Mailbox
"Hey guys.. not sure if you mentioned this on your site but the recent
Paula Marshall nude scene in Californication was digitally altered. Fake
breasts and pubic region (despite her not showing bush still that region was
altered) were applied to her using CGI. This is very noticeable in HD caps
that are zoomed. It's also obvious to an experienced graphic illustrator
that her breasts have been digitally illustrated. There are a few other
blogs that have noticed this, though it seems few people who capped this
scene are aware of it. Take a closer look at the pics and you'll see what I
mean.
Dang, sure hope this isn't the future of nudity. But it probably is with
many actresses.
This really is an interesting issue, I think. If this becomes perfected
and therefore common it would never matter if they told you they were using
CGI or not. If this does get perfected it will not be secret. Everyone will
know that nudity is fake because even the keenest eye will not be able to
tell the difference. It probably would just be assumed that all nudity is
faked. It will then become the big question to the actress "did you do it
for real or cgi fake it?"... they can answer "real" but still nobody would
know.
So, what would that mean?
I would love to hear your thoughts on if you give two turds about the
issue. "
Scoop's notes:
I don't like it, but then again I don't like body
doubles, either. I don't even like breast implants, lip collagen, nose jobs,
or even shaved crotches.
And there's nothing I can do about any of them.
We live in a culture that defines beauty by its
level of perfection. There's really nothing that can be done to stop the
drive for artificial perfection unless we stop paying for it. Go only to
strip clubs with all-natural breasts. Don't buy any magazines that employ
airbrushing or hire women with implants. Refuse to watch movies which employ
CGI inappropriately.
Yeah, that'll happen.
Every guy I know says he dislikes implants, but
more and more women keep getting them. Doesn't add up, does it?
World keeps turning.
Straightheads
"Straightheads" is British gangster slang for "those who live outside the
criminal life." Gillian Anderson and Danny Dyer play a couple of
straightheads who are pushed across the line into crooked territory. Dyer
portrays a working-class guy who makes his living installing security
systems, and the installation in well-to-do Gillian's house comes with a
bonus - Gillian herself. When he tests the closed circuit television, he's
surprised to see her undressing for him. They are soon in bed together, and
even somehow manage to continue the relationship after sex and form an
unlikely couple.
Gillian takes her new prol boyfriend to a posh weekend in the Shropshire
countryside, and that proves to be a mistake on many levels. First, all of
her stuffy friends condescend to him. Second, as they escape the stifling
atmosphere of the aristocrats, they find that the local prols are much worse
company. Gillian and Danny are beset by some violent rural yokels who rape
her and
beat him so hard that he loses an eye and the ability to do his manly duties.
The victims soon come to realize that they will never receive any form of justice
through the legal process, but a fortuitous circumstance gives them a way to
track down the identity of the yobs who hurt them, so they resolve to
extract their own "justice" ... read "revenge." Between Danny's technical
wizardry and Gillian's skill with a rifle, they manage to take a violent
toll on the gang.
The film became notorious in the UK for its use of extreme and realistic
violence to manipulate and involve its viewers, but in terms of character
development and audience identification, the graphic violence can be
justified contextually. Gillian was cold and unsympathetic when she was a
straighthead, and she easily takes to her new role as a violent huntress.
Since she goes so far as to use the rifle for ... um ... more than just
sharpshooting, it would be virtually impossible to identify with her unless
we gain some sympathy by witnessing the brutal details of her earlier abuse
at the hands of her victims. In essence, the film comes from the same school
of emotion-driven feminist revenge as the notorious B-picture I Spit on Your
Grave, mixed with a healthy dose of Peckinpaugh's Straw Dogs, as updated for
the new millennium.
More than just an exploitation film, the film has something to say about
the nature of violence. It demonstrates how easily we can turn to violence when provoked, and it shows how we can actually
sympathize with others when they do - at least up to a point. Where the film differs from the usual
Charles Bronson film is that we don't really keep cheering the execution of their
revenge. Oh, we may be rooting for them at the outset of the hunt, but when
we see their extreme measures in detail our cheers die out and we are left
with the realization that violence and revenge can be too ugly even when
exerted upon those who truly deserve comeuppance, and that realization is
followed by the uncomfortable feeling that just about any of
us can cross the line from straight- to crookedhead. In that sense, the
extreme documentary-style violence is entirely necessary to leave us feeling
our own guilt at having wanted to see an awful revenge in the first place.
We're supposed to get that feeling of, "I didn't realize it would be like
this. This isn't what I wanted," and we are supposed to feel shock at
the realization that violence is so similar to sex in one fundamental way -
it comes much easier to people after their cherries are broken. If the revenge were to be sanitized to
Hollywood levels, or glamorized to the comic book level of A History of
Violence, or if the tone of the film had been jokey like a Guy Richie
gangster
film, it would not be possible for Straightheads to make its points. The
emotional thrust of the film requires us to be watching real violence, not
film violence.
One must acknowledge the
film's effectiveness at involving the audience, and that is, after all, one of the most
basic things a director is supposed to accomplish. Unfortunately, it's one
of those films where you wish it was not as effective as it is. If you have
seen I Spit on Your Grave, you can probably remember how you got emotionally
involved in one way or another, despite the amateurish acting and production
values. Imagine how much more effective that film could have been if the
star had been Agent Scully and it had been made by an experienced
documentary director. Well, there you have imagined Straightheads.
Can I justify the film's ugliness? Yes, I think so. Do I want to watch it again? No.
Absolutely not. I didn't enjoy it the first time
through. But then again, I wasn't supposed to.
