All Consuming : saucybetty

Why I want to consume "Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 21:52:37 GMT

Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard

by Richard Brody

I read Brody’s article “Auteur Wars” in The New Yorker about the relationship between Godard and Truffaut and thought it excellent. I was pleased to see this biography was scheduled to be released soon after the article was published. While waiting for the book to be released, I got the idea to watch or re-watch (as the case may be) all of Godard’s films as I read the book and to blog about my thoughts. I don’t know if I will be able to find a copy of every film to view, or if I will even want to watch all of them or finish the book for that matter: It is 700 plus pages after all. But I’ll keep it up as long as the project’s interesting to me. Basically I want to know: What do the colors red and blue mean to Godard?

Why I want to consume "Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 21:52:20 GMT

Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard

by Richard Brody

Why I want to consume "Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 21:52:10 GMT

Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard

by Richard Brody

Not My Problem

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 23:03:39 GMT

Seven Days to Sex Appeal: How to Be Sexier Without Surger, Weight Loss, or Cleavage

by Eva Margolies

This is not a book that I would ever have purchased. I’m the girl that’s 50 lbs. overweight that STILL gets hit on at the gym after a sweaty session on the elliptical trainer, OK? I order two slices of the cheesiest, most blissful pizza on earth to eat alone in my car and I get hit on by the cashier. I don’t really need help in the sex appeal department (as shocking as that is to admit to myself—hey, I must be doing something right.) But when I learned I was going to be getting an advanced copy of the book, I thought humbly enough in the face of all evidence to the contrary,”Maybe my kung fu could use a tune-up.” THIS BOOK IS NOT THAT TUNE-UP. To be fair, maybe this would be helpful to people who walk through the mall without getting verbally assailed. Maybe their derrières could use a little love too. Mine certainly could do with a break!
Aside from the subject matter, I would like to say that the design of the book does absolutely nothing for me. Every page was ridiculously printed in a different color with a different background graphic. Whenever I see books with the funky-scroll-script font (wish I knew it’s name), it is such a turn off! It’s like the publishing world’s equivalent of “WHAT’S UP GIRLFRIEND! PLEASE LIKE ME BECAUSE I AM SO DESPERATELY TARGETING A FUN FEARLESS AND FEMALE AUDIENCE!” Additionally, the way that the material is presented (i.e. we are a fly on the wall in the Author’s office as she guides the unfortunately un-sexily named proxy for us all “Sally” through her training sessions) is totally annoying. Instead of just presenting the material to us and letting us glean from it what we will, the authors JUST KNOW that they have all our concerns covered. In reality they don’t even come close…like how do I turn this Sex Appeal OFF? When someone writes a book about how to get guys you aren’t attracted to to STOP hitting on you in the first place, I’ll be first in line.

A review of "The Dud Avocado"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 04:30:04 GMT

The Dud Avocado

by Elaine Dundy

The Dud Avocado is the first book I’ve read in a while that I kept imagining as a movie. Probably because I had just recently seen Bonjour, Tristesse and was always picturing Sally Jay Gorce (the protagonist) as Jean Seberg. Which is lovely, if only slightly regrettable for the fact that I lost the opportunity to imagine a Sally Jay of my own making, which is always a special prerogative of the reader.
I must recommend this book to anyone that needs an little of that ye-ye flavor in their lives. If we can’t be at a seaside villa near Biarritz right at this moment, we probably also aren’t prepared to deal with the career ramifications of sporting a pink hairdo at the office, or ignoring the stares while waltzing down the street at 2pm in evening wear. Or meeting an Italian diplomat for drinks at the bar in the Ritz. Sigh. You go, Sally Jay.

I DID IT! (rated 3 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 01:20:49 GMT

Anna Karenina (Oprah's Book Club)

by Leo Tolstoy

The day I never thought would come is finally here. Today I closed Anna Karenina FOREVER! The force-fed nightmare is over. While there were certainly beautifully written passges (helped by the Pevear-Volokhonsky translation, no doubt) I can’t ever imagine reading this book ever again. I will say the scene at the horse races was lyrical and sparked the imagination. And when Levin went on the hunting trip with Stiva, the natural descriptions made me feel as if I was there. But my brain was so choked by the extended description of Russian provincial politics at approximately page 600, I put the book down for a month and wouldn’t touch it. Way to throw a wrench into whatever plot momentum this thing had, Count Lev. At that point, knowing the fate of the heroine anyway, I couldn’t help wondering what could possibly be so important that we had to delay the climax for still another 200 pages. As I recall the upshot of those provincial elections was that….Levin was so confused by all the political doublespeak that he a) didn’t understand the voting process, and b) forgot who he was supposed to vote for anyway. So I made it through all that for absolutely no pay off whatsoever. Dear Tolstoy, allow me to quote Tim Gunn: I can’t want you to succeed more than you do! If the (secondary) main character can’t be bothered to understand it all—WHY SHOULD I? The only redeeming event in those final infernal pages were the descriptions of Anna’s internal emotional break down. I just kept thinking, “Yes, that’s just like a woman.” But that did not take up 200 pages. I persevered to say I had done it, but I would not recommend it.

A review of "X-Special Edition"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 06:07:04 GMT

X-Special Edition

Oh please, we all know this isn’t going to be an objective review. A lot would have had to go wrong with this CD for me to dislike it and honey, nothing did. It’s perfect new Kylie. It’s harder-edged than FEVER, the lush, dreamy dance disc that re-ignited our dormant passion for Kylie, but hey, she’s been through some stuff alright? The standout for me is “Like A Drug,” but I have a feeling with further listenings, I will find other faves. I only listened to the album 4 times all the way through today, so…Apparently it’s been out in America for a while and hasn’t done well at all. I get that. Sometimes we Americans are too cool for school. That’s ok. All I know is I have no more excuses not to go back to the gym now. I’ve got the trainer sessions, the shuffle, and the 2nd best (behind Fever) workout CD EVER!

A review of "The Pale Blue Eye: A Novel"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Fri, 25 May 2007 23:49:51 GMT

The Pale Blue Eye: A Novel

by Louis Bayard

I am really in a slump here people. I am apparently plagued with the ability to pick out books with great premises that are never brought to fruition. This is what, the third book in a row that I made 3/4 of the way through and didn’t finish? I’m starting to think it’s not them, it’s me…nah, it’s them. The plot has a great set up in the beginning: cadet Edgar allen poe is brought in to help solve a twisted murder at the US naval academy crica 1830. What gets in the way is that for the rest of the book, nothing happens. There is no trail of clues to follow, and only one vilain to consider (well, maybe two). Instead we are treated to authorial excercises in character voice. Edgar Allan Poe as written couldn’t be more of a show-off blabber mouth.

A review of "The Janissary Tree: A Novel"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Mon, 21 May 2007 20:19:03 GMT

The Janissary Tree: A Novel

by Jason Goodwin

This book started out promisingly. It’s abundantly clear that the author has a profound knowledge of Turkish history and culture and a light comic touch when it comes to characterization. Unfortunately, the plot, although interesting enough at first, was hampered by the choice (and I don’t know if it was authorial or editorial) of using very short chapters that always ended with a dramatic cliffhanger, followed by a new chapter that involved different settings and characters. A little of this is usually alright, but used with such consistency here it had the effect of confusing me and making me forget where the action had left off once returned to a scene. It reminded me of reading the Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, which was first serialized in a magazine before being published in book form. There Collins had to use cliffhangers so readers would buy the next issue. Here, the technique just made me feel manipulated. With with 80 pages to go, I realized that I really didn’t care whodunnit or why, which abruptly put an end to this visit to Istanbul.

A review of "Tinisima" (rated 2 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 20:08:54 GMT

Tinisima

by Elena , Poniatowska

Tina Modotti is a fascinating 20th century character whose life was stranger than fiction. Elena Poniatowska, journalist and author, allegedly spent 10 years researching Modotti, and this novel is the fruit of that labor. It’s difficult to understand why she chose to write a novel instead of a biography. Her training as a journalist is evident throughout this book, much to its detriment. Modotti’s life is intricately plotted: first she did this, then she did that. We get a well-researched timeline of events that would be laudable in biographical form, but we never quite come to understand Modotti.

Why would such a vibrantly voluptuous spirit, the center of bohemian Mexico in the 1920s, who tried so hard to create beautiful forms in both art and life consciously subsume and excise all remnants of her unique personality from her life to become a drab gray Comintern agent, abandoning her appearance and her art? Why would she go from a sybaritic plethora of male admirers to obsessing over a pro-Stalinist assassin that just couldn’t be bothered to pay her attention? How was her automatic love of mankind and the idealism it engendered tricked and blinded by the evils committed in the name of Communism? If there were no answers to these questions to be found in all Poniatowska’s biographical research, than certainly a novel might be the ground for examining these questions. It would allow the author to venture with imagination to answer what is left unknown. But Poniatowska creates a Modotti so opaque that psychological understanding becomes impossible.

Modotti crosses paths with hundreds of people in this book. The work is peppered with names of people that are just randomly inserted, possibly to give events context but without context of their own, making it impossible to tell to the reader if a) the person is fictional or b) the person really existed. I get the feeling that most of the people named were real, however Poniatowska gives next to no information about them, so their addition becomes blather. Additionally, as there is no internal examination of Modotti herself, there is no examination of her interaction with these people that would help us understand anything about them. Weston did this, Mella did that, Rivera said this, Vidali went here…we don’t know why, they just did, and we stop caring. I couldn’t be bothered to finish the book with 50 pages to go.

I’m sure Modotti’s life would make a fascinating biography. That’s what I should have read instead of this.

A review of "Selected Poems" (rated 3 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 19:19:45 GMT

Selected Poems

by Joseph Brodsky

Hrm. These poems are obviously translated from the Russian, and I wonder what kind of translation it was…literal, word for word, or did the translator take license to try and replicate the tone of the poem with out the precision of meaning. I guess I can’t just help but feel that I’m missing something here. THESE are the poems a man was exiled over? For what? Maybe I’m just too American, meaning I don’t question a person’s right to dissent, but there hardly seemed to be any criticism of the Soviet Regime AT ALL. There are some poems that deal with atomic power, boats, his exile. But most talk of nature, and the towns he has known, and maybe a few long-ago loves. Hardly the stuff to make you wanna expel him from your country.

More knowledge of context on my part probably would have increased my appreciation. This was admitedly an intro to Brodsky for me.

A review of "Passionate Minds: The Great Love Affair of the Enlightenment, Featuring the Scientist Emilie du Chatelet, the Poet Voltaire, Sword Fights, Book Burnings, Assorted Kings,"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 05:54:35 GMT

Passionate Minds: The Great Love Affair of the Enlightenment, Featuring the Scientist Emilie du Chatelet, the Poet Voltaire, Sword Fights, Book Burnings, Assorted Kings,

by David Bodanis

Emilie du Chatelet is a wonder of nature that sent her lover Voltaire into depression because she was SMARTER than him and he knew it. She didn’t try to show him up, she just was who she was. Where has this book been all my life, and how did I just hear about her for the first time. She’s my new #1 Girl Power Icon. Queen Elizabeth I, your majesty, after a 18 year reign over my heart, you’re bumped to #2.

And, amongst her other lovers, the Duc du Richelieu, aka the basis for Valmont in Choderlos de Laclos’ Liaisons dangereuses. DING DONG! If you’re a big 18th century ho like me, you’ll luvvvvvv this.

A review of "The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles" (rated 4 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 04:06:47 GMT

The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles

by Martin Gayford

The precision with which this book is written is very impressive. There is so much detail in this book, the author presents us with the type of house linens that Vincent purchased to decorate the Yellow House in Arles. He can describe the contents of the house even to what pictures were hanging on which walls, and what chair was placed where. But the details don’t override the narrative. I knew next to nothing about van Gogh before reading this. I knew what everyone knows. He cut his ear off, and he painted sunflowers.

Who knew that Vincent was a bigtime reader, and even possibly a synesthete? Literature was as important to his work as color, but you’d never guess it just by looking at their subject matter. The author of this book teases out the influences and the symbolism behind his works. Yes, SYMBOLISM. And even though Vincent’s references may have been obscure, the author easily connects the dots for us. He can be my Art History 101 prof any time.

A review of "Far from the Madding Crowd" (rated 3 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 21:23:36 GMT

Far from the Madding Crowd

by John Schlesinger

JULIE CHRISTIE! TERENCE STAMP! ONE HELL OF A LONG MOVIE! And her hair never moves the whole time!

A review of "Extras - The Complete First Season" (rated 2 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 23:21:34 GMT

Extras - The Complete First Season

I am such a huge fan of the original office that I cried when tim and dawn kissed in the Xmas episode, okay? I am totally the prime candidate to be a huge fan of this show. And well, yeah, I’m not. It was seriously not funny. To the point where I’m not sure i’ll watch the second disc. I only laughed out loud once, and not to give it away I’ll just say tracksuits and chesthair in the Ben Stiller episode. And I will admit that I thought it was funny Ross Kemp was playing Lord Nelson.

I don’t know how to say it, but it was just more of the same kind of Gervais humor, without inovation or the spark that came from actual characters (David Brent, for example). The whole trope of the show is “I can’t believe I just had that conversation with X (fill in famous celebrity here), and I’m sorry that just gets boring and contrived after a while, most notably in the Kate Winslet episode.

That's Enough For Me.

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 01:06:29 GMT

Naked in the Marketplace: The Lives of George Sand

by Benita Eisler

This was a slim biography, easily digestible, not a large scholarly tome, which is a blessing and a curse. My criticisms for the author mainly come from the format. We learn (a summary of) what she knows, but not HOW she knows it. There is a small notes section at the end corresponding to minimal (less than five) footnotes throughout the text. Now believe me, I am not demanding the kind of intricate note system that has you keeping a finger in the notes section so you can jump back and forth between the text and the additional information at the back of the book. But it would be nice to know when she concludes, for example, that Sand’s father Dupin was not her biological father, whether that is authorial conjecture or common knowledge (at least amongst Sand scholars). For that fact there is no footnote, no way of following the scholarly trail, nothing. There is no doubt in my mind that Ms. Eisler is VERY knowledgeable about her subject, but her choice to largely remove her authorial imprint from the text has a novice “Sandiste” like me wondering how authoritative the work is.

I have long been interested in George Sand, but this is the first biography I have read about her. It will probably be my last, mainly because of Ms. Sand herself. I have a problem with people that absolutely live the life they want to live (at the expense of children) and then blame “class” and “society” when they themselves persist in behaving in a way that always end in drama and sadness.

Picture it, Sicily 1149...

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 04:46:15 GMT

The Ruby in Her Navel: A Novel of Love and Intrigue in the 12th Century

by Barry Unsworth

Then picture it again. Turn the page and picture it more. End a chapter and imagine it still…and that’s all you’re gonna do. Because nothing ever happens in this book. This sadly is a case of an old cliché coming home: I can’t judge a book by its cover. If I do, I will be teased, seduced and ultimately punished by the mean demi-gods in charge of a book’s POTENTIAL. When I reviewed the 2006 Booker long list, this was the work that immediately stuck out. Because of its…title…and…its cover. I waited anxiously for its US printing. I reserved it at my library before it was even in the stacks. I just KNEW I was gonna love this book. I triumphantly read the blurb as I waited in the checkout line and just KNEW I was in for a monumental reading experience. That’s when I should have known it would all end in tears.

Of the titular ruby in a navel, I will say…it appears in the book, and really has nothing to do with anything. They might as well have entitled this book the heron’s feather for the import both objects have to the plot. But then I guess there would be no excuse for the odalisque in the American version’s cover art if another title was used: score another one for the marketing team. Of the “love” and “intrigue” promised (also on the cover) there were scant traces. All the ingredients of THE MOST SPLENDID HISTORICAL NOVEL EVER were there, the characters poised, just waiting to be put to some use (ANY USE!) besides a pretty thinly veiled “allegory on our times”. You know the rhetoric: Western Christianity evil, Muslims noble. Mr. Unsworth was so wrapped up in demonstrating his estimable knowledge of the political and cultural ambiance of this 12th century Mediterranean crossroad (and indicting the state of current world affairs—I SO should have seen that coming!) that he just forgot about moving the plot. By page 300 out of 400 I was still waiting for something even approaching a conspiracy to happen. By page 350, when the “conspiracy” had been finally revealed, I was beyond caring. I couldn’t be bothered to finish the book.

Cheating BAD, Fidelity GOOD! (rated 3 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 02:15:32 GMT

The Last Kiss (Widescreen Edition)

by Tony Goldwyn

SPOILERS Ok, let’s just get it out there in the open, Blythe Danner can do no wrong in my eyes. She’s fab. So how come Gwyneth drives me nuts? Zack Braff on the other hand drives me crazy. No I don’t think he’s funny, cute, quirky, any of that. So surprise surprise if I don’t really sympathize with his character at all. Oh, I have a gorgeous girlfriend, a great job and awesome friends, but I am so broken up inside…I deserve more. My life is already so hard to bear, I think I’ll just create MORE drama by sleeping with some random 20 year old floutist that has no redeeming qualities whatsoever other than the fact that she’s easy and she aggressively pursues me while my girlfriend is about to go into the second trimester of her pregnancy.
What’s really sad about this movie is that it’s a tale as old as time, yet somehow we need to keep repeating it, because everyone seems to think their circumstance is different, and they’re experiencing a pain that no one else could POSSIBLY understand. I don’t really have any complaints about the actual quality of the production. Just don’t expect it to be new information, and you’ll do fine.

Bizarre Love Triangle

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sun, 21 Jan 2007 23:21:48 GMT

All for Love: A Novel

by Dan Jacobson

I’ve often heard it said that one’s ability to take responsibility for one’s own actions is the highest indicator of self-esteem. Don’t tell that to the protagonists of this book. Certainly we the readers are entertained by their devastating choices, but it’s their inability to relent in the pursuit of the inevitable consequences that fascinates. I can only liken the behavior of these people to the current exploits of Britney Spears. However, I don’t think Ms. Spears is as enamored with the acting out of the dramatization of her own saga as much as Princess Louise and her erstwhile lover Mattachich. Once on top of the world, Britney is insistent on degrading herself, but in the pursuit of pleasure. For the lovers of this historical novel, pleasure never really comes into it.

I believe the book’s titular “love” was never part of their endgame (sorry to disappoint!). They are two united pilgrims of imagination, seeking to discover what lies beyond the strictures of class in Hapsburg Vienna. Once they find it, puzzlingly, they don’t stop. They continue on in an intractable gyre of indigence and affliction of their own making, only ending, in this life at least, in death. While on the one hand the reader marvels at their brazen, obscene commitment to finish what they audaciously start, one cannot help but ponder, was it all worth it?

A review of "Factory Girl [2006]"

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sat, 30 Dec 2006 03:26:54 GMT

Factory Girl [2006]

by George Hickenlooper

I don’t know what everyone is fussing about. It’s not an awful movie, although the script could have been better. Harvey Weinstein trying to buy Sienna an Oscar is maybe a little much, but par for the course. If he really cared about rewarding merit, he would push Guy Pearce’s performance as Warhol which was astonishing.

A review of "The Holiday" (rated 3 stars)

nobody@allconsuming.net (saucybetty) — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 06:38:16 GMT

The Holiday

by Nancy Meyers

This movie DID NOT need to be 2.5 hours long. I think I was more depressed when I left than when I went in.