have been calling Cristal "man face," but I felt Bootz's features were looking particularly manly in this shot.

And speaking of Saaphyri, she really made her case (in beating up that white girl from the first episode of Flavor of Love 2) and won me over, earning her this:
My first-ever gif. That's right, Vote Saaphyri! If we could vote to choose the Charm School winner, that is.

I found another website explaining how to bling-up text and felt these looked a bit better. Unfortunately, her weave didn't...

And the coup de grâce...
I found this picture on the King Magazine website while searching for images of Bootz. Except it was very low res. It took a bit of searching, but I found a larger version of it. It seemed to me she was sitting on a toilet. The look on her face wouldn't contradict this theory. Really, she's on a washing machine, because, let's face it, she'd need to keep as clean as possible given her frequent exposure to ho's like the remaining Flavor of Love girls and stank-ass New York. I think it serves as a good public service announcement. Especially to those wanting a career in reality TV.

As Foxxy Love would say, Bling bling...

Oy Faye...

Once again, my love for Faye Wong has been rekindled, after chancing upon 2046 on TV. Enough so that I would sift through hundreds of my brother's videos to find Chungking Express, the movie that first introduced me to her (in its pre-Tarantino days).

She might have looked like a boy, but something about her, her, and not the woman in the blonde wig, not the flight attendant, not the pineapple-eating guy, made me remember her. When I got to college, high-speed Internet and Napster made me remember her even more. Several thousand downloads later, I was a fan (to say the least).

So, a lot of what I found on Napster, Audiogalaxy, Kazaa, and the like was poppy, and I would never be caught listening to anything similar in my own language, but what was left was really very good. The first Faye Wong song I was cognizant of was called "Unbelievable," one of those crap-pop songs, but one that will always remain dear to me.


However, the first time I really heard her was with this song:

A cover of the Cranberries' "Dreams," which appeared in Chungking Express. Stuff like this gave me the confidence to buy my first Faye CD without ever hearing a single track on it. I guess I made a pretty good decision, because Fable (寓言) did not disappoint. It didn't sound like anything I had previously heard from her. Her sound was maturing, and while it was still pop, it was good pop.

Soon after, I learned her sound had been evolving for some time. My second Faye purchase was Fable's predecessor Only Love Strangers (只愛陌生人), and this album, too, boasted a nice sound.

And who couldn't love it with videos like this?

My Faye love was so intense that when my university sponsored a trip to China, I jumped at the chance. There, I found Faye CDs at more than half the price. It was also cool to see China (of course!).

Since Faye has come into my life, she has remained a fixture, although not always permanent, in my music collection. I continued to buy her latest releases, such as her second self-titled album Faye Wong (王菲) in 2001, where she got new wave and electro pop, and 2003's To Love (將愛).

Lately, she's been in my iTunes for well over a year. And every once in a while, I get the urge to listen to her again, which leads me to believe she'll be here to stay. This time, it was seeing her in Wong Kar-Wai's 2046 that resparked my interests in her and her music. Watching Chungking Express again, for the first time in years, it's easy to see why she stood out so much in the first place. She shines, and her quirky, aloof performance brings an effervescence to an otherwise somber, while great, film.

Those eyes...

So it appears Isabelle Adjani is also a student of the Ilsa School for Eye Acting (founded by Dyanne Thorne circa 1975). She certainly makes it apparent in Nosferatu '79, ok, just the remake of Nosferatu from 1979. Her eyes convey more emotion than her acting could ever have in this film. It wasn't that bad, but it could have been better.

The film looked very nice. In fact, some of the best scenes included images of the German countryside and villages. These scenes also involved very little, or no, dialogue. The acting wouldn't have been so bad if the film had been made in, say, German, or French, or some language the actors actually spoke. But making it in English, possibly to gain a larger audience, wasn't the best move.

Adjani and her costar Bruno Ganz had, at that time, only been in one English-language movie each. Thus, the acting was pretty flat and uninspiring. Nonetheless, the actors' pronunciation made for some comical moments: Ganz's "Dracala" (Dracula) and Adjani's "Junuthin" (Jonathan), which they said quite frequently. The best English speaker of the bunch was probably Nosferatu himself (Klaus Kinski). Or maybe he was dubbed.

While the overall look of the film was good, some of the more interesting scenes were filmed with a hand-held camera. There were also some great images using rats (like the 'rat feast') after Dracula arrives in Germany(?). In the final scenes, when Lucy (Adjani) is trying to lure Dracula to her, we see her trip around the now desolate town that seems to have gone Pagan, with rats and other animals taking over, people dancing around the dead, and total chaos ensuing.

One thing I was not too thrilled with is the ending. Lucy sacrifices herself so that she can defeat Dracula to save (the weak ass) Jonathan, who inevitably becomes the new Dracula. Then Dr. Van Helsing gets arrested for "killing" the count (he was already dead) even though we learned earlier that the entire government had been dissolved (because everyone died) and there was no longer any police or anyone to guard the prisons. Kinda dumb.

Now let's enjoy more Isabelle Adjani eye acting. How many emotions can she convey with just her eyes?
Fear...

Empowerment...

Utter shock over how pale she really is.

Wow...