Wednesday, September 21, 2005
today's first shuffle song on ipod: "In The Long Run" - The Carrie Nations, from the Beyond the Valley of the Dolls soundtrack
oh christ, i am so happy that this popped up. okay, i don't want to blather on and on about how BTVOTD is basically the BEST MOVIE EVER MADE, so allow me ten reasons why it is:
1) roger ebert wrote it when he was in college (btw, roger is ag's 2005 fiscal year boyfriend - she recently declared this, and i am quite happy about it. since we successfully stalked her 04FYBF, and roger is in chicago, finding him is going to be cake. i mean, it might even be a huge letdown to just take the bus to the chicago sun-times building and find his office. i want to make us work for it this year).
2) russ meyer directed it. you know what that means - boobs for no reason whatsoever.
3) z-man: the eyes, the shakespearean dialogue, the clothes, the lambchop sideburns, the identity crisis three-quarters of the way through. strangely hott. when austin powers declares "this is my happening and it freaks me out" he is quoting z-man.
4) it was rated x even though they tried to tone it down.
5) it's a musical, a drama, a porn, a cautionary morality tale, unintentionally hilarious, a blaxploitation film, a psychedelic freak-out and a horror movie. YOU try writing that.
6) the acting is both amazing and ridiculous.
7) it was out of print forever (as was the soundtrack), which only made me want it more. i got to buy it on vhs and i saw a midnight showing at visions (keg show - $10, all you can drink at the keg sitting in the back of the theater, til it's kicked), and my college boyfriend and i used to have the shared dream of someday finding the soundtrack on vinyl. dare to dream.
8) it is possible to write a list of amazing dialogue for you to incorporate into your everyday life, and you will never be able to remember them all.
9) the sets, the clothes, the hair and makeup: a primer for awesomeness.
10) the music, which brings me to why i own this. the songs are amazing - like dusty springfield fronting jangly guitar pop with some of the lamest lyrics ever committed to paper. sort of hippie, sort of british, and the fact that a porn star is lip synching (poorly) to the blue-eyed soul is just . . . well, perfect.