The campaign against breast cancer
Normally this section of the page consists of material I have assembled
myself, but I thought I'd make an exception today, in order to give this material a bit of
context. Several famous and semi-famous actresses have decided to bare their
breasts in order to draw attention to the fight against breast cancer. This
works out well for us in two ways: (1) we see their hooters; (2) they are
crusading to preserve other hooters as well. If you are reading this page,
there is little doubt that you support the the study, preservation and
appreciation of tits.
As I wrote in my parody of "That's Entertainment," we're all about the
tits, aren't we? Sing along with me now:
"Call 'em boobs
Call 'em hooters or breasts
Give me tits
And forget all the rest
Make 'em big
They're the ones I like best
The first group of actresses is French. In spite of any negative things we Americans have ever said
about the French, we must admit that they are the best in the world at a
minimum of two positive things: (1) food and wine; (2) tit appreciation. Yes,
they are also excellent at philosophy, art, architecture and mathematics, but that shit pales in
importance compared to tits.
This is the picture of all the actresses in the campaign.
Rachida Brakni - Sophie Davant - Julie Depardieu
- Mathilda May - Sylvie Testud
Hélène Darrouze - Rossy de Palma - Estelle
Lefébure - Nathalie Rykiel - Elsa Zylberstein
So far I've only seen two of the larger individual pictures, and I have
not seen Mathilda May, who had the best breasts in the world about 15 years
ago, and still looks great at 44. That's the one I'm most interested in.
In the meantime, we have Estelle Lefebure, who
has a great rack on 'er at 43.
and Julie Depardieu, who inherited her father's
breasts without his nose. Which is mostly good.
Meanwhile, in Franco-Canuckistan, the following women bared the goods for
the same reason. I know many of the French actresses above, but in this case
don't really know who the hell these women are. I suppose we need Spaz to give
us the lowdown.
Anyway, there are some major babes in this group
|Marie Joanne Boucher
|Marie Luce Beland
|Carol Facal ("Caracol")
Catch the deluxe
version of Other Crap in real time, with all the bells and whistles,
Melvyn and Howard
Mary Steenburgen film clips
This time it is Tuna who carries the load on the reviews, based upon his
personal connection to the story, as follows:
In April of 1976, I was working for Hughes Aircraft
when we received word that Howard Hughes was dead. There was a tribute
over the loudspeaker. Those who had worked there during the days that
Howard himself showed up at the factory started remembering, and told
some fascinating stories. Howard would show up in jeans and a dirty
shirt with an entourage of three piece suits behind him. They would talk
to the "clipboard people" also known as middle managers, while Howard
would talk to the rank and file workers. Evidently, Howard would listen
attentively to the workers, and was known to have replaced managers that
he got complaints about.
During one such visit, he bummed a dime from someone I knew for a cup of
coffee (Hughes never carried money with him), then talked him out of one
of his two meat loaf sandwiches, sat down next to him, and they had
lunch together. Several weeks later, he received a handwritten thank you
letter from Hughes with a dime taped to it. He didn't think to save it.
Hughes parlayed a small company left to him by his father called Hughes
Tool Company into his enormous wealth and empire with the help of a
group of talented and loyal people. He promised them a job for life, and
these people were known as untouchables.
There was still one of them at the facility I worked for, who chose to
work second shift, and had offices in a double-wide trailer inside the
facility. To avoid his salary depleting anyone's budget, they would
transfer administrative responsibility for him from department to
department. An eager young manager in one such department looked at his
staff, decided this man was not producing anything for him, and handed
him a layoff notice on Friday. When the manager got home, his wife was
in the driveway waving madly. It seems the president of Summa
Corporation, the non-profit that managed Hughes Aircraft and Hughes
Tool, was holding to speak with him. The message was simple. "I want to
acquaint you with a fact of life at Hughes Aircraft. If we suffer
massive setbacks, and there are two people left in Space Systems, you
and this gentleman, kindly lay yourself off."
One night at the Culver City facility, a man in paint splattered
trousers and a sweat shirt and sneakers tried to walk into the facility,
and wouldn't stop to show a badge until the security guard pointed a gun
at him. The guard called his sergeant, saying that he was holding some
jerk claiming to be Howard Hughes at gunpoint, after the man had tried
to break into the plant with no ID. The sergeant asked him how the man
was dressed. When he heard the answer, knowing that Hughes often came to
the facility and raced cars on his private airstrip, then toured the
plant, and always dressed that way, he rushed over to rescue Hughes from
the young guard.
Shortly after Hughes death, a so called "Mormon will" surfaced, awarding
much of his fortune to 16 people, including a simple milkman named
Melvin Dummar. Melvin told a story that he picked up a ragged old man
nearly unconscious near the side of the road, drove him to Vegas, and
loaned him a quarter. That man claimed to be Howard Hughes. This film is
Melvin's story, or at least his side of it, and starts with the road
incident. Melvin was working a factory job at the time, and lived in a
trailer with his wife, played brilliantly by Mary Steenburgen, and his
daughter. The next morning, his motorcycle is repossessed, and his wife
leaves him. The nudity, breasts and buns, come from Steenburgen, when he
serves her divorce papers at a strip club, where we also see some
anonymous strippers. When she finds herself very pregnant, they remarry.
She wins big in a TV game show, and they buy a house, possibly finally
getting their piece of the American dream, but the wastrel Dummar brings
home a Cadillac convertible and boat, so Steenburgen leaves for good.
He eventually marries a Mormon woman who works in the
milk plant where he is now working, and they move to Utah to run a
filling station/tire store. This is where he received the Mormon will.
This will, of course, was a serious setback for Summa Corporation, and
had direct bearing on important defense plants. You conspiracy theorists
can make of that what you will. The will was thrown out of Clark County
Superior Court in June 1978. No court-recognized will was ever found.
This Jonathan Demme (Silence of the Lambs) film was
highly acclaimed, and elevated the factual story of the Mormon will to
something more, by showing people who live on the cusp of the American
dream, never quite reaching it. The real Melvin Dummar played a small
role in the film. According to Rotten Tomatoes, the critics were 100%
positive. I found it a little slow, but then I knew the story well
before I ever saw the film, and, other than the Hughes incident, Melvin
lived a rather depressing and ordinary life. IMDB readers have this at
7.1 of 10. I have no opinion as to whether the Mormon will was genuine,
but, as you can see from the anecdotes at the beginning of this review,
it was rather "Hughes-like."
Scoop's brief notes:
This is a surprisingly engaging movie,
a true story (well, one version of the truth, anyway) about a lower
class guy who ends up in one of Howard Hughes' wills because he once
gave Hughes a charitable ride into Vegas without knowing who it was.
(Hughes looked like an old bum out in the desert).
Melvin Dummar was one of life's
losers, and this movie tells us that. He was a nice guy, and he had some
charm, but he never succeeded at anything until he found himself the
inheritor of $160 million in the Hughes will, and became the subject of
national scrutiny and attention. Although it is based on an actual
incident, it is fundamentally Dummar's version of the incident. It's a
pretty good yarn though. At one point, Dummar forces Hughes to sing (or
walk home!), and their time together is quite touching. Jason Robards
really hit all the right notes in his few minutes as Howard Hughes. I
wrote elsewhere that Robards did more to give Hughes dimension in these
few minutes than DiCaprio did in the entire film of The Aviator.
Mary Steenburgen's nude scene is one
of my favorites, although it's in funky strip-club lighting. She quits
her job as a stripper by tearing off her costume completely, and walking
out of the club stark naked. Unfortunately, Steenburgen's full-frontal
nudity, which was visible in the full-screen VHS version of the film,
could not be seen in the widescreen DVD, which shows breasts and buns
Raw screen grabs
The Brown Bunny
Chloe Sevigny film
This film is quite famous, albeit for
three things somewhat unrelated to the appeal of the project.
Chloe Sevigny fellated
director/star Vincent Gallo on camera in real time.
Gallo promoted the film with a
gigantic billboard overlooking Sunset Boulevard, featuring what
Gallo envisioned to be a non-objectionable version of the blow job
The film caused a major feud
between critic Roger Ebert and Gallo.
After a 118 minute version of the
film was roundly booed at Cannes, Mr. Ebert told a TV crew outside
the theater that The Brown Bunny was: "The worst film in the history
of the festival. I have not seen every film in the history of the
festival, yet I feel my judgment will stand."
With the wit and grace of Oscar
Wilde, Mr. Gallo responded: "If a fat pig
like Roger Ebert doesn't like my movie, then I'm sorry for him."
"It is true that I am fat," Ebert
rejoined, "but one day I shall be thin, and he will still be the
director of The Brown Bunny."
Responding to Ebert's oblique
reference to a noted example of Churchillian wit, Gallo fired back a
Shavian bon mot of his own: 'Oh yeah, well you tell that bastard I
curse his prostate and I hope it blows up to the size of a
out to be a particularly unfortunate comment, because Mr. Ebert was
soon diagnosed with colon cancer, but Roger took it in stride and
joked, "I am not too worried. I had a
colonoscopy once, and they let me watch it on TV. It was more
entertaining than The Brown Bunny."
If you missed it all, you can
catch up on the whole feud here
The story has sort of a happy ending,
I suppose. Gallo recut the film to 92 minutes for its theatrical
release and Ebert awarded three stars to the revised version, while
praising Gallo for recognizing that much of his footage needed
||Here is the famous
billboard. If you click on it you can see a much larger version.
Given today's moral climate, many passing
motorists seemed to find it objectionable, and the "powers that be"
soon took it down, much to Gallo's chagrin.
"I'm extremely disappointed. I
just wanted to make what I thought would be the most beautiful
billboard in the world. I used very extreme, bold composition and
font and imagery because I felt that it related to the aesthetic
sensibility of the film. Unfortunately, the billboard was reduced to
something that it really wasn't."
Well, what is there to say? Vince takes out a good
size wang, keeps it constantly hard as if he were an experienced
porno trouper, and Chloe gobbles it. The money shot is in her mouth,
so we can't tell if that is simulated, but the rest of it is
obviously very real with everything shown on camera in real time.
Ah, yes. The film.
It's existential cinema verité,
European minimalist style, (deliberately) close to a home movie in
style. It could easily be a Bruno Dumont film. Vince rides from New
Hampshire to California, haunted by the grief of a painful betrayal
and his loss of the betrayer. As he viewed it, his beloved Daisy had
turned out to be no truer to his mental picture of her than had Jay
Gatsby's famous Daisy.
Along the way he rides a motorcycle
at the Bonneville Salt Flats, stops in a pet shop to ask about the
life-span of bunnies, stops and talks to some hookers and
convenience store clerks, stops and provides wordless consolation to
a kindred spirit (former supermodel Cheryl Tiegs, once one of the
most famous women in the world, now making her acting debut at age
56). Mostly he just drives, while the camera watches traffic through
his front window. Lots of traffic. There's highway traffic,
small-town New England traffic, Las Vegas traffic, interstate
highway traffic, wet traffic in the rain, dry traffic in the desert.
Anonymous cars. Anonymous people. The film must be about 50%
"windshield cam". Sometimes, for a real change of pace, there are no
cars; just an open road. Ah, but would not the true existentialist
counter that the absence of cars is just another form of traffic,
just as a musical rest is another tool of musical composition?
Occasionally the camera switches to close-ups of Vince's pained
face, but then we get right back to traffic again. Even when the
camera is on Vince's face as he drives, we can see traffic in the
background. Even if we can't actually see it, we can sense its
It's the Citizen Kane of traffic
Luckily the stretches of filmed
traffic are exactly long enough for the kind of background songs in
which singer-songwriters wail their mournful phrases about lost
happiness, while strumming eerie, hollow acoustic guitar chords.
I'll bet it's been a while since you
heard Gordon Lightfoot.
In fact, the last time you heard
Lightfoot, other people were actually making films like this, films
which tried to strip away the conventions of mainstream commercial
filmmaking and just show something genuine, with the camera
apparently recording real life in real time. My guess is that every
single student film at NYU in 1973 resembled this film. In some
ways, this is the classic late-60s-early-70s contemplative road
movie about a search for some peace of mind, some quiet for a
troubled soul inside a soul-destroying world. There's lots of
regret, sadness, grief, and thoughts about roads not taken. You will
see at the end that the action does not drift aimlessly. In fact, if
you really pay attention, the ending of the film will clarify what
has gone before, and even show you why the hotel room scene and the
BJ seemed to be told from a subjective POV, in contrast to the stark
objective realism of many other scenes.
Is there catharsis? Resolution? Does
Vince's character find the peace he seeks?
"He's a destroyed soul, he will
continue to act out until he peters out and dies. There's no
epiphany, no catharsis, no awakening." - Vincent Gallo, speaking of
his character Bud Clay in The Brown Bunny
Unless you enjoy "the art of the
moment" - the capture of and lingering indulgence in a mood in a
moment of time - this is not the movie for you. To call its pace
slow would be tantamount to calling tectonic shifts slow. If you
reduce the story to essential narrative, devoid of atmosphere and
mood, it would be less than 30 minutes long. If necessary, it could
easily be cut back to a 30 minute episode for The Hitchhiker. And
even at that length it would not be particularly satisfying. Or
Gallo is a unique filmmaker. He's the
classic auteur pouring his passion out from his soul. He does not
travel with an entourage or employ much of a crew. His ending
credits, excluding the mandatory music credits, must be about the
shortest in history. He might have just substituted "it's all me."
Nothing wrong with that really. People have interpreted that as
narcissism and egomania, but I don't buy that interpretation. It's
just a guy producing and directing his own personal movies the way
he wants to make them and controlling every aspect, including
cinematography and editing. Don't writers do that? Gallo is simply
doing with his film what Dostoyevsky did with the printed page -
crying out in personal anguish, and making every word and comma his
Is the film worth watching?
Well, Gallo's film has many defenders
among those who enjoy a certain type of alternative minimalist
filmmaking. The critical scores were not bad overall (43% at RT, 49
at Metacritic), although the mediocre overall score does not
accurate reflect the love-hate polarization of the critiques. Some
find it unwatchable, some find it offensive, others call it a
Do not count me in that latter group.
I didn't enjoy The Brown Bunny. Yes,
there is some emotional payoff in the last five minutes of the film,
but I just can't imagine that more than 1% of you could ever make it
that far. The first 70% of the film is so slow and so tedious that
you'll give up unless you just have to see that blowjob.
Oh, yeah, the title. Well, if I get
where he's going, the brown bunny he sees in the pet shop is
something that looks beautiful and sweet but has a very short
life-span. Like love. I suppose that the anticipated death of the
bunny foreshadows not only the end of love after a short time, but
also the end of Daisy after a short life.
Raw screen grabs
Nothing for Saturday and Sunday ... be back in time for the Monday edition. Have
a good holiday weekend.