strange and random happenstance

Because of this show I have a new life goal. I want Tom Hollander as Truman Capote to narrate disparate events. I want him being snarky about the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I want him talking about the jerseys of players during the NBA All-Star game. I need that urbane razor sharp wit taking the most banal of things apart. To make this clear, I do not want him narrating my personal life, it might get a bit too barbed and don't know if I could survive that. But I would totally let him near ANY Thanksgiving feast and let him loose. Seriously, Joanne Carson's Thanksgiving is seriously one I would buy tickets to. In fact, the show needed to be nothing more than this. And yet it is more. The long awaited second season of Feud brings us that little bit of bygone glamor and a glimpse into celebrity that the first season did seven long years ago. A glimpse that I don't think the long speculated Charles and Diana season could have delivered, though I did admire the snarky dig at the Royal Family in the first few episodes. This is about women who were somebodies just because of their rank. They're who the Real Housewives want to be but never will because these women had an undefinable class that taught them to protect their own and close ranks. Their dirty laundry is never aired, never even spoken about, even amongst themselves, which is why Truman's betrayal hurt them so much. They let him in, they gave him the ammunition, and he didn't understand that to stay in their world he wasn't allowed to use it to make his literary comeback. Tom Hollander is amazing as Capote. After the first few minutes you entirely forget that it is Tom and buy into the fact you are just watching Truman himself. And I can think of no higher compliment than that. Except to invite him to destroy your Thanksgiving, but he has a standing invite from me. And while there's a certain elegance to this show, it suffers as all Ryan Murphy shows do by being uneven and overstaying its welcome. The final episode should have been "Beautiful Babe" which showed the passing of both Babe Paley and Truman. Instead we were left with "Phantasm Forgiveness" which is a ludicrous fever dream wherein Truman belatedly tries to offer up his apologies through his writing of Answered Prayers, a book that in reality was never finished and there was no indication that it was. Even if that final episode did give us a little more time with Jessica Lange and insight into Truman's relationship with his mother, that monstrous relationship could have been left unexplored as this whole series was a love letter to the past and to friendship and love destroyed not about seeing Chloë Sevigny, the weakest actress in the series, dance in a Western bar. Because if there's one thing you'll learn about Truman, it's that he is self-destructive. It's not just the booze and the pills, it's the relationships in his life. While he acts naive about the fallout from "La Côte Basque 1965" he knew he was saying what shouldn't have ever been said. Be he couldn't help himself. He never could. That is why a once brilliant writer ended up alienating all those he loved and his output became nothing more than appearances on talk shows. A caricature of what he once was and could have been again had he ever finished Answered Prayers. But at least this is a fitting eulogy, not just to the society he loved, but to the society he helped destroy, the class of hats and gloves, the unspoken affairs, and the friendships that he ruined.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: And the Emmy Goes To, Answered Prayers, Babe Paley, Capote vs. The Swans, Chloe Sevigny, Feud, Jessica Lange, Joanne Carson, Naomi Watts, Ryan Murphy, Thanksgiving, The Swans, Tom Hollander, Truman Capote

While no one was really paying too much attention Harlan Coben has made himself a little dynasty over at Netflix. While everyone was obsessing over Bridgerton or pouring over the details of Ryan Murphy's deal with Netflix for the last six years Coben has delivered eight shows that are solid and addictive mysteries. The recipe was simple; take one of his books, change the setting to England, add Richard Armitage, and voila, hit show. But a hit show without too much coverage. It's like how Suits emerged out of the mists of time to become popular again. Harlan Coben's adaptations succeed whether they're talked about or not. And Fool Me Once is the only one I've really seen talked about. Which is a shame. This adaptation just didn't work. Could it be too little Richard Armitage? Perhaps. Could it be that despite being the darling of British television I found Michelle Keegan flat and incapable of shouldering the duties of leading lady? Oh, most definitely. Joanna Lumley should have killed Michelle in the first episode and made it her own. The problem with this adaptation is at its heart it's about a British drug dynasty like the Sacklers, but told in the stupidest way possible. This is buried so deeply in the narrative it only becomes clear in the final episode when Michelle Keegan's Maya confronts her husband's family. I would have far rather watched eight episodes of Maya living this half life between the world she was born to and the world she was thrust into because of her marriage than her wandering about being wooden looking into the deaths of her husband and her sister, one of which really makes no sense when you learn the truth. Which just lends itself to the convoluted nature of the entire show. So much is not explained and left unresolved. If you like your mysteries with a big helping of vague, well then, this one's for you. The lead cop, played wonderfully by Adeel Akhtar, is taking drugs produced by the "Sacklers" and is having severe health issues. Are we ever told why he's on medicine that he pops like candy? No! And then when he's at the doctors trying to figure out why he's blacking out, when the doctor is talking the sound fades away. So... No idea what's going on there. So much is not knowing what's going on or just assuming the audience doesn't care about a single detail. Like Maya's sister gave up a baby for adoption. Why did she give the baby up? Did her husband know? Or did Maya's friend actually have kids? I never saw these kids or even pictures of said kids. These little things keep building over time until I was just so frustrated that I'm glad Maya died. This show explained nothing, underused great actors, and overused incompetent ones. I kept thinking that this could have been something but in the end I just no longer care. Yes, it was slightly redeemed by vigilantism with dire consequences, but it was too little too late.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adeel Akhtar, Adoption, And the Emmy Goes To, Bridgerton, Drugs, Fool Me Once, Harlan Coben, Joanna Lumley, Maya Stern, Michelle Keegan, Netflix, Richard Armitage, Ryan Murphy, Sacklers, Stay Close, The Stranger

American Horror Story is a cultural phenomenon. It took such a hold over everyone that despite the continuing declining quality over the last decade we all keep tuning in. We watch to see our stable of Ryan Murphy staples in new yet familiar roles. Every season we wait with baited breath to see what Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk will make us fear next. For me it was never seeing Jessica Lange do a David Bowie impersonation ever again. What makes this newest season, Delicate, so unique isn't that they're trying to make us think that Kim Kardashian can act and that she's somehow still human with all that plastic surgery she's had, but that it's based on a book. That's right, we're getting the body horror and the pregnancy trope this time thanks to Danielle Rollins and her book Delicate Condition. So it's nice to actually have a female take on something that's happened in almost every season. Wait, is there even a season without a weird pregnancy? Murder House, obviously, Asylum, yes, with aliens, oh Coven breaks the cycle, but don't worry, there were many more creepy pregnancies in the following seasons. But what's extra weird here is that they were filming the book months before it was even released. And I'm not sure why. Though it's not like this is the first time it's ever happened. The publishing world and how rights are acquired are their own horror show. Also having to split the season in half because of the writers strike, despite production on this season crossing the picket line, didn't do it any favors. Any momentum that it had, and let's be honest, it didn't have much, just died in the womb. This could have been a tight three episode season instead it was a bloated nine. I do give it credit that we learned what the weird immortal "Alice in Wonderland" bunny "delicates" that look like they're from Good Omens were plotting. It was a superrace of monster who were going to take over the world and fix it making it a matriarchy if you were wondering. I mean, OK, but this does seem like a very very long game. Seeing as they controlled Queen Mary couldn't they have achieved their goals faster? But that's beside the point, because even if they had been able to achieve their goals sooner I wouldn't have cared because I hated every single character. The acting was so bad it almost swung around to good again, but don't worry it pushed through and I can definitively say this isn't just the worst acted series of American Horror Story, it might be one of the worst acted series I've even seen. Case in point, Kim Kardashian. She can't act. You think I'm being hyperbolic? In one scene she has to just stand still and shake. She can't even do that. Also her voice is so flat. There's no modulation. Just a monotonous murmur. This season was literally so bad it might have actually made me give up on the show. Something I should have probably done long long ago. I will say that there were two episodes with succinct and interesting plots, and those two episodes were good. Especially the Mia Farrow bit with her on the set of Rosemary's Baby. Because in the end that's all this season wanted to be. Here's a hint. Go watch the film instead. Heck, go watch the remake with Zoe Saldana, because it would be better than this.   

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: American Horror Story, And the Emmy Goes To, Body Horror, Brad Falchuk, Danielle Rollins, Delicate, Delicate Condition, Emma Roberts, Kim Kardashian, Mia Farrow, Pregnancy, Rosemary's Baby, Ryan Murphy

My late teens coincided with Ewan McGregor being the darling of Indie films. For those who were introduced to him through Star Wars and his portrayal of Obi-Wan Kenobi, or, dare I utter the title, Moulin Rouge, let me tell you something, you are missing out on a whole heck of a lot of Ewan. As in all of Ewan. As in, he's naked. A lot. Like a lot a lot. Like full frontal in Velevet Goldmine, and in The Pillow Book, it's not just him naked, but his naked skin is then turned into a book and an old man does very inappropriate things to it... And let me tell you, that was memorable and creepy and it's been twenty-five years and I can't get it out of my head. When he was cast in Star Wars there were many jokes circulating as to how he'd get his "lightsaber" on screen... unless there is a cut of Star Wars I don't know about that didn't happen. Yet. Who knows what's going to happen on his Disney+ series. So, my point is, Ewan became mainstream and I missed the edge, I missed that wild abandon that marked his earlier roles. Seriously, Curt Wild in Velvet Goldmine, damn! Which is why I was so excited about Halston. It felt like it was a return to his roots while also being "Ryan Murphy Mainstream." The show is interesting in that while it does show a lot of the orgies and male prostitutes that surrounded Halston there's a disconnect. The pairings are very flat and emotionless and there's not as much naked Ewan as you'd expect. But it works. It's compartmentalizing Halston's life and it shows that his real passion, his real emotions, are for his work. With only five episodes Murphy does a wonderful job of showing us this way of life Halston lived and then how it all broke down. The series would not have worked with someone of lesser abilities than Ewan. He has the suave masters of the universe vibe that gets chipped away at piece by piece and the man who was almost glacial at the beginning is a sympathetic wreck by the end. It's a wonderful little piece that gives you insight into a man who changed fashion and a different time from the one we live in now. Looking back at Halston's life it's amazing how much he shaped the look of my childhood. He was one of a kind and deserved this tribute to his life.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 1970s, 1980s, And the Emmy Goes To, Curt Wild, Ewan McGregor, Fashion, Halston, Indie Films, Lightsaber, Mainstream, Moulin Rouge, Netflix, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ryan Murphy, Star Wars, The Pillow Book, Velvet Goldmine

Voodoo Dreams by Jewell Parker Rhodes
Published by: Amazon Digital Services LLC
Publication Date: 1993
Format: Kindle, 404 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy

Marie Laveau has spent her life in the swamp. Surrounded by nature and the enfolding arms of her Grandmere. Yet she's always wondered about her Maman, the other Marie. The truth, which her Grandmere hides from her in the comforting lie that her daughter, Marie's Maman, is off in New Orleans and has no interest whatsoever in her daughter, is that Marie's Maman died at the hands of an angry mob while she publicly practiced Voodoo with her partner in crime, John, a Voodoo priest. If only Marie had the ability of foresight she could have lived in ignorant bliss all her life, instead the world she grew up in starts to shrink, her Grandmere's lap is no longer inviting, and the siren call of New Orleans and her Maman is always present. Eventually her Grandmere relents and they pack up their lives and head off to New Orleans. The city presents countless sights and sounds and so many people for a girl raised in the presence of one woman. There are the DeLaviers, wealthy whites, the girl Brigette looking like a princess out of a fairy tale. There is Jacques, a young sailor who falls for Marie. But there is no Maman. Because even now, in the city where she supposedly resides, Marie's Grandmere can not bring herself to tell her granddaughter that her mother is dead. There would be too many questions.

Those questions can be answered only by a select few. Nattie is an old family friend and therefore has many skeletons in her closet. So while Marie at first stays on the straight and narrow, marrying Jacques, taking care of her Grandmere, trying to find work as a hairdresser, soon Nattie helps to lure her away to Voodoo and John. John wasn't just Maman's partner in crime, he was also her lover, and this is the role he wishes Marie to fulfill. She will make him powerful and young again. She will bear him children that will rule over New Orleans. But John is a very bad man. He is only interested in his power, no matter the cost to those around him. Marie is drawn to him. She needs him like she needs air and she will do whatever he wants her to. Locking her up during the day to bring her forth at night as the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans John isn't a true believer, though he takes advantage of the powers of Voodoo. Marie though. Marie scares him a little, because she knows that the power is real. She knows that the spirits talk to her and when John thinks she is performing she is channeling a power greater than any of them. That power scares John and soon it becomes clear; only one of them can survive in New Orleans, and Marie, despite her need for John, is going to make sure she is the victor.

I don't quite know how to describe Voodoo Dreams other than a book I would avoid at all costs. The Emily Windsnap-esque cover design leaves any conception of what you might find between the covers a mere mystery. Needless to say, unlike Emily Windsnap, it is not a middle grade read about mermaids, instead it is about the Voodoo Queen of New Oreleans, Marie Laveau, and is part historical fiction part cathartic sexual predation exorcism for the author, who clearly has many unresolved issues. Having no preconceptions going into this book I was surprised at first by how much Voodoo Dreams reads like so much historical fiction that I love. But any initial regard I had for the book was quickly destroyed by historical inaccuracies, illogical character motivations, just plain creepy and as one of my friends wrote, repellent scenarios, and more than anything, the repetitive writing style. Because I read this book on my Kindle I was curious to see how many times the author used the words "Maman" and "Grandmere." Well, seeing as the book is only 404 pages, coming in at 391 appearances, "Maman" is almost on every page. But the real winner is "Grandmere" coming in at 981 appearances, meaning it's on every page at least twice! Seriously, I never want to read those two words again.

Yet again and again this book would baffle me with what it included and what it omitted. Marie Laveau lived a long and fascinating life. When lifespans were short she lived to be at least seventy-nine years old, and some say, including Ryan Murphy of American Horror Story fame, that perhaps she never died. Perhaps she lived on to die battling the Antichrist or whatever. Therefore it is baffling to me that this book takes place over such a short time frame of Marie's life. We follow Marie's life from 1812 to 1822, with a few little snippets starting each chapter from her deathbed in 1881. So instead of seventy-nine years we get ten. And most of those ten are her just hanging out in the swamp with her Grandmere... Why would you choose such a fascinating and underrepresented subject for your book and then constrict yourself to a narrative of only a few years? What's more, her power, her rise to power are almost background noise to the solipsistic narrative that traps us inside Marie's head and her thoughts of her Maman and Grandmere. What about her spy network of hairdressers? What about the true power of Voodoo versus the trappings of the religion to con the gullible whites? Why isn't there really anything of Marie on these pages? Why instead are we part of this weird disconnect where even Marie is just an observer of her own life?

In fact, why doesn't this book actually explore the tenants of the Voodoo religion more? There is no place anywhere in this book that clearly states what the purpose or practices of Voodoo are. What about the narrative tradition brought down through the generations from Africa and the Caribbean? Because I really don't know anything about Voodoo. I don't believe in any organized religion and I kind of let my blanket disbelief cover all religions. If I don't believe in the one I was raised in, I don't believe in others. Yet Voodoo seems fascinating in that so much of the followers history and culture is tied into it therefore I would be interested to learn more, even though I will still be a non-believer. This book is so long and, let's put it nicely, long-winded, and there should have been some place to put in these details but instead I was just grateful that I read Voodoo Dreams on my Kindle because my Kindle means I have access to Wikipedia, and therefore any term or folktale character I could just look it up and fill in the blanks myself. Here's a sign of a bad book, when the reader is spending more time on Wikipedia trying to learn about basic worldbuilding you should have included in your rambling narrative but didn't seem to find the time.

But the most baffling inclusion in the book is the DeLaviers. The DeLaviers are a family that Marie first encounters when she and her Grandmere arrive in New Orleans. The kindhearted Louis spends his life married to his cousin Brigette while pining for Marie. He is also the one writing in his journal on her deathbed while Marie tells the story of her life. Or in this case the heavily edited cliffs notes version of her life. I would say Bowdlerized, but seeing as I'm about to start talking about incest... that would be a vulgarity Thomas Bowdler would heartily disapprove of. Yes, so onto the incest... Brigette's lover and eventually the father of her child is her brother Antoine. I have no idea if these people really existed or are an entire figment of the author's imagination, but either way, why are they here!?! What purpose do they serve the narrative? Is it to show the decadence and double standard of the wealthy elite in New Orleans? Because I think she could have done so without resorting to incest. Again, this secondary storyline takes up chapters that could have been devoted to actually learning the tenants of Voodoo, or even giving some idea of what the city of New Orleans was like during this time. Instead we are stuck in a suffocating room with a guilt ridden woman pregnant by her brother for no reason I can see.

Though this book does specialize in the creepy sexual encounters that will make you want to take a bath in carbolic soap or perhaps even bleach. I will place a trigger warning here, because dear me, I so wish I had been warned. The first of the really creepy encounters with John, the Voodoo priest who will use Marie to rise to power, is when she is a girl of twelve and he comes out into the swamp and fingers her. OK, so that's, yeah, that's gross and child molestation, but it's passed off as maybe a dream, but it so isn't. Oh, but John's creepiness doesn't end there, oh no. Later when Marie is fully under his control and she never leaves their house in New Orleans she bears him a daughter. A newborn daughter he takes out into their little courtyard behind their house and holds in his arms and then starts fingering her vagina while his enormous erection is described. In detail. Until he cums. I actually felt psychically ill. I in fact am physically ill just writing this. To molest your newborn!?! What the hell!?! Why is this in the book? Yes, we've seen the evil ways of John throughout the book, but this seemed like a step too far on the part of the author. It wasn't narratively needed to drive Marie to kill John, it was extraneous, egregious, and just too much. While there was a part of me that kind of liked the book up until this point, every single shred of any positive emotion went directly into pure hatred. This book is beyond repellent. It is odious and every fiber of my being hates it.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Africa, American Horror Story, Caribbean, Child Molestation, Going Gothic, Grandmere, Incest, Jewell Parker Rhodes, Maman, Marie Laveau, New Orleans, Ryan Murphy, Voodoo, Voodoo Dreams