I love looking at covers of magazines which are published in languages I am unable to read, because it means I can invent the headlines. I’m sure this issue of Japanese Vogue is touting the usual Vogue articles, which I imagine to be universal — something about a weird new plastic surgery meant to alleviate a cosmetic problem we weren’t even aware was a problem, something about a rich and expensively dressed woman who also runs an art gallery/investment brokerage/dermatology practice and everything she wears therein, something about a new starlet whose parents are obscurely famous and the charming dinner parties she gives for hipsters, the end — but I like to think it’s sporting things like, “Princess Charlene: She Wore Color Once. Can It Happen Again?” and “Women Who Might Hate Their Husbands: How To Talk To Them” and “So You Tried To Flee The Country: Three Women Speak Out.”
Fug File: Fug the Fromage
It’s kind of hard to properly fug-the-fromage of an actual good movie, so this is more a buffet of costumes, with some light plot sprinkled in where I couldn’t resist. It won’t ruin the movie for you because so much of it comes alive with sound and motion in ways that it just won’t in stills (like Matt Damon’s Disco Balls — you’ll know what I mean when you see them — and everything about Douglas’s characterization, down to the tiniest hand gestures).
Apologies for the number of slides; to get this done in a timely fashion, I had to do a slideshow instead of inserting each individual photo into one long post, because of Boring WordPress Reasons. If you can’t digest it in one sitting, you can use the photo-scroller at the bottom of each slide to jump to where you were — or bookmark where you left it. Think of it as prolonging the life of your scrolling finger.
I’ve never heard bad gossip about her, ever, and that’s got to be hard to achieve without being a legitimately good person. I also think she is a legitimately interesting person, one who’d have been better served by a documentary with some distance that featured outside voices, created and directed by an impartial (however possible that is) third party. It reminds me of working on Top Model — the girls who walked around conscious of the cameras, refusing to say or do anything in front of them, also never showed you any of themselves; it wasn’t until they forgot the cameras that things felt true and honest. When you give up control is when the good stuff happens.
With Beyonce being so intimately involved — sharing personal video diaries and whatnot — I figured bothering to make this movie meant she had a really good story to tell. Justin Bieber’s was at least about believing in your dreams, or something, I’m told. Katy Perry’s movie turned out to be about her marriage falling apart. But Beyonce’s… there’s a snippet of her fallout with her father after she fired him, and bits about her pregnancy that are mostly noteworthy for not being particularly thorough or high-quality. Indeed, the glimpses Beyonce gives you into anything real are so few and far between, it’s easy to mistake them for larger and more substantial bites than the crumbs they really are, and in the end, it feels like Beyonce simply wanted you to know some stuff that all revolves around this central conceit: Her life really is freaking great, and she’s really good at everything. It’s not much of a plot. It doesn’t come off as vain as that sounds, but watching this movie only made me want to see one about her that really nails the depth and breadth of her life and her persona — one put together by someone who is not the subject.