#The Queen of Technicolour

[tina-aumont]

Maria Montez, the Queen of Technicolor, was born the 6th of June 1912 and with her beauty, intelligence and charisma, won the hearts of many people.

It's time to honour her and celebrate her birthday by publishing her page we have here on this site!! Enjoy the reading!! and if you click on the small photos, you'll go to this site specific entries for her!!

And remember that her biography is in FAMILY page, where you'll find her parents, grandparents, siblings and nieces.

Enjoy and celebrate Maria's beautiful birthday today!!

Eleni xxx

[bitter69uk]

“Like [Mario] Lanza, Maria Montez had a reputation for being impossible to handle. After a number of years in Haji-Baba type adventures, she was dropped by Universal and forced to seek work in European cheapies. While in Europe, she attempted to counter her advanced state of avoirdupois with hot saline baths. She died in one of a heart attack at the age of thirty-one.”

/ From the book Flesh and Fantasy (1978) by Penny Stallings /

Died on this day in the Parisian suburb of Suresnes, France: nostril-flaring and tempestuous Queen of Technicolour Exotica, Caribbean Cyclone and leading lady of films like White Savage (1943), Cobra Woman (1944) and Siren of Atlantis (1949), Maria Montez (née María África Gracia Vidal, 6 June 1912 – 7 September 1951). Aside from perhaps the young Yvonne De Carlo, did any woman wear a yashmak with more elan? Note: Stallings gets Montez’s age wrong in the quote above – she was 39 when she died. (Like any self-respecting diva, Montez had a “show biz age”). Montez is entombed in the Cimetière du Montparnasse. Who knows at this point if I’ll ever return to Paris, but if I do, I vow to make a religious pilgrimage to Montez’s grave. “When I see myself on the screen, I look so beautiful I want to scream with joy” Montez once famously declared. Maria Montez, you make ME scream with joy! 

[blu3-ja3]

COD MASTERLIST

I will continue to update this with all my COD posts cause there's a lot now. Everything Underlined is a link to a post of mine.

Character Colors (This is Kinda Important)

141 Headcannons

Age

Scars

Civilian Clothing, Heights, and Ethnicity

Nicknames

Solo Gym Music

O'Connor's Music

09 Price and MacTavish

The Queen

Monster Au O'Connor

O'Connor & Laswell

Summer

Short Stories

Meet Doctor Maevis O'Connor!

Son Shine

Motherhood

Younger Days

Habit

Phobia

Smitten Roach

Meet the Family

O'Connor with the 141

Soap Roach Gaz Ghost Price

Character Art

Maevis O'Connor (Civilian & Tactical)

Civilian 141

My AU (Post MW2 + Roach & Ghosts)

Strength > The Past

Violence > Breaking

Making the Call

1 • 2

Lose It In A Technicoloured Beat (Ghoap AU) Hiatus

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

[wizardiest-wizard-of-oz]

I FOUND ALL (OR ALMOST ALL) OF THE REFERENCES IN SOMETHING ROTTEN HOLY SHIT

I FOUND 78 AND I THINK IT WAS KAREY KIRKPATRICK THAT SAID IT WAS A LITTLE UNDER 80 REFERENCES

42nd Street

Alice in Wonderland

An American in ParisAnnie

Annie Get Your Gun

Anything Goes

Avenue Q

Billy Elliot

Cabaret

Cats

Chess

Chicago

A Chorus Line

Cinderella

Curtains

Dames At Sea

Dreamgirls

The Drowsy Chaperone

Evita

The Fairie Queen

Falsettos

The Fantasticks

Fascinating Rhythm

Fiddler on the Roof

Footloose

Funny Girl

Guys and Dolls

GypsyHair

Hairspray

Hamlet

Hello, Dolly!

Henry IV

Henry V

Henry VI

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

Jesus Christ Superstar

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat

The King and I

Kiss Me, Kate

Lady, Be Good

Les Miserables

The Lion King

Little Shop of Horrors

Little Women

Macbeth

Mary Poppins

The Merchant in Venice

The Merry Wives of Windsor

A Midsummer Night's Dream

The Music Man

My Fair Lady

Oedipus Rex

Oklahoma!

Oliver!

Out on the Town

Phantom of the Opera

Pippin

The Producers

Rent

Richard II

Richard III

Richard IV

The Rocky Horror Picture show

Romeo and Juliet

Seussical

Sister Act

The Sound of Music

South Pacific

Sunday in the Park with George

Sweet Charity

Sweeney Todd

Thoroughly Modern Millie

Titus Andronicus

Twelfth Night

West Side Story

Wicked

Wizard of Oz

[steventhusiast]

username song game

rules: for each letter of your username put a song. tagged by @scarcrossdlvrs :D

please prepare for the most random list of songs EVER

s - still don’t know my name by labrinth

t - technicolour beat by oh wonder

e - end of beginning by djo

v - valerie by amy winehouse

e - eventually by tame impala

n - never let me down again by depeche mode

t - this is home by cavetown

h - heart to heart by mac demarco

u - under pressure by queen and david bowie

s - satanist by boygenius

i - i know the end by phoebe bridgers

a - animal by troye sivan

s - see you again (feat. kali uchis) by tyler, the creator

t - thnks fr th mmrs by fall out boy

that was harder than i thought it’d be hope you enjoy o7

no pressure tags for a couple peopleee @beep-beep-robin @stobinesque @xenon-demon

[talesofthesecondcity]

Please, Dont Let Me Trip!

I didn’t exactly explode onto Birmingham’s gay scene in glorious rainbow technicolour, more creep apprehensively down a flight of steep stairs… and straight into an awkwardly familiar face!

In my late teens, Friday nights were spent alternating between several pubs on the social triangle of Aston University. I’d been drinking on campus for months prior to turning the legal age, but being student pubs, used to a clientele of fresh-faced undergrads, our spotty faces barely stood out. Doormen would turn a blind eye if you could rattle off your fake date of birth with enough conviction.

On one evening out, I couldn’t shake thoughts of another bar in town, the idea of which ignited my teenage hormones like a drop of blood screaming to a hunting shark. I decisively downed the dregs of my cordial-coloured Snakebite & Black, turned to my best-mate and announced, “I’m going to The Jester.”

The Jester was a basement gay bar, lurking beneath Scala Building, a shabby curve of concrete and glass on Holloway Circus. This typical 1960’s development, of the style old-school Birmingham is notorious, had seen better days, even back in the 80s.

I paced outside for an age, trying to muster the courage to go inside, but somebody would walk by or a bus would circle the roundabout and I would lose my nerve. Finally, the coast was clear and I dashed to the door. The unremarkable entrance took me to a tight flight of stairs leading down into… well, I had no idea.

My heart pounded with a giddy mix of fear and excitement as I descended the steep stairs. All I could think was, Please, don’t let me trip.

I gripped the handrail with white-knuckled intensity, while trying to convey casual nonchalance. I managed to get to the bottom of the stairs upright and with the maximum dignity a gawky teen could carry off.

Guys turned to check out the new chicken in town.

I crossed to the elliptical central bar and ordered a beer.

Waiting for the barman to return with my drink, I dared a quick glance around, taking in the small dance floor, the neon lighting and, to my delight, a glitterball. They actually had a glitterball! My only previous knowledge of a gay bar came solely from The Blue Oyster in the movie Police Academy, which had a glitterball that the Leather Queens danced romantically beneath. I was now convinced every gay venue in the world had one.

I clocked one cute guy around the curve of the bar to my left.

He looks very handsome, I thought, around my age, chiselled jawline, slicked back black hair. Oh, hang on… It’s a lesbian.

My drink arrived. I let out a sigh of relief. I had made it inside, down the stairs and got a drink, all without incident. The night was mine!

A hand fell upon my shoulder.

“How are you, young man?”

I turned to find the benignly smiling face… of my form teacher.

Sat at a bar with my teacher wasn’t exactly how I’d expected my first night on the scene to turn out… but I could not have wanted for a better introduction.

It was a relief to finally have another gay man to confide in, even better that it was a familiar and trusted figure. Here was an opportunity to talk to someone with experience of a world I was taking my first steps into.

Although being caught in a gay bar by Sir had been a shock, I had not been surprised that he frequented such establishments. Rumours about him had circulated school for years. The shaved head, handlebar moustache, penchant for a leather jacket and the general Village People vibe had also been a bit of a giveaway. He wouldn’t have looked out of place swaying beneath that glitterball at The Blue Oyster.

As the evening progressed, Sir suggested we move on to The Nightingale, the city’s only night club in the 1980s. He was a member and offered to sign me in as his guest.

At this point in the club’s history The Gale, as it is affectionally known, was situated near the stage door of the Birmingham Hippodrome, at the end of a short alley. You had to ring the bell, wait until a face appeared behind a sliding slot, then confirm you knew what type of bar it was before being admitted.

Once inside, there was a cloakroom and small bar dominated by a gaudy fountain.  Beyond was the main disco. On the far side of the dancefloor was a dimly lit area, partitioned off from prying eyes. I remember being baffled as to why anyone would want to disappear into a dark subdivision of a busy nightclub. How naive! So much to learn… and so much fun learning.

At the end of the night, Sir drove me home, dropping off a few streets away, so as not to arouse suspicions of sleepless parents, inevitably awaiting their teenage son’s late-night return.

I am eternally grateful to my then form teacher for looking after me on my first night out on Birmingham’s gay scene.

I have told this tale many times over the years, inevitably greeted by cynical eyebrows and the implication he was on the make… but no, he was the perfect gentleman… and continues to be to this day.

To Sir, With Love. X

Find over 100 tales from Birmingham's gay scene @talesofthesecondcity.com

[nofrigatelikefanfiction]

February 1938

"Come on, Steve !", Bucky encouraged.

"I don't feel like going out", grumbled Steve, who was sketching, spread out on their bed.

Bucky had guessed his reply. It had been like that since his Ma had passed away, a bit more than a year ago. It couldn't go on like this.

"I've already bought the cinema tickets. Everybody says it's great !"

"It's about dwarves", Steve protested.

"It's a fairy tale ! It's about a princess, a prince, an evil queen... The first long animated feature film ! An hour twenty of ART, Steve. In Technicolour !"

"You do realize I'm colourblind, don't you ?"

Bucky sighed and sat on the bed, facing him. He put his hands on the page Steve was sketching on, hiding his work.

"Hey !"

"Just admit it, Steve", Bucky said teasingly. "You don't want to go because you know their art is better than yours and you're afraid to see how much".

"That's not true !" Steve exclaimed, scandalised. "My own art is perfectly fine, and I'm afraid of nothing."

"Then come with me ? Please ?"

Bucky pouted. Steve stared at his lips. "I would be real disappointed if you didn't come with me. Please ? For me ?"

He could see Steve's resolve was starting to shatter.

"Fine", he relented. "If you care so much, I'll go with you".

"Aw thanks Steve, you're a real pal", Bucky smiled, and he kissed him on the cheek before he could overthink it and chicken out.

He quickly got up from the bed, and strided for the door.

"I've got to dash, Irv from work invited me for a drink, but I'll be back in a couple hours and we'll go to the cinema together. Wear something nice ! I'm not taking you out in your pajamas. And have a wash ! Look smart."

Steve threw a pillow at him. Bucky ducked and the pillow landed in the kitchen.

"You missed me !", Bucky gloated.

He picked up the pillow and threw it at Steve. It hit him right in the face, and fell in his lap.

"Jerk !"

"See you in a couple hours ! Byyyye !"

-----------------------------------

Steve had been enthralled by the movie, and had loved all the songs. Bucky knew that, because while Steve's eyes had never left the screen, he had spent a lot of time looking at him. They slowly left the theater, and walked home. The cold night air was tinting Steve's cheeks with a pretty pink.

"You were right", admitted Steve. "It's a really good movie. It must have taken so much work from the artists ! And the songs were so nice ! The music was great, too, from what I could hear."

"Are you glad you came, then ?" Bucky asked softly.

"Yeah ! It was a good time. Thank you for insisting I come out with you. You could have gone with someone else. I'm not much fun these days."

Bucky slowed his pace, and looked Steve in the eyes.

"I don't care. You're my friend. I got the second ticket for you."

"Oh."

Steve looked down. If his cheeks hadn't already been flushed from the cold, maybe he would have blushed.

"Thank you", repeated Steve. He looked up and smiled at Bucky, who felt his insides melting.

He grinned. He clapped Steve's shoulder and grabbed him by the neck to incite him to start walking again.

"You're welcome, pal", he replied, and started humming "One day, my prince will come", thinking of the movie once more.

Steve smiled.

"I like it when you sing. You could be in one of those Disney movies, you know. Hollywood would love you. You've certainly got the looks for the industry. You could play the prince in the movie adaptation."

"Aw thanks Stevie. But I couldn't leave you behind ! If I'm gonna be rich, I'd want you to become rich with me !"

Steve grimaced.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I'd like that. I'm not made to be in the starlight, with cameras pointed at me. Plus they'd have me play Sneezy, obviously, and I wouldn't want to play that part."

Bucky stopped humming.

"You are not Sneezy !"

"What, am I Grumpy ?"

"Most of the time, yes, but that's not the point."

"Who am I, then ?"

Bucky's lips stretched into an insolent smile.

"Snow White", he swaggered.

Steve looked insulted.

"I know I'm short and skinny, but I'm not a girl ! And my hair is blonde !"

"I'm just teasing ya. You're not Snow White, obviously", he lied through his teeth. "She makes great apple pies, and you and I both know you can't cook for shit".

The last time Steve had tried to cook for them both, he had almost set fire to their tenement. Bucky had decided that food being rare and expensive enough, he was going to be the one in charge of the cooking. Steve would be restricted to washing the dishes. It was better that way. Bucky was rather good at cooking, he had often helped his mom in the kitchen; and he loved cooking for Steve. It made their flat feel more like a home. It made him feel like they were family; like they were a couple. Even though they were not.

"Alright, you have a point. But who am I, then ?" he pestered his tall friend.

"Ah, I won't tell you. You have to guess !"

Steve snorted.

"You're full of shit".

"Mayyyyybe", Bucky conceded, and he smiled again.

Later in bed, as Steve was slightly snoring, he thought of all the times he had seen him pale and cold just like Snow White had been at the end of the movie. How his best friend and the man he loved had so often been on the brink of death, and how he wished he were indeed a prince who could carry him to a castle, where they could be comfortable, eat plenty and sleep in fancy sheets. They would be happy, healthy and warm.

He turned around, and fell asleep. He didn't know his life's story was going to get further away from a fairy tale than man could ever imagine. He didn't know he was going to be the one who was going to be spending decades in a glass coffin. For now, he was just sleeping, safe and sound. He dreamt of kissing Steve, and of living with him happily ever after.

[datingcentralauckland]

Time to write a most beautiful novel

The world is ending, and it is beautiful. I know two things, only two, all human skulls are smiling at their failed stories, and….

I cannot hold you in the rain, on the edge of some long future, skinny and optimistic in youth, and hungry for an adventure shared in the mystery of a new dawn. We cannot be, youth’s true beauty, as my moment has gone. Our wet bodies intermingling with the thermal heat of our hearts, slowly being drained and reborn by clouds as they weep across the lake; exists at best in dreams, at mediocre in delusion, and at worst in hope.

I have claimed no warrior to my soul ancient and raw, she fades between neon fads that ebb and flow to each generation’s moment in the eternal window of love, in volume to the breeze of each horizon. Anyone can be a king or queen of their heart, although this is not a world of brave enemies and honest adventures. It is just a bureaucracy of existence, staining the natural, with a civilized slavery of survival. That is perhaps why, love feels synthetic to the point that synthetic, is the only escape, from a life of survival.

Did you know the world was ending, Cold Fusion will power Quantum Computers, which in turn will power Artificial Intelligence, and in turn that will power Crypto Currency. The synthetic world will be free and abundant, states will be corporations, and military power will simply be state-accredited companies. We are in the before times, the world is melting; we are going back to the moon and landing on Mars. Everything is important, but somehow the people are also more invisible, like a pixel on a screen, that you only notice, when it is missing.

A story can already be created at the push of a button, but the soul of its spine decorated in flowers, cannot. For the android is as immortal as the hope of love, wished on in truth. But to smile upon such reflections is but a mirror that dreams of escaping the rhetoric of a politician’s vision, lost in the grave, smiling at their own empire. Millions of jobs as half-truths have already been wiped away from the plane of existence, leaving their last victims richer for it. What remains for me in the death of the old, and this in-between, of a world where the technological cookie jar, is too high to reach?

The only thing I can surmise is that ‘Love Remains.’

Perhaps it is as a charity, or a digital ‘Woodstock,’ floating through the technicoloured multi-dimensional highway as the only inter-galactical species to create our own zoo to live in, while starving to death. Love is meant to be simple and truthful, even in the sensation of being lost, but in truth, life brushes against a self-imposed threat of survival conformity. Statistically from death alone, love does not survive, and you can generally scale it down from there. But oh, for visions of lakes and love, we squander time, to fickle empires of shallow personas, and the armour made from tinfoil hats, we adorn on our pretty bodies. Perhaps if I whisper quietly enough to myself, I would say, ‘Love remains… because it is a curse.’

I shall wish to be that missing pixel, and craft myself into an artisan of darkness, slowly chipping away at marble while drowning in the techno-vomit-yawn of human zombies. The young have grandiose dreams and their parent fail them, the adults have grounded dreams, and their countries fail them, and the dying have simple pleasures, and their children fail them. It is getting dark now, my little black spot in the universe, where colour has been swallowed by the void, to decorate its own inner walls, like monochrome dust, upon a rainbow. Perhaps I am already an overgrown grave forgotten in the wilderness, and perhaps that is all that remains of my love potential, and an empire of crickets, ants, and weeds.

‘There are some realities not worth fighting for,’ because really, who fought for your innocence in loves delight and life’s beauty. Perhaps I am ugly with memories, and this synthetic universe is everyone else’s real life, and I must remain hidden to prevent their shame. There is no balance to this universe, only nature had balance, but now the universe consumes, and nature only reveals from its absence. I want to say something, but I cannot really remember what it was, perhaps I was going to tell you, ‘I am love.’

‘You are here,’ the fine print of the universe, life has doom-scrolled you, and accepted the terms and services, life is on its free subscription, such is time immortal to love's demise.

Money does seem to be a creature comfort to love, it is perhaps why a vast majority of woman are single, hence, love has a more widely accepted social subscription model. You are no king or queen of a country, if none from that country would take you as your lover, and from that, the heart can be a bitter place. Many women fantasize about control, even domination, but are repulsed by the manual labour contours of fairytales and that nuclear cosmopolitan vintage esthetic. Perhaps they are right, ask a man to describe a perfect woman and watch them describe a slave or sub-human fluid dumpster.

Woman want the Hollywood, princess, queen, experience, but they haven’t got all the sanity credits to afford it, or even know that it’s the wrong thing. Even in delusion they pick kings whose mental state is a cockroach infested shoebox, floating in-between rivers of carbon monoxide, flat earth egos. Perhaps it’s a universal survival instinct that is species specific; the desire to be wanted, rather than alone and naked to the truth; death is as comfortable as love. Or perhaps even worse, love is only real around the edge of life and death, like a war of the souls. There is something beautiful about the release of permeance, all plans and hope dissolves to the simple now.

People disappoint, in fact, few do not, we are for all our flaws, useless creatures dancing beneath the innocence of an immortal imprint on the world. Meaningless ripples onto the dissipating plateau of a void, seeking silence between the mist of irony. Love is a hopeless sanity.

[forgot-how-catflap-works]

The GUPPY Appreciation Zone (and some stuff about being gay and possibly an alien)

You have entered the GUPPY Appreciation Zone. Please remain seated and keep your appendages within the designated zone for the duration of this appreciation. The GUPPY Appreciation Zone does not accept liability for any tentacles, tendrils or fronds harmed through the disregardment of these instructions. 

What is GUPPY and how does one appreciate it? GUPPY is a band that originated in LA about seven years ago, presumably through a process involving primordial goo and alien technology. The most effective way to appreciate GUPPY is to play American Cowboy – at full volume – and jiggle your body around the food preparation area of your habitat while loudly singing the refrain, “I’m an American Cowboy, and my stomach hurts like shit”.  

This is not a review of GUPPY’s latest album Something is Happening, because I'm not really qualified for that. I could say how much I love vocalist J’s playful inflections that make them extra fun to sing along to; or I could tell you how great it is they use a slide whistle in Mayor Pt.2, and how the track develops this wild, galloping, circus-clown quality that just gets better the more you listen to it. But really I just want to appreciate them. This is the GUPPY Appreciation Zone afterall. Not The Smart Bitch Who Knows Stuff About Music Zone. 

(Clip clop horse cop, City hall salami. Kiss your baby, Now I am your mommy)

Previously described as “the new gayer, Green Day” by Out Magazine, GUPPY’s music could best be defined as tenderpunk, a term coined by Illuminati Hotties’ Sarah Tudzin who is also the band's producer. 

I lifted that tenderpunk insight from this Swim into Sound blog post but I did already know about the Sarah Tudzin connection because I AM VERY COOL AND KNOW THINGS ABOUT COOL AND TRENDY MUSIC. NO I DO NOT HAVE RECEIPTS.

As someone who never got into Green Day, I can’t really say how that comparison stacks up. Their drummer Gabbi is a huge Green Day, and the first album had a rough, straightforward garage sound to it along with the kind of atmosphere you only get when everyone involved is having fun. Is that the sort of thing Green Day is known for? I literally have no idea. 

What I can confirm however is that GUPPY's music is deeply gay, and the kind of gay that is difficult to quantify. Speaking as an autistic, navel gazing kind of queer I often feel disconnected from large swathes of popular gay culture. I’m not really here for drag queens and Lady Gaga and the sort of technicolour hedonism that tends to monopolise portrayals of queer culture in modern media. It’s fine, pop off, live your best life etc. It’s just not my speed. But because it’s the default depiction of queerness I’m left feeling like I’m somehow not the right kind of queer.  Like I'm an alien.

Speaking to Out Magazine after the release of their first album in 2017, J said: “GUPPY is all about having fun with your friends in a totally unchecked and spontaneous way. This is a space I think that a lot of femme, nonbinary, queer folk don't get the chance to occupy. Like, yeah, we've all seen Bam Margera and Tyler the Creator be silly menaces in a fun and lovable way, but I just wanna say there are some new freakin' menaces in town. And these new menaces are soft as fuck because being soft never stopped anyone from having fun. So stay soft, my LGBTQ cuties, and please remember to continue enjoying yourself as an act of resistance.”

GUPPY 's queernes makes sense to me. It transcends sexual and gender identity; social norms I exist outside of through my mere existence as a trans dyke. The labels I chose to define myself are more for the benefit of a society that feels the need to categorise me rather than something I need for myself.

It’s a queerness of the soul. An almost Victorian definition of queer, before it meant gay and it meant, you know, queer. Odd, peculiar, not right somehow. Something amiss. Like, what is that person doing with their arms? Have they ever even used their arms before? Are they an actual alien doing a really shit impression of a human? Who do I call about this? 

From that transcendental queerness GUPPY blooms in all their glory. They would rather eat the pavement than kiss Nacy Pelosi's boot. They were made mayor for the day and all they got were their feelings hurt. They’re texting God in their head. They ate their own homework (the dog made them do it).

I could pick almost any lyric from any track of the new album to illustrate the difficult to define queerness of GUPPY, but for whatever reason the opening lines of Nature Song feel right.

Go out in the front yard you’ll find Ian pulling weeds

Go out in the backyard and that’s where you’ll find me

I’m digging up worms

I’m taking them to church

I’m taking them to church

If you can’t understand how that’s gay, I don’t know what to tell you. 

[bitter69uk]

In Memoriam: golden age Hollywood actress Jeanne Crain (25 May 1925 – 14 December 2003) died twenty years ago today. As Ken Wlaschin writes in The Illustrated Encyclopedia of The World’s Great Movie Stars (1979), “Jeanne Crain was pretty, sweet, sometimes a little over-cute – and usually the girl-next-door-type – in 20th Century Fox films of the late 40s and early 50s.” But when Crain was given the opportunity to step out of the good girl comfort zone, she could be genuinely great. I like her vying with sister Gene Tierney over Cornel Wilde in Leave Her to Heaven (1945). Crain impressively holds her own opposite the formidable likes of Thelma Ritter, Ann Sothern and Linda Darnell in A Letter to Three Wives (1948). She cracks up spectacularly in the weird suspense melodrama Dangerous Crossing (1953). While Technicolour musical Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (1955) isn’t objectively “good”, Crain is certainly game in it. Some of her later post-Fox efforts sound intriguingly strange: the Italian-made Nefertiti, Queen of the Nile (1961), juvenile delinquent exploitation flick Hot Rods to Hell (1967) and low-budget horror movie The Night God Screamed (1971). Pictured: portrait of Crain by Peter Basch.

Jeanne Crain in the 1950s.

[dragcnflame]

i love the duality of bloom because she simultaneously has children's art therapist energy while also being a war general who's been faced with the dark reality of technicolour fairy world and beings obsessed with possessing her and her power. and she responded to that by slamming them face first into the dirt or using archaic magic to enter the deepest portion of their mind and turning them into particles from the inside out. like she murdered valtor in the most brutal method she vaporised him from the inside out. and all she wants to do is paint and hang out with her friends and pet rabbit while giving advice to kids. bloom is truly and deeply not meant to be royalty. she actively forgets that she is a princess, and while she can rally troops for a war and get people to be willing to die for her what she can not do is run a planet especially during peace time. she'd make a fantastic war time queen but after the war there's no place for her there. also this girl literally bolts to earth any time her personal life has a speed bump she can not stay on a single planet forever keeping it going no way

[crushingdeath]

Subdued Sounds

A 2-night mini-series of events featuring acts who bring power from within...

CINDY + JAM MONEY + THE HORSE

Fri 8th Nov 2024

MODERN NATURE + CONSTANT SMILES + PRE-ALPS

Sat 9th Nov 2024

All @ The NCI Centre, CB4 Advance tickets for individual or both nights from here

CINDY

Cindy is a key part of the San Francisco/Bay Area dream pop, fog pop, lo fi scene. Started almost within minutes of songwriter Karina Gill first picking up a supremely beaten-up electric guitar, the serendipitously assembled crew pick up up on minimal chords and murmured melodies to create hazy and nostalgic pop-craft with lyrical backbone. Heightened narrative drama comes from unexpectedly unsettling phrasing and expectant, elementary drone. Featuring folks from Children Maybe Later, Now, and Flowertown, the group draw on the sparse sounds of the Velvet Underground, Young Marble Giants, and Galaxie 500 to soft but startling effect.

MODERN NATURE

Modern Nature, led by Essex-based Jack Cooper, is a group that blurs the lines between folk music, modern composition and improvisation. Over the past 5 years Cooper and collaborators have taken a palette of elementary sounds and themes, honed them, and launched into an expansive world of openness and vivid technicolour. It’s a music that hasn’t been heard before; as melodic as anything Cooper has produced but framed by rhythms and instrumentation that reflect the chaos, unpredictability and colour of the natural world. Certain moorings - hushed percussion, strings and Cooper’s lambent voice - are present throughout, but latest album, No Fixed Point In Space, marks a shift to utilising musical notation as a point of departure, from which the group explore the space around suggested notes and rhythms to create a semi-improvised, semi-composed ensemble performance. These explorations of partly organised chance were recorded live and directly to tape. This approach gives the music a remarkably fresh feel; songs pulse and evolve. The changes between movements, verse and choruses are almost all ambiguous.

JAM MONEY

Artists-in-residence at the Spillage Fete, Jam Money use a collection of found objects, discarded instruments and a sense of musical play to create a series of responses to minimalist visuals. A spirit of childlike wonder, foggily remembered, pervades through echoey journeys across the ether, like a Moondog take on Broadcast instrumentals.

THE HORSE

Wry but mournful slow-folk behemoth spread from the Fens to the Thames. Taking a starting point of Bill Callaghan and then rolling with it towards a second hand Kranky collection this youthful crew are turning it down to drag you under.

CONSTANT SMILES

The constantly rotating cast that is Constant Smiles probably now numbers over 50 kindred spirits, all in orbit around lynchpin Ben Jones. Now based in Queens, NY, the loose collective has been prolifcally producing pocket masterworks of dreamy sounds over the last decade and a half. About 14 self-released albums came forth in 10 years from the group's birthplace in Martha's Vineyard before getting picked up for 2021's "Paragon" by the consistently exciting Sacred Bones label. Last year's Kenneth Anger is a collection of gentle throbbing, muffled rhythms, and supernatural synth that feel like a sort of paradoxical coldwave take on folkpop. For this debut Cambridge appearance it'll be a stripped back solo set from mainstay Jones, taking the songs back to their bare bones.

PRE-ALPS

Pulsing guitar, shimmering reverb, and gurgling drones all pulled together in rural Essex to make slow-motion

[bitter69uk]

“Like [Mario] Lanza, Maria Montez had a reputation for being impossible to handle. After a number of years in Haji-Baba type adventures, she was dropped by Universal and forced to seek work in European cheapies. While in Europe, she attempted to counter her advanced state of avoirdupois with hot saline baths. She died in one of a heart attack at the age of thirty-one.”

/ From the book Flesh and Fantasy (1978) by Penny Stallings /

Died on this day in the Parisian suburb of Suresnes, France: golden age Hollywood’s nostril-flaring and tempestuous Queen of Technicolour Exotica, Caribbean Cyclone and leading lady of films like Arabian Nights (1942), White Savage (1943) and Cobra Woman (1944), Maria Montez (née María África Gracia Vidal, 6 June 1912 – 7 September 1951). Note: Stallings gets Montez’s age wrong in the quote above – she was 39 when she died. (Like any self-respecting diva, Montez had a “showbiz age”). Venerated by the likes of Gore Vidal and underground queer filmmakers Jack Smith, Andy Warhol and Kenneth Anger, Montez is a pivotal figure in the sensibility we now call “camp” and one of the original LGBTQIA icons. (Early Warhol drag superstar Mario Montez, for example, was christened after her). And aside from perhaps the young Yvonne De Carlo, did any woman wear a yashmak with more elan? “When I see myself on the screen, I look so beautiful I want to scream with joy” Montez once famously exclaimed. Maria Montez, you make ME scream with joy! Pictured: Montez in the 1949 film Siren of Atlantis playing – what else? – an evil queen.

[zooterscooter]

1, 5 and 8? :)

HIIIII HEYYY

1. meaning behind my url

someone actually gave me this nickname when i joined a discord server.... 6 years ago...? give or take 😭 servers long gone now but vanilla if you're out there.... hey man.....

5. favourite band

hop along... i am so sane and normal about their album freshman year come closer i can be trusted with talking about that album

8. favourite movie

i actually have no clue what my all time fav would be !!!!! i don't really watch movies often, but a few of my favourites are tokyo godfathers, bohemian rhapsody (yes the queen movie... middle school was rough) and i'm also really fond of joseph and the amazing technicolour dreamcoat... just something about it

[wizardiest-wizard-of-oz]

I'm trying to find all of the references in something rotten here's what I have so far

Alice in Wonderland

Annie

Anything Goes

Avenue Q

Cabaret

Cats

Chess

Chicago

A Chorus Line

Dames At Sea

Dreamgirls

Evita

The Fairie Queen

Falsettos

The Fantasticks

Fascinating Rhythm

Fiddler on the Roof

Guys and Dolls

Gypsy

Hair

Hairspray

Hamlet

Hello, Dolly!

Jesus Christ Superstar

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat

Lady, Be Good

Les Miserables

The Lion King

Little Shop of Horrors

Little Women

Macbeth

The Merchant in Venice

The Merry Wives of Windsor

A Midsummer Night's Dream

The Music Man

My Fair Lady

Oedipus Rex

Out on the Town

Phantom of the Opera

The Producers

Rent

Richard II

Richard III

Richard IV

The Rocky Horror Picture show

Romeo and Juliet

Seussical

Sister Act

The Sound of Music

South Pacific

Sunday in the Park with George

Sweet Charity

Sweeney Todd

Twelfth Night

West Side Story

Wicked

Wizard of Oz

this is only 57 of them and I know there are about 80 total what am I missing

[spotsandsocks]

🐰🎤 💙💙

🐰 what do you think says the most about a person

How they behave when they don’t think anyone is looking and if they follow unspoken community rules that no one enforces but make life better for everyone. Not littering for example or clearing your table at a fast food restaurant or returning a trolley to the trolley bay.

🎤 is there a song you know all the lyrics too

Apart from happy birthday? 🤣 don’t stop me know by Queen and I coujj ku d have a lrettt good go at most of the songs in Joseph and the amazing technicolour dreamcoat 🌈

💜