Testing, testing. Mini-rant is being conducted in this blogspace.
I've finally found something that 'grinds my gears' more than Sarah Jessica Parker's pretentious pout (Oh God, how I wish I could legally eliminate that woman from ever existing. Why men would actually want that twisted waif traipsing around Manhattan as their arm candy is beyond me).
And that is .... standardized test questions set by menopausal spinster nuns. Especially those "none of the above", "all of the above", and my arch nemesis - (a) I only (b) I and II (c) I, II and III, but not IV (c) None of the above. Jesus! Can't we just tell you what we know and get on with life? Does there have to be this hare-brained pretzel-knotted way of assessing our thinkability?
Sorry, a little too furious for a snowy Sunday afternoon.
In other news, highly recommended Indie flick of the week - "Sex and Lucia". Playing at a few decrepit screens in Chelsea, but available over Netflix. To contrast the adorableness of Paz Vega (who is a far, far better actress than her many-considered doppelganger Penelope Cruz, as this film clearly justifies)
, SNL falls between the domains of explicit and obscure, rather comfortably. A visual artistic delight as Julio Medem captures starry nights in dark cities and bright days on the island. A startling follow-up to his earlier "Lovers of the Arctic Circle", which was AWESOME. In conclusion, SNL is engaging yet shocking. Its "Y Tu Mama Tambien" meets "Motorcycle Diaries", with Gael Garcia Bernal replaced by Vega, peppered with a smidgen of David Lynch influence (you'll see touches of Mulholland Drive, especially in the silent beach walks with the sounds of surf).
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