DVD Review : The Kids Are All Right

I watched "The Kids Are All Right" over the weekend. I've had it in from Netflix since February at least. Oops.

Short and Sweet : Some day I would like to watch a movie about lesbians where a lesbian does not have sex with a man. I don't know what it is about Hollywood movies that just can't seem to let a lesbian sleep with women (I'm looking at you, Chasing Amy).

Nic and Jules have two children, Joni and Laser, that they had via sperm bank. When Joni turns 18, she's able to make contact with the sperm donor, Paul. And hijinks ensue, of course. Nic resents the way that everyone takes to Paul and lets him into the family and starts to feel like she's being replaced. Jules has been feeling distant from Nic, and she enters into an affair with Paul so that she can "feel appreciated." What.

Best Scene : Nic and Jules watch gay male porn and Laser and his douchebag friend find a DVD of it when they're searching his moms' room for pot; they watch it and Jules catches them, leading Nic and Jules to think that Laser is gay. The subsequent conversation between Nic, Jules, and Laser was one of the funnier moments in the movie.

Family Values : The one thing that had me thinking were the family values in the movie; not so much between the lesbian parents, who had raised two healthy, functional members of society, but why the kids were so eager to have Paul around and hang out with him after the initial meeting. Maybe people are naturally curious about their roots and their family, but in my opinion they were very eager to bring a person into their family who previously hadn't known they existed, and it wasn't because their moms neglected them. Nic was the most real character, in that respect -- she felt that he was usurping her authority with her kids (for example, he gave Joni a ride home on his motorcycle when he knew she didn't want the kids on motorcycles) and who was he, anyway? An anonymous sperm donor versus the woman who raised the kids for eighteen years?

But then I remembered it was just a movie.

The Fabulous Kingdom

I love all things Disney. Princess, adventure, theme park, cartoon, Broadway, whatever. I love it and will always have to fight the urge to immerse myself in Disney Scrooge McDuck style. I am convinced that I will never be too old for Disney movies or a romp through Disney World. In fact, the first time my family and I went to Animal Kingdom, I was 12 and it was early June. My uncle warned my father that we might want to wait and go to the park a different day because it was Disney's Gay Day. We went anyway, and all of our pictures have men in red shirts and shorty shorts in the background.

I was doing my usual "bored on the Wikipedia" routine (beginning with one person and clicking on various articles that interest me and reading them) and I stumbled upon the entry for Tommy Kirk, one of the ubiquitous Disney live-action movie stars of the late 1950s and early 1960s. It turns out he was fired by Walt Disney in 1963, after it was discovered that Kirk, at 23, was having a sexual relationship with a 15 year old boy. Whoops.

One of the footnotes to that story is to an interview called The Fabulous Kingdom, which is an interview with Sean Griffin, the author of Tinker Belles and Evil Queens: The Walt Disney Company from the Inside Out. The article describes the book as "documenting both the accidental and deliberate embrace of gay consumers by America's most calculating purveyor of "family values" entertainment" and that the author "finds enough threads to weave a pink cape for Maleficent, the villainess of Sleeping Beauty."

I must read this book.

Good Vibrations.

I have a confession to make.

Talk about masturbation makes me uncomfortable.

I don't know why. I'm a Victorian lady at heart.

But I will close my eyes and think of England to tell this story.

Somehow last summer, the talk turned to masturbation. And I visibly squirmed and stuttered and was incredibly uncomfortable. Which my friends loved and used as a secret weapon to shut me up. The masturbation talk eventually turned to vibrators, where it was revealed that I didn't have one, had never owned one, and wasn't in the market, but thanks.

"HWHAT?!?!?!" was the unanimous response. "YOU DON'T HAVE A VIBRATOR?!?!?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!?!"

They all had very strong opinions about the matter, which was surprising to me, as the matter happened to be ladyparts. I have no idea why they were so concerned.

It has been a running theme, the lack of vibrator in my life. At one point, I was ambushed KGB style and taken to a sex shop and subjected to all sorts of penises. Big scary penises, cartoon penises, Hulk-esque penises. More penises than a girl could ever need or want. Too many penises, is what I'm saying. Penis trauma.

Last month, when I was in New York, I was telling my friend about all of the stress my vibrator-less life was causing my poor boys, how they were apparently up at night lamenting the fact that I was not picking up good vibrations. She laughed, asked a few innocuous questions ("Do you want to go out and get one?" "Not really." "Oh, okay."), and we moved on.

Cut to last week. I hadn't checked my mail in a month or so (oops), so I opened my mailbox and was avalanched by junk-mail and a parcel box key.

"How curious," I said to myself. "I don't remember ordering anything."

I gathered up my piles of mail and went to the privacy of my own home and opened up the first box.

Inside the box was a book entitled "Tickle Your Fancy: A Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure."

I felt an interesting mix of panic and confusion. Where had the book come from? I hadn't ordered a book about self-pleasure. In fact, I was blushing just reading the title. I'm blushing just typing it.

I convinced myself that it was a fancy brochure trying to sell something and moved on to the second box.

I cut open the tape and folded back the cardboard and was it was like watching the end of "Se7en":



Vibrators. Plural. Multiple vibrators. Two of them, to be specific, one of them covered in daisies.

Once I recovered from the shock, I checked the shipping slip. Sure enough, they were from my friend in New York.

Thank you?

And yes, my friends are all thrilled.

Weirdos.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand.

I'm not going to lie, this made me clutch my chest and sniffle.

DVD Review : Burlesque

I watched "Burlesque" on DVD on a couch in the comfort and peace and quiet of my own living room. Peace and quiet for me to yell at my TV, of course.

First Impressions : God damn, Cher looks fabulous. I don't care if her cheekbones have been lifted to her eyebrows or if she has more wigs than a drag queen. Fabulous.

White Girl Problems : Christina Aguilera's character, Ali, has come to LA to become a successful singer but has to settle for being a bargirl at a burlesque club where the girls lip sync to "the great singers" while doing provocative strip teases. Cher is the owner of the club, Tess, who is having trouble with the payments on the building. All seems lost until one of the girls gets pregnant and Ali gets to take her place. One of the stars of the shows is jealous of her and tries to sabotage her by pulling the plug on her lip sync track. Little does she know.

White Girl Solutions : Ali's amazing vocals has Tess revamping the show because "they'll come to hear her sing," as Tess tells the vengeful slut. Ali also solves her loneliness problem by having her cheap-ass apartment burgled and running to the couch of the eyeliner wearing bartender, who she assumes is gay but is actually just into guyliner to get tips at the bar. Who knew.

The Real Reason to See the Movie : Be honest. If you're watching "Burlesque," you don't care much for plot. You care about glitter and divas. And by god, this movie delivers. There's one scene where the sound guy asks Tess if she wants to rehearse a number for the next day. It has nothing to do with the rest of the movie or the plot or anything. In fact, it's kind of bizarre that the song is a slow jam, considering it's supposed to be played in a burlesque club. "Wait a minute," you might think, "people can't strip to this!" If you're thinking that, you don't need to be watching "Burlesque." The movie is an excuse for fabulous songs and costumes and glitter and Cher, the end.

The Token Gay : Stanley Tucci as the costumer/manager/BFF of Cher. I know that Stanley Tucci isn't gay, but that is just a damn shame because he is a fabulous sassy gay friend. And he has a great sassy gay friend resume, first to Meryl Streep and now to Cher? He is the luckiest bitch in the world. He also has a job as the fashion designer of a burlesque club and has a one night stand with a super cute younger guy -- they don't remember each other's names the morning after and realize that they called each other the wrong names the night before. Yep, token Hollywood gay.

The Diva : Motherfuckin' Cher, y'all. CHER. She is an amazing woman who, rumor has it, performed her showstopping number "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" completely live. This woman is a god and I will proudly admit that I worship at the altar of Cher.

The Resolution : In true White Girl Problems fashion, the uneducated but supposedly street smart Ali is able to save Tess's club by using a story the developer who wants to buy Tess's club used to try to woo Ali against him (something about air rights? Again, plot and logic are not the strong suits here). Guyliner breaks up with his long distance girlfriend in order to sleep with Ali. It ends with a fabulous group number. All is right in the burlesque club.

Overall Score : Three rainbows out of five. It was fun and entertaining. And Christina and Cher can siiiing, guys. I liked Cher's songs more than Christina's, of course. If you get distracted by sparkly things, you'll love this movie.

Overall Gay : Infinity rainbows out of five. Bitch, please. Cher. Christina. Sassy Stanley Tucci. A small role by Alan Cumming. Glitter. Wigs. Guyliner. This movie is gayer than a unicorn galloping triumphantly on a rainbow through the gayborhood that is having a Gay Pride Parade. We're talking a lot of gay here.