Imagine Me & Lena

Over the long Thanksgiving weekend I found myself up in the wee hours of the night, as I often do, but this time I was extra aimless as there was no work or blogging or whathaveyou to do for the next day. Then just as I was going to trot off happily to bed I landed on Logo (I promise that’s not a plug, because they’re not paying me – hint, hint) and who should I find there smiling that crooked smile at me but Lena Headey. Well, clearly, there was no going to bed after that.

My love for Lena runs long and deep (that sounded dirty…I’m OK with that). “Imagine Me & You” is one of those movies that I have to watch whenever it is on. There is no other option. How can you turn away from Lena Headey kissing another woman? Answer: You can’t; don’t try.

Watching the movie again (it had inexplicably been a while – also, why don’t I own my own copy?) rekindled my unending love for all things Lena. Which, naturally, got me thinking about the first time I noticed her, 12 years ago, as the dashing Sally Seton in “Mrs. Dalloway.” You can see why poor Clarissa couldn’t stop thinking about her, even all those decades later. Also, never interrupt a woman when she is kissing Lena. You will be greeted only by dagger stares, and rightfully so.

What is so wonderful about Lena (besides that she is the best scowler in the business) is that she plays gay so often and effortlessly. She was the lesbian partner to a Victorian poet in “Possession,” though that ended badly (like “What are you doing with those stones in your pockets, Virginia Woolf?”-badly).

And before that she was gay (and a dominatrix, score!) in the gritty British miniseries “Band of Gold” about women who work in the red light district. From what I’ve seen of that though, things didn’t end all that great there either. But at least she no one walked into a river as far as I can tell.

Sure, she wasn’t gay in “Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles” (though she wore a lot of tank tops and brandished a shotgun, so it can be forgiven) and doesn’t appear to be gay in her upcoming role in the HBO series “Game of Thrones.” But she will “smart, cunning and devious” as the royal Cersei. So, with any luck, we’ll see a lot more of that sexy scowl and that lopsided grin. And, who knows, maybe one day in the not so distant future she’ll kiss girls again for us. How could anyone who puts her hands so convincingly in her pockets not? Answer: She must; don’t worry.

My Weekend Crush

After a day of bounty like yesterday (seriously, my pants are still tight), it only seems fitting that I give thanks once more. I mean, I wouldn’t want to seem like ungrateful. So today I am thankful for the vastly, vastly – I really can’t say vastly enough – improved “Parks and Recreation.” Now, I’m not the only one saying this. Critics everywhere are singing the praises of the show’s superior second season. It’s first season, not so much. I’ve been thankful for Amy Poehler for a long time now. But “Parks & Rec” has given me a new appreciation of Rashida Jones. I’ve never been a devoted watcher of “The Office,” so I missed her stint on that show and her distinct charms. Well, not anymore.

Rashida comes across as many things you might not expect from the daughter of show business royalty (Quincy Jones and Peggy Lipton, in case you were wondering). Funny. Smart. Likable. Grounded. As Ann, she is the voice of reason and, more often than not, incredulity on the show. She makes the perfect straight man, well, gal to Amy’s zanily optimistic Leslie. It’s easy to get a laugh being silly, it’s much harder to get a laugh reacting to said silliness. But Rashida does it, week after week. And along the way she comes across as something even better: real. You feel like if you hung out with her for an evening it would be a night of good company and great laughs – kind of like watching “Parks and Recreation.” Happy weekend, all.

Magnifico-o-o-o-o

Some things you never grow out of – and thankfully so. We’re a day away from the day we here in the states all try to remember what we’re thankful for, so maybe I’m feeling a little nostalgic. I’ll be taking Thanksgiving off to gorge myself on roasted tryptophan and buttered rolls. But today, I just want to enjoy the uncomplicated joy that is The Muppets singing “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Tank Top Tuesday: Evening News Edition

I know these photos of Katie Couric getting down with her bad self are going to get a lot of negative press. I know that people will scoff and tsk-tsk and use them as yet another way to trivialize her accomplishments. But all I want to say about them is, hot damn, Katie Couric is awesome. This woman can interview world leaders. She can dismantle a vice presidential candidate. And she can also do a little dance, make a little love and get down tonight. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that. You can’t tell me Brian Williams doesn’t let loose to a little Bee Gees whenever he gets the chance. I betcha he even points when he dances. Katie, on the other hand, is more of a rumpshaker. Who knew?

These shots, apparently taken at the afterparty the night of her debut as CBS Evening News anchor, were posted by her daughter on Facebook. And the rest is, well, history. (Note to Self: Never have kids – or at the very least ban them from Facebook.)

Considering her choice of tops, I felt it only appropriate that Katie get a place of glory in the pantheon of Tank Top Tuesday. Get your boogie on all you want, girl. You deserve it.

Glam or Gaga

Dear Adam Lambert,

Hey there, you big gaymo. Look, I didn’t say anything when you came out with your My Pretty Pony meets Space Camp meets your cousin Sheila’s high school yearbook photo from 1985 during her experimental eyeliner phase album cover for “For Your Entertainment.” And I didn’t say anything when the editor of Out wrote that open letter complaining about you even as he put you on the magazine’s cover (for the record, I think I might be on your side on that one). But you leave me no choice after your American Music Awards performance last night. Now, I don’t normally watch the AMAs. They’re basically not a real awards show but paperweights given out as an excuse for superstars to get on stage and sell records. But I keep reading about people falling and fire and fellatio on my Twitter feed last night so I was forced to tune in. (Note: The West Coast feed had JLo’s assplant cut from its broadcast. Don’t you know moments like that are the only reason we watch in the first place?)

Anyway, the night was basically two performances for me. 1. Lady Gaga and 2. You. So let me break this down as simply as we can.

This is how you do outrageous right. Please note the wearing of lighted exoskeletons and control-top pantyhose in lieu of clothing.

And, then, of course, fire.

This is how you do outrageous wrong. Please note that simulated blow jobs are never, ever good TV. (p.s. This was also cut from the West Coast feed. p.p.s. You suck, AMA editors).

Also, while as a rule I approve wholeheartedly of kissing androgynous bandmates on live television, that kiss was about as hot as the Al and Tipper Gore smooch at the 2000 Democratic Convention.

The main problem I have is that your performance smacked of shock for shock’s sake. It wanted to badly to be shocking and failed even at that. Also, you were kinda pitchy, dawg. Look, Lady Gaga works not because she is shocking but because she is ambitious. She wants to be different and aggressively so, so even if she fails sometimes it is never dull. And she does it all with vision. There is nothing visionary about grinding a dude’s face in your man bits and grabbing ladies by their lady business.

Having said all that, I do appreciate how unabashedly you are bringing the gay these days. Don’t ever stop. Same goes for the sparkly pants. But, seriously, fire your choreographer.

Kisses,
Ms. Snarker

My Weekend Crush

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Sarah Paulson lately. She’s made a bit of news, what with her amicable split from Cherry Jones and emphatic assertion that her ex and Jodie are not America’s newest celesbian couple. But mostly what I’ve been thinking about is how talented she is, far too talented to not be on my television (or big screen, I can share) on a regular basis. Of course, she is happy and marvelous on the stage out yonder in New York City. Which is fine. But that leaves all of us middle and left coast cold and alone.

I’ll let you in on a little secret that may be surprising for some of you. Back in 2006 when NBC had this wacky idea of premiering two shows set behind the scenes at late-night sketch comedies, I wasn’t initially on Team 30 Rock. Sure I enjoyed “30 Rock,” but my attention first went to “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.” I’ll give you a second to recover from the shock. At first, my affections were rewarded. The writing was whip-smart, the cast was tremendous and there was this lovely creature called Sarah Paulson warming our hearts each week. Of course, half way through that first season things went sadly awry and I never even ended up watching the end of that series. But what that short-lived run did give me was a lifetime adoration of Ms. Paulson.

There’s that adorable little overbite, that delightful sparkle in her eyes. She is accessible, yet clearly intelligent. And then there is her Twitter stream where she is prone to use the word FUCK in all caps and holds open conversations with an ungodly number of people – some famous and more just ordinary folk. It’s pretty amazing and well worth a follow @sarahpaulson (and while you’re at it and if you don’t already, give me a follow @dorothysnarker – though I can’t guarantee anything similar to Sarah except a penchant for the word fuck.)

In short, someone needs to hire Sarah. In fact, I feel terribly remiss in not mentioning her for one of the two lesbian comedies in development right now. Think of it: Starring Sarah Paulson and Leisha Hailey. Make it happen, universe. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. You haven’t really lived until you’ve seen Sarah impersonate Holly Hunter…and a dolphin. See, adorable.

So Sue me

Today, I am officially launching the If Jane Lynch Doesn’t Win an Emmy It’ll Be a Crime Against Humanity Campaign (IJLDWEIWBCAH, for short and unpronounceable). Why? If you even need to ask that it’s a crime against human – that human being you because, dude, why aren’t you watching “Glee?” The wonderful thing about this Jane Lynch Renaissance has been that those of us who have loved her for years are feeling validated and those of you who are new to the experience can make up for lost time. That this is all happening to Jane at 49, the age when many actresses are considered well past their Hollywood-approved expiration date, is even more wonderful.

Last week’s episode added untold layers to Sue Sylvester. Which in turn added untold layers to Jane. While she has been one of the most reliable scene stealers in the business for the past decade, she can do so more than just the funny business. She can be warm, she can be generous, she can be serious – and still steal the scene. I recently caught her on “Criminal Minds” as Dr. Reid’s schizophrenic mother. She was amazing and there wasn’t a laugh to be had.

Of course, that doesn’t mean we aren’t in love with the laughs. In fact, now I can’t imagine what I would do if I couldn’t get my weekly dose of Jane. On script, off script, she is a guaranteed crack up. On Tuesday she showed up on the “Tonight Show” and managed in a few short minutes to idolize Carol Burnett, call out Andy Richter and explain the art of throw pillow throwing.

And then, well, then there is this little gem. I give you Jane Lynch, dancing, a blow dryer and tank top.

In particular, I want you to pay attention at second :35. Oh, to be that zipper.

Like I was saying, If Jane Lynch Doesn’t Win an Emmy It’ll Be a Crime Against Humanity. And that’s how Snarker C’s it.

p.s. Hey, “Glee,” never leave Jane out of an episode like that again. You’ve been warned.

Pillar of Salt

Well hello again, Action Angie. The poster and trailer for Angelina Jolie’s new spy thriller “Salt” are out. And they both make no mistake in telling us who is the star here. (Though, they make her look a little like a genetically-engineered mash-up of Milla Jovovich and Megan Fox.) Of course, it’s hardly news that Angelina is a mega movie star. But what I like about this film in particular is that it was originally meant as a star vehicle for Tom Cruise. But when he turned it down Angelina stepped seamlessly in instead. The last film I can think of where a woman stepped in for a man was Jodie Foster’s 2005 thriller “Flight Plan.” The trailer shows us plenty of heroic running and jumping and kicking butt – all things we’ve seen from Angelina before. But what I like, both in the trailer and poster, is the suggestion of something more dangerous. Is she a good patriotic American or is she an evil Russian spy sent to destroy us all? Also, since when are the Russians our movie bad guys again? Take a look for yourself.

Now, I like my Angie with a little edge. In her best roles like “Girl, Interrupted” and “Gia” she unleashes something wild, almost primal. The popcorn crowd has certainly let it be known which Angie they prefer: Action Angie – big box office, Drama Angie – not so much. Of course, I do worry that things could get repetitive. I mean, how many times can we watch Angie jump onto a moving vehicle and head butt a guy? Oh, OK – just this once more. So, what do you think? Will you give “Salt” a try, or are you more into Pepper? Hey, don’t groan. You know I couldn’t resist. Commend me for holding out this long.

p.s. Am I the only one who is having a serious OCD issue with her being slightly off center on the poster? No? Just me? Fine, I’ve got to go scrub the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush anyway.

Tank Top Tuesday

So last week the sad yet inevitable news came that “Dollhouse” was done. Sure, the writing was on the wall. But to know it’ll be gone for good is just – deep sigh. At least we get to see all 13 episodes from this season. Fox at least gave us that. Now, I could go on and on about what a shame this is. Joss Whedon does best when his creations have room to grow – to deepen, to fumble, to evolve. The show was, indeed, getting better with almost every episode. Was it perfect? No. But it was always ambitious and never dull. Television that dares to ask the big questions – like about the soul and free will and the very nature of existence – is a rare and wonderful thing. I suppose I am thankful that we got two seasons at all. And I am equally thankful for the opportunity to get to know and further appreciate the women of “Dollhouse.” They are all talented and lovely and I will miss visiting with them on Friday nights. So, how better to send them off than as nature (and Joss, judging by their attire on the show) intended than in tank tops. And yes, sports bras totally count as tank tops.

Eliza DushkuCome back and kick ass on my TV anytime you want, honey.

Dichen LachmanThe tank top in lieu of pants is always, always a good choice.

Miracle Laurie

It’s a crime they didn’t put Mellie/November/Madeline in more tank tops. A crime, I say.

Olivia WilliamsMe! Me! Lasso me!

Summer GlauSpeak softly and carry a big-ass gun.
[Catch Summer’s first appearance when “Dollhouse” returns for its final run Dec. 4]

Amy Acker

In my defense, I think that scrap of cloth masquerading as a top actually used to be a tank top.

Leave it to Beaver

I’m back, kittens! I missed you! Did you miss me? How was your week? I hiked to the top of a waterfall and drank many cocktails, not necessarily in that order. Gosh we have a lot to catch up on. But first and foremost, I need to talk a little more about Jodie Foster. To be more specific, I need to talk about Jodie’s beaver. Wait, no. Not that beaver. Also, why the fuck is it called beaver? Because unless we’re talking about that biting movie “Teeth,” I really don’t see how a large, flat-tailed, buck-toothed rodent has anything to do with our sensitive lady business. OK. Right. So I’m way off track here. BACK TO JODIE’S BEAVER. Ahem.

Jodie, as you might have heard, is directing and starring in a new movie. A movie called “The Beaver.” A movie about a man who communicates with a beaver puppet he wears as if it was a real person. Sounds crazy, is crazy. And because crazy loves crazy, Mel Gibson is starring as said crazy beaver-talking guy. No, I did not make that up – I am not nearly that creative. Now, reading about this is one thing, seeing it is entirely another. I mean, this shit is nuts, no?

Yes, the only answer is yes. First, there are just too many jokes to make here. A man, a beaver, Jodie Foster? Head spinning. Mind racing. Must. Stay. Focused.

OK, funny business aside, Jodie plays Mel’s wife in the movie. The two have been good friends since they co-starred in that 1994 Western comedy “Maverick.” And she famously defended him after the whole getting arrested for drunk driving, blaming the Jews for everything Mel-O-Drama a few years ago. This is actually one of his first movies back since that ugly incident. Well, who knows, maybe a wacky comedy about a man who keeps his hand up a beaver is exactly the vehicle Mel needs to make people forget about his raging antisemitism. Or maybe running around looking like an idiot on screen is part of some karmic penance.

As awkward as it always is to watch Jodie romance a man on screen (remember “Contact” and her negative chemistry with Matthew McConaughey? Better yet, don’t), this movie at the very least doesn’t sound dull. Yes, I still have problems with Mel. But, dude, a beaver puppet.

Adding to my amusement is the appearance of Cherry Jones, who has a yet-undisclosed role in the film. Though Cherry’s mere presence on set was enough to spark rumors on The Internets that she and Jodie were an item. These rumors were quickly and decisively shot down by Cherry’s ex (and still good friend) Sarah Paulson.

Well, shoot, that would have been quite an interesting pairing. But, at least we have more fodder for our inner 12-year-old. I mean – come on – two lesbians in a movie about beaver? These jokes just write themselves.

Vacation Vixen: Jodie Foster

How anyone can look at this woman and not see a red-blooded, card-carrying, toaster oven-loving, 100-percent lesbian is beyond me. Also – and more to the point – yum. Be back Monday, all.

Vacation Vixen: Sue Sylvester

God, Jane Lynch melted every inch of my heart last night on “Glee.” It was so unexpected and so lovely and so heartfelt – and that’s hard to do in a tracksuit. The entire episode was amazing. Touching. Hilarious. Beautiful. Just like Jane.

[Click to embiggen, image via betternovembers]

Vacation Vixen: Neve Campbell

Whatever happened to Neve Campbell? While most gay gals (and a considerable number of frat guys) probably remember her best camping it up with Denise Richards in “Wild Things,” my fondest memory is of tuning in special to “Party of Five” to catch her oh-so-brief kiss with Olivia d’Abo (who will always be Kevin Arnold’s older sister to me). Whatever happened to Olivia, too, while we’re at it?

Vacation Vixen: Gillian Anderson

My sentiments exactly.

Vacation Vixen: Parminder Nagra

In my head, Parminder and Keira ended up together in “Bend it Like Beckham.”

My Weekend Crush

Few women arch an eyebrow quite as well as Elizabeth Mitchell. It just sits there, cocked and ready. It waits for your next move. It knows things. No, I’m not kidding, it really knows things. It knows what it’s like to kiss Angelina Jolie. (For the record, it’s “pillowy and fabulous. Honestly, you got lost in her lips. It was almost overwhelming, like a peach.”) It knows what it’s like to kiss Laura Innes. It knows what it’s like to roll around naked with Angelina Jolie. Look, it just knows things that we will never know.

One of the many great things about Elizabeth is that for a beautiful woman she is awfully scrappy. You wouldn’t think it at first with her delicate features and willowy frame. But that girl can scrap. As Juliet on “Lost” and now as FBI agent and alien fighter Erica Evans on “V,” she brings a competent intensity to her portrayals. I think to truly play brainy and tough well, you have to be a little bit of both. And Elizabeth is a lot of both. But what she also has is the ability to convey incredible empathy. Like if she were to look at you with those blue, blue eyes she would know you instantly and completely. And if she were to cock that eyebrow at you, well, if you’re really, really lucky maybe you’d get to know her, too. Happy weekend, all.

Unbreak my heart

File this under: Oh, thank God. Emma Thompson might just unbreak my heart. Of all the names on the Free Polanski petition, her signature hurt the most. There are others who disappointed, of course, by signing onto the celebrity rape apologist parade: Tilda Swinton, Natalie Portman, Penelope Cruz and Kristin Scott Thomas, among them. But Emma, well, her late addition to the ranks was a shock to the system. No, not our Emma.

Our Emma, the fierce fighter of sex trafficking, the advocate against fiddling with your face, the unapologetic smartie, the bawdy wit and the champion of always eating dessert. No, not our Emma.

And now, it seems it really will be no, not our Emma after all. The prodigiously talented Oscar winner has said she will remove her name from the petition. And we have the courageous work of Shakesville reader Caitlin to thank for her change of heart. You see, Caitlin, a student at Exeter University, knew she was going to have the opportunity to meet Emma at a campus event. So she set up a petition online, gathered 400-plus signatures of her own, and then took them to Emma to ask her to reconsider her signature on Roman Polanski petition.

And wouldn’t you know it, but Emma listened. As Caitlin wrote to Shakesville:

Emma did not have much time between meetings, but she gave me all of the time that she had. I asked her why she had signed the petition, and she explained about how well she knows Polanski, how terrible his life has been, and how forgiving the survivor of the rape all those years ago now is. She said she thought the intentions of the judge were unclear, as were the intentions of those who arrested him recently. She told me that a lot of her friends had rung her up asking her to sign the petition, so there had been a certain amount of pressure. She said that she had already been thinking a lot about the petition, as others had expressed their dismay at her signing it.

I handed her our petition and the comments. She read them both through thoroughly, and came back to me. She said, while she supported Polanski as a friend, a crime is a crime. I don't know whether she had realised the extent of Polanski's crime, but she is now fully aware. She will remove her name from the petition – in fact, she said she would call today and sort it out. Even though, she stressed, Polanski has had some truly terrible experiences in his lifetime, experiences that we couldn't even imagine and which should not be taken out of the equation, she agreed that she could not put her name to a petition asking for his release....

She left me with this, to pass on to everyone who has signed the petition/raised awareness of this issue: “Know that I will remove my name because of you, and all of the good work that you have been doing. I have read your petition. I have heard you. And I will listen.”

Never underestimate the power of one person to effect change. We forget this sometimes, amid a crushing sea of injustices. But sometimes all it really takes is one voice to pierce the darkness. Thank you, Caitlin. And thank you, Emma, for listening.

UPDATE: Emma is officially OFF THE PETITION. Broken hearts really can be mended. Recommence loving every inch of her great big magnificent brain...and other bits.