Archive for July 30, 2007

You’ve waited long enough, it’s time for…

the Third Annual Things You Only Hear At Starwood!

This fire is hot. Did it singe my hat?

If you move my car, I’ll initiate you.

The Chinese sex cards are in the bodice drawer.

Can I borrow the dildo and go over to the Hurt Yurt?

Oh! I forgot my gods.

I’ve already sunscreened my ass off.

You never want to snip your nipple in the cupholder.

We have all these pie crusts and I don’t know why.

She had a couple more vaginas but they all went.

I once sunburned a moon into my forehead.

The dome has once again become infested by bondage fairies.

What I don’t need is peanut butter and jelly all over my flashlight.

The fetish fairies are here in full force.

Oh! There’s glitter in my pubic hair! I don’t know how it got there.

I’m so tired of waking up next to a big penis every morning.

If you don’t take out your trash, bears will come and eat you.

Condom ninjas attacked the bar last night.

Monday Non-Movie Review: Slings and Arrows

Acting (belatedly) on Tim Goodman’s recommendation (spoilers there), we finally Netflixed the first three episodes of Slings and Arrows, a Canadian comic drama about a Shakespearean troupe (the “New Burbage Shakespeare Festival”) in turmoil. In the course of staging a production of Hamlet, they contend with the death of an indispensible character; an artistic director who was once driven mad by the play; a chirpily sinister corporate sponsor; long-festering hatreds among the principals; a clueless Gringolandian movie star; and much more.

As befits theatrical folk, everything is exaggerated and outrageous, and nobody is ever without an audience (if only in their own minds). It’s a world of outsized egos, petty jealousy, backbiting, and pretentious poses. In the middle of a rapier duel at a party (yes, there is a duel with rapiers–buttons off), the stage manager snaps at the assembled actors that they’re all a lot of insufferable children–and of course she’s right; but they’re immensely entertaining children, and their childlike love of theatre is the thing that redeems them.

It is exaggerated and at the same time nuanced. Lurking amid the manic farce are serious questions (about the relationship between art and commerce; about the purpose of live theatre in a world glutted on entertainment) and a pervasive sadness (at aging; at lost love, and long-ago betrayals; at becoming less than they had hoped; at the sense of their own obsolescence). The drama is never forced or heavy-handed, but simply human, inseparable from the comedy as it is in real life.

The cast is excellent, mostly not-quite-recognizable actors who I suspect are much better known in Canada (Paul Gross, from Tales of the City, Mark McKinney, from Kids in the Hall, and Rachel McAdams, from Mean Girls are the three I knew). The screenplay is consistently witty, and by ‘witty’ I mean ‘laugh-out-loud hilarious’. As in, you often have to rewind to get the funny line you missed when you were laughing at the funny line before it.

Highly recommended. Put it in your queue now.