(so said Lenny Bruce), and believe you me, I've tried. I had one of those Tonto suede fringe jackets when I was a lil' toughskin tyke. Anyway, this page isn't about mucoid removal, but merely a platform where I, Rollo Manhattan, "pick" my brain, comment on said pickage, and throw stuff out there to see what lands. Even with all them new-fangled iGadgets and such, it's gotten harder over the last buncha years NOT to wear stuff on one's sleeve, let alone get off, so try here I shall. Get along...
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
4 a fleeting moment 2night I had 666 myspace "friends"... and she breaks just like a little Factory Girl
But do 666 "friends" occuping my shared networking space mean anything? If so, will someone be sending out a bulletin that the freaking world is coming to an end or something? Or, perhaps b/c my last band's myspace page has close to 3000 of those so-called friends (almost as many peeps as Americans killed in Iraq), does that negate me from eternal hellfire and damnation? Heck, I don't really give a rat's ass, I'm not a religious man, but I am curious nonetheless about that #, and thinkin' someone out there in myspaceland could enlighten me on this very unimportant subject... Hmmm?
In other "news", I just got in from the Ziegfeld premiere of "Factory Girl", and I'm beat knacked. Here's sort of a review though: It was ok. Guy Pierce, as butt ugly asexual phony fuck-up asshole scenester pop art icon Andy Warhol = great. Yes my sweet revisonist comrades, Andrew was all that and a can of soup, but the film goes too far trying to state (without mentioning names as you know) that Bob Dylan was the real mccoy genius in comparison, which I don't really buy. You know, there were true blue artists at the time who thought both of these guys were poseurs. Anyway, besides that point, Haden Christenson -though far too young and perty lookin' for the role- was charming as the Dylanesque character. Zimmer Man should not me upset by this films portrayal, not in the least, he should be flattered for Christsakes, esp. that a better lookin' dude then himself played him. If he has any beef with how he's perceived, it could be that Annakin Skywalker, the dark prince and evil side of "the Force" was cast to play him (I like that irony, Warhol as Luke Skycocker, both with blotchy skin -Andy's due to what... acne? and Luke's due to a motorcycle accident by Mark Hamill before "The Empire Strikes Back", which kept him from probing Leah's interstellar panties from there on out), though we all know that the Jokerman was a prick back then (see "Don't Look Back").
As for Sienna Miller in the title role, well, though she's passable, and def. a hot factory worker, she is a fairly unlikeable Edie Sedgewick, and there lies the rub
in this pseudo-Shakesperean power struggle (all the elements are there, as the love triangle thing underlines this film: princess chooses one prince over the other -who may or may not have rather had the chosen prince for himself- he feels spurned, she does herself in after the chosen prince, unwilling to wait, moves on, yada yada). Besides the question I kept asking myself, namely "what has this actress done before, besides appearing on page 666 arguing with ex-Jude Law?" she is:
A) too old and leathery at 30-something to play the "it girl", and
B) she's also too old to play a young Dylan's lover (plus, Dylan woulda been older then her even at that time too, no?)
I mean, hey, Mrs. Miller is good, don't get me wrong, and her tits have held up,
but she's not as fetching as we all know (and see in stills at the end of the film)
the young moonfaced Edie was, plus there's this bitch-Goddess thing she has from the get-go (that seems more fitting for her latter years, and perhaps for Nico from the start) that reminded me of a particular older model girlfriend I had once, who seemed to resent her waning years at all times, and repelled people, not attracted them. Though Edie was supposed to be a highly wound-up, brittle creature (who broke "just like a little girl", according to Dylan), I'm sure she didn't wear this quality on her sleave, as depicted, not if everyone flocked to her (as we all know they did). These filmmakers also don't convincingly make the case that she was anymore or anything other then Twiggy or others branded "it" before her, and Miller's casting makes her seem even less unusual then she may have in fact been. Perhaps hasbeen American beauty Mena Suvari (who appears as Sedgewick's friend) may have been better in the part, she certainly has that moonface thing going these days...
Ok, besides my views on the actors (and Jimmy Fallon? Must I have to see him in another picture? I know he's the consumate scenester, but...), the film was well-done, just not marvelous. I, like many, am drawn towards flicks about this era, but there's got to be a story there that's more then just rich girl succeds then falters, and the classic tragic elements fail to hit home. The camera work, usage of diferent lenses and filmstock worked to help carry the load, and the score, whatever it was (and obviously it was not from VU and their contempraries), was damn good (the fake Velvets stuff worked, esp. in conjunction with classic Tim Harden tunes as the Dylanesque soundtrack, it all kept you in the film without them resorting to cinematic classics of the day like "For What it's Worth" or something. This helped to keep the film's indie-ness (for what that's worth).
Well... that's all I have to say on this subject, I've already written far more of a "review" than I intended. The film gets a solid C+ from me, a half-hearted thumb w/ a sprinkle of blow up the nose (as opposed to one up the ass). The premiere
afterparty, on the other hand, sucked my fucking harmonica. The P/R motherfuckers (bespectacled girl, you know who you are) running the event had the gaul to have the party at the Chelsea Hotel, but not at the Chelsea Hotel, for one. Plus, they segregated the regular folks with passes from the cast in 2 separate bars attached to the hotel, which made those who showed up late in the post-film eve feel like all those un-hipsters who couldn't get into the Factory back in the 60's I'm sure, and thus thought Warhol to be one big pretentious a-hole. This led me to believe upon heading home that the the film's legacy will be one of "we don't quite know what we were trying to say other then the 60's were pretentious". Dylan's sueing them, as you know, Edie comes off like a trust funded drug addicted slut, and Andy, despite all the dirt spread on him, comes off (b/c of Pierce) like the enigma he still is, give him or take him. "Factory Girl" is the right name then for Edie Sedgewick and this film, but I'm not sure selling a movie about a plastic babe is gonna fly these days past NYC and Hollywood. That lifestyle sure did look fun back then, and decadence could fight Dylan-essence and probably even win these days too, but both Warhol and Dylan were breaking ground then, while neither seems esp. relevant right now (nor does a spoiled whining brat with a penchant for exorbitance and tantrums for that matter). Edie Sedgewick was def. a notch above Paris Hilton b/c of her
victim qualities (not to mention ability to actually speak), and Dylan and Warhol miles above their present incarnations, whoever they are, but all this NY '60s folly onscreen now seems pretty dated and meaningless. We've buried it already, the Factory on 14th is like a Whole Foods or something now, and so we fantasize about it (on film, and by having premiere afterparties with exclusive lists where Patrick McMullan, photog to the Stars cannot even get people in)...
Ok, so my above diatribe was more like a series of lame Warhol prints that added up to nothing then a real, honest-to-goodness in-depth review. Do I care...? No, I just mirrored a convoluted film with some jibber jabber about it. What I am more concerned about at this hour is that I had 666 myspace friends for a shining moment and no one wrote to congratulate me. Because of this, I had to say more than just a few words about something, hence you go, (Factory) girl.
It was cold as dick outside 2nite, huh?
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