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“Hey Cos, do something, call me a cab!”

June 2, 2008 by Véronique Bergeron Leave a Comment

“OK, you’re a cab.”

Saturday evening, my oldest daughter and I indulged in a late night viewing of Singin’ in the Rain. We like older movies. I like older romances, Liesl likes vintage war movies like The Devil’s Brigade. Both of us love Singin’ in the Rain.

I like watching movies for pure entertainment, but I can never quite turn my mother-radar off. As Liesl grows into a young woman, finding movies that appeal to her maturing tastes while communicating positive values is increasingly challenging. Liesl’s brother Kurt – who is only a year younger – is more of a “special effects” kind of guy. The technology involved in making movies matters more than the storyline: “smooching” is generally frowned upon and character development fast-forwarded when not altogether absent. At any rate, I like when male characters sweep their female counterparts off their feet before dropping them at their doorstep – but no further – with nothing more than a kiss. But yesterday I found yet another reason to like 50-year-old movies:


 

Isn’t it striking how the image of the female body has changed since 1952? When women were still allowed to have hips and thighs, just to name two body parts that have now been expunged from entertainment?

 

If only to bring this point home, last weekend was Brigitta’s dance recital. Argh. The dancing was grand, I’ll give them that. But the costumes? Some of them were cute, most of them were ridiculous and four routines were all-time worst dance outfit chart toppers. Vile. My brother-in-law excused himself from recital duty saying that one had to be a pervert to sit for two hours looking at little girls prance around in swimsuits. My father, who takes recital duty very seriously, was not amused by the suggestion. Nonetheless, I felt uncomfortable at times looking at teenage femmes fatales dance to the James Bond theme in fishnet stockings and leather bras. What I found most disconcerting however was the apparent disregard of those who pick the outfits for those who don’t fit in them. The girls making-up the dance school’s clientele are in large part suburban little girls looking to have a good time, not professional dancers. Some outfits served no other purpose but to showcase why some little girls will never be prima ballerinas. The body types have not changed since Singin’ in the Rain, only the expectations have.

Filed Under: All Posts Tagged With: body image, Cathy Selden, female, Lena Lamont, movies, Singin' in the Rain

Death, taxes and The Toronto Star

April 11, 2008 by Andrea Mrozek Leave a Comment

Sigh. Why do I always have to be different? I did not love the movie Bella, so of course it figures The Toronto Star really, really did.

But everyone loves Bella. I have not heard one bad review. So why did I feel like I could not connect with the characters and the story? Some possible answers: I am a robot. OR I expect saccharine Hollywood romance when I sit in a theatre and when I don’t get it, I’m not sure what to do. Perhaps given this crazy world, when a story conveys compassion and real love, it is altogether too confusing. Or perhaps, I have an anti-Toronto Star reflex, which forces me to disagree with their articles even prior to reading them. Je ne sais pas.

In any case, do not trust me and go see the film and decide for yourself. There are some beautiful scenes, and that Eduardo is a beautiful man, in every sense of the word.   

Filed Under: All Posts Tagged With: Bella, movies, Toronto Star

Madness takes its toll

January 15, 2008 by Andrea Mrozek Leave a Comment

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdu7xoHU9DA]

I know I enjoy a good walk down memory lane so whilst you are enjoying this clip from the 1973 cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show, let me discuss today’s news. Today Judith Timson in The Globe and Mail writes an article called The unthinkable shmashmortion: When did abortion become a dirty word again? It’s another article despairing that Hollywood has not put enough effort into glamorizing “women’s choices” (read abortion) and has made movies like Juno and Knocked Up, showing other options. To quote:

When I was a teenager in the mid-sixties, an unwanted pregnancy was a nightmare. One girl I knew who did not want to tell her parents travelled secretly to a small town to visit a semi-competent abortionist. Another 17-year-old friend had an abortion performed on her family’s kitchen table by two women who injected a saline solution into her as her wealthy mother stood by. She delivered a fetus into the frilly wastebasket in her bedroom.

She also touches on the gritty 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, a film about an abortion in communist Romania, which had Timson “protectively pressing my legs together, thinking back to those comparatively benign but still bad old days in Canada.”

Someone send this woman a history book: Comparing communist Romania with Canada in any fashion is hopelessly naive and historically untenable. Did I say “hopelessly naive”? Back to the topic at hand.

Abortion has not become a dirty word “again.” It was always a dirty word. She’s cheering the normalization of death that never happened, the women’s right that never materialized, because whether into a wastebasket or a sterilized hospital dish, women, girls, none of us, are comfortable with delivering our unborn children–dead.

Timson says she feels like she’s living in a time warp. How to put this delicately-that’s because she is. Her own 1970s time warp. Since then, time has shown the supposed liberation of abortion to be nothing more than science fiction–a cast of eccentric characters dancing over graves. The modern and hip know how abysmal the whole affair is.

Filed Under: All Posts Tagged With: , abortion, Judith Timson, Juno, movies

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