Sep. 21st, 2009

handful_ofdust: (washington!)
So. Saturday night, Mom took Cal, and Steve and I were able to go see…wait for it!...Jennifer’s Body. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect going in, since I’ve seen both good and disappointing work from Karyn Kusama, and am iffy on Diablo Cody. However, I am a big fan of Hole’s album Live Through This, which features the song “Jennifer’s Body”, and since I listened to the entire album straight through three times before I saw the film, I think I can tell you with pretty exact certainty that I know where Cody got her original idea. This isn’t about turning Porky’s into The Evil Dead, so much, as it is very firmly about exploring the Riot Grrrl three-fer: Female homosociality, female sexuality, female rage.

I think most people know the general premise, by now: In tiny Devil’s Kettle, Minnesota, Jennifer Check (Megan Fox) is “that girl”—hot, athletic, vibrant, careless in a way which skirts mean fairly closely, but rarely crosses completely over the line. She’s a cheerleader. She was Snowflake Queen. She’s small-time infamous for stopping clocks and making guys come in their pants with very minimal effort. Yeah, she talks in a malapropism-turned-slang way (“You are so jello; you’re lime-green jello, and you just can’t admit it”) which was probably really cute when she was ten and is now getting wearing, but nobody ever calls her on it, just like they don’t call her on anything else. Fact is, Devil’s Kettle is a boring-ass town…and while Jennifer may indeed be high-school evil, she’s anything but boring.

Of a town-wide fan club, the person who probably calls her on stuff least of all is Jennifer’s mournful-eyed “beffie”, Anita “Needy” Lesnicki (Amanda Seyfriend). Jennifer makes Needy’s life interesting, and makes her pay for the privilege; it’s possible Needy’s a little in love with her, which Jennifer may be amused or even aroused by, but appears to merely accept as her due and proper. Yet it’s not like Needy gets nothing out of her half of the equation, either—from reflected glamour and a place in the social heirarchy to a habitual “good excuse” for unreliability, along with a host of other bad behaviors. One way or the other, being Jennifer’s better half is definitely a full-time job.

So when Jennifer wants to go to the local tavern (“It’s a bingo hall with taps!”, Needy’s level-headed boyfriend Chip says, when Jennifer tells him they can’t be late for “the club”) to see “sophisticated” emo poser band Low Shoulder—led by Adam Brody, cultivating a distinct Brandon Flowers manque vibe—Needy dresses up “cute” and goes along, trying to keep Jennifer out of trouble. But Needy’s good intentions are, as ever, all for naught; the roadhouse burns down, Jennifer goes off in Low Shoulder’s van, then later turn up at Needy’s place looking like she’s been raped with a cutlass. She pukes up some black shit that looks like “roadkill and needles all mixed together”, gives a very sharp smile, and disappears—only to resurface the next day looking like nothing ever happened. Looking better than every, actually…

…for a while.

Cutting to the chase, here’s what we eventually discover ensued: Sure that Satan was their only chance for fame and fortune, Low Shoulder sacrificed Jennifer to seal the deal, under the extremely mistaken impression that because she was obviously “that girl”—the kind who never put out for guys like Brody, back in his shitty small-town high school days—she must be a virgin. But because her body was a “tainted offering”, Jennifer has instead become some brand of earth-bound succubus trapped in a rotting corpse which she has to sustain through killing and eating the sort of live prey she finds easiest to entice into remote areas: Guys. First a dumb jock, then a local Gothboy Needy likes, then Chip himself. Whoever Jennifer’s roving, apt-to-sudden-color-changes eye falls upon is basically doomed, and no one but Needy knows why—

—so the question is…what, exactly, is the girl who’s always let her toxic “best friend” get away with murder before gonna do, now that the metaphorical has turned so finally, bloodily literal?

To many people, I’m sure, Jennifer is a bitch with slut tendencies who gets what she deserves, but I’ve gotta say, Cody and Kusama never go that way. In fact, I find the dismissive reaction of most horror fans against the film (often without even having seen it first)—the offhand contempt, the universally-voiced idea that anything written by “a former pole-dancer” and played out by a “trailer-trash” Maxim cover queen couldn’t possibly be “really” feminist—highly reminiscent of the general reaction when Live Through This first dropped: Here was Courtney Love, eccentric and angry and crazy and sexual, whipping her leg up so high on the equipment the crowd could see up her babydoll dress and check whether or not she was wearing panties; she sang about violence in a conflicted, contradictory way, like she was literally “asking for it”—to have it done to her, to do it to others, whatever. She was labeled a shit-disturber, a messy whore, a screeching junkie freak with rockstar pretensions who’d somehow managed to trap a “real” artist in her web, get knocked up, and drag him down into her Hellbound spiral. Then Kurt Cobain died, and left her with the pop-cultural fallout; he became a dead saint, and she became a live (or undead) demon.

For me, the sad core of Jennifer’s Body is that the reason we never get to see what the “real” Jennifer Check might be like—or might have eventually become, once her bloom wore off and she got tired of having it easy, or any number of events forced her to finally figure out just what the fuck she wanted to be when she grew up—is that the “real” Jennifer Check spends most of the movie dead. She is, in effect, dead by the twenty-minute mark; charitably and/or tragically, we can assume that what walks around for the rest of the movie either a demon pretending to be Jennifer (and doing it fairly well, if you don’t know her—but then again, aside from Needy, who really does?) or, literally, just Jennifer’s demonic energy-animated body, with a bare wisp of Jennifer’s soul trapped inside it like a decaying feedback loop in a carnal echo-chamber. This is the thing which cruelly caricatures “normal” human emotions, which talks like it’s too high to care what’s coming out of its mouth, which needs its prey frightened and hopeless so they can die in a Godless state of despair, like it did.

What finally gets Needy to set her own terror aside and go up against this horrifying creature is, I believe, her increasing rage on behalf of the “real”, dead Jennifer—and similarly, what keeps Jennifer’s body constantly coming back to Needy, flirting with her, explaining things to her throughout the movie in what often seems like classic Evil Overlord Do-Not-Do List fashion is that when Jennifer’s body is near Needy, it remembers what being Jennifer used to be like. It sees Jennifer reflected in Needy’s eyes, and wants that reflection, in order to make itself feel (as well as act) human again. Before the prom, we see that “Jennifer” has a framed picture of herself set up on her dresser, right next to the mirror—but was that photo put there by Jennifer, pre-roadhouse? Or is it just there to give Jennifer’s body something to pattern itself on, visually and attitudinally, before it goes out hunting?

At any rate: Just see the damn thing, and make up your own mind. For my money, Jennifer’s Body a fine film, funny and vicious in a rock ‘n’ roll Grand Guignol way, and considerably more interesting (from my POV) than you’ve been led to believe. It’s also a movie written by a woman, directed by a woman and starring two women which plays fast and loose with the established conventions of what can be a supremely misogynistic genre, ending up with a fairly hardcore monster/slasher tale in which the almost all people who get menaced and/or dead (aside from Jennifer herself) have penises, rather than vaginas. The two leads have agency, energy, and their most important relationship is with each other; “dorky” Needy may be a final girl just by virtue of still being standing by credits' end, but she’s no virgin, either—the movie demonstrates this fact by mounting what's now one of my all-time favorite teenage sex scenes between she and Chip, a consensual, happy romp in which condoms are donned, time is taken on both sides, and everything’s going wonderfully up until Needy starts having psychic visions involving blood falling from the ceiling and Jennifer squatting naked on the windowsill.

Better yet, in the end, Needy actually manages to not only (spoilers!) solve her own problems and save herself, but eventually also even take revenge on behalf of the complicated, difficult, fascinating friend she never got to see become an adult, let alone grow old with, in truly spectacular fashion. It’s as happy an ending as you can get, barring the gore—and if that ain’t feminist, fellas, then I don’t know what the fuck is.

For those who are interested, meanwhile, here’s the track which started it all, “Jennifer’s Body” (http://www.box.net/shared/44oavnbvgc), plus the all-time Women Who Will Eat You track which finishes it: “Violet” (http://www.box.net/shared/zb45e93vr9). Enjoy.

Moanday

Sep. 21st, 2009 09:26 am
handful_ofdust: (Default)
A Book of Tongues, Chapter Fifteen: 517 words added thus far. I have the general shape of the chapter all worked out--just need to lay pipe, and I'm certain I could hook up sections one and two very easily. Which is a good way to start off the week.

OTOH, Cal is still ill--this morning he had a hack-y cough, along with what's been the "usual" rash-'stache and flippy whackiness--and Steve already feels like he might be getting it too, which (naturally) means I will later on. Personally, I think Cal'll probably be fine to go back to Surrey Place tomorrow, but see no particular point in not covering my ass by keeping him home today. So that's not so great...

Also: Since the submissions window for Clockwork Phoenix 3 opens by the end of September, I've been thinking seriously of re-editing and sending "Hell Friend", so I think that'll become this week's side-project. Why not? I'm already careening towards a three-day sucker-punch of social activity (Cal's birthday, a baby shower, Cal's birthday party); might as well throw another log on the fire.

All right...back to it. Only so much daylight, after all.

Amended to add: P.S., though--for those who wish I had a Twitter feed, another of "those" weird observations, which fit almost nowhere else: From last Wednesday's METRO, this headline--"[Gerard] Butler Denies Kim [Kardashian] @ Party". 3 times?
handful_ofdust: (tuppenny)
The good/bad part: Already, Chapter Fifteen is extending and getting deeper, more dread-full. I like how bad I'm going to make Chess feel (and Morrow feel about Chess feeling bad), by the end of this little tour of Mictlan-Xibalba. And yeah, the middle is already starting to look a bit meandering by comparison, but I know in my heart I had to write through it to get where I'm going to go. 'Sall necessary.;)

The unequivocally good part, however: My breast reduction surgery has officially been approved. The government will be paying for it, and I can get it done by the end of November. So...there's a deadline for ya!

Mom'll be back from Sudbury by then, allowing her to pitch in with Cal; hopefully, I can just recuperate, read Sunburst Awards jury books, kick back. Keep growing out my hair, then get that new tattoo sometime in the early New Year, or around Christmas.

I don't think Steve's really happy with this idea, per se, but he's at least being supportive. And basically, that's all I ask; they ain't hangin' off his chest, interfering with every damn thing. Basically, if I can get to the end of 2009 as a C-cup, I'll count myself insanely lucky.

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