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"Salmonberries" from Tuna

Salmonberries (1991) Scoopy is absolutely right, this is the Gone with the Wind of naked lesbian Eskimo films. Even with his warning that it was way to arty, I couldn't pass up a chance to see K. D. Lang naked. Lang was a foundling, found in a cardboard box. She is introverted, works as a minor, and developed an interest in finding out who she really is. She eventually makes friends with the town librarian, a bitter German woman whose husband died trying to escape under the Berlin wall with her, after a very rocky start.

After the collapse of the wall, Lang takes her to Berlin to visit her past, spending her savings for the tickets. Roswitha (Rosel Zech) is able to let go of her past, as is very grateful. Lang attempts to initiate a sexual relationship with Zech, but, while Zech "loves her, that is not her way," and she repulses the advances.

The film is terribly arty, but does set a somber mood in the settings, the photography (which is very striking), and the performances. It is certainly not going to be for everyone, but I managed to watch it through, and enjoyed it on some levels. C-.

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  • k.d. Lang (1, 2, 3)

    "Exit to Eden"

    Exit to Eden (1994) is a comedy from Garry Marshall -- the follow-up to Pretty Woman. It stars Rosie O'Donnell and Dan Aykroyd as LAPD detectives hot on the trail of a diamond smuggler (Stuart Wilson) and his female accomplice (model Iman). Paul Mercurio, world famous photographer, takes the first picture of Wilson a the airport. He then heads out to Eden, an island paradise dedicated to S&M, B&D, etc, run by Dana Delany. He is to spend time as a submissive, trying to find out what is behind his inability to have a lasting relationship. The jewel thieves head to the island to get the film, and Rosie and Dan go undercover there to catch the thieves.

    This film has far more nudity than most R rated comedies, yet is definitely mainstream, not soft core. I am not usually a big Rosie fan, but she was very funny in this film, and not at all grating.

    As to the nudity, Delany shows breast and buns numerous times, and has a lengthy full frontal getting out of a pool and drying off. Stephanie Niznik as her assistant also has a full frontal in the same scene. Julie Hughes, Sandra Korn and Tanya Reid are topless and in a thong while being introduced to the island guests. There are also anonymous strippers, slaves, and guests who show breasts here and there. I left those for someone else to cover.

    IMDB readers score this one 3.8 of 10. Critical consensus is 1 1/2 to 2 stars. I didn't think it was nearly that bad. It was meant as a sex farce and love story, and, I thought, accomplished both. It was uneven in parts, but I enjoyed it start to finish. If sex comedies are your sort of film, you will probably find things to enjoy about this one. C.

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  • Dana Delany (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15)
  • Julie Hughes (1, 2, 3)
  • Rosie O'Donnell (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)
  • Sandra Korn (1, 2, 3)
  • Stephanie Niznik (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)
  • Tanya Reid (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

  • Johnny Web (Uncle Scoopy)


    Some of the more interesting Oscar pictures:

    • Gwyneth Paltrow found a blouse which said "my breasts may be small, but they're really saggy". Also, her eye make-up was done by Marilyn Manson. She's a lovely woman who found a way to disguise that fact.
    • Emily Watson wore a dress which allowed plenty of viewing latitude. Man, her career is s-s-s-mokin', eh?
    • Kate Winslet. No nudity in this one, but she looked elegant and slim. Here's something scary - the amount of weight that Winslet lost is roughly equal to Reese Witherspoon's total body size! Winslet claims her high point was 220 (100kg). I suppose she must weigh about 130 now, wouldn't you think? And Witherspoon can't weigh too much more than 90.
    • Uma Thurman's cleavage. Where did all this come from? She must have that same disease as Mimi Rogers that causes one's breasts to balloon to enormous proportions long after adolescence.
    • Cameron Diaz see-through. Cameron is a beautiful woman, but what is the deal on that hair?
    • Speaking of hair, check out that sharp part in Jodie Foster's locks. Jodie showed some of the sides of her breast.



    Thir13en Ghosts is yet another example of "corn on the macabre". One of the poorest films I've seen in the past 12 months. Just really crap except for the set design. And repetitive crap at that. I think my review is one of my better ones, if you're interested.

    Here are the latest movie reviews available at scoopy.com.

    • The yellow asterisks indicate that I wrote the review, and am deluded into thinking it includes humor.
    • If there is a white asterisk, it means that I inexplicably determined there might be something of interest.
    • A blue asterisk indicates the review is written by Tuna (or Lawdog or Junior or C2000 or Realist or ICMS or somebody else besides me)
    • If there is no asterisk, I wrote it, but am too ashamed to admit it.

    Graphic Response
    • Sean Young, going back to 1988 for these topless 'caps from "The Boost".

    • Oscar Highlights, including Gwyneth, Jodie, Cameron, J-Lo, Sandra and Emily.

    Be sure to pay Graphic Response a visit at his website. www.graphic-barry.com.

    Naked News
    The news delivered as it should be...sans clothing.

    Here are a few Naked News anchors in the raw, by Burkittsville.

    • Victoria Sinclair, full frontal International News. (1, 2)
    • Diane Foster, full frontal weather.
    • Kaye Grant, online talent contest winner presenting full frontal weather and sports.
    • Elizabeth Jansen, full frontal weather (serious jungle down under). (1, 2)
    • Roxanne West, full frontal National News.
    • Michelle Pantoliano, full frontal and rear, Business News.
    • Erin Sherwood, full frontal Life and Leisure, Health, and Sports. (1, 2)
    • Gretchen Frazier, full frontal Naked in the Street News.
    • Devon Calwell, full frontal International News.
    • Brooke Roberts, full frontal weather. (1, 2)
    (1, 2, 3, 4)

    The "song stylist" and possibly Iceland's biggest export bjuck nekkid in her video for "Cocoon". Excellent 'caps by Watty.

    Kim Delaney
    (1, 2)

    Toplessness and partial rear views from the "NYPD Blue" star in scenes from "The Drifter" (1988).

    Maria de Medeiros
    (1, 2, 3, 4)

    Topless in scenes from "L'Homme de ma vie" aka "The Man of My Life" (1992), by Mr Skin. American audiences will remember her as Bruce Willis' girlfriend in "Pulp Fiction".

    Victoria Pratt The fitness babe and "Mutant X" star topless and wearing a thong in scenes from the Andrew Dice Clay classic, "Whatever it Takes".

    Milla Jovovich
    (1, 2)

    Armed, dangerous, and sexy. Promotional stills for "Resident Evil" in collage form by SNF.

    Kelly Trump
    (1, 2)

    Topless and rear nudity (redited as "Maria") from "Best of Sexy Moments" on German TV. Vidcaps by UC99.

    Renzi Anouschka Nice toplessness in scenes from the German TV series "Jolly Joker", also by UC99

    More Oscar coverage
    A few more pics from the red carpet and the awards...

    • Cameron Diaz, semi-see-thru pokies (1, 2)
    • Selma Blair....someone please fire her handlers immediately! She looks like a street walker with Something About Mary hair gel.
      (1, 2)
    • Halle Berry
    • Jennifer Connelly...what happened to her magnificent breasts?
    • Jewel finally combed her hair and showed off some cleavage. (1, 2)
    • Jodie Foster...simple, elegant and sexy. She earned some votes for best dressed.
    • Kirsten Dunst, looking good except for one thing...her dress and skin are the same color. (1, 2, 3)


    Here's the funniest Oscar recap I've seen so far. It's from Salon.com. I don't agree with everything in it, but it sure is more fun to read than the review in Variety.

    -Pat Reeder, The Comedy Wire

    Oscars 2002: Somebody make it stop!
    It's the Oscars of Defensiveness (TM): Four-plus hours in which Hollywood tries to pretend it's not racist -- and Tom Cruise is revealed as that Scary Flaming Eye from "Lord of the Rings."

    By Cintra Wilson

    March 25, 2002
    After the reality check of Sept. 11 and its sobering aftermath, many people looked at the glitterati of Hollywood and said, "Can you explain why the fuck any of us ever thought YOU were so important?"

    Well, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences seems to have mulled this question over, and this year it gave us the We're Justifying Our Existence Oscars.

    I never questioned the Oscars before, but this year just the fact of them made me uneasy. Year round, we as a nation are already supposed to live vicariously through this rather rank stable of prefab actors, who live lives of ridiculous luxury and ease. We are exposed to their nightly hobnobbing, their sex lives, their hobbies, their alcoholism; we cannot escape.

    "OK, that was entertaining," I thought, after seeing many of the nominated films. There were some good, solid movies, but nothing that I saw made me change my wicked ways. There were some fine, solid performances, but exactly how much are we supposed to adore good actors? Last night, these capable but already tremendously overcelebrated, over-rewarded people had their annual Imelda Marcos shoe-orgy of gratuitous overcelebration, gilding the gilded lily made of gold, again. We watched as people already morbidly overstuffed with congratulations vomited up all previous congratulations to make room for these, the best and biggest congratulations of all.

    It is the gargantuan, ass-licking brainwash of the year, and We, the People With Televisions, are supposed to watch and enjoy it.

    The Academy sensed this attitude was lurking like a murky cloud of spiritual unease over Middle Earth, and it is my (admittedly hostile) perception that they said to themselves, "Well, the Oscars are already fucked this year, so let's honor our Negroes! It's been a while. Call Whoopi."

    I used to call it the "Noble Cripple and Spade Year" -- it comes around every five years or so. When the Oscar Winner's alumni circle starts to look like the meeting table in "Judgment at Nuremberg," the Academy devotes a year to not looking like racist, Aryan-celebrity-eugenics-worshipping, cracker peckerwoods, and either gives an Oscar for the best dribbling retard performance, or jerks us off with a big, obvious, Slather the African-Americans With Trophies orgy to make up for the previous insulting, five-to-seven-year stretch when barely anybody of color was recognized at all, for anything.

    Look, I'm very glad when we finally honor our African-American artists. I just wish it happened a little more regularly, instead of in one big token Big Gulp: "See? We do too give them awards. Lots of them. See?" Let's stop treating our citizens of color like they are a separate people from us. If Sept. 11 showed us anything, it's that we're all Americans together, and our black friends are just as excellent at being overprivileged celebrity fuckwads as anybody else. Let's just bump up with this consciousness and be done with it.

    I must warn the world about Tom Cruise. I feel he is an utterly terrifying Superior Life Form, with the power to melt heads and braid spines. His eyes are as hard, shiny and brutally penetrating as diamond drill-bits. The new braces on his teeth suggest that he is erasing all that remained of his tiny imperfections, and he is now metamorphosing into Ultra Super Perfection Man 3000. I fear his intense, mind-beating politeness, his titanium imperviousness to human weakness, his barking power-laugh. "Movies make a little bit of magic touch our lives," he commanded us to acknowledge, with steely resolve and Mach-5 mega-humorlessness.

    People in the audience started laughing, until they realized that Tom was Not Being Funny At All. He was chosen to frankly address the post-Sept. 11 whither-the-Oscars conundrum head-on. "Should we celebrate the magic the movies bring? Now?" Tom asked, his eyes boring into the eyes of the TV multitudes and implanting rays of total domination. "Dare I say it?" He flashed a smirk with his robotically flawless teeth. "More than EVER," he hissed, laying on his most Extreme Scientological Unction. He had been commanded by the Elders to Obi-Wan-Kenobi-ize the audience into rebelieving in the importance of the obscenely superfluous Oscars. Tom Cruise is becoming the Scary Flaming Eye from "The Lord of the Rings," and I fear that nobody can stop him.

    The red carpet outside the theater looked a bit like the depths of Mordor. Today's actresses are so thin their shoulders look like arthritic knuckles. Jon Voight's face-lift looked like it had a Ziploc seam for easy reopening. Ryan O'Neal looks like he's spent the last couple of decades packing rich, chocolatey nougat into his neck. And J-Lo's time is up. The Anita Bryant hairdo only confirms that her primary support and advice is coming from the most snark-infested homosexuals in the showbiz style-world. J-Lo is J-L'Over. You can't have a big ass and sarcastic hair, not in that town.

    Whoopi's hosting unfortunately sucked real hard. She phoned in her performance, like, from a cellphone from a parking garage in Guam. Her material was just awful, which was mainly surprising because the lines written for the presenters were, for the first time ever, actually pretty clever. Whoopi seemed to be resorting to Refreshing African-American Earthiness as opposed to actual humor, which I suppose the Academy thought was fitting for these, the Oscars of Defensiveness (aka Operation Hide Behind the Darkies).

    Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller were funny in their shtick together, presenting the award for Best Costume Design. I do not want to love Owen Wilson but I am enslaved. He's a fuckin' badass genius. I read the "Royal Tenenbaums" script, and I have to say, it ruled so hard it made my stomach hurt from spleen and jealousy. It was better than the film. I want to be Owen Wilson, either that or eat Owen Wilson, with fava beans and a nice Chianti. He was robbed, he and Wes Anderson shoulda gotten the best original screenplay Oscar, instead of "Gosford Park." "Tenenbaums" was daringly original; "Gosford" was a highbrow formulaic retread. Boo.

    Halle Berry made history last night, not so much for being the first African-American woman to win an Oscar in the best actress category, but for freaking horribly, uncontrollably out and making the worst, most hysterically rambling, discomfiting and liquefied acceptance speech in Oscar's 74-year history, and I thought Julia Roberts was going to hold that title for a long time. I know it was a big deal for Halle, who claimed her award for All Black Women Everywhere Ever, but her acceptance tantrum had such an alarming cringe factor, I had to leave the room. When they tried to pry her off the stage, she made that screeching Bilbo Baggins monster addiction-face when he Wants the Ring. It was a heavy, strange, grand-mal meltdown. America squirmed.

    Even though I felt like it was a self-conscious gesture on the part of the Academy ("We'll top off the Overdue Apotheosis of Sidney Poitier by throwing Denzel the Best Actor award we didn't give him when we totally ignored 'Malcolm X,' eh? Whaddaya say?"), still, I am always glad to see Denzel accepting awards. What's not to love about Denzel? Not much: The man could not peel Julia Roberts off of himself, backstage. She was practically climbing into his tux. His wife better kick Julia's skinny, home-wreckin' heinie.

    The drafting of Cirque du Soleil as halftime entertainment was a good call. The refined lowbrow stunts of the Cirque healed a lot of the trauma we are still feeling from Debbie Allen's interpretive dance-pain fiasco. Actually, the Cirque was the best thing the Oscars has done in years. The only problem was, those bungee-trapeze Frenchies injected LIFE into the Kodak Theater, which brilliantly exposed the fact that, despite the presence of all the most slobbered-over luminati living, there was little or no vibrancy anywhere in the building before or after.

    There were no surprises in the best supporting actress category; Jennifer Connelly proved once again that that statuette always goes to the new babe. It must have to do with Hollywood's need to manufacture a new face to do magazine covers or endorse Japanese soap or something. Something smells collusion-esque and Sony-riffic to me, about the supporting actress ruse -- it's just so predictable.

    Connelly's speech was cute, the way she read it with her face lowered the whole time, reading off a bunch of papers. It was evocative of a shy fourth-grader doing an oral presentation on the solar system. Maybe she was ashamed because she sold her soul.

    I was glad Randy Newman finally got the award for best song; with his 16 nominations and zero wins, he was the Susan Lucci of the Oscars. But he had to win: Enya is the music I imagine when I am standing in a meadow in a white dress, closing my eyes and rapturously rubbing soft, quilted, two-ply toilet tissue against my cheeks. Sting, that perfectly unblemished and sincerely perfectly superior and theologically self-actualized Řbermensch, is essentially becoming the musical Tom Cruise. And Diane Warren is the SWORN ENEMY OF ALL MUSIC.

    Little Ronnie Howard took best director and best film for "A Beautiful Mind." Sigh.

    Ron Howard is a completely adequate and, I feel, aggressively nongenius director. His choices are deeply, unapologetically pedestrian. He possesses lots of clunky homegrown skill and absolutely no lightning bolts of wild inspiration, which is why that script was a brilliant choice for him; John Nash (and, by extension, Russell Crowe) makes up for all the primal soul-fire Ron Howard, kindly proto-honky, utterly lacks. "A Beautiful Mind" was a Good Film. Not a brilliant film. If Peter Jackson had directed it, it might have been a revelation.

    But Ronnie is nothing if not the original Company Boy. He has been tenured into the marrow of the system; he is Hollywood's dearest, most faithful mediocre son, and last night they gave him the party they've been tacitly promising him since 1978.

    So that was it. The Hobbits and the Africans were simultaneously lauded and robbed, and the Academy tried to hypnotize us into passive acceptance by acting earthy. They seemed to be saying: See? We're just regular folks.

    Yeah, they're regular all right, those famous multimillionaires who never go to the post office or the DMV or sort receipts for taxes or fly coach or pay to see movies or get older or worry about the rent or medical insurance or college tuitions. They're just like you and me, only with fucking everything, and they don't want us around while they're having it, but we're allowed to watch them have it, once a year, on TV. So we'd better enjoy it. Or they'll sic Tom Cruise on us again, and, God, we don't want that.

    Pat Reeder The Comedy Wire
    Pat's comments in yellow...


    They filmed a lesbian makeout scene for the "Scooby-Doo" movie, then decided to cut it. My question: Didn't they realize going in that the 'Scooby-Doo' movie would be a kiddie film? Who'd they hire to direct this thing, Zalman King? Is there some bestiality action between Shaggy and Scooby? Actually, that wouldn't be too shocking. I always thought Scrappy Doo looked like their illegitimate offspring...

    Gellar's Lesbian Kiss Cut from Scooby Doo
    World Entertainment News Network

    Sexy star SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR is disappointed after producers cut a lesbian kissing scene from her new SCOOBY DOO film.

    The stunning BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER actress, who plays DAPHNE alongside fiancÚ FREDDIE PRINZE JR's FRED in the movie - an adaptation of the kid's cartoon series - reportedly puckers up with co-star LINDA CARDELLINI, cast as nerdy VELMA.

    A WARNERS employee says, "They did film it. But the powers-that-be felt it would be too provocative.

    "The kiss was considered too titillating. They felt it would make people chuckle and snicker."

    Sarah Michelle is no stranger to female smooches, having shared an MTV MOVIE AWARD with SELMA BLAIR in 2000 for Best Kiss in CRUEL INTENTIONS.

    Playboy soliciting `Women of Enron' for upcoming pictorial
    By KRISTEN HAYS (Associated Press)

    Playboy Magazine may entice some of those who lost their shirts in the Enron scandal to reveal more than even investigating congressional committees want to see.

    The Chicago-based adult magazine is inviting Enron women, past and present, to send snapshots of themselves clad in bikinis if they wish to appear in an upcoming "Women of Enron" issue.

    "That's rich," said Deborah DeFforge, co-chairwoman of the Severed Enron Employees Coalition. "That's kind of a highlight. We've had so much depressing news or stressful news, and then to all of a sudden come up with something like that, it's kind of cute."

    Plenty of women at the heart of scandals have appeared on Playboy's pages, from presidential sexual harassment litigant Paula Jones to televangelist mistress Jessica Hahn.

    Darva Conger, the "Who Wants to Marry a Multimillionaire" bride whose celebrated TV nuptials in February 2000 ended in a quickie annulment, followed pleas for privacy with posing for Playboy.

    But Elizabeth Norris, spokeswoman for the magazine, said the accounting and finance scandal that emerged from Enron's stunning failure last year didn't necessarily pique Playboy's interest.

    "This is an opportunity for them to do something fun in the midst of the turmoil that's going on in their lives," Norris said.

    "I don't think I thought when we decided to do this that these were women of scandal. These are women who are out of a job," she said. "We are offering what you could view as a part-time job, or what might turn into a new career."

    Norris said the magazine plans to wait for interested women to approach Playboy rather than solicit candidates. They must provide proof of employment at Enron, and the offer is open to current workers as well.

    Norris also said editors hope to assemble the issue "as soon as possible," but couldn't yet provide a publication date.

    Enron spokeswoman Karen Denne said the company declined comment on the model search.

    Rebekah Rushing, one of thousands laid off when Enron filed the largest corporate bankruptcy in history on Dec. 2, initially was speechless. Rushing quickly found another job and has since run one of two funds in which donations are funneled to former workers who need help with basic needs, such as mortgage or rent payments.

    "I guess that's their way of trying to help, I don't know," Rushing said. "Maybe there's somebody out there who would do it.'

    DeFforge said she wouldn't pose, but more power to others who might.

    "I'm sure there are some in the younger set who would be perfect," she said.