OK, Girls, Here We Go!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I Am Going To Try And Dissect "Mulholland Drive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                                How do I start?  Well, let me say, to all the idiots who thought "La La Land" was the greatest thing since who knows what, then you should see David Lynch's 2001 film, "Mulholland Drive," because it is the film "La La Land" was trying to be--a less romanticized glimpse into the underbelly of Hollywood, and more truthful, for Hollywood, as the cumulative American cultural  embodiment of dream success, is also a place that can destroy one fast.  The film shows us the destruction of an individual, Betty, played by Naomi Watts.  But, as viewers, the film reminds us we are drawn to that same destruction ourselves; all it takes is arresting visuals, onto which we project what we want to see.

After that dance opening, which turns out to be Betty's (Naomi Watts) ticket to Hollywood, by wining said dance contest, the shot of her arrival, and the radiance of Watts' outlook has not been seen, since Judy Garland pulled open that sepia toned door, and stepped into the Technicolor wonderland of Oz.  Betty is all of us, full of hopes and dreams.  She even has an in; staying at her Aunt Ruth's apartment, at 1612 Havenhurst, on Mulholland Drive.

Just look at this residence.  Who would not want to stay there?

And the interiors are splendidly noir, and creepy, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, this post will feature a lot of pics, but it is time to get analytical.  Who are the seeming parental figures, walking Naomi out of the airport.  Are they really her parents?  Or, are they allegories of Good and Evil, sending her to what they know is her own doom?  I go with this last interpretation.  Especially when they sneak in through the door as little people, near the end.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a Gene Tierney looking party gal, named Rita (Laura Harring) is being taken allegedly to a party on Mulholland Drive, though I think somewhere to be killed.  The car has an accident, and Rita escapes, hiding out in Aunt Ruth's apartment, where Betty resides, and discovers her.  Rather than chasing her out, she allows to her to stay, and this is where things get really interesting, because, a la Bergman's "Persona," Rita and Betty morph into one another, until one cannot tell who is who.  Even when Betty is on camera, we see Rita, whose personality is leading Betty down a disillusioning path of lesbian depravity sure to shatter her Hollywood expectations.

See?  They even go out on the town, looking like each other!  Just like all us girls should do, once in awhile! And Club Silencio is certainly the place!!!!!!!   If you have not gotten the idea already this is where you should get the idea that Betty and Rita are one and the same person.  One persona is just taking over the other.

Betty is also Diane Selwyn, whose house we see, but never actually see her, except as Naomi.  Her personality is disintegrating to where we are getting into the same territory as Roman Polanski's film, "Repulsion."  Only, no repulsive rabbits, thank God!

Meanwhile, what of Camilla Rhodes?  She looks enough like Naomi Watts, but is played by Melissa George, who scored big as Rosie, whom I went crazy over, and related to, on the 2015 NBC miniseries, "The Slap."  Still, I believe Betty is also Camilla, just another indicator of her downward trajectory.

Here, we have Rena Riffel, as Laney, the hooker, who wants to have Camilla killed.  Notice again how easily this actress could be mistaken for Naomi Watts.  Again, Laney is Betty!!!!!!!!!!

"Mulholland Drive" is the story of Betty's self-destruction in Hollywood, by going from radiant arrival, to street hooker.  She descends into an almost schizoid madness when the Hollywood she has fabricated for herself, does not match up with her illusions.   She ends up broke, and on the street, asking to have "Camilla" killed, when, in fact, she is asking to have herself killed.

Of course, the film has the humor of Anne Miller as Coco, the scene stealing of Lee Grant as crazy neighbor, Louise, who knows how to steal a scene when she is in it.  Moments like these counteract the film's tragic darkness.

My favorite is Mr. Roque, the disabled midget in the chair, and that eerie room.  Mr.  Roque, played by Michael J. Anderson, is master of all that takes place in "Mulholland Drive;" he is the movie's stand in  for David Lynch.

So, that is my take on "Mulholland Drive.  Let me say that my interpretation is most informing on myself; I do not presume to speak for others who may view things differently.  These are my last words on the subject, though I will gladly hear other interpretations.

Ironically, the film fits in well with "Valley Of The Dolls."  Remember when Susan Hayward, as Helen Lawson, says of Neely (Patty Duke), "Nothing can destroy her talent.  But she will destroy herself?"

"Mulholland Drive" illustrates such a destruction.

Actually, my Thirties was kind of like "Mulholland Drive.  And it was right here in New York.

You don't have to go to Hollywood, to get into trouble.

I will end this post on the most ringing phrase I could give it--

"Silencio!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This Is The Face Of A Genuine Bitch, Dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                    Christina Maria Cruz is 25, and a daycare worker in Florida--where else?  She is this week's winner of The Raving Queen Bitch Of The Week Award.

                                      This fiend was arrested May 21, at her job, at the Kids Discovery Learning Center, located in Valparaiso.  Where the hell is that?  Probably some low class trash neighborhood!  This is why I intend to stay the hell out of Florida!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         She is accused of child neglect and abuse, when four little boys, who came in fine that morning, by but day's end, could not walk properly, because all had suffered leg fractures, at the hand of Cruz.

                                          Oh, she is a cool one, hons!  Now she is not allowed to go near any children.  She should also be ordered to have a hysterectomy, because this is not the kind of bitch society wants giving birth to children, whom we know now she will abuse, anyway.

                                             Look at her!  No remorse, nothing!

                                             Put her in a women's prison, and let the inmates tear her hair out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sort Of A Darker "Into The Woods!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                                              Like the Sondheim musical, darlings, "Gingerbread" is a compendium of characters and stories.  I have to say not since Disney's 1961 film, "One Hundred And One Dalmatians," have I encountered a story featuring the name, "Perdita."

                                                That would be Perdita Lee, daughter of  Harriet Lee, who, jointly, live off and on the gingerbread in a world of their own.  Kind of like Ruth and Esther in the woods on "At Home With Amy Sedaris," but more like Wing Tip, The Spick, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, that is the Village Of Lice And Onions, in Carl Sandburg's delightful story, "The Village Of Cream Puffs."

Perdita Lee is the most captivating child, since Wing Tip, The Spick, and the world she and her mother live in is as enchanted as the titular Village O f Cream Puffs.

 

                 But the book gets harrowing, as it moves into the story of Perdita's mother, Harriet, which concerns a mystical place called Druhastrana, where unwanted children, of which Harriet was one, are sent to the house of the Kerchevals, the matriarch of which, Clio, is rather witch-like, and her house is one of windows that are sugar glass paned, and the walls, in and out, are also gingerbread. There are also two mysterious figures named Hansel and Gretel; Harriet forges a friendship with

Gretel, and is helped out of her situation.  Remember, in the original story, Gretel took the

initiative. Hansel was a wuss.

All this sounds exciting, and enjoyable, and it is.  Helen Oyeyemi, writes demonstrably well, but I have to confess I have been on a negative roll of late.  Like "Strangers And Cousins," "Gingerbread" did not engage me all the way through; I wanted the book to end sooner than it did, and was glad when I finished it.  

This says less about the book, which many readers may love, than it does about my dissatisfaction with much of the fiction being turned out this year.  As we soon get out of August, and into the "ber" months, it will be interesting to see what turns up on those Ten Best Lists.

Regarding "Gingerbread," I say read it at your own peril.  If you are not as enchanted, as the author intends you to be, then go back and read, or re-read, "The Village Of Cream Puffs."

And watch how it flies in the wind, and is controlled by string on a giant spool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Want All My Readers To Pray For Three Special Individuals--Sister Camille D'Arienzo, Her Sister, And Her Sister's Cat, Scotty!!!!!!!!!!!!

                               Not a Sunday goes by in our house, when, at 8:35 AM, all action stops, as we listen, on 1010 WINS, to the commentary given by Sister Camille D'Arienzo, of the Sisters Of Mercy.  If you like your Catholicism to the point, girls, Sister Camille is the one to listen to.

                                Her talk yesterday was heartfelt.  She mentioned her sister is hospitalized, and she is caring for that sibling's cat, Scotty, while visiting her sister by day at the hospital, and, to add to it all, Scotty has cancer.

                                  My heart goes out to all--Sister Camille, who is grieving for both, the sister, who may lose her beloved pet, and poor Scotty, whose body is shutting down.

                                   It reminds me of a time, forty years ago, when my mother was ill in the hospital, with terminal lung cancer, and during this time our beloved, 14-year-old poodle, Baby Mouse, whose kidneys and other organs were shutting down,  had to put down.

                                      I understood Sister Camille's words because I had such experience personally.

                                      Whether you do, or not, I want my readers to send their prayers to Sister Camille, her sister, and Scotty.   And I agree with Sister Camille that God has a place for us all, animal and human, in Heaven.  We shall see our pet favorites, there!

                                         May peace be with you all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Third Maya Deren Film We Saw Was, By Far, The Most Ambitious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                      Long before alternative sexuality was defined, Maya Deren was exploring it in her 1946 work, "Ritual In Transfigured Time."  Part Surreal, Expressionistic, and part Ballet, the film explores pan sexuality, suggesting the textures of the human body--especially gorgeous ones, darlings!!!!!!!!!--are fluid, and that we should be able to sexually morph ourselves into anything.

                                       It's a lyrical fantasy, because I have enough trouble with leg cramps, let alone any other kind.  But the imagery in this film is by far the most dazzling and poetic of the three we saw. Released in 1946, whomever the followers of Deren were, it had to have spoken to them in a meaningful, post-war context.

                                        Viewing it today, it was ahead of its time on interchangeable sexuality.  While not as macabre as "Meshes In The Afternoon," it was, by far, my favorite!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You knew your images, Maya, darling!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How Did Tillie, From Coney Island, Make It All The Way Down To Asbury Park, New Jersey??????????????

                                                      Like the discussion on "Mulholland Drive" I have been promising, I am also promising a full account of our Sunday trip to Ocean Grove, and Asbury Park.

                                                        Now, ever since I have been living in Brooklyn, for almost over 20 year, darlings, with a 15 year stop in Woodside, Coney Island has been my amusement area of choice, and this face, Tillie is all over the place.   In Coney, Tillie is named after George J. Tilyou, who owned the original Steeplechase Park.

                                                         During the winter of 1955-56, Tillie found himself painted onto the Palace Apartments in Asbury Park, New Jersey, and the Wonder Bar Arcade.  Now, I spent many childhood summers in Asbury, when I thought it the most magical place in the world, but amazingly enough, I never noted Tillie.

                                                          Well, he is still there, amid crumbling buildings, which recall, to me, now, a Summer version of Sondheim's "Follies."

THIS is the Asbury Park, I remember.  It sure has changed in 46 years, and  not for the better.

The magic is gone, except for Tillie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love you, Tillie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Admired It, But I Did Not Like It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               In the course of writing this post, girls, I discovered that, 19--almost 20!!!!!!!!!!!--years ago, I had read another book by Leah Hager Cohen, which I liked.  That was "The Grief Of Others," but when I picked up "Strangers And Cousins" I made no connection with either that author, or her previous book.

                                               I was hoping for something with period charm, like "Bowlaway," by Elizabeth McCracken.  While Cohen's book gets a little whimsical at times, it bogs down into pretension by trying to connect a beloved matriarch, a pageant fire that happened back in 1967, with the aunt's great niece, Clem (for Clementine) Bloomenthal, who is having a lesbian wedding on her house, and much to her mother, Bennie's, consternation, plans to do it non-traditionally, as some sort of performance art piece, officiated by her former college Theater professor, supposedly some sort of ordained minister.

                                                Cohen spends too much time laying out extraneous details, although I did love the scene with the fighting cousins, and the contents of the refrigerator spilling all over the floor, or family members sitting with the ailing spinster, Aunt Glad, playing Parcheesi.  Moments like these make the effort worth it, but they are few and far between, until the final section where the structural circularity of Cohen's piece culminates in an alliance between the Bloomenthals and the Haredi Jews, an ultra-Orthodox community, moving into their area, which the family dislikes, even though they are Jewish, themselves.

                                                The author covers a lot of territory, sometimes too much, but she manages to bring it all together and closes it brilliantly.  The last sentence alone makes reading the previous 300 pages worth it.

                                                 But, girls, I would say skip this one.  We have enough troubles planning our own weddings, dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                   Not to mention some of our relations may be strangers, as well!!!!!!!!!!!!