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| approaching home |
On the Dublin to Boston leg of my return, one of the movie options was The Rocky Horror Picture Show: Let's Do the Time Warp Again. Yes, this devastatingly wretched, cooked-up-by-a-bunch-of-corporate-ex-frat-boys-who-lack-even-a-shred-of-creativity remake was playing. I made it through the first 15 minutes before I, honest and true, had no other choice but to turn it off.Variety’s review is spot on (and well worth a full read):
But this new production is part of that pernicious impulse in Hollywood to commodify that which was once considered fringe. “Rocky Horror Picture Show: Let’s Do the Time Warp Again” is showcasing a commercialized and easily consumed “queerness” — dyed hair! mohawks! fishnets! as if all of those things have not walked down the runways of Paris fashion week, a hundred times over — while sanitizing and sanding down the parts of the original it can’t make safe. This was Fox’s strategy with “Grease: Live,” too. But while “Grease!,” the popular movie version, could lean on high school drama, “Rocky Horror” is a horror-comedy where a transgender and/or crossdressing villain is not just a lust-crazed mad scientist, but also literally an alien. How do you update that for a mainstream audience?
The answer, as it happens, is not well.
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| the descent |
Why’s this on my mind this morning? I’ve got Tim Curry, singing I’m Going Home, in my head. Of course!
And now, I am home. Got in last night at 7PM. That’d be 1AM Berlin time – way past my bedtime. The little cold I came down with while Schöneberging my happy ta-tas off? Yeah, it didn’t like that big travel day and decided to get all big and nasty on me. *groan, sneeze, cough*
Coco and Rocco are glad I’m home though. Took our boy a short five minutes to remember who I am.
Hey, aren’t you the frowzy old broad that I wake up each morning? Yeah, the one who brings me haddock (but not nearly often enough) and annoys the crap outta me with all the paparazzi bullshit? Yeah, I ‘member you.Coco, on the other hand, went a full 12 hours before she quit squealing:
Yur NOT my mother. Jen’s my mother! You left me. I’m NOT talking to you! Treats? Oh….ummmm….why didn’t you say so before?And guess what that saint Jen did while I was gallery-izing and eating my way through Berlin? She cleaned my kitchen and vacuumed the house!! I have THE best friend – oh yes I bloody well do!
I know I should get outta the house for a walk today (say hi to my ocean – I expect it missed me), start in on my taxes, hit the gym, unpack and continue on with the half dozen layout jobs I’m working on BUT I think I’ll take a blindingly hot shower, steam out the schnozz, and then, a nap.
Hi Honeys, I'm HOOOOOOOME!
