Speaking of Giant Vaginas…
…Krewe du Vieux–which has been known to feature oversized organs of many varieties–rolls this Saturday. As soon as I can wrap my head around the fact that 12th Night was less than two weeks ago and we’re already having parades, I’m going to start cleaning for our wee house party. If any of y’all are in the Marigny for the festivities, drop in before or after for a cup of grog. Or mead. Or ale. (What can I say? I’m in a medieval mood this morning.)
…Manohla Dargis–who has surely been called by many euphemisms for “giant vagina” over the years–just poked a hole in my hopes for Cloverfield. I mean, it’s not like I ultimately choose to attend the cinema based on a few well-crafted words from a snarky, overpaid, underappreciated critic, but the review was fairly brutal–especially for a paper that claims to stay above the fray. Among girlfriend’s choicer excerpts:
[T]he film is too dumb to offend anything except your intelligence, and the monster does cut a satisfying swath through the cast, so your only complaint may be, What took it so long? (A little fifth-grade, but okay.)
The movie moves relatively fast, though it’s nowhere near as economical as its colossus, whose thunderous shrieks and fiery projectiles bring a downtown loft party to a merciful, abrupt end. (Not bad, but I’ve seen better.)
But then there’s this great description of the cast: Smart as Tater Tots and just as differentiated…
Meee-yow, pussycat.
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