MY MOVIE SHELF: Wild Things

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 134 Days to go: 92

Movie #306:  Wild Things

Sadly this movie seems to have been misalphabetized as well, though in fairness to me the DVD case does make it appear like the title is all one word: Wildthings. I know Wildthings is not an actual word, but it’s not like this would be the first known instance of a movie having a fake word as a title. Oh well.

Wild Things is an insanely crazy movie that’s not a big step up from just being soft-core porn. Actually, considering you get full-frontal on Kevin Bacon’s penis AND that he was clearly manipulating it in that shower scene to sport a respectable half-wood on camera, it’s not even a step up. It’s just soft-core porn. But as pornos go, Wild Things has a pretty stellar plot.

Wild Things is a sex thriller inside a sex thriller inside a sex thriller, a heist inside a heist inside a heist, and a double-cross inside a double-cross inside a double-cross. Nothing and no one is exactly as it seems, and the moment you’ve gotten it all figured out, there’s another twist to unravel. It’s cheesy and tacky and eye-rollingly extreme in its living manifestation of a male sex fantasy, but — and I can’t stress this enough — it is SO. MUCH. FUN.

Matt Dillon is Sam Lombardo, a sexy and stand-up blue-collar teacher at an exceedingly affluent school. He has a definite reputation with the ladies, which he appears to have earned, he has a taste for money, and he even tends to attract the infatuations of some of his students. It could get a guy in trouble.

Denise Richards is oversexed and overprivileged Kelly Van Ryan. She’s a mean girl with a porn star’s body, and she definitely takes advantage of both those traits. She has a spoiled, rich, promiscuous life, living under the example of her spoiled, rich, promiscuous mother, and she tends to get what she wants. She has no use for poor white trash, shitty houses, people who try to tell her what to do, or anyone who crosses her. She definitely has a thing for Sam Lombardo.

Bacon is Detective Ray Duquette, a maybe dirty cop with a maybe itchy trigger finger and a definite willingness to subvert the rules of procedure. He likes to boss people around, likes to take things into his own hands, and in his spare time likes to shoot secret video of two teenage girls having a violent physical fight that turns into an explicit sexual encounter. Which I guess is run of the mill around the Everglades? I don’t know. He’s shady, though. I wouldn’t trust him.

Neve Campbell is the poor white trash thorn in everyone’s side, though Mr. Lombardo does tend to look out for her. She’s got dyed hair and black nail polish, so you know she’s a thug. She likes to smoke weed and get drunk and tell people off, and her first encounter with Kelly involved her flipping her off while doing a cunnilingus tongue move. She doesn’t give a fuck. Not one. She’s gotten busted before and she’s definitely a magnet for trouble, but people tend to underestimate her. She’s definitely capable of fucking you over if she wants.

And Bill Murray is  maybe not-so-incompetent ambulance chasing attorney Kenneth Bowden, working out of a strip mall on the ghetto side of town. I could say more, but I’m pretty sure that would break the attorney-client privilege. He’s not above flipping off Robert Wagner in a limo from his piece of shit hatchback, though. Then again, who is?

Wild Things is such a fantastically terrible movie it comes all the way back around to great. The plot is twisted and layered, the musical score is sultry and insistent, and the players are all hiding something. It’s campy and ridiculous and absurd, and I love every perfectly scored second of it. “People aren’t always what they appear to be. Don’t forget that.”

MY MOVIE SHELF: Love Actually

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 205  Days to go: 209

Movie #172:  Love Actually

Last year Love Actually turned 10, and I found out there are a lot more mixed feelings about the movie than I ever would’ve predicted. Is it a Christmas movie or is it not a Christmas movie? Is it ridiculous or whimsical? Does it not have enough sex in it? Honestly, it’s much ado about nothing as far as I’m concerned. I consider it a Christmas movie, but I could actually watch it whenever, and it’s clearly a whimsical film, filled with playfulness and hope and small fantasy elements. And I actually think the implications of sex and the disappointing denials of sex make the film a more powerful statement overall. To paraphrase a certain lovesick guy impersonating a Christmas caroler, to me, it is perfect.

An ensemble film that traces the lives of several loosely connected Londoners in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Love Actually delves into the ways love is held, lost, denied, promised, hoped for and realized. It’s silly and funny and lovely and heartbreaking and great, all rolled into one, but while the aggregate is fantastic, Love Actually excels in tiny moments. Here are my favorites:

Nobody talks about Love Actually without talking about Emma Thompson’s devastating portrayal of Karen, opening up her Christmas gift to find the necklace she was expecting to receive from her husband (having chanced upon it in his pocket a week before), was instead a Joni Mitchell CD. Utterly humiliated and heartbroken, she still has to hold herself together in front of her children. It’s Christmas Eve and they’re about to go to the kids’ school play, after all; she can’t fall apart, can’t confront her husband (Alan Rickman), can’t curl up in a ball until New Year’s. She hides her shock and outrage, excuses herself for a moment, and quietly loses it in her bedroom. It captures perfectly that gut punch feeling of betrayal, that suffocation that comes over you. And the movie follows it up with another perfect moment, when she does confront Harry after the concert, she says it’s not just him who’s the fool because he’s made a fool out of her as well, “and the life I lead look foolish too.” That’s the line that gets me, for it carries the full weight of infidelity, when everything you know about your life can be rendered false in an instant. A heavy moment, and yet it doesn’t darken the film. Simply perfect.

Then there’s Hugh Grant as the new Prime Minister. The mutual attraction between him and Natalie (Martine McCutcheon) is sparkling, and I really enjoy his confusion at everyone calling her chubby. He’s even steely and resolute with Billy Bob Thornton as the U.S. President. But when he starts dancing around to “Jump” by The Pointer Sisters, I can’t help but squeal with delight. If there’s anything more appealing than Hugh Grant being a dick, it’s Hugh Grant dancing badly. I am not kidding.

My next favorite character is Colin Frissell (Kris Marshall), and I’m not kidding about that either. His entire scheme to go to Wisconsin to meet easy American girls and be the God of Sex he was always destined to be is hilarious and, in its fantasy-world way, kind of spot-on about how an ordinary guy somewhere can go somewhere completely different and become infinitely more interesting, almost on the strength of his accent alone. Okay, so if you do this you’re probably not going to meet January Jones and Elisha Cuthbert and Shannon Elizabeth and Denise Richards and Ivana Milicevic — all sexed up and ready to go since they’re “not the richest of girls” and have to sleep naked in a single bed — but it’s the hope fulfilled for Colin that makes it so great. And the best part? Screaming in Heathrow Airport, “and he’s got a big NOB,” (complete with hand gesture estimation of size).

And the pop-up live rendition of “All You Need Is Love” at the wedding of Juliet (Kiera Knightly) and Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is splendid, but Juliet’s face as she realizes Peter’s best friend Mark (Andrew Lincoln) took video of only her, is surprised and flattered and also sad. And then Mark tears up and I just want to hug them both.

There’s also the porn stand-ins, played by Martin Freeman and Joanna Page, who spend all day in various states of undress, miming sex acts with each other, and yet they’re so timid and hesitant about feeling each other out on a personal level and eventually dating. It’s the cutest thing ever.

Or how Aurelia (Lucia Moniz) learns English for Jamie (Colin Firth) “just in cases.”

Or Bill Nighy as faded rock star Billy Mack, singing his crappy Christmas song, naked, on live TV, thrusting into his guitar.

Or stupid, stupid Sarah (Laura Linney) putting her brother in some assisted living center where he’s allowed to call her every hour of the day, as many times as he wants, and not allowing a moment to herself, especially when gorgeous, nearly-naked, understanding, patient and totally, uncomprehendingly into her Karl (Rodrigo Santoro) is right there in her bed begging her not to answer.

Or Daniel (Liam Neeson) bumping into Carol (Claudia Schiffer) and getting all tongue-tied because she looks just like Claudia Schiffer.

Or the jewelry store clerk (Rowan Atkinson) distracting an airport gate attendant so Sam (Thomas Brodie-Sangster) runs to tell Joanna (Olivia Olson) how he feels about her.

Or Joanna’s perfect rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

Love Actually is a delightful movie that warms my heart and makes me feel good, and it has so many great moments to savor. It makes me deliriously happy. I honestly can’t think of a single reason not to love it to pieces.