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Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Home Again, Home Again

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.
the descent
 Frankly, even the current Disney, which put out the fierce, satisfying Maleficent could’ve done WAY fucking better.

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!