Thursday, February 09, 2006

do you like us? check yes OR YES.

More taffeta. More hairspray. More baked goods. More prizes. Fewer fire alarms:
RECOGNIZE. If you're going to Trevstock, we respect that -- the Autism Partnership is a worthier cause than arts and culture journalism -- but we have a better party, so please come over afterwards! We crave your attention and love just as much as your money. Send valentines and candygrams, fill up your dance card, and break some hearts (just not mine; I already dislocated it).

Our lovely host had some server problems and tech support problems and so forth, which is why The Local Black & Red stopped existing for a while, and then when all the files reappeared there was an FTP path change problem, so that is why there was no updating for a while (although there is normally no good reason for us not updating). THERE WAS AN ELECTION, AND WE COULDN'T MAKE FUN OF IT ON THE INTERNET. Instead we made election night crafts and e-mailed pictures of them to Jack Layton.

Hard at work:

The almost-finished product (his hair and moustache are more filled in now):

The roommate made a shirt in support of an alternative position on the 'stache. We have yet to hear back from Jack Layton (whose victory song was "Money City Maniacs," if you were paying attention, and we were). Nor did we win a Hockey Night In Canada jersey/Stephen Harper bio prize pack from CBC's After The Vote for our efforts.

If you're still into election jokes, the Subliminal Party's spoof Liberal attack ads (link via Jordon) remain eighty-five different kinds of brilliant, and are possibly even funnier now that they are making fun of the actual Prime Minister. (Funnier in that "laugh so you don't cry" sort of way. So how about that Cabinet? HOLY EFF.) We have also grown fond of the comic Don't Tell The Queen.

More no longer timely content we couldn't post:
dark aged and confused: a review of Tristan + Isolde

The Local Black & Red has waxed lyrical about James Franco before, and once we actually recognized him as the shirtless guy in the Tristan + Isolde commercials, we made a date with destiny. Or rather, density. A quick visual survey of the other people attending the opening show confirmed that the advertisers had effectively reached their target market of 16-24 year old girls. The trouble is that Tristan + Isolde is a crappy love story and passable political drama that really wants to be Braveheart, told through a script that could have been beneficially rewritten by an eleven-year-old. There's way more violence than sex, there's way more "sex" than any actual reason for the titular characters to be so attached to each other, and thus a classic tragedy becomes instead a tragic mess. I liked the fighting parts because mostly no one said anything cringeworthy during them. If you have tried to make a romantic tearjerker, and when the credits roll, almost everyone in the theatre STARTS GIGGLING, this is not a good sign.

James Franco's hair does most of the acting for him. Tristan mostly mopes around like he just got his Ph.D in Misery from Sadsack University, sometimes with his shirt off, while his hair becomes fantastically filthy, frozen, complicated, and enormous at various points. The hairstylist clearly asked himself "What's my motivation?" more often than any of the cast members.

Also, a still I found on the internet and a crick in my neck made us suspicious of James Franco's "sexy face." Check it out -- sultry:




Overall, I give Tristan + Isolde 2 1/2 dishevelled Jim Morrison haircuts out of 5. If you have no interest in James Franco or the What Not To Wear of screenwriting, don't even rent this.

More blog post equivalents of expired milk to come.