#(looking at you priest guy from that brazilian series)

[sunny-honeytears]

Words. Cant. Express. How. I. Love. Alfred. Joining. In. Prayer.

There is something in the way he sings GOD

Like at the start of the sentence you only hear Magda and Rebecca AND THEN OUT OF NOWHERE HIS VOICE JUST APPEARS AND TAKES OVER????

Edit: forgot to add its obviously the hungarian version

Please listen I LOVE IT SO MUCH

[khxpresh]

Rules | Seto Kaiba | Priest Set

OLD URL- KAIBACXRPS

All of my YGO blogs are on hiatus. I’ll only be around for my friends only & current mutuals. I’m not looking for new partners around this community.

Thanks for the great times!

About the mun:

*Mun’s face-claims are Anubis and Seth from the Oh, suddenly Egyptian god series!*

@hxdrostorm​ is where I’m currently at

Hello there! I am Vani! Any pronouns is fine, idc how you guys will address me by.

I am a brazilian, an university student.

25 years old

In terms of YGO, I haven’t touched this serie since the late 2000s, back when GX was the brand new hot stuff. I’ve watched the DM anime both dubbed and subbed.I’ve also watched season 0 and all the movies as well!

If you like my graphics or edits and would like something similar for you, then why not commission me? All my details are here!

Promo - 15/09/2021

Blogroll - Last edit 30/10/2021

Some further info:

Both Kaiba and priest Set are being exclusively based off the DM anime, with the GX continuity. I have no ties to any of the  movies (especially not DSoD), the manga or any of the games.

THIS IS A +18 YEARS OLD BLOG (due to a wide variety of subjects  that aren’t suitable for minors). AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE SOFTBLOCKED, REFOLLOWING ME WILL LEAD INTO BLOCKING.

Here’s my threads tracker!

(please consider supporting the dev’s work on patreon!)

There are very few things that I will refuse to write, obviously some subjects/ships/etc might be better kept off tumblr. But over all, don’t be afraid to approach me to discuss them! I will let  you know when something is making me uncomfortable, so we can change it. Controversial shipping? Plots? Just toss @ me fam! I won’t judge you  based off these things!

I just ask you to do  the same thing for me. If I ever end up making you feel uncomfortable, for WHATEVER reason, LET ME KNOW. Without a doubt it was all a matter of genuine mistake.

I reserve the right to unfollow and block anyone, I don’t owe an explanation for doing so. Do not evade it, nor send people after me in an attempt to score an answer for you. If you find out you’ve been blocked by me, move on like any other person would.  

While I have no problems with personal/non-rp blogs following and interacting with me/my posts, I need you guys to refrain from reblogging my threads/headcanons/edits/art that originates from this blog (unless I’ve said otherwise). This is because I don’t want it spreading around, and messing with my activity!

Reblog karma is in effect, if I reblog a prompt from you I will send in something back. And I expect the same from you, if you do nothing but reblog memes directly from me without sending anything back, you will be blocked. I have a tolerance when it comes to mutuals, I’ll contact you to stop with it. However, the same can’t be said for non-mutuals.  

Just don’t be a dick man, let’s all be civil around here.

I am NOT fictionkin nor self-insert friendly, I’ve had way too many bad run ins with those folks, and want nothing to do with them! Mun =/= Muse, if you can’t understand that concept then leave.

Non-mutuals: please refrain from sending prompts that have been  specifically tagged/marked as ‘mutuals’. They have been marked in such  way, for a reason. I get you may want to draw my attention to your blog,  however, that’s not the way to go about it (If you do this, I’ll likely  take it as an attempt to brute force your way into my boundaries. DMing  me is a whole lot better.). I take a while to follow people back, you can find more info in regards to  what I look into people’s blogs & take into consideration before  following back in my rules doc.    

I’m strongly against the idea of “if we’re mutuals, then we’re immediately friends!” (as it promotes an unhealthy sense of overfamiliarity, and it has put me in awkward situations in the past). My primary goal for RP is to write, I’m not actively seeking out to make friends. I’ll always treasure friendships made along the way, but this needs to be something that happens naturally. So please, don’t go around calling me a friend, unless we’ve known each other and have been in constant contact for quite some time. It’s nothing against anyone, that’s just how I roll.

[rpf-bat]

When You Wanna Be A Movie Star

Pairing: Ray Toro x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 13. Prompt: “Stigmata.” 

You’re a struggling actress, living in Los Angeles. When an audition doesn’t go the way you hoped, your friend Ray, tries to cheer you up, with a movie night. You tell him he can pick the film - and he immediately chooses Stigmata (1999). 

You jumped up when the phone rang. The caller ID, told you it was the producer of the television series that you’d auditioned for last week.

“H-Hello?” you said hopefully, trying not to sound like you were out of breath, from running across the room. 

“Hi, Y/N,” the Hollywood producer said jovially. “I just wanted to give you a courtesy call today, to let you know that we’ve selected another actress for the part.”

“.....Oh.” Your face fell. 

“Thanks so much for answering our casting call, though,” the man said politely. “We’ll be sure to give you a call, next time we’re seeking new talent.” 

“....Thanks,” you replied, tears welling up in your eyes, as you disconnected the call. You resisted the urge, to throw the phone across the room. 

I didn’t get the part, you thought miserably. I worked so hard to get my audition monologue just right, and it still wasn’t enough. 

You knew that if you stayed home tonight, you’d do nothing but cry about it. It was better to go out, and try and take your mind off it. Feeling in need of emotional support, you called your best friend, Ray. 

You two had known each other, since your second year of film school. But, rather than graduate alongside you, Ray had dropped out, in order to go on the road with his band. His gamble had more than paid off - The Black Parade had recently been certified platinum.

Despite his newfound fame, Ray still always managed to make time for those that knew him before he got ‘big’. He picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he said warmly. “How are you doing today?”

“Not so good, Toro,” you confessed. “Would it be alright with you, if I came over, and hung out tonight?”

“Sure, I didn’t have any plans,” Ray replied. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, it’s almost Halloween,” you pointed out. “How about a horror movie night? You can pick whichever movie you want, I don’t care.”

“In that case,” Ray suggested, “how about Stigmata?”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You showed up on his doorstep, later that night, a few bags of microwave popcorn in hand. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Ray smiled, opening his door for you. “Thanks for bringing the snacks! Come on in.” 

You walked into his spacious living room. His television was twice the size of yours. You couldn’t wait to see Patricia Arquette’s hands bleed in super-high-definition. 

“Out of all the horror films you have on tape,” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “you really want to watch Stigmata?”

Compared to other titles in Ray’s vast collection, like Friday The 13th or Dawn Of The Dead, you thought that Stigmata was kind of obscure. It had done decently well at the box office, when it first came out, but critics had panned it. 

“Well, I’ll always have a soft spot for Stigmata,” Ray confessed, “because you were in it.”

“I was barely in it,” you recalled. “I was just an extra, in the background. I didn’t even have any dialogue.”

“Still, it was your first role ever,” Ray remembered fondly. “You were so proud of yourself, when it first came out, you made everybody from school, go to the theater, and see it.” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. You’d thought, at the time, that it would be the beginning of your success story. Instead, over half a decade later, you were still struggling to get gigs. You’d had no choice, but to supplement your income, with a stereotypical barista job. 

It was Ray, who had actually become someone important. 

He sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him. 

“Are you ready to get spooked?” he grinned. “I’ll go pop the popcorn, if you get the VCR started.” 

“Sure,” you nodded, taking the VHS tape, from his outstretched hand. You were surprised that he still had a VCR. Over the last few years, DVD had quickly become the primary format for new film releases. Then again, Ray was an old-fashioned guy - most of the films he liked were classics.

You popped the tape into the VCR slot, and sat back down on the couch. He sat down beside you, a bowl of freshly popped corn in his hand. You dug your hand into the bowl, and dumped a handful of salty, buttery comfort food in your mouth, as Ray pressed play. 

The film opened with Gabriel Bryne’s character, watching a statue of the Virgin Mary, cry tears of blood. 

“Did you know he won a Razzie Award, for Worst Supporting Actor, for this film?” you scoffed. 

“Aw, did he really?” Ray laughed. “Poor dude. He tried.” 

“He was actually a decent guy,” you recalled. “He wasn’t too snooty, to talk to all the extras, who were filming this scene with him.” 

“Oh, look, there you are!” Ray said excitedly. He hit the pause button, freezing the frame. Bryne’s character, Father Andrew, was walking through a bustling Brazilian marketplace. The you of six years ago, stood behind him, playing the role of a nameless shopper. You were looking down, scrutinizing a piece of fruit that was for sale. 

“Yeah, blink, and you’ll miss me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I was in this movie, for a whole thirty seconds.” 

“Every time I watch this movie with the guys,” Ray confessed, “I point those thirty seconds out.”

“Do you really?” you blinked.

“Yeah,” Ray chuckled. “I’m like, look, there’s my friend! Isn’t she cool?”

“I’m not cool,” you frowned. “Ray, I’m not even cool enough, to get a part, on some stupid daytime soap opera.”

“Is that what you were upset about, when you called me earlier?” Ray realized, frowning. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I thought I did really good, at my audition. But, I guess I blew it.” 

“It’s okay,” Ray assured you, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll knock your next audition, out of the park.” 

“No, I won’t!” you said glumly. “Ray, I’ve been trying to get famous for years now, and I’m no closer to my goal, than I was the day I started.” 

“Fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, okay?” Ray grumbled. “Last week, I was super sick. Like, coughing up a lung….” 

“Oh, no,” you interrupted, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now,” Ray assured you. “My point was - I was feeling like absolute crap, and I just wanted to get some NyQuil, take it, and go to sleep. So, I’m standing in the cold and flu aisle, at the drugstore, and of course, this girl in a My Chemical Romance shirt comes up to me.” 

“Yikes,” you groaned. “She wanted an autograph?”

“Yeah!” Ray nodded. “I was like - really? Right now?!” 

“Did you tell her no?” you wondered. 

“Nah, I signed her thing,” Ray confessed. “But, honestly, I hate getting recognized in public like that, when I’m just trying to go about my business.” 

“You could have paid somebody to go to the store, and get the NyQuil for you,” you pointed out. 

“I mean, I could afford to,” Ray admitted. “But, I really don’t want to do that. I just want to be….a normal guy. Like I used to be, when we lived in New Jersey together.” 

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you frowned. “You’re the guitarist of one of the most popular bands on the planet.” 

“I don’t care about popularity,” Ray shrugged. “I just like making music.” 

“It’s not fair!” you snapped. “You have all this notoriety, and you don’t even want it! Meanwhile, I’ve always dreamed of becoming a Hollywood star - a household name. But, my biggest claim to fame, so far, is some shitty Pizza Hut commercial!” 

“I...I actually really liked that commercial,” Ray said softly. “Every time I saw it on TV, it put a smile on my face.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “My line in it, wasn’t even that funny.”

“I didn’t like it because of the script,” Ray confessed. “I liked it, because seeing your face, made me happy.” 

“What’s so special about my face?” you asked.

“Well…..it’s a very pretty face,” Ray mumbled, blushing. 

“Wh-What?” you stammered, your ears turning red. “You think that I’m pretty?” 

“I’ve always thought that, Y/N,” Ray whispered, his brown eyes, staring softly into yours. “I don’t love Stigmata, because of the script, or the cinematography, either. I don’t even care, that Billy Corgan did the soundtrack for it. I loved it, just because….I love you.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Could Ray actually return, the feelings you’d been keeping secret?

“You mean, you love me….like you love all your friends?” you guessed, trying not to get your hopes up. 

“No,” Ray shook his head, looking away from you, shyly. “Y/N… I mean, I love you, like a man loves a woman. I want you. Like...how Frankie wanted Father Andrew, in the second act of the movie.”

“Doesn’t he reject her advances, because he’s a priest?” you asked, recalling the film’s plot. 

“.....Are you gonna reject mine, too?” Ray breathed, eyes downcast.

“No,” you shook your head. “I sure as hell didn’t take any vow of celibacy, Toro. I want you right back.” 

You leaned over on the couch, and kissed him. He tasted salty, like popcorn. But, his touch, as he gently pulled you closer, was oh so sweet. 

“....I’ve wanted you all along,” Ray confessed, gently kissing you a second time. “I just didn’t know how to ask you, to be mine.” 

“Well, if you’re asking me now,” you smiled, pushing him backwards, into the couch cushions, “then I’m yours.” 

[kaibacxrps]

Read the rules before following & interacting!

About the mun:

*Mun’s face-claims are Anubis and Seth from the Oh, suddenly Egyptian god series!*

Hello there! I am Vani! Any pronouns is fine, idc how you guys will address me by.

I am a brazilian, an university student.

24 years old

In terms of YGO, I’ve recently low-key got myself back into it! I haven’t touched this serie since the late 2000s, back when GX was the brand new hot stuff. I’ve watched the anime both dubbed and subbed.

If you like my graphics or edits and would like something similar for you, then why not commission me? All my details are here!

Promo - 04/07/2021

Blogroll - last update 09/03/2021

Some further info:

Both Kaiba and priest Set are being exclusively based off the DM anime, with the GX continuity. I have no ties to any of the movies (especially not DSoD), the manga or any of the games.

THIS IS A +18 YEARS OLD BLOG (due to a wide variety of subjects that aren’t suitable for minors). AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE SOFTBLOCKED, REFOLLOWING ME WILL LEAD INTO BLOCKING.

Here’s my threads tracker!

(please consider supporting the dev’s work on patreon!)

There are very few things that I will refuse to write, obviously some subjects/ships/etc might be better kept off tumblr. But over all, don’t be afraid to approach me to discuss them! I will let you know when something is making me uncomfortable, so we can change it. Controversial shipping? Plots? Just toss @ me fam! I won’t judge you based off these things!

I just ask you to do the same thing for me. If I ever end up making you feel uncomfortable, for WHATEVER reason, LET ME KNOW. Without a doubt it was all a matter of genuine mistake.

I reserve the right to unfollow and block anyone, I don’t owe an explanation for doing so. Do not evade it, nor send people after me in an attempt to score an answer for you. If you find out you’ve been blocked by me, move on like any other person would.

While I have no problems with personal/non-rp blogs following and interacting with me/my posts, I need you guys to refrain from reblogging my threads/headcanons/edits/art that originates from this blog (unless I’ve said otherwise). This is because I don’t want it spreading around, and messing with my activity!

Reblog karma is in effect, if I reblog a prompt from you I will send in something back. And I expect the same from you, if you do nothing but reblog memes directly from me without sending anything back, you will be blocked. I have a tolerance when it comes to mutuals, I’ll contact you to stop with it. However, I have zero tolerance for non-mutuals.

Just don’t be a dick man, let’s all be civil around here.

I am NOT fictionkin nor self-insert friendly, I’ve had way too many bad run ins with those folks, and want nothing to do with them! Mun =/= Muse, if you can’t understand that concept then leave. 

Non-mutuals: please refrain from sending prompts that have been specifically tagged/marked as ‘mutuals’. They have been marked in such way, for a reason. I get you may want to draw my attention to your blog, however, that’s not the way to go about it (If you do this, I’ll likely take it as an attempt to brute force your way into my boundaries. DMing me is a whole lot better.). I take a while to follow people back, you can find more info in regards to what I look into people’s blogs & take into consideration before following back in my rules doc.

I’m strongly against the idea of “if we’re mutuals, then we’re immediately friends!” (as it promotes an unhealthy sense of overfamiliarity, and it has put me in awkward situations in the past). My primary goal for RP is to write, I’m not actively seeking out to make friends. I’ll always treasure friendships made along the way, but this needs to be something that happens naturally. So please, don’t go around calling me a friend, unless we’ve known each other and have been in constant contact for quite some time. It’s nothing against anyone, that’s just how I roll.

[madpanda75]

“The Honeymooners” Part of The Romantics Series

I’m back, my loves! The incredible @thatesqcrush requested the prompt: "I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would even notice.” for my Romantics Series from this deliciously smutty list. Forgive me if my writing is a little rusty. ❤️

NSFW (a little sex on the beach, anyone? 😜😉)

“Becks, I’m going to murder you,” you growled, opening your suitcase only to discover your trusty basic black one piece bathing suit had been replaced by the tiniest white string bikini you had ever seen. In fact, with the exception of your toothbrush, you didn’t recognize any of the items in your suitcase. It quickly became apparent that your oldest friend had swapped out all of your clothes with skimpy skin-tight dresses and lingerie that would make a porn star blush. This was the first and last time you would ever ask Becks to help you pack. On the inside pocket of your suitcase there was a note:

If you want to let them know that there is steak for dinner, you gotta let them hear it sizzle. Enjoy St. Barts! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! XOXOXO Becks

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh after reading her words of wisdom. Holding the itsy bitsy swimwear up to your body, you looked yourself over in the mirror. A soft smile tugged at your lips when you spied the wedding ring on your finger.

It took twenty years to finally bring you and Rafael together. To say it was a whirlwind romance would be an understatement. A month after you reconnected at your fateful college reunion, Rafael proposed. It wasn’t too much later that a priest was pronouncing you man and wife in front of family and friends. When deciding on where to spend your honeymoon, your husband suggested St. Barts and you were all too eager to agree, wanting nothing more than to sip cocktails and lounge around in paradise with the love of your life. Of course at the time, you hadn’t envisioned doing all that dressed in two napkins and dental floss.

You let out a long sigh, trying to decide how you were going to pull this off when a knock interrupted your thoughts. “Mi amor? Everything ok in there?” Rafael asked through the door.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Figuring that you didn’t have any other choice other than going to the beach naked, you changed into the swimsuit. Much to your surprise, the bikini didn’t look half bad on you. The white mesh top had a sun floral applique which strategically covered your nipples while the cheeky Brazilian bottom accentuated your ass. You thought you looked pretty sexy in it. Sure having your bare butt cheeks almost all out on display was stepping way out of your comfort zone, but wasn’t Becks always telling you to show off your body more and after all you were on your honeymoon. If there was ever an appropriate time for sexy revealing outfits, this would be it.

Looking yourself over one more time in the mirror, you spritzed some beach spray in your hair, put on your cover up, and left, anxious to see what Rafael’s reaction would be with your choice of swimwear.

*****

You plopped your bag down on one of the hotel lounge chairs overlooking the sandy white beach. “This is the perfect spot.”

Rafael sat down on the seat next to you and shed his shirt, glancing wistfully between you and the brilliant turquoise ocean that lay before him. “I know that I was the one talking up the beautiful St. Barts beaches but now that I’m here with you.” He reached out and pulled you down onto his lap causing you to squeal in surprise. “I’d much rather be naked, laying in bed with you and worshipping every square inch of your body,” Rafael practically growled in your ear, planting a kiss on the crook of your neck.

You whimpered, unable to resist his touch. “I promise we will but right now I want to spend an afternoon at the beach with my husband. Besides, you can still touch me,” you purred, reaching your arm back to wrap around his neck. “Why do you think I picked a spot away from all the other guests?”

“I love the way your mind works,” Rafael whispered, planting a searing hot kiss on you, teasingly tracing your lips with his tongue before reluctantly letting you go. “It is a gorgeous day though.” He laid back and relaxed, looking up at the sky, the bright sun warming his skin when he spied you taking off your coverup, revealing your sexy swimsuit. Rafael popped up out of his chair, his jaw all but dropping into the sand. “Wow,” he breathed.

“See something you like,” you replied nonchalantly with a wicked grin on your face.

“You could say that.” Rafael removed his sunglasses, drinking you in from head to toe, every drop of blood in his body pooling in his groin. “Is...is that a new swimsuit?” He stammered.

You blushed. “Yeah, Becks repacked my suitcase. What do you think, Papi?” You slowly twirled, showing off your scantily clad body.

Rafael was mesmerized. He shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom that this seductive temptress standing before him was his wife. “I think I should send Becks a thank you card.”

“I’m happy you approve.” You reached into your bag and pulled out the sunscreen, handing it over to Rafael. “You know, counselor. I think I need some help with my sunscreen. I just can’t get to those hard to reach places.” You pouted, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

“I think I can lend a hand,” Rafael replied with a smirk, motioning to the chair for you to lay down. You happily obliged, rolling over on your stomach, exposing your cheeky backside.

Rafael softly groaned at the sight. He squirted some lotion onto your back and began massaging it in. Now it was your turn to groan, feeling him work out knots you didn’t even know you had. You were literally putty in his hands. “Mmmm, did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got magic fingers.”

Before Rafael could respond, the cabana waiter approached you both. “Good afternoon, can I get you two something to drink?”

You turned towards the young man and smiled. “Can I get a glass of scotch with a teeny umbrella in it?”  

Rafael snorted a laugh at your frilly accoutrement. “I’ll also have a scotch, minus the umbrella.”

Once the waiter left to get your drinks, Rafael continued to massage you, his big hands moving to caress the backs of your thighs, slowly inching towards your center. “You’re so sexy. Do you have any idea how bad I want you right now?” He said in a husky voice. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would even notice.”

You softly moaned in response, feeling his index finger brush up against your slit, already you were beginning to get wet. Tilting your head up, you captured his lips with yours, turning your body around and pulling him down on top of you. Rafael growled against your mouth, his tongue brushing up against yours, deepening the kiss. It was out of character for both of you to be this blatant about PDA, especially in broad daylight in front of random strangers. Perhaps it was the gorgeous beach setting or maybe it was the new alluring swimsuit. Whatever the reason, neither of you could keep your hands off each other and you didn’t care who saw.

Just when you were about to kick it up to an R-rated lip lock, the waiter came back with your order, clearing his throat to get your attention. Rafael sat up, covering himself with a towel to hide his growing erection. “Thank you,” he grumbled, not appreciating the interruption. Taking both drinks, he handed over yours.

The waiter stood there, his eyes glued to your chest while you happily sipped on your drink. “Will...will...you be needing anything else?” He asked.

“Nothing comes to mind,” Rafael curtly replied, blocking you from the waiter’s prying eyes. “You can charge the drinks to the honeymoon villa. The name is under Barba. Mr. and Mrs. Barba,” he emphasized, protectively winding an arm around your neck.

“Yes, sir.” The waiter blushed from being caught ogling you and quickly scampered away.

“Babe, behave,” you playfully scolded.

“That guy was practically leering at you.” Rafael glanced between you and where the waiter had run off to.

You shrugged and adjusted your bikini top in case of a potential nip slip. “Well to be fair, I’m practically naked. Besides, you know there's no one I would rather be with than you,” you softly said, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re my world, Mr. Barba.”

“And you’re mine, Mrs. Barba.” He cupped your face and kissed you soft and sweet.

You rested your forehead against his, letting out a contented sigh before getting a mischievous glint in your eye. “Race you to the water!” You jumped up and ran to the beach, splashing in the surf.

Rafael ran after you, grabbing you by the waist and twirling you around. The sound of your laughter took him back twenty years, making him feel like a teenager in love all over again.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open, a cool breeze whipping across your tanned skin. You stretched your limbs, feeling relaxed and rested from your nap after spending a glorious afternoon with your husband. The sun was just beginning to set. With the exception of a few beach stragglers, everyone had gone, leaving you both alone.

Glancing next to you was Rafael, still fast asleep in his lounge chair, the book he had been reading lay abandoned on his chest. You couldn’t help but stare, taking in the slight definition of his arms, his soft belly, all the way down to his muscular calves. He was bronzed by the sun and absolutely beautiful, strong yet so cuddly. The perfect man. Your perfect man. You almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Sliding off your chair, you moved to straddle him, gently leaving a trail of soft open-mouthed kisses on his neck, while your fingers ran through the smattering of hair across his chest. You inhaled deeply, the fresh earthy smell of the beach combined with a scent that was uniquely him drove you mad with lust. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” you whispered in his ear, playfully biting down on his lobe.

Rafael stirred and opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “Hi,” he said, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Hi,” you smiled back and nuzzled your nose against his.

He sat up and stared at you, gently running his hands over your body. The sunset almost made it look like you were glowing, brilliant hues of yellow, orange, and red streaked your skin. Your hair wild and wavy. You were like a goddess and Rafael was all too willing to worship at your feet.

Moving his hands to the back of your neck, he pulled you down for a passion-fueled kiss, his tongue parting your lips, caressing your own. You sighed against his mouth, matching his intensity as you kissed him back.

Threading his fingers in your hair, Rafael tugged your head to the side, exposing your neck, painting your skin with his tongue, You tasted sweet and salty, the ocean still clinging to your body. With his free hand, he exposed one of your breasts. His mouth hovered over it, tracing your nipple with his tongue before sucking on the hardened bud. “Oh, Rafael,” you gasped, arching into his touch.

He pulled your bikini bottoms to the side, trailing a single digit against your slit. “Wanna finish what we started earlier?” He purred, slowly circling your clit.

“Yes, please,” you whimpered.

Rafael teased your entrance, smirking while you squirmed against him before sliding a finger inside your dripping sex. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You have the hottest pussy, mi amor.”

You moaned, feeling Rafael stroke your walls. Adding a second finger, he thrusted them in and out of your sheath, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You squeezed your eyes shut, your head rolling forward, already being pulled to the edge.

Rafael lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-foam green eyes were practically black. “Look at me,” he growled. “I wanna watch you come for me.” You nodded your head, struggling to keep your focus on him. Rafael began to move faster, crooking his fingers every time he plunged inside you. He was transfixed, watching you fall apart from his hand, your face completely wrecked.

You grabbed his left hand and brought his ring finger up to your mouth, your tongue sliding over the cool metal of his wedding band, your eyes never leaving his. One final crook had you shuddering and moaning around his digit.

“That’s it, baby girl. Come hard for me.” Rafael felt a surge of wetness around his fingers, stroking you through your release. Your body fell slack against him, your breathing labored as you pulled his ring finger out of your mouth. He slowly removed his fingers from you and slid his digits across your lips, glossing them with your essence. You stared at him with hooded lust-filled eyes, licking your lips, your taste flooding your mouth.

Rafael groaned at the sight. “Eres tan sabroso,” he whispered, sucking the rest of your juices off his hand. He kissed you hard, your tongues battling for dominance. His erection pressed between your bodies.

You freed his hard hot cock and dragged your wet folds against his length, whining when you felt his crown brush up against your swollen clit, his precum mixing with the remnants of your orgasm. Aligning his member with your sheath, you sank down on him, both of you groaning when your hips made contact.

After a moment, you lifted off him until just the tip remained before impaling yourself on him again. His thrusts were slow and deep. Your slick muscles gripping him tight, giving you the fullness you craved. Rafael tugged you down for a kiss, both of you moaning and grunting with effort into each other’s mouths, your breaths mingling, desperate to be as close as humanly possible. You were each other’s soulmates. Each other’s everything. You pulled back, watching how his face contorted in pleasure matching the expression on your own face.

“I love you,” you breathed, kissing any part of him you could reach.

“I love you too,” he replied in a strained voice.

Having had enough of the exquisite torture of long languid strokes, he grabbed your ass, urging you to ride him more insistently. You bounced up and down on his cock, his fingertips digging into your flesh as he guided you down on him. The sounds of the waves crashing against the shore drowned out your collective moans.

“Raf, I’m so close. Come with me. I wanna feel you come inside me. Please,” you begged, grinding down on him harder.

He shuddered, feeling your walls begin their tell-tale dance against his shaft. Planting a foot on the sand, he bucked up into your sheath, driving into you over and over again. “Raf….Raf...I...I,” you sobbed, mumbling incoherently. The love you felt for Rafael combined with the ecstasy you were experiencing washed over you, consumed you. Your body about to explode.

Rafael held you tight, your bodies pressed together, rocking against one another. “I’m here. I’m right here. I have you,” he panted. You both came simultaneously, biting into each other’s shoulders, muffling your mingled rapturous cries. You lost track of how long you stayed wrapped around each other, your chests heaving from exertion, sweat dripping off your bodies.

“What a way to start our honeymoon,” you said after a while, tracing the bite mark on his shoulder.

“What a way to start our life together.” Rafael smiled and ran his fingers across a similar bite mark he had left on you. The marks you made on each other were almost primal, a way of claiming the other person as if to tell the world you were his and he was yours. “So are there anymore surprises I should know about?” Rafael asked, teasingly snapping your bikini strap.

You giggled. “I may have a few more pieces tucked away in my bag that I’ll model for you later on tonight. But right now, can you just hold me?”

“Always,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. You nestled against his chest, placing your hand over the spot where his heart lay. Rafael held you close, running his fingers up and down your spine. Knowing that he got to spend the rest of his life with you in his arms made him feel like the luckiest man alive. You both laid there watching the sun sink below the horizon, neither of you ready to let that perfect moment go.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @raulmonamour @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @dreila03 @melsquared79

[micaramel]

Artists: Leonor Antunes, Noah Barker, Sadie Benning, François Curlet, Stéphane Dafflon, Brice Dellsperger, Guy de Cointet, Trisha Donnelly, Eliza Douglas, Claire Fontaine, Jef Geys, Liam Gillick, Joseph Grigely, Guyton\Walker, Carsten Höller, Michel Houellebecq, Dorothy Iannone, Aaron Flint Jamison, Pierre Joseph, Ben Kinmont, Adriana Lara, Pierre Le Tan , Ingrid Luche, Mïrka Lugosi, Monica Majoli, M/M (Paris), Sarah Morris, Mrzyk & Moriceau, Jean Painlevé, Philippe Parreno, Bruno Pelassy, Rob Pruitt, Sarah Pucci, Torbjørn Rødland, Allen Ruppersberg, Bruno Serralongue, Shimabuku, Lily van der Stokker, Sturtevant, Jean-Luc Verna

Venue: Air de Paris

Exhibition Title: More

Date: October 20 – December 14, 2019

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of Air de Paris, Paris. Photos by Marc Domage.

Press Release:

To mark the opening of the new Air de Paris in Romainville we’re delighted to be presenting the choral exhibition More: 40 artists on four floors and the chance for a stroll through all the gallery’s spaces, from cellar to attic, from reserves to roof terrace.

Running over a three months time, this exhibition will see the achievement of the interior design of the gallery, a project led by Sébastien Truchot – PCA STREAM

We’ll also be welcoming Linda Grabe and her wine webzine Le Volatile, le roman du vin.

For some 30 years now Air de Paris has cultivated a fondness for the peripheral. The move to Romainville shows us pursuing this notion in a restating of Liam Gillick’s maxim «Just More/More Just».

GROUND FLOOR

We’ve opted to have you enter Air de Paris via the office. You’ll be welcomed by the gallery team. And get to see how things work. Two works by Liam Gillick are already visible from outside the gallery, on display like the paintings you see in the more classical venues – on Rue de Seine, for example. These digital prints were part of the artist’s works posted in the streets during his participation in the 2013 White Nights in Paris.

We see the double slogan «Just More/More Just» as heralding a new era of trying to be more equitable, more ecological and more just in our dealings. Liam Gillick, Just More! 2013/More Just!, 2013

On your left as you come in is a Project by Pierre Joseph dating from his first solo exhibition at Air de Paris, in 1992, when we were in Nice. We were unequivocally neighbours of the church of Saint Rita; the parish priest had given us a statue of the saint, which had been set in a niche over the gallery door and blessed the day the first exhibition opened in 1990. Pierre Joseph’s Projects imbued contemporary art with the imaginative spirit of the video games and role play still in their infancy. Pierre Joseph, Projet, 1992

A big bouquet of long-stemmed flowers: Jean-Luc Verna’s Vase Misère is a self-portrait – the artist’s face with his hands forcing a smile and giving him the look of a clown. The Joker? Jean-Luc Verna, Vase Misère #3, 2013

Serve yourself from the rack: Claire Fontaine postcards, iconic images wittily tweaked with verbal modifications: L.G.B.T.Q. replaces Marcel Duchamp’s L.H.O.O.Q, which, according to Freud, triggered the question of Mona Lisa’s gender. Claire Fontaine, Untitled (Postcard rack / L.G.B.T.Q / L.G.B.T.Q. shaved), 2017

Set against a red wall, a Sturtevant video demands your attention: Hello! We live together at Disney World and all around us is the image pornography churned out by the big entertainment corporations. Sturtevant, HELLO !, 2006

Our office tables are an artwork by Aaron Flint Jamison for Éditathon Art + Féminisme 2016. Produced by Lafayette Anticipations – Galeries Lafayette Foundation as part of the worldwide Art+Feminism campaign, and orchestrated by Kvardek du and Flora Katz. The artist has activated a new message on the LED scrollers.Aaron Flint Jamison, , 2016

Hanging on the pillar, a portrait of Clément by Michel Houellebecq. Michel Houellebecq, Pelage d’hiver

Cats – never far from the dog!? Mrzyk & Moriceau, Sans titre, 2014

Early in the 1960s Sturtevant reprised graphic artist George Herriman’s Krazy Kat, after Öyvind Fahlström: two artists from our pantheon; two stalwarts for the price of one. Sturtevant, Krazy Kat, 1986

Beneath the windows, a large red lily. In another conceptual overlay Pierre Joseph does photographs that repeat the prints and drawings of Pierre Joseph Redouté. Pierre Joseph, #pierrejosephredouté, Lys hybride (rouge), 2017

Now it’s upstairs to the exhibition floors or down to the basement (our storage area) to view a work you’ve requested here in the office.

THE BASEMENT

A mysterious photograph by Trisha Donnelly. What to say about it? A snowdrift, a garage door, an image that can be hung every which way – an image that has no sense. Trisha Donnelly, Robert, 2001

1ST FLOOR

The 1st floor is an exhibition space whose unusual windows put us at a far remove from the classical white cube. It’s time to be thinking about different ways of presenting painting, and it’s fun. Maybe the kind of running structure used for election posters in the street? Or a return to the hanging rail?

So here you are at last in a real exhibition space.

An exhibition within an exhibition? Opposite you a painting by Eliza Douglas hung on a pillar reproduces a Josh Smith exhibition view, found on the Internet. Eliza Douglas, Josh Smith, 2018

A search for the centre ground kept in check by violence, disorder and conspiracy: a work by Liam Gillick. A large mirror searching for the three main characters from his book Le Grand Centre de Conférence. We are all characters in search of an author. Liam Gillick, A search for the centre ground kept in check by violence, disorder and conspiracy, 1998

You’ll notice along the way that this exhibition contains many works in the form of chairs, tables, doors and shelves. This is emphatically not a matter of design; these works point up the domestic and professional environments as augmented, highlighted spaces. Their pared-down or, sometimes, exaggerated, Luna Park-like shapes occupy this inaugural presentation like spectres, or punctuate it like clues.

To the right of the mirror Ingrid Luche’s little door suggests a grotesque space, the entrance to a haunted house, or a funfair attraction. Ingrid Luche, Petite Porte, 2012

Mirrors again. In Monica Majoli’s house in Los Angeles the bedroom walls are covered with black mirrors. It’s in this setting that she has photographed several of her lovers, so as to paint their portraits some years later. This lithograph depicts the odd plays of light caused by the reflections in these dark mirrors. Monica Majoli, Black Mirror (Jarrett), 2009-12

Joseph Grigely’s Storage Rack is part of a group of works he calls «leftovers». However, these are not real objects that have been junked, but rather never-made or remade objects, reified extensions of their preceding reality. The transparent resin shelf might have been used for storing paint, but no longer serves any purpose. It belongs to an unknown world, like the elements of a classical still life. Joseph Grigely, Storage Rack, 2012

The design work of Brazilian architect Lina Bo Bardi (1914–1992) has influenced several works by Leonor Antunes. In this case some of Bo Bardi’s experiments with form and proportion have left their mark on a series of wenge wood screens. These shapes are based on concrete components she had made in 1988 for the Casa do Benim in Salvador de Bahia, in northern Brazil. Leonor Antunes, a secluded and pleasant land in this land i wish to dwell #2, 2014

Marcel Duchamp spoke of a coat hook lying on the floor, «a real coat hanger that I wanted sometime to put on the wall and hang my things on but I never did come to that – so it was on the floor and I would kick it every minute, every time I went out – and I got crazy about it and I said to hell with it, if it wants to stay here and bore me, I’ll nail it down and it will just stay there.» Pierre Joseph has doubled the size of the Trap. Pierre Joseph, Décor, Trébuchet (Marcel Duchamp), 1992/2017

Philippe Parreno was artistic director of the opera Il Tempo del Postino in 2007. There’s a photograph of his performance: he’d hired a ventriloquist, who introduced each artist’s contribution and read a text about the relations between time and the work of art from behind a magnifying glass. In that way he became his own puppet. The photograph, signed by the artist and the ventriloquist, illustrates the question, «Who’s speaking?» Philippe Parreno, Postman Time, 2007

Nearby, the Maison-Oreille (House of Hearing) is a model thought up by Carsten Höller and Philippe Parreno for a listening post where you could spend the night tuned in to ambient sound: nature, aeroplanes, shooting stars, etc. Carsten Höller et Philippe Parreno, Maison-Oreille, 2013

Hung in front of a window to the left, François Curlet’s neon sign could have provided the title for this exhibition. Might not this disposition of artworks proceed from a slight perversion of the conceptual masked by all the different forms? One day an exhibition curator described our programme as «conceptual trash». You could also call it «conceptual art brut». François Curlet, Western, 2005/2006

The crackle of the neon light accentuates the flickering of Ingrid Luche’s fireplace painting, set under a window and maybe suggesting a scene from Clifford D. Simak’s City.Ingrid Luche, Chinoiserie (Feu de cheminée), 2014

In an elegant vitrine ten delicate replicas of mildly hallucinatory double mushrooms are aligned as if in a natural history museum. Carsten Höller, Double Mushroom Vitrine (Tenfold), 2018

The title of Pierre Joseph’s lightbox describes the work perfectly: a reprise, in the musical sense, of a cowboy already twice- famous, thanks first to Marlboro, then to Richard Prince. What the title omits is the work’s melancholy. Pierre Joseph, Décor, Marlboro cow-boy (Richard Prince), 1992/2019

Red, too, is the spring of the neon towards Sadie Benning’s transgender painting/bas-relief. Sadie Benning, X, 2016

Chairs here and there; these have been customised by Rob Pruitt as stop-offs or resting places.

2ND FLOOR

On the 2nd floor we’ve planned a projection room, an exhibition area and a semi-private space behind a revolving door. The interior layout is by Sébastien Truchot of the PCA-Stream office.

A memory warp? The same Josh Smith exhibition view as before – but hey, isn’t it bigger? Eliza Douglas, Josh Smith, 2018

On the outside of the right-angled wall marking out the future projection space is Allen Ruppersberg’s Le Mot Juste. That «just» again, and a horizon line. Seven screenprints for a samurai poem. Allen Ruppersberg, Le Mot Juste and The Circus, 1988

Facing you, yet another door, drawn by Pierre Le-Tan. We pay him our respects here: he left us on 17 September and we miss him.Pierre Le-Tan, Sans titre, 2017

La Chaise Jaune and la Chaise Bleue (The Yellow Chair and the Blue Chair) were part of Guy de Cointet’s set for his performance De Toutes les Couleurs (1982, Museo Reina Sofia, Madrid). The chairs and another part of the set disappeared and it was only thanks to the artist’s meticulous archiving – colour ranges, dimensional sketches, performance photographs – that these two multiples, identical to the originals, could be made. Guy de Cointet, Chaise Bleue, Chaise Jaune [De toutes les couleurs, 1982], 2018

The angularity of the backrests of these chairs is also to be be found in two late de Cointet drawings of pared-down Californian desert landscapes. Guy de Cointet, Sans titre, ca. 1980

Adriana Lara’s «wall piece» is an irregularly cut sheet of plaster mounted on stretcher. A deformed section of wall, repainted with the same white as the wall it is affixed to. Adriana Lara, Wall Piece #3, 2015

Rob Pruitt decided one day that as long as pandas were still around, he would paint them. This was his response to the threat to biodiversity in the Capitalocene era.Rob Pruitt, Picnic, 2017

A witty practitioner of Surrealist collage, Pruitt has made tables out of silver-coated tyres set on roller skates. This one is a fruit bowl.Rob Pruitt, Roller Rink Coffee Table II (Fruit Bowl), 2017

Bruno Pelassy was a close friend of Air de Paris who died in 2002. Here we present one of his last works: an unfinished mechanical toy arrayed in feathers and snakeskin. Bruno Pelassy, Sans titre, 2001

Dedicated daily repetition gave rise to the plastic-bedecked objects made by Sarah Pucci, mother of the artist Dorothy Iannone. These intensely committed creations date from the second half of the 20th century and were regularly posted to her daughter, who was then based in Europe. Proofs of motherly love, they gleam with a steroidally idealised, carnivalesque beauty. Sarah Pucci, A Heart That Sees You, 1990s

To the left, under the windows, you can follow the doings of Andy Capp, the English comic-strip character created by Reg Smyth and published in the Daily Mirror since 1957. Double-exposure photography has him trotting his cap-and-ciggie through building sites that are a metaphor for our lives. Torbjørn Rødland, ACV01, ACV06, ACV07, ACV14, ACV17, 2009

M/M (Paris): two talented graphic artists who minted the Komunuma logo. One M has a gifted hand and draws. The other M has a gifted ear and in 1998 composed the techno sound track for Sturtevant’s Ça va aller exhibition. Facing you here is a large, luminously stylised lion. M/M (Paris), Zu Assenheim, 2006

At the far end of the room the place for the future projection screen is currently covered by a billboard-sized image of Santa by the sea. This is, in fact, Shimabuku, who in 1991 collected garbage on this forsaken beach and provided a quick, mind- boggling image for any high-speed train travellers who happened to be looking out the window at the right moment. Father Christmas gathering refuse on a soiled seashore. Speculative ecological poetry. Shimabuku, Noël dans l’hémisphère Sud, 1994/1999

More light! You’ll excuse the shortfall in this room, but the renovations are running behind time and the additional lighting is still on the waiting list. You’re in a work in progress.

A wall of drawings brings together Mathias Augustyniak’s women in 68 colours, Mïrka Lugosi’s triadic women and Dorothy Iannone’s weeping Statues of Liberty (Iannone is currently showing solo at the Centre Pompidou) : Mathias Augustyniak, Woman in 68 colors n°3 ; Woman in 68 colors n°4, 2010 ; Dorothy Iannone, Our Liberties, 2015 ; Mïrka Lugosi, Variations Schlemmer n°1 ; Variations Schlemmer n°2 ; Variations Schlemmer n°3, 2009-2012

Let’s not forget Jean-Luc Verna’s made-up birds : Jean-Luc Verna, Madame Rature, 2019; Jean-Luc Verna, Pank, 2019. Last of all, Sarah Morris’s combination of painting and cinema, with gouache overlaid on original film posters: good old Alain Delon in a samurai face-off with Santa Claus. Sarah Morris, Tiger [Le Samourai], 2017

As you leave, high up on your left, is a spider ready to spring: the work of Jean Painlevé, the great filmmaker and photographer who devoted his life to the depths of the sea. Jean Painlevé, Araignée sauteuse, 1930

You’re drawn through the big revolving door by the sound of Saturday Night Fever blasting out of the little yellow TV set we used for showing Brice Dellsperger’s first films back in the 1990s. Double recall. Brice Dellsperger, Body Double 13, 1999

Above it, a gouache in which we see the artist duplicated and as Angie Dickenson, when he played all the parts from Brian de Palma’s Dressed to Kill (1980) for his Body Double 15. Brice Dellsperger, Angie said « Meet me at the Met (featuring Alex Katz and Tom Palmore), 2019

But hey, I live in France, and here’s an ageless photograph by Michel Houellebecq, a bucolic image brought to Le Bas-Pays, the industrial estate in Romainville. Michel Houellebecq, France #024, nd.

On the way to the kitchen, an unstretched digital canvas by Stéphane Dafflon: Stéphane Dafflon, TL005, 2019. And here you are in a space that will be semi-private: the planned site for the kitchen (we make good risotto at Air de Paris),a room for chatting or relaxing, and a library. A space that’s domestic but not yet domesticated. Under the window on the right a piece of tangy daffiness by Lily van der Stokker says nothing apart from its absurd, caustic Dasein. Lily van der Stokker, Nothing (Dark Pink), 2014

En face, une œuvre joyeusement colorée de Guyton\Walker, une impression numérique recto-verso sur matelas. Guyton\Walker, Stripe_Venice_Paris_Abstractcanvas80_, 2013

«Each of us had more drinks every day than the number of lies told by a labour union during a wildcat strike»: an excerpt – a kind of led-driven ritornello – from In GirumImus Nocte Et Consomimur Igni by Guy Debord (1978). Upcoming psychogeographic driftings through the Paris suburbs. The fridge isn’t part of the work. Noah Barker, Decommissioned Cuba Libre Assembly Line Clock (Debord), 2018.

Two rare paintings by Dutch artist Jef Geys, in which he takes the orientally-inflected patterns of earthenware tiles made by the Gavra company in his beloved Campine (Dutch: De Kempen) and blows them up to a metre square. Jef Geys, Untitled (Gavra series), 1980s, acrylique sur toile, signé au dos.

In Marinetti’s opinion, people think, dream and act according to what they eat and drink. Which is how cooking became an integral part of the Futurist artistic experience. Ben Kinmont’s actions test the resistance of the work of art in contexts not strictly speaking artistic: a dinner, participation in a salon, an ephemeral action. Thus gastronomy, as an artistic but temporary structure, becomes a potent model for testing out art’s limitations.

Kinmont organised his gustatory exhibitions in Montpellier (2002), Amsterdam and New York (2011), and Rome (2015)/ The menus are traditionally printed using lead type. Ben Kinmont, An exhibition in your mouth [Montpellier: Antinomian Press, 2002], 2002 Ben Kinmont, An Exhibition in your Mouth [Amsterdam: Antinomian Press, 2011], 2011 Ben Kinmont, An Exhibition in your Mouth [New York: Antinomian Press, 2011], 2011 Ben Kinmont, An Exhibition in your Mouth [San Francisco: Antinomian Press, 2012], 2012 Ben Kinmont, An Exhibition in your Mouth [Rome: Antinomian Press, 2015], 2015

Bruno Serralongue has been making regular visits to Calais since 2006, bringing back images of the «Jungle», the migrants and the «state shanty town». His work is currently on show at the Centre Pompidou. For lack of supplies the Calais Kitchen, run by English volunteers, had to close for a week in July 2016. A week is a very long time when you’re enduring conditions like these. Bruno Serralongue, Dear Friends, « bidonville d’État » pour migrants, Calais, 07 juillet 2016, 2016

THE ROOF TERRACE THE FUTURE

During the opening week of Komunuma the Frac Ile-de-France presented an installaiton by Michel Blazy (Sculpcure : Orange Bar, 2009)

Soon in a wooden shed – we will name it Delphine – we will display curiosities.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this visit and your meeting with 40 Air de Paris’ artists. Thanks for coming – we look forward to seeing you again.

Link: “More” at Air de Paris

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[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior  Movie Preview November 27, 2019 – KNIVES OUT, QUEEN AND SLIM, THE TWO POPES, 63 UP

You might notice that this column is no longer called “What to Watch This Weekend.” There are reasons for that I will not go into in much detail right at this time. I’ve always considered myself an original and when I recently learned the title had already been used long before “I came up with it,” I had to change gears and go back to a more familiar title. I have a feeling that few people read this column each week to even notice the difference.

Of course, Disney’s Frozen 2 will win the weekend, but the big new release has to be Rian Johnson’s KNIVES OUT (Lionsgate), which has such a to-die-for cast, including Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette, LaKeith Stanfield and many more. You can read my review of that here, and obviously I’m very bullish on recommending this to people since it’s such a fun whodunit, much better than last year’s Murder on the Orient Express. I really hope this does well since it will allow Johnson to keep making cool and original movies like this.

The other movie opening this weekend is Lena Waithe’s QUEEN AND SLIM (Universal), directed by Melina Matsoukas (who directed that long-form Beyoncé music video), and starring Daniel Kaluuya and Jodie Turner-Smith. 

I wasn’t going to review this, but I might as well use this space to talk about the problems I had with the movie. I feel I might be mainly on my own with this one, but it reminded me so much of Moonlight, a movie I was pretty non-plussed by, yet that not only went to the Oscars but won Best Picture that year. Huh. 

I feel like Queen and Slim is another example of a movie that will be pushed for its SJW message even if the story has so many issues that I’m shocked so many people are overlooking them. The essential premise has Kaluuya and Turner-Smith as a couple who meet on a Tinder date, she a defense lawyer whose client has just been sentenced to death. After an awkward meet-cute at a diner, they drive off but are stopped by a police officer. One thing leads to another, the officer ends up dead, and the defense lawyer decides, “We should make a run for it,” and that’s exactly what they do.

That’s one of the big problems I had with the movie and it continued throughout, which is why I think this movie should have been called “Bad Decisions: The Movie,” because these are clearly two smart individuals, yet they are constantly doing really stupid things, which makes it really hard to root for them. On top of that, I wasn’t too impressed by Matsoukas/Waithe as a filmmaking team, as the movie had a lot of beautiful shots but really didn’t have much of a flow, making Matsoukas’ music video background far too obvious. It’s very typical of a new filmmaker wanting to create this beautiful-looking movie and losing sight of the actual narrative storytelling, which isn’t great. And then there’s the message Waithe is trying to drive home, clearly inspired by #BlackLivesMatter, but it just goes completely overboard at times, and no one in this movie acts like normal people might act in order to resolve their issues. 

In other words, Queen and Slim is trying to be an arty film in what is a business where movies that cost a lot of money need to make that money back, and I see this as a pretty big risk on Universal’s part for a movie that just isn’t that great.

You can read about how the above movies might fare at the Thanksgiving box office over at The Beat.

LIMITED RELEASES

There are, thankfully, a fewer number of limited releases this weekend, the big one being Netflix’s THE TWO POPES, starring Jonathan Pryce and Anthony Hopkins, which is absolutely fantastic. Directed by Brazilian filmmaker Fernando Meirelles from a screenplay from Anthony McCarten (Darkest Hour). Basically, it’s about the relationship between Popes Francis (Pryce) and Benedict (Hopkins) as the latter is being criticized for allowing Catholic priests to get away with repeated sexual abuses against young parishioners. I saw this movie quite some time ago, and I really need to see it again before writing any sort of review, but it will probably be in my top 25 mainly for the amazing script and the performances by the two leads. This will open in select cities on Wednesday and be on Netflix December 20, and maybe I’ll have a chance to rewatch so I can write more about it at that point. Regardless, it’s another movie opening this weekend I recommend seeking out.

Opening at the Film Forum on Wednesday is Michael Apted’s excellent doc 63 Up (Britbox), the culmination of the 56 years he has spent following the lives of a number of British kids from different classes over the course of their lives. I’ve loved this series since I first discovered it, probably around the 21-Upyears, but it’s amazing how every seven years, you can revisit these people and learn more about them. There are a few of the subjects that you’ve begun to really care about, but at a time when class struggles play such an important part in the conversation and films like Parasite and Knives Out (see above) and M. Night Shyamalan’s new series Servant, it’s amazing to watch this venerable doc series in that context. I’m not sure if Apted will make it seven more years to make 70 Up, but if not, this is a fine conclusion to his masterful masters thesis. 63 Up will open at the Landmark Nuart in Los Angeles on Dec. 6 before hitting Britbox.

Getting a week-long run in New York and Los Angeles starting Friday is Ladj Ly’s intense police thriller LES MISERABLES (Amazon), which is France’s selection for the Oscar’s “International Film” category, and it’s an amazing film that follows a group of cops trying to cover up the shooting of a kid from the projects. Like many police dramas, it involves a rookie who is thrust into this world of crime, and I’ll definitely have more to say about this before its official theatrical release in January.  

Also getting a qualifying run in New York and L.A. this week is Emily Taguchi and Jake Lefferman’s documentary After Parkland (ABC Documentaries/Kino Lorber), which I somehow have missed so far, but I’ll probably have a chance to see it in 2020 when it’s getting its official release. As one can gather from the title, it’s about a number of families from the Marjory Stoneman Dougle High School trying to get through the Parkland shootings that left 17 dead.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Before we get to this section, I want to give a quick shout-out to VitalThrills.com who have an absolutely amazing Streaming section that you should be using as a resource, since it’s quite complete, maybe the best one on the internet?

If you’ve been putting off seeing Martin Scorsese’s 3-1/2 hour THE IRISHMAN, because you feel that’s too long to be sitting in a movie theater, it’s now on Netflix so you can watch it over and over, stopping and starting whenever you want. Happy?

While I’ve mostly been using this section for Netflix stuff (because it’s the only streaming/cable company that sends me regular PR), I’m excited that M. Night Shyamalan’s SERVANT will be debuting on Apple TV+ on Wednesday (today!), and that will be another darkly funny thing to watch with the family after Knives Out. You can watch the first three episodes, but I wrote a review of the first half of the season, which you can read here.

French filmmaker’s animated I Lost My Body will hit Netflix this Friday with its amazing story of the romance between a pizza delivery guy and a librarian, based on Guillaume Laurant’s novel “Happy Hand.” Also, Mati Diop’s Cannes-winning film Atlantics, which I STILL HAVEN’T WATCHED!!! Will hit the streaming network on the same day, so I’ll stop having excuses for not having seen it. Also hitting Netflix Thursday is the holiday comedy HOLIDAY RUSH, starring Romany Malco, La La Anthony, Sonequa Martin-Green and the legendary Darlene Love.

Also, Disney+ will be adding The Wonderful World of Disney Presents the Little Mermaid Live! to its library on Wednesday as well as Pixar’s Cocoon Friday, along with the fourth chapter of its ongoing series including one you might have heard of called The Mandalorian.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

The Metrograph once again wins the Repertory Wars this weekend. Its Noah Baumbach Residency continues this weekend with the filmmaker’s 2010 film Greenberg and 2017’s The Meyerowitz Stories, both starring Ben Stiller, as well as screenings of Working Girl (1988), Pauline at the Beach (1983) and Five Easy Pieces (1970). (I don’t think Baumbach will be at any of these.) The annual Holidays at Metrograph series begins this week with 1934’s The Thin Man, Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) and the 1940 film Remember the Night this Friday and Saturday. Filmmaker Whit Stilman will be back at the Metrograph, once again showing his 1990 film Metropolitan (another Metrograph holiday mainstay) on Sunday, and he’ll also introduce a screening of 1998′s The Last Days of Disco. Welcome To Metrograph: Redux will screen George Cukor’s 1950 film Born Yesterday, Clint Eastwood’s 1995 film The Bridges of Madison County (with screenwriter Richard LaGravanese  introducing the screening Saturday night) and David Lean’s 1945 film Brief Encounter. Late Nites at Metrograph  screens Terry Zwigoff’s 2001 film Ghost World, starring a VERY young Scarlett Johansson, while Playtime: Family Matinees  will screen the appropriate Miracle on 34thStreet, the one from 1947.

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

Next week’s Terror Tuesday is Charles B Pierce’s The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972) in a new 4k restoration with a QnA with Pierce’s daughter moderated by Mohawk director Ted Geoghegan, then the Weird Wednesday is Liam Neeson in Sam Raimi’s Darkman (1990) in 35mm. (The latter is a fantastic film if you haven’t seen it yet.)

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Today’s Weds. Afternoon Classics matinee is Samuel Fuller’s 1959 film The Crimson Kimono and Friday’s “Freaky Fridays” offering is David Cronenberg’s Existenz (1999). The weekend’s “Kiddee Matinee” is Jon Favreau’s Elf(2003), starring Will Ferrell, and Saturday’s midnight is a repeat of David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. Otherwise, it’s mostly screenings of Once Upon a Time … in Hollywoodthis weekend.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Opening this week is a 70thAnniversary 4k restoration of Robert Hamer’s Kind Hearts and Coronets, starring the great Sir Alec Guinness in 8 roles! Also this week, you can see a 4k restoration of the 1951 comedy The Man in the White Suit (on Weds and Sunday), as well as the 1955 film The Ladykillers, both directed by Alexander Mackendrick and also starring Guinness. Another repertory film getting a few screenings this weekend is the 1951 film The Lavender Hill Mob (another Guinness film!) and Carol Reed’s The Third Man from 1949 will get a full-week 70th anniversary presentation. This weekend’s Film Forum Jr. is To Kill a Mockinbird… ookay. On Sunday, you can see the 1975 Hal Ashby classic Shampoo in a single screening, and then on Monday night, there’s a single 35mm screening of Masaki Kobayashi’s 1964 film Kwaidan, based on four ghost stories by Lafcadio Hearn, introduced by Monique Truong, who has written a book about Hearn. Oh, it’s also over 3 hours long.

AERO  (LA):

The AERO’s “Happy Thanksgiving 2019” movies include Planes, Trains and Automobiles on Wednesday, Singin’ in the Rain on Friday, and Saturday is a triple feature of “Satirical Cinema: Using Comedy to Underminte Hate” of Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator (1940), Mel Brooks’ The Producers(1968) and Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit… yeah, one of these movies doesn’t match up to the others, and also isn’t really repertory. Sunday is a Charlie Chaplin double feature of City Lights(1931) and The Circus (1928). Tuesday’s “Christmas Noir: A Hardboiled Holiday” matinee is Blast of Silence from 1961.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Friday is a “Black Friday Double Feature” of mall-related horror films with Chopping Mall (1986) and Phantom of the Mall: Eric’s Revenge (1989), and then Saturday is an all-day The Lord of the Rings trilogy starting at 1pm.

MOMA  (NYC):

The newly renovated museum continues it’s “The Contenders 2019” series, but Modern Matinees: Iris Barry’s History of Filmwill continue through the week, as well. Vision Statement: Early Directorial Workswill return on Monday with Julie Dash’s 1991 film Daughters of the Dust, then Darren Aronofskiy’s Pi(1998) and Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali(1955) on Tuesday.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

If you want to find me this weekend, I’ll be spending a lot of time up on the Upper West Side (MTA-permitting) for the continuing “Relentless Invention: New Korean Cinema 1996-2003” for a bunch of movies, including Bong Joon Ho’s 2000 debut Barking Dogs Never Bite. You should also check out Varda by Agnès while you’re up there.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

“The Collected Terrence Malick” continues this weekend with screenings of some of Malick’s more recent films: Voyage of Time: Ultra Widescreen Version, The New World: Theatrical Version (Friday) andLimited Release Version (Sat.), as well as Voyage of Time: Life’s Journey on Saturday, and then the “Brad Pitt version” of Voyage of Time on Sunday. Also, Malick’s classic The Tree of Life will screen Friday and Sunday.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Weekend Classics: May All Your Christmases be Noirwill screen The Night of the Hunter (1955), Waverly Midnights: Spy Games screens Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959) in a 4k restoration, while Late Night Favorites: Autumn 2019 will screen… I can’t even. It’s movies they’ve shown a dozen times or more… Matt Zoller Seitz’s “Movies with MZS” continues next Tuesday with a screening of Moonstruck with screenwriter John Patrick Shanley.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

Thursday/Thanksgiving is your last chance to see Buster Keaton’s Battling Butler (1926) and The Navigator (1924) from out of the Cohen Films vault.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

Continuing its Nicolas Cage series by screening 1989’s Vampire’s Kiss in 35mm on Weds, Friday and Saturday nights, plus another screening of Peggy Sue Got Married (1986) on Sunday.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This week’s Friday midnight is the uncut version of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s 1990 film Santa Sangre.

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

On Sunday, you can take the family to a matinee of Muppet Christmas Carol.

That’s it for this week. I’ll be taking a week off from the Box Office Preview over at The Beat, but the Weekend Warrior (sigh) will be back here with all the limited releases kicking off December.

[krissysbookshelf]

Free Ebooks (2/2/17)

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