Sunday, June 19, 2005

Arthur Miller was a Spineless Crapweasel and the World Hates Us Because Everyone Intrinsically Connected with the US Government is a Cockmonger

Today I finished watching the 1996 film adoptation of "The Crucible," starring Daniel Day-Lewis, who appears to be afflicted with what I call Orlando Bloom Disease (a personal aversion to being in movies that do not take place in the present, i.e. this, this, this and this), and everyone's favorite five finger discount maven and most underappreciated actress of the last 50 years, Winona Ryder. (Winona also likes to appear in 90% period pieces, but that's because she's amazing, so we're not going to question it for the time being.) I just realized they also co-starred in "The Age of Innocence," which is the only Martin Scorcese film I can sit through, with the exception of "Raging Bull," because Winona was gypped and should have won an Academy Award for that. Fact. Anyway. Anyone who has read or seen this play knows that the character played by Winona, Abigail Williams, goes apeshit because she wants her lover's wife killed, and even goes to the lengths of drinking turkey blood or something else red and unpleasant to make it happen, and is essentially responsible for about 20 people dying. She's the worst kind of a douche - an unrepentant weenie one.

The huge glaring problem in this movie though, is that Winona should never have been given this role. She looks to be about 25 or so in this, which is probably too old for a horny servant girl, though I am by no means an expert on the servitude mindset from the Massachusetts Bay Colony period. The bigger problem is that Winona is too badass. Abigail is supposed to be a wretched souless cuntsack who has absolutely no respect for other peoples' existences, much less her own. When she takes Daniel Day-Lewis' hand and shoves it up her crotch, you can't help but root for her. The same thing ostensibly happens when she goes to him in the jail and offers him the opportunity to go to Barbados with her. (Hopefully after a shower, you can't even really sees his face behind the guano at that point in time.)

Obviously he did the right thing, but shouldn't Arthur Miller, the creator of this play, have nixed Winona and put someone more hateable in there? Someone as hideous as Abigail Williams' soul, like Chloe Sevigny? Having John Proctor choose between Winona and a whitewashed Joan Allen is like making someone at the dog run choose between a morbidly obese puggie and a coonhound. Nobody but me is going to see that as an obvious choice, but...shrug.

"Joan Allen, I'll rip your tits out...WITH MY TEETH!"

On to matters that actually have some semblance of importance. Time Magazine sat down with J. Porter Goss, the former member of the House who seems to have wandered out of nowhere to become appointed as Director of the CIA. Among the mundane political claptrap he's supposed to spew out for the public, he made an absolutely absurd statement about Osama Bin Laden:
IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE A PRETTY GOOD IDEA OF WHERE HE IS. WHERE? I have an excellent idea of where he is. What's the next question?
What??? Oh really? I have an idea, why don't you take the first red eye over to the Pakistan/Afghanistan border, pull him off his dialysis machine and sit HIM down for a Time Magazine interview! Christ. I get that he has to say inherently untrue things to boost the spirits of the American public and the soldiers risking their lives to find this bearded wonder, but COME ON.

Porter Goss obviously doesn't have an excellent idea where Osama is, unless his concept of an excellent idea is, 'Somewhere in the Middle East, probably hiding in a cave.' And I ADORE when people answer a question by making a glib hint and quickly ducking any more questions. It's like the time I told my friends that my gym teacher felt me up, and then I changed the subject to the black eye my algebra teacher got by hitting her bedpost during a crazy night of passion.

"Haha, he doesn't know where I am. What a clit."


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