#we focus so much on the narrators our silly boys deserve attention too

[beartitled]

✨❗️ COMIC ❗️✨

(I don’t know much about ASL too tbh 🤷 but I found 👉translator for ASL spelling👈 This is only for spelling the words letter by letter, not for complex sentences or words sadly, but could be useful for stuff like names👍 Hope it’s helpful ❤️)

My tiny bear screaming is in the tags :D

Stanley hug request from @marionette-j2x!

A response from this previous post!

Ft. @blackkatdraws’ Stanley

[cinemafix]

PART ONE: MOVIES I’VE SEEN THIS WEEK (04/02-04/08)

SUNDAY

1. Goodfellas (1990)- dir. Martin Scorsese

Let me just start by saying if you’ve waited (like me) for too long to see this-- everybody is right.. this is a phenomenal movie. I came into this movie pretty green like I knew of it but I didn’t have any sort of inclination as to what to expect. The movie is based on the real-life story of Henry Hill, a young kid whose ambition to be a “wise-guy” leads him to grow up into the mobster lifestyle. Scorsese mainly uses voice over narration from Henry (Ray Liotta) to provide a sort of documentary feel to the movie. There’s also minor voice over narration to provide outsider insight by Henry’s wife, Karen (Lorraine Bracco).  

I absolutely loved the narration and the use of freeze frames and the (I won’t spoil it) delightful narration switch up at the very end. The infamous Copacabana long take of a scene (in which P. T. Anderson drew inspiration from for Boogie Nights) is so fun to watch because it really just immerses you into Henry’s fixation of the mob’s privileges and his date’s curiosity as to who she is out with. Yes, there are some heavyweight actors in this movie, but I have to just stress how good casting was. I mean, even the kid that played young Henry is on point with the resemblance and behavior.

This movie takes you along a ride with Henry Hill at the driver’s seat and it explores themes of primarily power and status but I also think one’s need to belong somewhere as well. Nobody likes to feel like a nobody.

Fun Fact: Scorsese’s parents have cameos in the movie!

2. Paul Blart: Mall Cop (2009)- dir. Steve Carr

Freely judge me for this, I deserve it. I wanted to hide it from the list but I didn’t want to compromise the game.

Now, in my defense, my dear grandpa picked it out while my mom and I came over my grandparents’ house to visit. Bless him. Guilty, I actually really enjoyed watching this absolutely mind-numbing comedy because of its stupid humor. Stupid, stupid, stupid humor.

If you haven’t heard of it and don’t mind a film led by Kevin James, it’s about this mall cop who takes his job too seriously but in the end he’s the type of hero this mall needs. Don’t take this movie seriously- It’s dumb (we all know it’s dumb) but you’re not dumb for watching it. You might be dumb for watching the sequel...you might be pushing it... jury might be out on that one.

I couldn’t help myself with the legal puns.

MONDAY

3. El Dorado (1967)- dir. Howard Hawks

I blame my grandma because visiting with her requires at least the watching of half a western movie and it’s 90% of the time a John Wayne movie playing. I’m just blaming the grandparents left and right for everything now... She enjoys them so much and I guess I enjoy watching them because she enjoys watching them. All you Internet folk don’t have the chance to watch a good ol’ western with my grandma but I think this is a good western to warm you up to the genre. In interviews, Quentin Tarantino has expressed his admiration for director Howard Hawks-- more specifically for the movie Rio Bravo-- and this movie is the second collaboration John Wayne has done with Hawks since Rio Bravo.

It’s about this wealthy man who is looking to hire someone to send this other wealthy family, the MacDonald’s, out of El Dorado. Sharpshooter Cole Thorton (Wayne) was first offered the job but instead joins forces with his old friend and town sheriff J.P. Harrah (Robert Mitchum) to protect the MacDonald’s.

My grandma says she loves westerns because, “there’s no sex and all action,” and she has her approval stamp on this one.

There’s action, there’s drama, there’s comedy, and there’s a young James Caan. It’s also on Netflix so it’s an easy find!

4. The Philadelphia Story (1940)- dir. George Cukor

Now, I love Cary Grant and I LOVE James Stewart but I was putting this movie off because I am not the biggest Katharine Hepburn fan. Rotten Tomatoes deems this movie, “The Greatest Romantic Comedy of All-Time,” and though I’m not entirely sold on that reputation, I thought it was an enjoyable movie. It’s about this quasi-quirky socialite Tracy (Hepburn) who all her life is treated as this perfect, untouchable goddess and it leads her to hold others to her high standards. C.K. Dexter Haven (Grant), her ex-husband, couldn’t stand her treating him with unreachable expectations so their marriage falls apart and yet he is still magnetized towards her. Reporter Macaulay Connor (Stewart) and his photographer (Ruth Hussey) are led by Grant into Tracy’s home to cover her wedding for Spy magazine. Having C.K. and Connor as guests for her wedding confuses Tracy as she begins to develop feelings diverting her attention from fiancé George Kitteredge (John Howard).

To be honest, even the ghosts of Cary Grant and James Stewart showing up on my wedding day would confuse the hell out of me. There’s romance, second-hand embarrassment, and humor to this dysfunctional wedding story. Ok, I get that it’s Hepburn’s story but like Ruth Hussey’s character was far more interesting than Tracy (IMHO) and only the handsy old uncle paid her any attention.

TUESDAY

5. How to Steal a Million (1966)- dir. William Wyler

This has to be the greatest romantic comedy of all-time. The chemistry between Peter O’Toole and Audrey Hepburn is just as magnetic as O’Toole’s blue eyes. Yes, I went there just like the movie goes there with several close-ups of those baby blues. Hepburn plays Nicole Bonnet, the daughter of a beloved art collector who happens to be a second generation art forger. When a Bonnet-forged Cellini statue ends up in a Paris museum and is awaiting evaluation, Nicole enlists Simon Dermott (O’Toole) to help her steal it back. It’s so much fun to watch not only Nicole react to Dermott’s wild planned and unplanned moments of the heist but also the museum guards as well. It’s a movie that doesn’t take itself so seriously-- it’s silly and it’s fun! Hepburn, of course, delivers some quality “lewks” in her head-to-toe Givenchy ensembles. Watching Dermott go from fascination to infatuation towards Nicole and manage to maintain a cute balance between the two will literally make you want to evaluate your love life (or lack thereof). He is constantly surprised by her and there’s a cute surprise towards the end at the Ritz hotel when things switch up-- love, love, love this movie.

WEDNESDAY

6. Strangers on a Train (1951)- dir. Alfred Hitchcock

This movie is just as relentless as the antagonist, Bruno Antony (Robert Walker). He’s like an itch that you just cannot scratch and the movie just builds and builds and builds its tension to his final breath... literally his final breath.

Currently, I’m writing a short story in which I aspire to create a thrilling tone. I felt compelled to watch the Master of Suspense show me how it’s done and boy was this the movie to get inspiration from. Not only was I on the edge of my seat but I was holding my breath the deeper the story went. If you show me a tennis match, I might dreadfully faint out of Hitchcock anticipation.

The film is about this tennis player, Guy Haines (Farley Granger), who meets the strange Bruce on (you guessed it) a train ride heading towards New York. The pair’s feet clash during the bumpy ride and the two get to talking- Bruce already familiar with Guy’s story insinuates about Guy’s dilemma with getting divorced. Too quickly, he comes up with a plan that could help Guy and in exchange help himself. It’s the exchanging of murders- you kill my problem and I’ll kill yours. Now I see where 2011′s Horrible Bosses drew from for inspiration.

I love Hitchcock’s use of zoom to draw our attention to what he wants us really focus on during a particular scene. The POV shots immerse the audience into the experience rather than sitting as an omniscient viewer throughout the entire film. There was a scene where Guy is punching at the camera and the camera is jerking back as if we are the ones getting punched. I loved it! There’s also a flashlight tracking scene that really made me feel uncomfortably close. Hitchcock also has his fun by making his quick cameo in the first 20 minutes.  

[joereid]

Top 10 Movies of 2016

I wrote about my favorites in movies and TV over at Decider last week, but here’s my straight-up Top 10 movies of the year. With apologies to movies I haven’t gotten to yet, most prominently Toni Erdmann, Fire at Sea, Aquarius, and The Love Witch. Also I ranked O.J.: Made in America as my #1 TV show of the year, so it felt redundant to put it here too. No judgments if you ranked it as a movie. Obviously. 

Runners-Up: I thought this turned out to be a GREAT year for movies, best exemplified by the fact that I had a bitch of a time keeping these 15 movies out of my top 10:

#25 The Lobster (director: Yorgos Lanthimos) #24 The Witch (director: Robert Eggers) #23 Kubo and the Two Strings (director: Travis Knight) #22 Everybody Wants Some!! (director: Richard Linklater) #21 La La Land (director: Damien Chazelle) #20 Hunt for the Wilderpeople (director: Taika Waititi) #19 Love & Friendship (director: Whit Stillman) #18 Sing Street (director: John Carney) #17 Lion (director: Garth Davis) #16 Other People (director: Chris Kelly) #15 Fences (director: Denzel Washington) #14 Julieta (director: Pedro Almodovar) #13 Certain Women (director: Kelly Reichardt) #12 Cameraperson (director: Kirsten Johnson) #11 Mountains May Depart (director: Zhangke Jia)

My Top 10 Movies of 2016

10. Jackie (director: Pablo Larrain) It took me a while to get into the headspace of Jackie, and what a strange little animal it seemed then. Natalie Portman's accent seemed insane, the scenes felt overly gauzy and frustratingly vague, the score felt overworked. But the more time I spent with Jackie, the more intoxicated I was by whatever fog the movie exists in. Portman's performance clicked, the specificity of Larrain's focus felt more and more revolutionary, and the whole enterprise felt an exhilarating experiment on memory, idolatry, and the spaces at which our politics and our myth-making converge. 9. The Invitation (director: Karyn Kusama) I write a lot about movies on Netflix for my job, but by FAR my favorite discovery of the year was the meticulously built suspense of The Invitation. From the opening credits winding ominously through the Hollywood Hills to the slowly dawning terror of the final moments, I haven't felt this tense through the entire run of a horror movie since The Strangers. Featuring some great performances (in particular Tammy Blanchard, Logan Marshall Green, and John Carroll Lynch), and a premise that draws upon every time someone at a party told you they just started seeing a new yoga instructor.

8. Silence (director: Martin Scorsese) A nearly three-hour, racially dubious meditation on faith from a director who's provided me with more peer-pressure guilt trips from film critics than actual movies I've enjoyed over the last decade was not adding up to something I figured I'd enjoy. But Silence is more than just the best Scorsese movie since ... The Aviator? Goodfellas? It's a committed, rigorous, and deceptively complex story about faith and imperialism, anchored by an Andrew Garfield performance of such thoughtful vulnerability that it makes you incredibly grateful that Marty took a break from Leonardo DiCaprio. Also Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography is breathtaking.

7. Hail, Casear! (director: Joel and Ethan Coen) I like when the Coens are having fun. I know the knock on them is that they're supposed to be looking down their noses on their audience and having a laugh at their expense, but all I found in Hail Caesar! was an affection for people who dedicate their lives to something as silly and often contradictory as the movie business. Josh Brolin is probably doing better work than I give him credit for at the center, but I won't apologize for all of my attention going to Channing Tatum's dancing and Alden Ehrenreich's rope tricks. 

6. Manchester by the Sea (director: Kenneth Lonergan) When the narrative about this one got boiled down to a) it's unspeakably sad, and b) it's white-male feeeeeelings pornography, I was confused. Well, maybe not confused; I know how Twitter works. More dismayed. To me, Manchester by the Sea is Kenneth Lonergan at his finest, and that means so much more than simple grief or patriarchy or for Pete's sake "Oscar bait." Lonergan infuses his movie with so much more humor, so much more complexity, so much more recognizable feeling than you're expecting by the description. The relationship between Casey Affleck and Lucas Hedges's characters defies any kind of prescribed arc, instead presenting two characters who fit at impossibly odd angles.

5. Little Men (director: Ira Sachs) Ira Sachs has become so good at making movies about how the Big Things in life — love, family, fellowship, generosity, power, resentment — are inextricable from the small things. In the movies, we tend to gloss over things like rent or income or expense. Making it work is a matter of will or serendipity, usually both. In Little Men, Greg Kinnear and Paulina Garcia are good people whose resentments would usually be overcome in a movie by a grand act of love or charity or luck. Sachs knows better, but he also knows that the sum of life and the beauty of lives isn't about it all working out. And that's only the groundwork in this lovely movie featuring a central friendship of boys that is as beautiful, sweet, and gently painful as anything this year.  

4. Moonlight (director: Barry Jenkins) Moonlight features such strong, simple storytelling, and that economy of language is all Barry Jenkins, and he deserves all the praise he's getting for it. But that's not the reason we're talking about this movie. There's something truly remarkable when strong filmmaking meets revelatory acting meets the kinds of stories and lives that we are STARVING for. There's sadness here, yes, and tragedy, but I can't help but feel an undercurrent of celebration just for the radical act of making poetry out of lives that are usually not even afforded prose. 

3. 20th Century Women (director: Mike Mills) What a difference it makes listening to Annette Bening narrate about the universe and mortality versus listening to Ewan McGregor talk about same. I could never latch onto Beginners, despite the fact that its subject matter was targeted right in my general direction. But in his follow-up, Mike Mills had me cast under a spell from moment one. Bening is superb, playing a woman who's both incredibly wise and incredibly aware of how much she doesn't know. Any shot of her silently reacting to another character is to be treasured forever. And my darling Greta Gerwig does such wonderful, beautiful work as a scene partner here, taking her moments when they come but also as supportive an ensemble player as she's ever been. But it's those moments of narration, where the plot of the movie gives way to the longview, and we get to ponder a bit about the long arcs of time, and it was so beautiful, I nearly melted into my seat.

2. American Honey (director: Andrea Arnold) Andrea Arnold's great big American road trip is sprawling and sweet, dangerous and and desirous. It doesn't work for everyone, and I think I get that. But even if Arnold isn't seeing America through a photorealistic lens, the version of America she's showing us feels true in its emotions and textures and jealousies and desperations and explorations. Sasha Lane, Shia LaBeouf, and Riley Keough are standouts in the cast, but the movie truly comes alive in the group scenes, where the energy of a whole generation explodes into something visceral and charged.

1. Arrival (director: Denis Villeneuve) I first saw Arrival at the Toronto Film Festival in September, and I was blown away by its emotion and intelligence in service of a sci-fi story that became a story about language and bridging unbridgeable gaps. I next saw Arrival a few days after the election, when the film's ideas about facing fearsome and unknown futures and seeing the end from the beginning were all the more moving. What's beautiful about Arrival — besides the photography and the music and Amy Adams — is how our only salvation grows out of achieving complete and total empathy and nothing less. Thats what unlocks everything. It's a beautiful message in a movie that might normally have merely been an exquisitely crafted, deeply emotional sci-fi tale. I didn't see anything else that year that blew me away so thoroughly.

[2dudesgethitched]

Spelling Dad from ADD.

  “How do you feel about children?” he asked me on that magical Christmas Eve in 2008. We are at too large of a table for two people on a patio of ribbons, decked halls and twinkle lights. Ooooh, pretty lights sparkle so. We waited for our coffee drinks under trimmed trees, gay apparel donned. The crowd at Aroma Café was heavy with packages, burdens from the shopping that is a draw to the Tujunga Village part of Studio City. I love the idea of a hamlet in the land of hams. I need more irony in my diet. People banged about like cattle down a chute. Calling Temple Grandin.

 My ADD is self-diagnosed and provides me ample amusement; sometimes others get to share in the joy that is my rambling. The stream of consciousness that I surf regularly makes me a fine Improv actor but an ineffective bureaucrat. Years later someone would shout “Squirrel” and I completely understood a cartoon dog’s pov.

 Christ, he just asked me something. Focus, Hubble, focus. If my self-narration annoys feel free to substitute Neil Patrick Harris voice or Sara Jessica Parker’s. My patter might be more palatable. How do I feel about children?

 Michael’s bright blue eyes, red cheeks and pale pallor defined the ‘Richie Cunningham’ description our mutual friend Rob had promised. Ha. Red, white and blue. He’s pretty cute, shivering in his p-coat. The lyrics to “American Boy” popped up. Stifle, silly ADD, stifle. Listen to the cute boy who is saying all the right things. I had arrived early to the date. I had armed myself viewing all the pictures he had posted on his MySpace. He had a butt-load of friends and loved the beach. I knew we had at least that, Tom & Rob as common denominators. He was tall, handsome and quirky. Our previous phone conversation confirmed quirky.

 “Hello, Villa Cosa Nostra, Michael speaking, how may I help you?”

“Is this Michael Vinton?”

“Tis I” Tis I. Tis I? I’m calling a boutique timeshare and got transferred to a Renaissance Faire Restaurant?

“This is Tony Spatafora, Rob Hahn’s friend.” Beat. Beat.

“Oh. Hi..”

“I know you’re at work, is this an okay time to talk?”

“Let me put you on hold for a second? Thanks.” Boom. Gone.

 He is so Googling me now. I think. Or he’s shuttering his work-hag so he can come back to the call a little more centered. I can’t wait to hear what comes back on the line.

 “Heeeeyy, “ a much cooler cat returns. “How ya doing?”

“Fine. “ Eyeroll. Stop Spats, don’t be such an egotistical putz. “Rob Hahn said to give you a call and that we should probably get together.”

“Yeah. He said.” Ice, ice baby. Who sang that, I wondered “So, what’s up….”?

Saints preserve me.

“Listen, I know you’re at work. Why don’t you give me a call when it’s convenient and we can set something up?”

“Cool, man.” Oh, this kid is killing me. Did I mention that my angel is 14 years my junior? Yeah. Apply considerable mockery here, I deserve it.

“I’ll just get your cell, and get back to you.”

“Fine, ” I’m not finished playing with my food, “but let me ask you three things: Dog or cat?”

“Dog.” He’s confident.

“Boston or New York?”

“…New York.” He vacillated.

“And finally, like garlic or love garlic.”

“LOVE garlic.” He wins. I spit game like no other. Who sang that damn song??

“Okay. You may call me back.”

Laughter.

 I thrive on acid tests and omens. I believe The Universe will give you signs when you are falling behind in it’s choreography. You are encouraged to free style only so often. Don’t waste your moment to jump in the abyss. Your pants can only get wet one of two ways when you dance. Go big or go home, I think I’d read that on some ones Friendster. I am so full of myself I should hang Charmin off my belt.

 I had seen him heading to the café from a quaint store in the Village. In fact he had stopped in the window in front of my to check his hair. The afternoon was windy. Norman Rockwell snow falling lightly would have completed the picture. Oh, my. He is a cutie. Those eyes were so blue. I stalked him down the sidewalk praying there would be more preening to mock later to my besty Sue. He walked like a man, firm and grounded while sporting an angel’s face. These omens are good. I couldn’t wait to hear from ‘Tis I’ what made this guy tick.

 Michael turned around in front of Aroma to find me, hot on his heels. He laughed and I gave him the big loving hug I like to share with my nearest and dearest. I wanted to warm his heart on this holiday night before we both had to race back to work. I would learn later that he really welcomed that hug as it was to be his first Christmas away from his wonderful family in Charlotte, NC. He was a little sad and in need of some familiar love. The guy has the big heart of a softie I would learn. Tick tick tick, boom goes the heart.  

 I thought he was shivering. He kept squirming over his shoulder then craning his neck back to me. Does he have a tic? He kept exhaling over his shoulder. I was intrigued; did I step in something while hunting my prey down the mean streets of the San Fernando Valley? He finally calls out the chair dancing he’s doing as being gassy today & also he is from a very gassy family. I got a fuzzy image of the holidays with the family. He was trying to subtly burp. I got that. Cool.

 “How do I feel about children? You mean as a family or laborers in my families sweatshop in New Haven?” More Charmin, senator? Truth was I did want a family. More than anything else I have ever wanted. I wanted to focus all that I am into people who would hopefully, one day, go out and use their powers for good. I have the biological family, the chosen family, the work family, and the Partridge family. I had a lock on “Back-up singers” and caregivers that all had a special place in my heart. I was finally ready at 40 to have a family unit. Children, progeny attendants whatever you want to call them. I was ready to raise.

 I hoped that in raising children, I would raise myself. I had always been a selfish impulsive prick. I could leave disaster in my wake better and brighter then most boobs my age. I’d been there, done that and brought back the t-shirt in two sizes (for my fat + fit days) Glib is an understatement to describe me, Crazed is another. Children would allow me to put all the attention I had put into myself to a positive end. My epic life experiences and families would help lift the children up; it takes a village I have been told.

 I had always seen myself with a large family. That was how we grew up in CT and I wanted to create something similar. Economics and Biology being what it may, it was going to take extra work and love but above all it would take the right mate to accomplish this with. Michael told me he had seen a similar vision but did the typical blanch one does when finding out there might be five more just like me out there in the world. Silly man, he has no idea.

 All of my wonderful family had paired up and reproduced. There are thirteen amazing nephews and nieces with birthdays to remember and events to celebrate. Being as far away as I am in Los Angeles can fray the nerves. The day to day growth of the kids gets away from you when updates aren’t delivered regularly. It is much easier to share around a family dinner table or a get together in state. Time flies and raising kids seemed to occupy and awful lot of it. Notes for later, I would record. I wished for a village that can act locally and think globally I guess.  I have a Village People cd I haven’t played in a while.

 And sometimes it takes a Village Idiot. Burpie and me made nice and I dropped a few more witty pearls of banter. We clicked on many levels. We had both thought we would have been priests, except for that annoying celibacy thing. We loved music. Our families were the most important things in our lives. Our dreams were huge. We wanted to see the world but above all wanted children. Oh, and grandchildren too.

 Well this was going to be tough, being two men and no little lady. We appear to be Biologically Adjacent to speak Angeleno, in the act of conception. There were to be a few extra steps to get our family unit to the amazing holiday card ready cast that my friends had biologically created ad nauseum. We would have to decide about Adoption; Domestic or International? Foster to Adoption; how old the child will we go? Surrogacy; who’s friend to raise a turkey baster to in this above generous gift they were providing? Surrogacy when not related in love or blood; do we find these people on Craigslist, Angie’s List, Facebook? There was to be much to learn but I had a feeling that Michael was the one to make the journey with.

 Real it in Spats, I chanted. Let’s not put the station wagon in front of the horse. If this really was a ‘traditional valued’ gay man I couldn’t rush the situation and would have to let this unfold. Guys like this were few and far between. Chill baby, baby, chill baby baby. Really ADD? Vanilla Ice? I’m hipper than that.

 Actually, I’m not getting any younger as people would tell me and FYI get a move on when they stop telling you this. It might be the Universe giving you a reality check to start listening and fall into line. Tick Tock, Tick Tock goes the biological clock. Wait, what? I was forty but determined. Many great people I knew personally had started their families late in life. I have energy to boot and an inner monologue that wouldn’t shut up. I am going to rock this fatherhood thing into the next stage of my life and hum show tunes for lullabies.

 I held his hand as we walked out of the café. It was in part a thank you for sharing so much of his sweet soul as he had his time on a crazy Christmas Eve. His eyes are illuminating. There was a sense of promise in one so gassy. I saw a fuzzy family unit off in the future, a pin prick of light, each day growing closer and larger. It came into frame and I saw the tall person in the image was wearing a p-coat and an enormous, toothy smile.

 OH, SNAP! It wasn’t Vanilla Ice, it was C & C Music Factory. Mmmmm. Things that make you go Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm.  I am too old for ‘oh, snap’ I remind myself. Yet I’m not too old to learn. Papa, Dad, Daddy; I like it. I wonder what I’ll be when I grow up.

 Cue the music.