Deathy Hollows Part II: Dreams Come True

Guys! Ohmygod, you guys! So, I sat down to write the second part of my epic multi-installment review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part One: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Being as it’s now been almost a week since I’ve seen the film, I went on IMDB just to make sure I wasn’t letting my rapier wit get in the way of the accurate chronology of events. AND GUESS WHAT?! Remember last time when I told you that the drunken Exposition!Witch at Bill and Fleur’s wedding was played by my high school French Teacher, Mme. Schiffer and you were all like, “Lolz, Wasser. No she wasn’t. And your French name in high school was Eponine? Silly, silly Wasser.” It was a pretty good line, right? Well, originally, the joke was that said drunken wedding guest was played by my great aunt Muriel: I nixed it because that’s really only funny if you attended my cousin Danny’s Bar Mitzvah earlier this month. (You didn’t, did you?). BUT, according to IMDB, the character is actually Ron’s great aunt Muriel! Oh, sweet cosmic dramaturge, how hi-larious I find that! And that really throws a wrench in my argument that there are only Christian wizards, right? I mean, between Anthony Goldstein and old mushugana Muriel Weasley you have almost one complete Jewzard!

How do you think Jewish wizards would utilize their magical prowess? They’d probably just be really sardonic and passive aggressive with their wizardry, like, at a restaurant they’d mutter under their breath, “Accio a decent bagel” or reading a paper they’d be like, “Harry Potter is the chosen one? Please, that little nebbishy kid? My little Jake has more 'chosen' in his pinky than that Potter kid has in his whole body. You know who thought he was the Chosen One? Hitler thought he was the Chosen One!” But I digress. More on Nazis later (seriously). On with part two!

We left off at Bill and Fleur’s wedding: the Ministry has just fallen and Shaft-albot just sent over his Patronous as a warning. By the by, I forgot to mention last time that Dumbledore leaves the Trio stuff in his will: Hermoine gets a kid’s book, Ron getS that thing that Galadriel gave to Frodo in Lord of the Rings and Harry gets the Snitch that he caught during his first Quidditch game. They’re all a little disappointed and so am I, mainly because this is Bill Nighy’s second and final scene in the movie and we’re only 20 or so minutes in. I would also like to point out that this is a pivotal scene in the story as these gifts will be used as tools to explain what the Deathly Hollows are and why they are important. BUT NO ONE CARES because it's HELLA BORING. I’m about to go off on a tangent, so if you’d rather just read funny things I have to say about the movie, feel free to skip the following bracketed passage:

{Really, in this exceptionally rich fandom, the plot device of the Deathly Hollows (the objects, not the books) is widely ignoredn because it has nothing to do with the development of the characters we love. I understand that JK Rowling needs some sort of structure the kids can follow on their journey to destroy the Horcruxes, but honestly when you think of Harry Potter you who thinks of the origin of the invisibility cloak or Dumbledore’s mad obsession for some powerful phallic symbol (lest we forget that he’s a little light in his leggings)? No one, that's who. The stuff the fans really want to be expanded upon, like what happens behind the Veil in the Hall of Mysteries or the origins of Regulus Black are conveniently ignored by Jo; in some ways, this has been the salvation of the fandom, as we are forced to fill in the gaps of the narrative. But that means we have to watch the origins of “Rock, Paper, Scissors unfold for not one, but two movies. And, I’m sorry, but no Tim Burton animated reprieve is going to make it more bearable. It’s enough that we have to deal with his bat-shit insane wife.}

Ahem. Excuse me, I had several years of bitterness stuck in my throat. Anyhoo, luckily for the golden trio, Hermione completely OWNS in this movie and she flees the party with her Mary Poppins 2.0 purse and, with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in tow, apparates to central London. They’re all still a little tipsy from the festivities and the contact high they got from Xenophilius Lovegood, so, like every drugged, freaked out 17 year olds before them, they go to a sketchy dinner. They sit there for hours, sipping coffee, talking about death and how they're in love with some dark senior they've never had an actual conversation with. Oh wait. That was me when I was 17. They just awkwardly order cappuccinos until a couple of Death Eaters bust in and Hermoine is all like, "Bitch, please. Granger OUT."

And they show up at... GRIMMAULD PLACE! They figure the secret location is still being kept by the secret keeper or whatever. For whatever reason, the muggle neighbors have never noticed the wizards coming in and out or the fact that every few hours their floors and wall shift and an extra house appears. Who cares, they're back where Gary Oldman used to live. He's dead, of course, and why put any more energy into expanding upon the mysterious circumstances of that (see bracketed passage above) but it's fine because we get to see more of Grimmauld place from different angles with sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows and we can imagine what Sirius Black would look like in the morning while making a pot of tea. Also, there's a piano and Hermoine is teaching Ron how to play. Which means that Sirius black probably played piano. Can you tell I let my mind wander during this scene just a tad more then I was actually paying attention? When I awoke from my reverie, Kreacher had Mundungus Fletcher by the collar and they were talking about how Dolores Umbridge has the locket. (I guess I missed the part when they revealed that Regulus Black was RAB, but honestly, it was so obvious that when I first read it in the book, I was convinced that Regulus was a smokescreen and that RAB was Rabastian Lestrange). Off we go to the Ministry to find Imelda Staunton!

(And now I will take ten minutes to watch Jennifer Grey on Dancing with the Stars. Excuse me.)

Okay, back. In case you're wondering, Jennifer Grey won and it was awesome. Anyhoo, the trio must infiltrate the Ministry because that's where Vera Drake works (Imelda Staunton was nominated for an Oscar for the title role in Vera Drake in 2004. Look it up). But how are they to get in? They're gonna knock out three random people without finding out who they are before hand, shoot some Polyjuice and go into the Ministry, that's how! Because, for some reason, even though Hermione had the foresight to pack a 24 hour Duane Reade in her purse and learn all of these super complicated protective charms, when Ron was like, "Hey Hermmie, since we're about to break in to the most heavily fortified, evil controlled headquarters in the world, it might be prudent to research the people we capture before we assume their identity," Hermoine was like, "There's no tiiiimmmmeeeee!"

Luckily, they pick three really convenient people: one works in the office where Umbrige works, one is Umbrige's... stenographer...? and one is married to the chick on trial. And dude, these actors were SO. GOOD. These might even be... my favorite performances of the film!! ::Balloon drop!! Marching band!! Rabbis and Priests kissing!!:: They were all just spot freakin' on! Especially ESPECIALLY the guy that played D. Rads. I mean, he had that weird, limpy "Richard III before the evil but during the awkward" walk down to a tee. And the actress that played Emma beautifully perfected that weird shruggy thing she does. So yay for them. Yay for these three actors who probably graduated head of their classes at RADA and completed a three year stint with the Royal Shakespeare Company. You have gotten your feature film moment of glory by imitating 17 year olds who are more rich and famous then you will ever be. Yay for you guys.

This scene in the ministry was actually quite well done, I thought. And I'm going to point something out to you that you might have missed because, well, it was a really subtle motif throughout the movie. Death Eaters are just like Nazis! Did you miss that? It's okay if you did, I'm sure you're a very astute audience member. Perhaps you were getting a drink during the scene when dozens of wizards in creepy union were printing out anti-muggle posters that looked a lot like Third Reich propaganda. Or maybe you were peeing out said drink whenever a Death Eater walked by with a red arm band or a Gestapo leather trench coat. Or maybe you were struck by a case of spontaneous deafness whenever anyone mentioned blood purity. Perhaps you are illiterate and couldn't read the "Magic is Might" posters. Or maybe you are just colorblind and have not noticed how blond the Malfoys are(with the exception of Narcissa's inexplicable skunk-wig). Guys, Death Eaters are just like Nazis. Have I blown your mind? No? Well, according to Snapple facts, the average person farts at least 12 times a day whether they notice it or not. Your mind = blown.

Anyway, the potion begins to wear off and the trio are about to make a hasty exit when, OH NOZ! It's the Crocodile Hunter's Scottish Brother, Yaxley! Hermione is all, "Bitch please, Granger ou-" but before she can get to the "t", she hears the horrible rip of flesh and realizes that she has apparated without half of Ron's arm. They end up on some secluded part of the Twilight set, and Hermoine attempts to heal Ron's skin as he sobs, mumbling something about how that was "his favorite one to use." There is a shot of Hermione casting a protective charm with blood on her hand that was made just so the trailer would look really intense. These kids sure have grown up, movie-goers. I mean, just yesterday they were just so darned cute that it didn't matter whether or not they could act, and now here they are, waving their blood stained hands in front of their faces like some sort of demented allusion to Fosse.

Harry has another acid flashback and sees big V interrogating and killing Gregorovitch the wand-maker before going off and looking for some kid that stole something very important. But no one cares about this because Ron is wearing The One Ring, forged in the fires of Mordor where shadows lie... sorry, I mean the locket.... and it's making him super self-conscious. He thinks Harry and Hermione are hooking up. So he's all like, "Dicks before chicks man!" and peaces out, leaving Harry and Hermione alone to reenact the kitchen scene from the Big Chill in their tent. It's strange, but funny I guess. Mostly because I watch Daniel Radcliff dance and think about how lucky this kid is that he's a mega movie star with more money than God and didn't ever have to go to a high school social. But Hermione's either madly in love with Ron or on the rag big time, because not even Harry's awkward step-touch can cheer her up.

They go to Godric's Hollow to meet Bathilda Bagshot who, being Dumbledore's fag hag, new him better than anyone. She invites them in for tea and they spend a lovely, cozy Christmas sharing laughs and pleasant memories. JK! Bitch is possessed by a snake. It's not pretty. It's actually pretty damn hard to watch. Harry also breaks his wand. Hermione assures him that it happens to lots of guys and that he shouldn't be embarrassed, they can just watch TV or cuddle or something. But Harry is pissed anyway.

That night, Harry is sitting alone, applying his guy liner, listening to some Dashboard Confessional, when he sees a doe Patronous. Because he only has half a brain and that half is too consumed with self-pity to think anything through, he follows the doe without question, even though there is no reason for him to believe that it isn't a Death Eater trap. The Patronous leads him to a frozen pond where he sees the sword of Gryffindor lying at the bottom. Harry, Rhodes Scholar that he is, strips down to his undies and jumps on in. The water is way below freezing and, decent as your torso may be, Taylor Lautner you are not but, sure, jump in naked, HP. Go to town. Of course, the locket goes nuts and tries to drown him. Good for you, locket. And, in a startling turn of events, Harry realizes that he could not swim after all and the frigid water sends him into shock. Death spasms shake his now blue form as Harry Potter drowns, the last thought in his head, "Poor me." The next morning, Hermione is taking her daily cry-walk only to discover the body of her dear friend, forever entombed below the ice.

THE END!

Just kidding! Ron comes and saves the day! And this is where it gets kind of ridiculously inappropriate. Before Ron can destroy the Horcrux, visions of his worst fears appear, including spiders, clowns and... oh yeah... HARRY AND HERMIONE GOING AT IT! Like, they are naked and there are tastefully obscured boobies and there is tongue involved. Really?! I mean really??? Listen, I'm not opposed to sex. Sex is awesome and everyone should be having it all the time. I understand that we're supposed to accept that the trio are not kids anymore. They are adults and have adult desires and adult fears. But... ew. Just ew. Point taken, David Yates, but still with the ewww.

Ron manages to destroy the Horcrux and is feeling pretty damn good about it. He goes to find Hermione so he can tell her how manly and burly and badass he is, but she is just really pissed that he was gone for so long. Women, am I right?

I think we'll pause here for the evening. My, how we've progressed: we're almost through the whole movie! And I haven't even told you about how I feel about Jack Sparrow's gay wizard brother (the feelings are VERY positive) or about how I don't hate Emma Watson nearly as much anymore. We just have so much to talk about... I just have such a short attention span. Seriously, I've stopped to play tetris five time while writing this paragraph alone. Give me a couple of days and we'll wrap this bitch up.

Isn't the anticipation delish?

A Post The Way Potter Fans Like It... In Multiple Installments

I want to preface this article with one thing: I’m an adult. Only a few days ago I celebrated my 24th birthday amongst dear friends and an obscene amount of cheap beer in the West Village. We were all, my adult friends and I, fresh from our day jobs in an array of rumpled tailored blazers and hastily applied eyeliner (and that was just the guys) bitching about bills and laughing at our own pretentious jokes. Ah, the young, downtown suit crowd. How old we all felt. So professional. Such tools.

I thought about my birthday party after work last night as my little Rav Four barreled down 2nd Ave. at 11:45, practically breaking the sound barrier, a mangled heap of pedestrians and baby strollers in its wake. I had never missed a midnight showing of Harry Potter, and goddamn it, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like “adult responsibility” break my streak. Of course, on the cinema escalator, my wallet slipped out of my purse and my credit card, ID and Starbucks Card (NO!!) went flying. I was just about to whip out Panicked!Liz when, miraculously, a human Snitch handed me the wayward contents of my purse. His girlfriend, Sybil Trelawney, smiled sympathetically as she looked over my disheveled work shirt and straight legged beige pants that even my grandmother would call “frumpy”. Understanding, I lifted my shirt sleeve to reveal a hastily drawn Dark Mark on my forearm. Fist bumps were exchanged. I was home.

So. From the girl who brought you the Annual Potterhead Awards Volumes 1-7, comes the first part of my three part commentary on the cultural event of the decade (or at least the films inspired by the books that were the cultural even of the decade). Heeeerrreee weeee gooooo!

The film opens with an EXTREMECLOSEUP of Rufus Scrimgeour, played by Bill Nighy. No, not the science guy, the sinfully underrated British actor who sang about feeling Christmas in his fingers and toes. He’s kind of my type, Bill Nighy: you know, an older, distinguished British gentleman who looks like he’s been smoking since he was 14. (Which reminds me… how was I the only one in the theatre who cheered for my sweet sweet baby, Gary Oldman, during the Red Riding Hood trailer? Have you children already forgotten Sirius Black? Who are you… JK Rowlingafter book five? Blamo!) Anyhoo, these are dark times, but the Minstry is still strong says Davey Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. The skies are overcast, the trio is angst-y, a storm is coming, blah blah blah. I enjoyed this (especially the scene in which Hermoine “Obliviated” the crap out of her parents) but I was disappointed by the lack of closure we got with the Durselys. Oh well, Fiona Shaw, you glorious lesbian, I’ll see you at BAM later this season, I guess.

We follow the (tragically underused…more on that later) Alan Rickman to Malfoy Manor (Where were the white peacocks? For the thirteen dollars I spent on this ticket, there should have been at least one white peacock) where Voldemort is sitting all menacing and noseless. Everyone is there because, for some reason, the Malfoys have a dinette set that sits about 75 people and that ol’ Slytherin Crest China is just collecting dust, right, so why not have a big, evil dinner party? Yaxley, played in this film by the Crocodile Hunter’s Scottish brother, is there and so is Helena Bonham Carter who, for some inexplicable reason, decided to wear a black version of the wig she wore in that abortion of an Alice in Wonderland fanvid. She proceeds to cross her eyes and wiggle her finger up and down over her lips because she’s crazy. (Does anyone else find this “Norma Desmond on crack” version of Bellatrix to be kind of self indulgent and distracting? Because I do.) Did I miss anything? Oh yeah. There’s a half-dead Hogwarts teacher floating over the table. She teaches Muggle Studies (which is totally not the subject I teach in my fantasies where I am secretly bringing supplies to Sirius Black while he's in hiding circa book three). Also, Voldemort breaks Lucias’ snake-cane-wand because, you know, you can’t let the accessory wear you.

Meanwhile, back at Privet Drive, Harry says goodbye to his cupboard (Omg…get it guys? His world was so small and now it’s so big?!? Do you get it?! Guys, do you get it?!) and The Order of the Phoenix shows up to escort Harry to the Burrow. They get through all of the exposition asquicklyastheypossiblycan so we can get to the action, like wand fights and explosions and naked Harry and Hermoine making out (Oh, I’ll get to it. Patience, my darlings). The dialogue goes something like “Hey this is Bill, he’s a Weasley and he just became a Werewolf who’s married to Fleur and guess what Remus and Tonks are also married and Tonks is having a baby and also she’s blonde.” Got all that? Good, five chapters in thirty seconds. They all shotgun some Polyjuice Potion so that they will all look exactly like Ewoks and Voldemort won’t be able to tell which Harry is the real Harry during their flight. (Guys, Daniel Radcliff looks so much like an Ewok that I want to weep).

So, the Order, identically disguised as the cursed spawn of an owl and that chipmunk from Ice Age (read: Harry), fly to the Burrow without incident! JK! There’s a lot of fighting on brooms in the clouds and flashes of red and green light. The valiant Hedwig (the bird, not the one with the Angry Inch) gives the real Harry away while she’s trying to protect him and pays for it with her life. Boo-hoo. Birds are gross. Voldemort is temporarily bested but it doesn’t really bother him that much: he’s all like “whatevs”. JK again! He stands in the middle of a field as power lines collapse all around him and he screams in rage. You know, a typical day on the set for Ralph Fiennes.

At the Burrow, Fred shows up with a hole in his head. David Thelwis shows up, pushes Harry up on the wall and is all like “THIS IS ONE OUT OF MY TWO LINES IN THIS MOVIE AND I WILL MAKE THE MOST OF IT! ARE YOU THE REAL HARRY? HOW DO I KNOW? I’LL MAKE OUT WITH YOU IF I HAVE TO!” Also, Moody is dead. Also, Fleur is French. Harry is sad because his life his so hard and he doesn’t want anyone else to die on his behalf. So, like every whinny little five year old bitch before him, he tries to run away with nothing but a knapsack. (God, I hate teenage Harry). Ron’s finds him and is all pissed and screams, “We’re not dying for you, you pussy! Well, your parents did, I guess. So did Cedric. Oh, and Sirius died because you were stupid and fell right into Voldemort’s trap. Oh yeah, and Moody died for you like, ten minutes ago. But other than that… no one is dying for you, Harry Potter! Also Bill and Fleur are getting married tomorrow! They forgot to tell you that in the last scene whentheygottheexpositionoverwithasquicklyaspossible.” Luckily, Harry forgot to pack his training bra so they went back inside. (God, I hate teenage Harry.)

Before the nuptials Harry, decked out in a velvet vest that he stole from the set of Blossom, zips up Ginny’s dress. And SHE’S NOT WEARING A BRA. Maybe Harry can lend her one of his. (Harry sucks). They make-out…it’s gross and weird. Then it’s wedding time! Bill and Fleur kiss under the chuppah and the DJs lead the guests in the Horrah as the bride and groom are hoisted up on chairs! No? Oh right, there are only Christian Wizards. Except for maybe Anthony Goldstein. I bet he's halfsies. All in all, it’s pretty boring for a wizard wedding.

Except! EXCEPT! Xenophilius Lovegood is there doing a weird, Woodstock inspired dance with Luna, and guys, he’s being played by the always delicious Rhys Ifans! I love this character and I love this man! He gets all up in Harry’s business whispering things like “Groovy, dude” and “far out, man”. He literally nuzzles the kid’s hair, eyes all bloodshot, wearing a robe made out of Marsha Brady’s curtains and Harry is thrown back by the stink of weed. Gillyweed, guys. Zounds, did you think I meant marijuana? Merlin’s beard, this is a children’s movie! (Xenophilius Lovegood is so high in this scene and it was so amazing and I wanted the cameras to follow him back to his house so I could watch him stroke the velvet posters in his black light room).

More boring exposition stuff happens. Luckily, it's a wedding scene, so there are plenty of drunken old people that could serve that purpose. My favorite is played by my high school french teacher, Mme. Schiffer, who ominously says to Harry, "Are you sure you knew Dumbledore at all?" And then she says, "Eponine! Why didn't you do your homework? Pour quoi?!" Okay, so that last part I made up. And I doubt that the random drunken wedding witch was actually played by my high school french teacher. But the resemblance is uncanny. Then Kingsly (who, in case you didn't notice he was black, wears wizarding robes that resemble a dishiki) sends a Patronous warning the wedding party that the Ministry has fallen and the Death Eaters are coming!!! OOOHH NOOOZZZ!!

And that is where we'll leave it for tonight.

In the next installment:

-We are introduced to Jack Sparrow's yummy gay wizard brother who, by tomorrow night will spark 100 stupid Hermoine fan fics.

-Harry and Hermoine share a bizarre The Big Chill dance scene in their tent. Also... THEY GET NEKKID!

-I give some begrudging but genuine props to Emma Watson

-And I give out my award for best performance of the film. (It's not Daniel Radcliff).

See you next time, post-potter depressives. It's been a long few years. You can wait a bit longer.

Living the Dream.

Well, my beautiful, darling, (few) readers, here we are at the dawn of a new year and a new decade. (Technically, the decade begins in 2011 because there was no year zero. Well, super technically, time is relative. But 2010 is such a nice, round number, isn't it?) I am twenty-three years old, which means that over the course of the next ten years (if I survive) a lot of important shit is going to happen to me. Presumably, I will, at some point, "settle down", in an attempt to secure some sort of "stability". Perhaps I might want to get "married" or even have "children". I might even procure a "real job" with, dare I say, "health benefits".

Or not.

For, while many of my peers are finishing up their graduate degrees or making a dent in their respective career paths, (preparing to enter a "real world" that, I hear, is even realer than the post-college real world) or getting engaged or enrolling in various forms of civil service, yours truly continues to float around randomly like that symbolic feather in the opening credits of Forest Gump. "Why?" I pretend to hear you ask. Because I have made the astoundingly stupid decision to attempt a life as a professional actor. A professional actor... who does not have her Equity Card.

A few of you might be wondering why that cheap little piece of laminated construction paper makes such a big difference. What does it mean to be a non-equity actor? It means many things, the most obvious being that I am not a member of Actors Equity Association. Some of the less obvious things include being ineligible for contracts that include a rather generous minimum salary/periodic rehearsal breaks and ::drumroll:: Health Insurance! It also means that Equity audition monitors will not even consider seeing me until all members with a time slot, members on the weight-list and "equity eligible" actors have had their 16 bars of fame. Subsequently I am seldom, if ever, seen at big auditions. This is a pity... as I am awesome. Hey, it's a tough gig. But I can deal with it. I'm a tough broad.

Here's my real beef with being a non-equity actor: I am not allowed to sit in the Equity Lounge. I do not know what the Equity Lounge looks like. I can only assume that the walls are lined with genuine pieces of French Impressionist art, foot massages are available upon request and the water fountains run with mimosas. I am made to sit on rickety benches in the hallway, donning my Bare Minerals and ironing my hair under horrendous florescent lights. No one looks good in that hallway. ALSO ALSO I am not allowed to use the Equity Bathroom. I have to go out in the cold/heat/grime and use the bathroom in the Burger King around the corner.

Ten years from now, when I'm writing my "Faves of the Decade" blog, frequently citing quotes from President GaGa, I very well might still be a hostess at a wine bar on the Upper East side. Without an Equity Card. So why? Why not spend the next ten years going to law school and investing my savings and peopling Long Island with my progeny? Sure, I have great bone structure that should be passed on. My only answer is a pretty meager one... I think it might be worth the risk. To quote a fellow non-equity actor who borrowed my hair iron to touch up his side-bang, "Oh my God, Liz. This is such a fucking stupid thing to want to do with your life. I'm so miserable. It's so much fun."

Pocahontavatar: A Review of Two Wonderful, Identical Films

Let me first say this: I think that it is unnecessary to spend 300 million dollars on anything unless it's a cure to a fatal disease, feeding those skinny kids with big bellies or buying buckets of water to douse a litter of burning puppies. Seriously. That's the only time when people should throw that much money at one thing. That being said... Avatar was totally badass. It was also badass 15 years ago when it was Pocahontas. So, I am going to kill two birds with one stone and, because I do not know how to make a digital venn diagram, review both films at the same time.

Oh. Minor Spoiler Alert. (Though if you do not know how Avatar is going to end ten seconds after it's begun, you are probably not intelligent enough to be seeing a PG-13 movie.)

The film opens with an unrealistically handsome leading man talking about how he longs for adventure and a fresh start in The New World/Pandora, a planet in a distant universe. The dashing hero has a big handicap: he is paralyzed from the waist down/he hates Jews even though he works in the film industry (it's Mel Gibson did the voice of John Smith. IMDB it.) There is a British Governor/Scarred Southern Colonel who is in charge of the mission and wants to rape the fertile new land, kill the indigenous people and generally likes shooting shit. He is also obsessed with finding gold/unobtainium (no... that's really what it's called in Avatar. I can not make this up.) The indigenous people are Savages/Hostiles. They don't know the true value of the land they live on. OR DO THEY?!

The leading man gets lost after singing a song/after his brain is transferred into a huge, blue alien and some weird roach-jaguar makes him jump off of a waterfall. He doesn't know how to deal with his beautiful, albeit strange and dangerous, surroundings. Enter Pocahontas/Neytiri, a beautiful native who is coincidentally the Princess of her tribe. Pocahontas/Na'Vi is skeptical of this pale face/paraplegic in a blue alien's body. How ignorant he is! He does not know how to sing with all the colors of the wind/he does not know how to jump off trees and swing from branches like an orangutan. That's why Pocahontas/Neytiri must sing to him as she leads him through a gracefully animated montage/ must call him ignorant as little flying jellyfish land on his skin. It's really pretty. I bet it's even prettier stoned. (I know for a fact that one of these films IS prettier when you're stoned. Guess which one.)

Ultimately, John Smith/Jake Scully learns how paint with all the voices of the mountain/attach his hair to the tentacles of weird dragon like things and fly them with his mind. This impresses Pocahontas/Neytiri. And she realizes that she has fallen in lurve with this bangin' foreigner. So, in a gesture of trust, she takes him to the most sacred place of her people: Grandmother Willow/Telepathic-Tentacle Tree. Grandmother Willow/Telepathic-Tentacle Tree says "que, que na-to-rah, you will understand,"/"This planet is all one living thing." John Smith and Pocahontas kiss because their love transcends race./Jake Sully and Neytiri do it because their love transcends species. (At least... I think they do it. I'm not really sure. They might just touch tentacles. It fades out before anything gross really happens.)

This union pisses a lot of people off. Namely, the princess' betrothed: Kocoum/Tsu'tey. They hate this Pale Face/Avatar. How could the Princess fall in love with an outsider? What an insult to the tribe! What a personal affront! So, Kocoum gets violent and attacks John Smith, causing Thomas (the hottest cartoon ever) to shoot the enraged Native American/Tsu'tey decides that Jake Skully is not that bad. I mean, whatevskies.

So, lots of shit happens that makes us question who the savages really are. Not that we seriously questioned who the savages are. I mean, the people who can talk to animals and are all zen with the earth and are all skinny and tan/blue are obviously the good guys, right? And the Fat British Guy/Trigger Happy Muscle Man with a Southern Drawl is obviously the bad guy, right? Now there are lots of kick-ass, mind-blowing fight sequences happening/everyone starts to sing in cannon. Lots of people die, horrible, bloody deaths/everything is solved non-violently when the wind blows, because it's Disney.

There is a resolution. The Virginia Company sailors realize the error of their ways and return to England/the Big Blue People lead the Earthlings back to their ships at gunpoint, ordering them never to return, on pain of death.

And everything turns out hunky dory! Except for when the Europeans came back to the New World in droves and brutally kill the Native American people and their culture. So, when Mr. Cameron decides to make another movie in ten years, I think we can expect the twelve ft. tall, blue Na'Vai being herded onto reservations and opening casinos.

xo.

Decade Faves Part 2: Dreams Come True

My dear reader, I would like to open this post the way countless internet posts have opened before me: I would like to describe what I am wearing. Darling, sweet, delicious reader, I am wearing... a Harry Potter Snuggie. A. Harry. Potter. Snuggie. Of course, unless you have been living under a rock made of steel and ignorance, you know what Snuggies are because you've seen those emmy-worthy commercials. Regular folks (just like you and me!) are bogged down by their ever so cumbersome blankets are unable to go about their daily activities. Then, floating into their lives like the deus ex machina in a Greek tragedy comes the glorious SNUGGIE- a blanket with sleeves! Suddenly, it's easy to read or talk on the phone or roasting things on spits in your backyard fire pit.

Now, I enjoy my Snuggie ironically of course. But that's what this decade was about, wasn't it? Ubiquitous merchandising on useless shit. The combination of the decade's most pervasive fictional character spread across an object that typifies the laziness that grew exponentially the past ten years.

Speaking of useless, mind-numbing crap:

WORST BASTARDIZATION OF REALLY COOL MYTHOLOGY:
THE TWILIGHT SERIES: Listen. I was fourteen once, and I lived for Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles. Vampires are awesome as a rule. They must kill to stay alive, and very often this gives them pause (though not often enough to stop them from killing, thus making them badasses with heart.) Also, they live forever and look really hot for all eternity. Also, they can' come out during the day because they will disintegrate/explode/melt/whatevskies. Also, they're traditionally very sexual beings. Also, they suck necks which is indisputably hot. Do you know what vampires don't do? THEY DO NOT FUCKING SPARKLE. THEY DO NOT IMPREGNATE CHICKS BECAUSE DEAD PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE VIABLE SPERM. THEY DO NOT. GO. TO HIGH SCHOOL.

Girls, I get it. I really do. I'm harsh because I care. Someone needs to tell you that **all Twilight is is fan-fiction (and bad fanfic at that) that doesn't bother with a canonical text.** Read the Vampire Chronicles. Read Lord of the Rings. Read His Dark Materials. Or stop reading altogether. Just stop talking about Twilight.

FAVORITE BADASSES OF THE DECADE:
1- CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW: Now, as Johnny Depp's soulmate, I'm undeniably biased. But this is the movie that made Johnny Depp JOHNNY FUCKING DEPP A-LIST MOVIE STAR BITCHES...and with good reason. Johnny was almost fired from the Pirates of the Caribbean set several times for interpreting the charming, swashbuckling hero in the script as a drunken bastard son of Keith Richards and Angela Lansbury. But Depp staggered and slurred his way into our hearts, creating an american cinematic icon. He made pirates cool again (before Somalia made them shitty again.) And we'll just pretend that the second two movies in the series weren't such awful, stinky disasters, okay? Okay.
2- VOLDEMORT: Okay, I know that I've said a hell of a lot abut Harry Potter already, but how could I not? This decade was the golden age of fantasy novels and flicks, and so much of that is owed to JK Rowling. And what good is an epic tale without an epic villain? Voldemort is not the most complicated of dudes, he's just pretty effing evil. Sure, we gain insight into his past late in the series, but ultimately, he's just an evil, power-hungry badass motherfucker.
3- TONY SOPRANO: Intimidating even while snorting like a pug and wearing a dirty, white bathrobe.
4- SULLY: Some people call him a hero. And he is, indisputably, a hero. However, I think landing a plane in the Hudson River is not only heroic, but also totally badass.
5- THE DIXIE CHICKS: These three petite blonds from Texas have more balls than any man I know. Country music is their bread and butter and they still had the guts to say of the war in Iraq "We do not want this war, this violence, and we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas." Radios stopped playing their music and they lost a good portion of their fan base. But I think that was a quintessential rock and roll move, and those little ladies are totally badass.

FAVORITE BADASS NAMED STEPHEN COLBERT:
STEPHEN COLBERT: I am a proud member of the Colbert Nation. He harpoons pompous talking heads like Bill O'Reily and Glenn *vomit* Beck by becoming them in glorious parody. He coined vocab words such as "truthiness" and "Lincolnesque." He takes pride in his balls. He took his show to Iraq for a week where President Obama ordered him to shave his head. He gets members of the CM to ban together and get shit named after him, like a bridge in Norway and a treadmill in a NASA space station. And I'm sorry, I think he's a good looking man. Even with his bum-ear.

MOST RIDICULOUS ACCENTS AND DIALECTS OF THE DECADE
1-THE CAST OF TRUE BLOOD: Anna Paquin has an Oscar and a Golden Globe. You would think she could spring for a vocal coach.
2- HUGH LAURIE AS DR. HOUSE: Dude. Have you heard this guy's voice in real life? It's like Jeremy Irons and Julia Child's accents had a baby. But as Dr. House, Laurie is convincingly New Jersey. Princeton NJ, not Tony Soprano NJ.
3-ENVER GJOKAJ AS VICTOR ON DOLLHOUSE: A doll is a blank canvas onto which an infinite personalities can be imprinted and Enver Gjokaj, with a name almost ridiculous as his ability to switch dialects on a dime, is also yummy as hell.
4- ARIANNA HUFFINGTON: I don't really feel like I need to qualify this one. Yes, she's ridiculously articulate, but I can't help but laugh whenever she stops by the Colbert Report or the Daily Show. If you've never heard this woman speak go on youtube and look her up.
5- PHILLIP SEYMORE HOFFMAN AS TRUMAN CAPOTE: For someone twice Tru's size, Phil sure does sound like him.

FIVE FAVORITE VIRAL SENSATIONS
1- DR. HORRIBLE'S SING ALONG BLOG: NPH as a nebbishy evil scientist. Nathian Fillion as a douchebag superhero that sings about how there's a hero in "you and you and mostly me but you." An Evil League of Evil. Bad Horse. Loves. Loves. Loves.
2- A VERY POTTER MUSICAL: As reluctant as I am to give any credit to the musical theatre dept. at Michigan, this student written full length (yes, full length) fan musical is soooo good. Featuring Voldemort and Professor Quirell back to back in the same costume, a couple of horrible wigs and a petit chick in a short blond wig as Draco Malfoy. Especially when it's bad. Watch it. It'll take you a couple of days, but it's worth it.
3- SHOES BY KELLY: Omigod Shehs. Please pretend that you didn't walk around for months saying it. Please.
4- THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: This arguably kick-started Andy Sandberg's career, but I think that the unsung hero of this video is Chris Parnel. He has me from the gangsta way he says "hello" when he picks up the phone. You'd think I'm Aaron Burr from the way I'm dropping Benjamins.
5- DICK IN A BOX: Step 1, put a hole in a box...

TOP FIVE WTF?! MOMENTS THAT I COULDN'T MAKE UP IF I TRIED
1- THE SUPREME COURT STOPS THE RECOUNT OF THE 2000 ELECTION: Every vote counts. JK! WTF?!
2-BERNIE MADOFF JACKS EVERYONE'S SHIT: Thanks, Bernie. That's what the Jewish community needs. A Jewish investment banker stealing 50 billion (with a "b"!) from to quote Jon Stewart, "Everyone that has ever been to a seder." There are practically no charities in New York unharmed by this asshole's greed. Because there's not enough anti-semitism in the world. I mean... WTF?!
3- BALLOON BOY: A little obvious, I know. But what kind of sociopaths tell their six year old son to hide in the garage while mommy and daddy go and pull the fast one on the country by literally making them stare at something shiny for three hours. I do really love how when it came out that they "met in acting school" everyone kind of went "Oh. That makes sense." Balloon Boy. WTF?!
4- BARACK OBAMA IS ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: I was on the Long Island Railroad after work one night, when I got a text that Obama had officially won. A kind of murmur went through the train car. Unable to contain myself I screamed... "OBAMA!" and everyone broke out into cheers. Except for a couple of old biddies in ugly hats. Not all WTFs are bad. Who could have predicted at the beginning of the decade that we would end the decade with a black president. Thank you, Oprah. And WTF?!
5- A CHIMP RIPS SOMEONE'S FACE OFF: W. T. F.

FIVE FAVORITE ALBUMS OF THE DECADE
1- I'M WIDE AWAKE, IT'S MORNING -BRIGHT EYES: Oh, Conor Oberst. Only you know my pain. Seriously, this gorgeous emo sonofabitch is one of the great songwriters of our generation. This pre-Cassadaga album has a little more than a hint of the old Conor angst with slightly cohesive musicality than older Bright Eyes albums like "Lifted or the Story Beneath the Soil" or "Fevers and Mirrors." Once you listen to track one, you'll fall in love with him because you will think that no one knows you like he does. Well, back off, bitch. Master Floppy Hair Green Eyes is mine.
2- YES, VIRGINIA - THE DRESDEN DOLLS: Weimar burlesque cabaret angry chick punk rock? Is that a category? It is now. And NO ONE puts on a live show like Amanda Palmer. Do you hear me?! NO ONE!
3- POSES - RUFUS WAINWRIGHT: Who hasn't sat down on a piano bench and tried to pluck out the opening chords of "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk?"
4- BEGIN TO HOPE - REGINA SPEKTOR: REgina Spektor is one of those artists, like Kate Nash, that you listen to once and you go "Okay. Cool." Then you put the album away until a few days later, alone in your car you find that you can't get one of the tracks out of your head. So you put it on and listen to it again. And again the next day. Then you realize that you're humming it in the shower or before bed or... let's say... I don't know, writing a blog that no one reads. The song "Apres Moi" is a great example of this.
5- BEN FOLDS- BEN FOLDS: He's a killer songwriter and musician, but what really distinguishes him from the rest is his killer wit songs real heart. With songs like "Uncle Walter" and "Underground" juxtaposed with "Video" and "Boxing" it's an emotional beating.

FAVORITE GAY ICON OF THE DECADE:
It's a tie!!
1- ELLEN: Ellen! After coming out and subsequently getting offed of her sitcom in 1998 , Ellen made this decade her bitch lover. Sharp, articulate and looking damn good in tailored trousers and converse, Ellen danced her way in our hearts! YES. I SAID IT. SHE DANCED HER WAY INTO OUR HEARTS. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT.
2- LADY GAGA: Oh, if only I was still in college and could write a paper about her. She is the Cher we have been waiting for. She is a Meta-pop star and a full-fledged goddess.

And now... this weeks round of "Marry, Boff Kill" starring the three writer/actors of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Rob Mcellhenney, Charlie Day and Glenn Howerton.

MARRY: Charlie Day. I know I didn't include him in my picks of the decade. The truth is, ten years is a long time. But I think that he's the most talented comedic actor on television today. Sure, he's not the tallest, but he cleans up nice. Also, he composed the Sunny Musical: The NIghtman Cometh. He's the perfect, scruffy little hubbie. It's implied that you can also sleep with your husband in this game, right?

BOFF: Glenn Howerton. Just the way I like them: gorgeous, hilarious, Julliard trained, beautiful singing voice... and gay. Still, it's just a boff.

KILL: It truly pains me to kill Rob Mcellhenney. Truly. He is the brains behind the whole Sunny operation. He created the show, often directs it and is the head writer on the staff. So why kill him? Because I figure there are already five kick-ass seasons of Sunny that he would leave as a legacy. And he's the only one left.

Who will I marry/boff/kill on the next entry? Hm...

Happy Hanukkah, he-brews and she-brews! Menorah... I don't even know her! Har har har.

xo.

Faves of the Decade

2000-2009: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I consider myself to be a true child of the 2000's, commencing the brutal journey that was high school in 2000, graduating from college in 2008 and spending the last year of the decade stumbling through the (way overrated) "real world". The notable trends of the past ten years will always coincide with my memories of inching my way toward adulthood. This was my decade, bitches. So, in true Entertainment Weekly Fashion, here are a few my favorite things.

FIVE FAVE FILMS:
1-THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY: Every year on December 18th I'm all atwitter, a knee jerk reaction from the days I was made to wait an agonizing year between the Dec. premiere of installments. New Zealand's favorite hobbit, Peter Jackson, succeeded in a task that most thought would be impossible as trudging barefoot through Mordor lugging a piece of epic bling: he made fantasy flicks cool again. Fun Fact: Did you know that Orlando Bloom is completely CGI??
2- ALMOST FAMOUS- Billy Krudup may be a dick and a home-wrecker, but I can watch him scream "I am a gold god!" from a rooftop a hundred times. And I have.
3- FINDING NEMO- I giggle like a five year old and weep like the pathetic woman I am with every viewing. And Willem Dafoe as a jaded angelfish? Priceless.
4-GANGS OF NEW YORK- That's right. I. Effing. Love. This movie. I know, I know, it's a half hour too long, but my homeboy, Danny Day, is so obscenely good in this film, I forgive it all its flaws. Even Cameron Diaz.
5-MOULIN ROUGE: Okay, shut up. Sure the whore with the heart of gold dies, sure they romanticize rape, sure Nicole Kidman can't sing. But the 14 year old girl in me will always trump the student in Dr. Francesca Coppa's "post-modern" class. And Moulin Rouge will always be one of my guilty pleasures.

FIVE FAVE MUSICALS:
1- ASSASSINS: This killer (ba-da-bum!) revival changed the way I view musical theatre. I cannot think of a higher compliment than that. Also, Dennis O'hare.
2- CAROLINE OR CHANGE: A musical starring Tonya Pinkins with a book by Tony Kuschner. A fierce doo-wop trio. Need I say more?
3- URINETOWN: I saw it three times and I almost canceled my semester abroad so I could stay at school and audition for Muhlenberg College's mainstage production. I didn't. I went to London. And part of me will always wonder what might have been...
4- THE 25th ANNUAL PUTNAM COUNTY SPELLING BEE: I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in a theatre. Ever. Wait. I have. But not at a musical.
5- THE LIGHT IN THE PIAZZA: "And then... the pony kicked her... in the head..."

FIVE BIGGEST THEATRICAL DISAPPOINTMENTS:
1- THE GODSPELL THAT NEVER HAPPENED: Teaser posters plastered all over the city said "Prepare Ye." Oh the irony.
2- INTO THE WOODS REVIVAL: Really, Vanessa Williams? Really? One of the meatiest roles written for a women in contemporary musical theatre and your dress upstaged you? Really.
3- WICKED: OMGSHUTUPLIZYOUSUCK! Sorry. That's how I feel and I regret nothing.
4- THE FROGS: Susan Stroman, Stephen Sondheim, Nathan Lane, Roger Bart... what could possibly go wrong?
5- GUYS AND DOLLS: I've loved this show since I was a baby and my mother sang "Bushel and a Peck" to me before bed. (I used to think it was one word... "Bushelannapeck.) I also really love the Gilmore Girls. But Faith Prince Lauren Grahmn is not.

FIVE FAVE PLAYS:
1- AUGUST OSAGE COUNTY: I'M! RUNNING! THINGS! NOOOOWWWW!
2- DOUBT: Oh, Cherry Jones. You are a talented lady.
3- PROOF: Before Mary Louise Parker's monotone became monotonous.
4- THE PILLOWMAN: The eye goes to Goldblum.
5- FROST/NIXON: Frank Langella. Frank Fucking Langella.
Runner Up: HEDDA GABLER (NYTW): Elizabeth Marvel is a goddess that deserves to be worshipped on a pedestal.

FAVORITE YO-YO OF A CAREER:
AL GORE: He lost the Presidential election of 2004, even though he won. And then he got a Nobel Prize. That's a pretty crazy ass decade.

FAVORITE THEATRICAL REPERTORY COMPANY:
THE ROYAL SHAKESPEARE COMPANY: WHAT? Liz, that's like... way too easy. Well, shut up three people who will read this. Because any company ambitious enough to perform all of Shakespeare's Histories in Rep (Jonathan Slinger played Richard II and Richard III, sometimes in the same day) deserves mad props. I mean, mad props aside from being disputably the best classical company in the world.

FAVE FIVE FASHION-Y TRENDS
1-BIG ASS SUNGLASSES: A hangover's best friend. I read on textsfromlastnight.com that "big sunglasses do not fix fat." Well, I beg to differ, drunken whore. I beg to differ.
2- UGGS: I resisted them for so long. Through all of high school, I turned my nose up. But I have to admit, these ugly ass boots are the most comfortable things I have ever worn and go with just about anything. I'm waiting for them to come out with functional Dress Uggs so I never have to ear heels again.
3- SPANX: Yeah, it's a bit of a stretch to call this a "fashion" trend, but they are something you wear. And for the 85% of women whose thighs touch when they walk, they are a godsend.
4- THE RETURN OF DARK NAIL POLISH: This just squeezed its way into this decade, but I am so grateful it did. Not that I ever stopped wearing dark nail polish, I'm just glad whoever makes these decisions deemed it cool again.
5- HUGE PURSES: I really don't need to qualify this. It just makes me happy and my life easier.

FIVE FAVE TV SHOWS
1- THE DAILY SHOW: Defining itself during the election of 2000, or as Jon Stewart called it "Indecision 2000" this show went from an extended Weekend Update, highlighting the likes of cat fashion shows to one of the most venerated political programs on TV. Oh yeah. And it's fucking hilarious.
2- THE WEST WING: Liberal polical fan fiction at its very best. Bartlett for America.
3- THE SOPRANOS: Because I would forgive Christopher Multisanti anything. Even beating Drea di Matteo to a bloody pulp and shooting Tim Daily square in the chest.
4- LOST: OMGWTF... POLAR BEAR!
5- DEADWOOD: Motherfucking Ian cocksucking McShane... bitches.
RUNNERS UP: Arrested Development and 30 Rock.


FIVE FAVE CARTOONS:
1- SOUTH PARK: Watching the evolution of Eric Cartman is fascinating. He goes from a fat dumbass to an anti-semetic, evil mastermind. It's the opposite of the way Stewie Griffin goes from being an evil mastermind to... well... a gay dude.
2- DARIA: A show way too smart for MTV. Nothing speaks to High School angst like Daria.
3- THE VENTURE BROTHERS: Seriously. Watch this show. It's the smartest show on TV.
4- HOME MOVIES: Brendan Small is an effing genius.
5- THE FIARLY ODD PARENTS: So, this generation of children doesn't have The Rugrats or Hey Arnold or Rocko's Modern Life. This show is almost as clever and just as silly.

FAVORITE POLITICAL PROTEST:
QUEERS MARCH ON WASHINGTON: In the fall of this year, the LGBT community, organized by the Human Rights Campaign, marched for equal protection under the law. I called it the "Strut on Washington": Fox News called it "Sunday."

FIVE FAVE BOOKS:
1- HARRY POTTER SERIES: Okay, listen. I'm not saying it's Tolstoy, people. I'm not even saying it's Anne Rice. But how often do you see kids lining up at bookstores all over the world at midnight for the release of a book? (You know, those little square things with pages in them. Like a paper Kindle.) I read an article in Time Magazine about how the only one that loses in this secular series is God, because young Harry never prays. I beg to differ. There is an indisputable theology (and afterlife) in the Potter series. I mean, hello: Sirius Black and the mysterious (::cough:: unexplained ::coughcough::) curtain. Really, it's a series about faith in the intangible. Sure, It's not a Judaeo-Christian world (they do celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts, but it's really more about sparkly tinsel and eggnog.) Harry is constantly finding ways to connect with the love ones he has lost and sometimes, he does actually contact them. Mostly, it's a story about an average child thrust into impossibly harsh circumstances, surviving on his inner strength and (literally) the power of love. If you ask me, that universal message is far more important than preaching any specific religion. And Snape is awesome.
2- AMERICAN GODS BY NEIL GAIMAN: When immigrants come to America, they bring their old world gods with them. And then, they quickly abandon them ("[America] is a bad place for Gods") to gods of the internet and the telephone and television. Dude. Read this book.
3- OLIVE KITTERIDGE BY ELIZABETH STROUT: Deservedly winning the 2009 Pulitzer for Prize for fiction, it is a series of vignettes set in a town in Maine, where every character is somehow touched by the misanthropic Olive Kitteridge. It's heartbreakingly beautiful.
4- WHITE TEETH BY ZADIE SMITH: I can't even really describe why it's so good. Just read it.
5- THE AMBER SPYGLASS BY PHILLIP PULLMAN: It's the last book in the brilliant His Dark Materials Universe. Love love love it.
RUNNER UP: EVERYTHING IS ILLUMINATED BY JONATHAN SAFRON FOER: I've written all over my copy. In pen. Just little "LOL"s and "OMG"s and underlines. And not just because reading it made me want to write a paper.

Aaaannndd... Carpal Tunnel. Looks like this is going to have to be a two parter. FAVES PART 2: DREAMS COME TRUE will include 5 FAVORITE ALBUMS, 5 FAVORITE BADASS QUOTES, FIVE FAVORITE CELEBS, FIVE FAVORITE VILLAINS and MORE!

MARRY BOFF KILL!
If I may, I would like to start a blog tradition. A Bladition, if your will (and you will.) I would like to end every entry with a lively round of Marry Boff Kill. If you don't know how to play this, it's quite simple: in your comments (and you WILL comment) you give me three celebrities/historical figures/fictional characters/whatevskies and I will chose who I would marry, who I would boff and who I would kill. SInce this is my first entry, I will pick the first three and follow up at the end of my next, highly anticipated, entry.

Next Week on Marry Boff Kill: The Cast of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton and Rob McElhenney.

-L