Two Gay Tuesday Evening Birds With One Stone: Glee and Southland

Last night, Glee had a scene where The God Squad, the Christian characters of the Glee menagerie—Mercedes, Quinn, Sam, and some guy I assume is from The Glee Project, because he was introduced in a way that sort of assumed we knew and liked the performer and were damn well going to be invested in and charmed by him and his quirks—had an Official Discussion as it related to their position on gayness (“Is Gay Okay?” the whiteboard helpfully anvilled in the background of the scene).

The discussion was led by Mercedes, who regularly attends slumber parties with Kurt.

While I always assume that Glee is perpetually suffering from short-term memory loss when it comes to storylines, happenings, and character development, perhaps I do not give the show enough credit. Perhaps it intended, with this gesture, to show the hypocrisy of a group taking A Position, when the individuals within said group have pre-established friendships, benefit from the assistance of the gay community (Sam, who was homeless at some point or another, received clothes and support from Kurt), or are themselves such morally void, corrupted individuals that who gives a shit what they think (uh, Quinn, even though she actually made lucid points not growing out of a black void that began living in her soul). As for Adam Duritz Jr., who cares what he thinks as well, just on principle.

But I’m guessing that I’m right and it was just the writing team’s opportunity to breeze through dialogue writing by cutting-and-pasting previous David E. Kelley/Aaron Sorkin speechifying about what is and isn’t condemned in the Bible (MO-RAH-TORIUM! MO-RAH-TORIUM! We’ve ALL SEEN THE FWD: FWD: FWD: EMAIL ABOUT THIS; PLEASE STOP MAKING ME LISTEN TO TV CHARACTERS RECOUNT IT).

In better gay news, Dave Karofsky returned, and I guess he’s in love with Kurt, which occurred in offscreen moments/fanfics that happened after the two of them met up at Scandals (remember that whole night at Scandals, where Sebastian was that annoying pretentious high school kid we all knew who has refined tastes and maturity beyond his years and won’t let anyone forget it; wish that character has stuck around, and not the Snidely Whipgay that he is right now. Ha ha, also, Blaine perilously walked the Seems Like Date Rape Rope, remember that? Why don’t more people talk about how gross that was? I mean, that was pretty much as invasive as Karofsky’s hate-kiss, if we’re dealing with reality and not, like, Glee reality).  As slapdash and oddball as the execution was, I’m not opposed at all to Kurt and Dave being friends/possibly more, if only because Chris Colfer and Max Adler are better overall scene partners. Even when things are fraught, neither is prone to go BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG!!!, and it’s nice to pretend like Glee is capable of that occasionally. Also, they are cute together, and I love the whole beanpole/burly thing. And Darren Criss’s scene-gobbling, open-mouth mug-o-rama is dumb.

But the scene ended with one of Glee’s typical DUM-DUM-DUMMMMMMMMMMM vaudevillian organ trills: one of Karofsky’s 32-year-old fellow West Lima students was at the Sugar Shack, conveniently, to see Karofsky tearily storming out  on his admission of love. Naturally. It was like one of those scenes in a soap where you have to suspend your disbelief that the regular residents on the canvas spend days upon days missing out on totally unsubtle cues; therefore, it stands that a day player we’ve never seen and will never see again was able to either read body language in a way only a 32-year-old teenager can, superhumanly overhead the quiet conversation Kurt and Dave had, and/or runs the costume shop where Dave rented his gorilla suit and followed him to his wholly-too-elaborate plan to win Kurt’s affections. Other theories welcome. Anyway: Dave is probably going to get his ass kicked, which will, unhappily, invest me even more in this whole stupid thing because there will be bedside visits and shit, and I’m a sucker for that garbage. Just like I was a sucker for the way Dave gently placed his hand on the table, palm up, and awaited a hand-holdening that would never come.

I love Brittany and Santana. Yay for their kissing; boo for how the show, in its typical fashion, thought that by breaking the fourth wall it was actually addressing anything.

Over on Southland, the topic of gay bullying was addressed, but the message seemed more complicated and ambiguous (you know, not like Glee at all): John Cooper, who has been gay since the pilot episode on NBC—subtle enough that a lot of folks missed it, I guess, though I thought the scene last season where we was naked in bed with another naked dude was a telegraph in all caps, stop—and his partner, Jessica Tang, were called to a domestic disturbance, which involved parents reacting loudly and poorly to their son’s desire to return to school after he was unceremoniously outed (he sent nude photos to a boy he believed “liked him;” and if that isn’t frustrating, realistic teen behavior—you know, unlike some kind of gorilla-gram—then I don’t know what is).  John has a quiet conversation with the teen, Mike, about the difference between not being ashamed and setting yourself up as a target for teenage idiots. Ultimately, Mike leaves for school…

…and he ends up on the roof of a building after being dragged into a school bathroom, forced into makeup and a dress, and having his ass kicked. John is quietly, firmly honest with Mike—he is gay too; it does get better; those guys are idiots—but Mike jumps anyway. After John Wellsian heroics, Mike is rescued by John’s quick thinking and the strong arms and backs of some of LAPD’s finest. Mike and John have a bedside chat—yes, John was being honest about being gay; and while John has many problems (said with such a terrific sad-sly smile), “being gay ain’t one of ‘em”—and one gets the feeling that maybe this is going to be a wonderful story of intervention and a life saved.

And Mike commits suicide a day later. Ugh.

The episode ends with Tang and Dewey and a boisterous group of cops celebrating John’s 20 years (officially—unofficially and correctly, John mentions early on, it’s actually 22) at a bar. There are stories and toasts and admissions of love (on Dewey’s part, God bless that fucking idiot). And after John gets his fill of revelry and heads out, Tang follows John to quietly let him know Mike died. John already knows and shares his pragmatic view on the situation: it’s a tragedy, yes, that another gay kid has taken his/her own life, but John feels he did his job, and any dwelling or second-guessing or overpersonalizing presents a roadblock to Doing The Job. Tang returns to the group, Dewey offers to buy a round, and John stands outside, listening to the glory, a hard-to-read non-expression on his face… and you have to wonder how many of the group toasting him and swapping stories really know all about John Cooper. Is the sacrifice he makes to Do The Job keeping his sexual orientation quiet? Is John heralded by one and all amongst his acquaintences because they believe he's "just like them?" It feels like you can hear his advice about not making yourself a target still in action 20+ years later. But maybe not. Maybe so. It all seemed very unresolved, which seems more honest to real life than you usually get out of an hour-long drama.

To 180, the show is barely concealing its delight in getting all the leads, particularly Hatosy, undressed. And I love it. I also love the continual development of the partnerships: Ben and Sammy and their good-natured tussling; John and Jessica and their whatever-it-is that makes me love them so (the beanpole/burly thing? the balance of charming, affectionate teasing and mutual respect?); and Lydia and Ruben (I can’t imagine any of her previous partners handling her preggo-nancy so deftly).

And to close: I appreciated that Sammy continues to harp on Why Marriage Is Blah Blah Blah Divorce Blah (ha ha ha Ben’s eye-rolling disinterest), yet never devolves into a total misogynist (his dry, lamed-out “Really?” to the Extra Cop’s stupid “Don’t trust anything that bleeds for seven days…” recitation was such a relief, as well as a beacon of hope for him getting laid yet).

I felt this scene in last night's Southland was missing something

Long story short: Sammy Bryant accidentally shot a dog in the leg in last night's ep.

So naturally, he had to take his white tee off in order to make a tourniquet. Of course he did. Medical science being what it is and whatnot. But I feel, though the scene spoke to me as a person who likes medical science, as well as strong, stocky, well-built men who save animals in danger, like the scene was missing a few other things to appeal to me, y'know, as a woman...

There. That's better. And you're welcome, ladies.

It's sad when Will Schuester's awkward horridness isn't the worst part of an ep...

I can hardly keep up with the everchanging pro/con list I have in my mind when it comes to Glee. But I'll tell you what I wrote on it with mental crayon (ha ha ha, Becky is handicapable!): Sue Sylvester's grossness has reached the point where the massive suspension of disbelief I perform to watch this show (it requires several bungee cords and a bone-lengthening surgery that is super painful) has snapped atwain.

Asking students for sperm? I mean, I get it: ha ha with the jokey jokes so we can fit as many references to spunk and jizz into a 7 PM Central time-slotted show as we can. I'm not dumb. I'm also not going to give you laughs, you desperate lame-o teenage boy. Ugh. It's not like I haven't laughed at a Jane Lynch character bringing strange either. I own 40-Year-Old Virgin, as well as every Christopher Guest but For Your Consideration on The DVD. And what made it even worse was the sharp right-hand detour into Emotional Panderville with Sue's reasons for wanting a child fathered by Will. I can't even quantify that entire episode arc as uneven or sloppy. It's willfully terrible. And in case I didn't stress how gross it was: it was super, super gross.

So congratulations, writing team! You managed to make something be more dumb-butt and awkward and stink than Will Schuester wearing the bullfighter outfit from "Take a Bow."

Also, I'm prepared to complain more about Sebastian next week, because, apparently, "he's not just targeting Blaine anymore." Oh, really? Is he targeting a school bus full of orphans from a local Catholic school? Is he devouring kittens? Is he growing a long, curly mustache and wearing a stovepipe hat and fighting with Dudley Do-Right? I hope Glee names their next villain Pantomime Jones, and it's a dude in a cape who leers into the camera like Vincent Price in his heydey.

Stupid idiot show.

Nice job on "La Isla Bonita," though. Kudos. Dicks.

ETA: So basically what the reviewer at Vulture said.

I have just one question, "Southland"...

Two shirtless cops too much? Don't want to CHiPs or Starsky and Hutch out?

Look, I'll take what I can arms. I mean, arms are very arms. So. Arms.

Adventures in the Talkies: Young Adult

It's nice to write a bunch of words about something that was definitely not a TNT Mystery Movie (glowing praise, right? Turn that into a blurb for the poster. "Definitely Not A TNT Mystery Movie!" --Pete Travers, Rolling Stone).

I went to Young Adult today. I've been wanting to go since it was released a few weeks ago. Then, 1+ weeks ago, a coworker saw it. She gave it one of those reviews that makes me want to obstinately argue despite having no basis to do so: "I don't know. It was kind of upsetting. And the ending doesn't resolve anything. And Charlize Theron's character is very unlikable."

And technically, upon seeing the movie, I can say all of those things are generally true. If it has a positive message, it's one about epiphanies resulting in small changes or baby steps, but not revolutionary "Why, today is Christmas Day, sir!" type 180-degree turns. The ending is, I believe, meant to reflect that and imply that Mavis will have to work long and hard to achieve happiness or peace or a clean apartment. And I'm guessing my coworker, like the person who exclaim-whispered "Disgusting," was "upset[ting]" by the sex scene at the end of the film--side note: Exclaim Whisperer is the reason I'm skittish about book clubs, as a rule.

And yes, it was hard to like Mavis but--and I realize what an earnest flake I sound like saying this--that's probably because Mavis doesn't like herself. In addition to being bitter, in a very specific way only former hot-shit high school popular kids are, she is a depressive, disturbed alcoholic who is the kind of pet owner that makes me grind my back molars (you know, in real life...). And since I didn't see Monster back in the day (2003), I'm new to the revelation that Charlize Theron is an amazing actress who can draw you in, even when her character is at the height of detachment from reality or at her most embarrassingly mean or unhinged.

Because I have my fingers on the pulse of today's music, I've taken to listening to Adele recently (mostly because she has been featured on Glee and because she has several live tracks on the KGSR and Cities Sampler I own), and her song "Someone Like You" makes me think of Young Adult, mostly because "Someone Like You" is the fairly normal, romanticized-a-little version of meeting a lost love and exposing the wishes and dreams you wear on your sleeve, and Young Adult is the messier, crazier, sadder version that is unflinching in exposing how pathetic those dreams and feelings are, because they come hand-in-hand with shoddy lies told to yourself and others with a horrid lack of self-awareness.

I loved the detail of this movie the same way I loved the detail of Juno: the small-town Minnesota touches like formal flannel and Corningware casserole dishes and the way a mother keeps a wedding picture hanging for reasons that sound nice and sweet but explain bits and pieces of Mavis's misery (if every action has an equal and opposite reaction, then passive-aggressive mothering likely results in some really bitchy, unvarnished expression-type kids). And speaking of Minnesota, it was really cool to see the Minneapolis skyline portrayed as something picturesque and worthy of being in a movie. I've never seen the Grain Belt sign look better.

I also loved the opening sequence of Mavis fleeing from a night of sex with a very nice guy she didn't seem all that into, digging out a Memorex mix tape her high school flame Buddy made her. As the credits rolled over the archaic mechanics of the tape playing, the pins and reels moving, spinning and grinding as Mavis rewinds the same track again and again and again, the grooves and scratches on the tape both immobile and fragile, it sets the whole tone: nostalgia externalized, tenuous, loud, and repetitive.

And despite what Exclaim Whisperer blurted, the more I think about the scene between Mavis and Matt (played by Patton Oswalt, and if Big Fan is more emotionally excruciating than this, I'm not sure if I can take it), the more beautiful I find it. Mavis, wine-splashed and destroyed from the scene at Buddy and Beth's house, where it's revealed that Mavis miscarried Buddy's baby in her very early 20s, strips out of her dress, standing awkwardly semi-dressd in her bra cups and pantyhose, plaintively requesting Matt's shirt. He removes it, equally awkward about his appearance. They embrace, comfort turning into a straightforward segue into sex. Their post-sex chat about Mavis's perceptions of Buddy and when she was at her best was so bittersweet that my chest does that pre-cry tightening thing just at the thought of it.

This film also makes me want to sit down and talk to Diablo Cody about her own experience with young mothers, her own mother, and motherhood. I feel like Beth and Jennifer Garner's character, Vanessa, are such similar characters, and she seems to have a great deal of affection for...well, lots of things about it, e.g., pregnancy, the women friends, the single-mindedness. But she also seems to include loss in both portraits, whether it was Juno's or Mavis's. Interesting. Makes a girl want to write a thesis.

In short, I liked it. I like thinking about it like I'm Cameron Frye looking at "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte," seeing all the dots in the picture and thnking about the dots in my soul. What can I say? It got me when one of Mavis's tiny breakthroughs involved realizing that her dumbly happy dog loved her unconditionally and deserved hugs and kisses and walkies (maybe).

I was running late due to a decision to get off the bus too early (mistake) and an attempt to wait out teenage incompetence to get a popcorn (another, different kind of mistake), so I only saw two previews:
1) The Vow: if you jokers think you can curl Rachel McAdams hair into waves and put her in a variety of pretty dresses and have her pine and cry and love, thus playing on my attachment to The Notebook, well, then, you...win, and I probably will see it, if not in the theater, then eventually, because she looks so good in love. Though Channing Tatum? Really, Hollywood, with that guy? I specifically requested not to see Thunder Down Under in my rom-coms, thank you?

2) Titanic is coming out in 3-D. I was very recently tickled by a terrible trailer for Ghost Rider 2, but I think the delight I felt watching the advertisement for this absolutely uncalled-for re-re-re-release was almost greater. Yes, all, come and marvel as new technology allows us to see the old couple's shuddering last embrace IN 3-D! Hear Celine Dion's powerful swelling weirdo enunciations IN 3-D! Experience Billy Zane's hamboning and Moe Howard hairpiece IN 3-D! Feel yourself soaring at the bow of the ship IN 3-D! Which will make the inevitable hypothermia scene where Rose cracks Jack's blue fingers from her plank-raft all the more crushing IN 3-D!

Okay, Cameron, be honest: you just want to fling bodies at us in the she's-going-down! scene, right?

Airport Novel Theatre: "Good Morning, Killer" on TNT

Initially when I saw the title to this latest chapter in "I left this book at our beach rental" (TM blahmanda) adaptations, all I could think about was the song from Hair:

I should stress that I like to think about the music from Hair as little as possible. My friend Kate and I watched the film adaptation when I was in the midst of a crush on Dr. Andy Brown aka Treat Williams, and it was, in my humble opinion, the worst. I was clearly the absolutely wrong audience as an individual who likes musical theatre big and old-fashioned and cheesy or, like, Les Mis.

Although I very much like the version from the X-Files/Simpsons crossover:

Then blahmanda called it Good Morning Comma Killer... which made me think of a much more enjoyable song:

But this post isn't meant to be about songs or Treat Williams or hilarious things blahmanda says (actually, that's not a bad idea...). This is about Good Morning, Killer. Like the TNT Mystery Movies before it, it was not very good. But it found unique ways to be subpar. Kudos, TNT Mystery Movies!

Catherine Bell, an actress I am not familiar with as I have somehow managed to live my tv-watching life without catching more than 3 minutes of JAG, plays FBI Agent Ana Gray. Ana Gray is no-nonsense and tough, much like Carla Gugino's character, Carla Gugino, in Hide. However, we see more of Ana's vulnerable side as she bonds with victims and is alone in a parking lot in an excerpt from a horror movie and having weird power issues in her sexytimes with Cole Hauser.

Cole Hauser. A name I should recognize, I suppose, because he was on ER for a while. But I draw a blank every time that guy shows up in something. And for some weirdo reason, I always wonder, when I see his name, "Was he the super-hot guy from Terminator and The Abyss?" Answer: no. That is Michael Biehn. Michael Biehn is older, not blond, and looks completely different. So...not sure where that comes from.

Anyway, Cole Hauser plays Detective Andrew, whom Ana's partner sarcastically refers to as The Santa Monica Cowboy. Ana and Andrew are Doing It. But I guess they haven't defined their relationship, according to a scene where, spoiler alert, it is implied that Andrew is Doing It with some other lady. Also, Ana and Andrew have sexytime problems where maybe they sometimes have "rough sex" (as defined by the premiere source for sex information, Silent Witness, this is when you do a lady from behind...though it did not seem like there was choking involved) and that it isn't a great idea because Ana has head problems from the horrors of her job...maybe. I don't know. I'm not 100% confident in my interpretation.

Here's where the movie is bad (and I know I haven't even gotten to the main crime part of the movie, but honestly: do you care?): it presents characters and information with a degree of trust in the audience to draw conclusions/be intelligent, but it does so in such a vague, incomplete way that it just makes things more confusing. I mean, let's be honest: as much as I complain about how paint-by-numbers these adaptations are, they're based on serial novels. There's going to be a degree of exposition and repetition. Since the movie didn't use its big-kid exposition, I'm still not sure why Ana had intimacy issues, or if Andrew was truly cheating or just being uncommunicative, or if I was supposed to assume they were still together despite their discussion or... et cetera.

The same thing happens with Ana and her relationship with her partner, Mike Donato, played by Titus Welliver. Holy buckets, Titus Welliver. Anyway, it's revealed 2/3 of the way through the movie that maybe Mike and Ana were also Doing It at some point in the past, either while he was married or separated or all of the above or none of the above or et cetera. And I guess my (somewhat off-topic) question there would be: if you were Doing It with Titus Welliver, how did you ever stop, Ana Gray? Were I in your no-nonsense yet vulnerable shoes, I would be waiting at home for Titus Welliver every single day in my most alluring pajama pants. I mean, even when he was wearing a jean jacket, which men should never do unless they are gay cowboy Ennis Del Mar or truck-drivin', orangutan-buddyin' Clint Eastwood, I was thinking, "Boy, I sure like Titus Welliver, and he makes me feel like a natural woman, even though he is still wearing a jean jacket."

I cannot stress how much I would like to make out+more with Titus Welliver, in a hypothetical world. I like him a whole lot. Especially when he carries a gun, as he did in this movie.

Soooooooo to get back to ripping on the movie: my complaint about the lackadaisical attention to detail or character development extends to the crime at the center of this movie too: we have a bunch of FBI agents and cops and profilers--many of whom are introduced for three scenes, then disappear, adding to the "This is like real life! We trust you, audience!" slapdash feel--but we're never given any insight into why the dude they're chasing does what he does. We know he's former military. We know he chokes girls and rapes them and that the girls have a very specific look (youngish, brunette, white). But didn't Silence of the Lambs teach every maker of a suspense movie about a sociopath that we need the scene where the agent displays the understanding of what makes the sociopath tick? That does not happen at any point. In fact, the movie introduces a bunch of detail dots that are never connected. What's with his attachment to his sister? Are we supposed to draw gross conclusions from that or empathize? What was with the weird relationship with his girlfriend and her daughter? That was never really resolved, was it? Why does he say "You'll never forget me?" I don't accept the answer that it is a message for the world. That is stupid. Why did he decide to go camping for a while? Was it because he had returned the girl? Why does he make his victims call their mothers? Was he abused by his mom? Is he simply a sadist? What was with the use of "ritual" about 40 times in the last 30 minutes of the movie?

So many questions.

Also, because I am your grandmother, I am going to complain that it was really super graphic and upsetting. Did we need to see so many of those creepy rape photos? I mean, I got the idea after the first two or three. There was a montage at the end, intended, I suppose, to let us know that Ana Gray was being overwhelmed with horrors while trying to think on her feet and save a girl from being raped. But...I'm not going to write a letter or anything, but yuck. And why was the post-return examination of the victim scene so fucking long? It made me squirmy, not in a The Accused way, where I felt upset by the clinical and detached treatment of the victim in a claustrophobic, real-life way, but in a "This is weird and not very well structured or acted" way.

The movie ends with Ana and the victim she bonded with (and I apologize for completely glossing over the oddly developed storyline where we hang out with the victim's parents who fight and are weirdly uncooperative, but that turns out to be nothing) swimming. Water is a metaphor for baptism and rebirth. FYI. In case you didn't take a 300-level lit course. You're welcome.

In conclusion, Titus Welliver makes my heart palpitate, even when his flirting is supposed to be unprofessional and in bad taste. I like him and wish he were the lead in a tv show where he was stoic and near-mute and carried a gun, like Timothy Olyphant.

Also: don't ever, ever, ever, ever, ever trust semi-professional photographers. They are probably rapists.

Next TNT Mystery Movie stars Kathy Najimy. I sense wackiness ahead.

Airport Novel Theatre: "Silent Witness" on TNT

Ugh. That's the main thought I have about this latest edition of TNT Mystery Movie aka Airport Novel Theatre. I wrote nearly three paragraphs about Dermot Mulroney and my high school semi-crush on that half-man, half-marble statue and then concluded, "You know what? In many ways, Dermot Mulroney is the actor equivalent of an airport novel: he's rather dense and a fine way to pass the time using your eyes, but in the end, he lacks substance beyond the heft of his bajillion abs muscles--for real, it looks like he pasted, like, four Ryan Reynolds's's to his tum-tum--and the gloss of his hair, which may or may not be a metaphor for 'slick' writing, so I'm going to spare everyone my thoughts because fantastic hair and alluring lip scar aside, he, like this movie, really isn't worth the effort."

I don't recall reading any Richard North Patterson novels, but I imagine I must have, somewhere in between the waiting for a new Grisham or Crichton or Patterson or King or Koontz back in my youth. I imagine this adaptation was a fair representation, even with my faulty memory. The film was a veritable dead zone littered with lurid details and tell-don't-show exposition. Weigh in, Readers of North Patterson, with an actual memory of how one of his books went. I bet that's not too far off.

Here's the cast of characters:
1) Dermot Mulroney as the big-shot defense lawyer who scooted from his small town not longer after being cleared of the murder of his high school sweetheart, who he deflowers, then finds defiled and totally dead, in flashbacks.

2) Michael Cudlitz as the best friend who stayed behind in the small town, became a teacher and a track coach, had some sex with one of his students, and is charged when she is found at the bottom of a cliff.

3) Anne Heche as Michael Cudlitz's wife. Yep, I'm with you: I immediately assumed she was guilty too. But mostly she spends her scenes being a befuddling mix of sexy and crazy ("In other words," said blahmanda in e-mail, "she was Anne Heche").

4) "Judd Hirsch as Fyvush Finkel" (blahmanda again). Whew, for those of you who saw Independence Day and thought, "Boy, Jeff Goldblum and Judd Hirsch sure are meshugener and...well...Maaaaaaaaaaatzo ball soup," this performance will make that all seem subtle by comparison (at one point, he says, "Soooooo... was he giving her the blintz?" as a way of asking if Cudlitz was having sex with a teenage girl; deeeelightful). This character also has a drinking problem that is established in an unsubtle sequence of close-up shots of him pouring an assortment of alcoholic beverages at 10:00 in the morning, which is not ever really referred to again. I think he was the Jewish version of the character that Donald Sutherland played in A Time To Kill (which was based on a book, I suppose...), but they never really got around to giving him a subplot beyond his assortment of jewel-toned ties and hankies.

5) Hispanic Guy from Third Watch as the Hispanic guy who is being discriminated against, I guess, and works for the parks department and maybe was also having sex with this teenage girl who is now dead.

6) Lady DA Who Is Very Law&Ordery

7) A Heap of One Scene Types Playing Experts and Parents and Friends and Whatnot

Most of the movie takes place during the trial. There's a little bit at the beginning of the movie to establish Dermot's character and get him back to his hometown, and there's a wretched ending after the trial is concluded. But for the most part, we, the viewers, are on jury duty. It has a weird sense of time to it, overall. It's not that it feels especially long and drawn-out, but stretches and stretches of minutes go on, and you realize nothing is being said except expositiony words.

[Some kind of feminist reading of how the teenage girl is oversexualized and underdeveloped and also killed in a horrific fashion goes here.]

And let us indeed talk about sex, ba-by. Only let's not. Let's not talk about sex the way it is talked about in this adaptation and probably the book too, in this awkward, haunting gap between clinical coldness and the exploitative use of sexual assault and statutory rape as semi-titillation tools. At one point, Lady DA says, "She was entered from behind while being choked. Rough sex, it's called."

I think that says it all, doesn't it? I mean, first of all, what? I don't want to split hairs, but I think that rough sex covers a lot more ground than just that one thing. And second, something about "entered from behind" is so gross. It's repeated multiple times, and I started to shudder when a character would dust it off. Something about the way it is said sort of implies that that is almost hand-in-hand with rape...since we find out when Michael Cudlitz is revealed to be the killer of both the teenage girl as well as the teenage girl in the past, and that's how he sex-rapes both of them.

Ugh. Like I said: ugh.

So anyway, spoiler alert, Michael Cudlitz is guilty, like I said, which should be a relief since he's "a gross creepy liar the whole time, just like he seemed," (blahmanda) but it's just rife with more yuck, since the film has to have a confrontation scene betwixt Dermot and Cudlitz and throw in one of those nifty guilty-party-has-a-gun-and-oh-he's-going-to-murdalate-the-hero-but-instead-he-does-some-confusing-wordplay-and-commits-suicide-and-Dermot-Mulroney-goes-batshit-recording-the-ADR-and-sounds-like-Mrs-Bennet moments.

So I guess I'd give this 2 out of 4 Hudson News receipts. It was like a book I bought for a flight in a last-minute rush only to disappointedly discover that it is even worse than the jacket blurb makes it sound, so then I read the Southwest in-flight magazine and SkyMall for the duration of my flight.