I had planned on taking the day off from the Bloggery today, but I was drawn in by the odd attention being paid to some new photos of Dakota Fanning on the set of the girl group biopic The Runaways. I guess it fits to end the week with another look at rock and roll pedophile bait, since I already devoted one day to the Chipettes. But it’s not like this is actually the first look at the 15-year-old former child star as singer Cherie Currie. It’s not even the most scandalous. Still, the fact that the media is focusing on Fanning and ignoring the full band shots (this is apparently the first look at all the Runaways actresses, if not the first look at Fanning) is either because people are obsessed with the maturation of a female child star or, due to the near-equal concentration on Kristen Stewart, they’re trying to get traffic from Twilight fans.
Anyway, I’m still waiting for the re-creation of this costume to really spark talk of “kiddie porn,” and I’m still wondering if we’ll end up with a “leaked” shot of the Fanning/Stewart lesbian kiss once that scene is shot. It would rival the Vicky Cristina Barcelona kiss as far as media attention goes. Otherwise, there’s not much reason to discuss these latest images, other than to hope that it makes teenyboppers curious about Iggy Pop.
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Queen of Bad Sex Catherine Breillat could learn a thing or two from Woody Allen. Not only is his latest celluloid psychotherapy session Vicky Cristina Barcelona a phenomenal work of intellectual porn, but it also happens to contain one of the sexiest, most hysterical and poignant portrayals of polyamory to come along in a long, long time. Allen actually gets that those of us who choose to live outside of hetero monogamy are not voracious sex addicts lacking in morality – on the contrary, we simply abide by a different set of desires and ethics than that of the mainstream.
Watching the sexual roundelay involving Diane Keaton/Mia Farrow substitute muse Scarlett Johansson and Allen stand-in Rebecca Hall as the American tourists Cristina and Vicky, who become sucked into the fiery passionate and oftentimes downright dangerous world of Barcelona artists Juan Antonio and his ex-wife Maria Elena, played by Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz (for my money the two sexiest European stars to grace the screen since Mastroianni and Sophia Loren), I realized it was the first time I’d ever wanted to jerk off to a Woody Allen film. This is the master of neuroses on Viagra. Spain seems to have reinvigorated Allen, and it’s a joyous thrill to behold. Simply put, the director’s upped the endorphin factor, leaving me hot and bothered and hysterically laughing all at the same time.
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There apparently are other reasons to see Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona besides the infamous lesbian kiss between Scarlett Johansson and Penélope Cruz or the threesome between these actresses and Javier Bardem. But as the first things most of us heard about the movie, the sex scenes are certainly a big sell (the ménage à trois is even being used in a promotional contest to win a “threesome” with ScarJo). Even if they’re reportedly underwhelming.
Promise of tantalizing footage has been an appeal for moviegoers likely since the dawn of cinema, with film pioneer Eadweard Muybridge’s The Human Figure in Motion - Descending Stairs and Turning Around featuring nudity as far back as the 1880s. And if you’ve seen any of the titles included in today’s list, chances are their respective sex scenes were at least part of what made you buy a ticket (or rent the video).
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To be fair: Vicky Cristina Barcelona may not need my defense. Since its debut at Cannes, it has garnered some of the most positive reviews of Woody Allen’s late career. But it’s always with that caveat: it’s the best he’s done for us lately. At this point, it seems like the critical class is expected to disclaim their vitriol or praise, no matter what Allen actually puts on the screen, or which way it swings. Is it good? Well, it’s not as good as Annie Hall, but it’s not bad. Is it bad? Well, it’s not as bad as Anything Else, but it’s not good. As you might have guessed, I think Woody Allen has produced some work over the past 15 years (since the Soon-Yi “scandal”, which more or less dovetailed with the consensus opinion that his “best years” were long behind him) that is worthy of more serious consideration. But even if I didn’t think the movies deserved it, the sheer laziness that the movies seem to inspire in critics would almost give me enough incentive to passionately defend them.
To go micro before going macro: the worst thing that you can say about Vicky Cristina Barcelona is that it’s exceedingly pleasant, that it has the overall effect of a late summer, late afternoon nap. And sure, maybe, if you were inclined, it would be possible to write it all off as soft core bicurious semi-erotica (and full-on bicurious travel erotica). But I sense that Allen––if no one else––earnestly believes he’s doing more, that even in his lightest mode, he’s deeply concerned with the nagging mysteries of human relationships. Might it be creepy-old-man-ism that requires him to ask two beautiful actresses to kiss each other in an attempt to figure these mysteries out? It might be, but Woody Allen’s been a creepy old man since he was 35. To convince me that he’s totally lost it, you’re going to have to come up with better evidence than that.
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