Famous People, Foreigners & Foreign Films

Here's a quick recap of my Toronto Time:

Part I - In which Meg gets interrogated and chatted up by an immigration officer at the same time. (scroll way down)

Part II - The Stalker, The Dancer, His Opera Wife and her lover. (scroll down)

Part III - Famous People, Foreigners & Foreign Films


FAMOUS PEOPLE


OK. At least one famous person. This guy:



Do you recognize him?

No?

Well, he plays with this group:



The Dandy Warhols.

Know them? You’re listening to them. If not, unmute that volume key now and wait for the acoustic-electric guitar. You won't regret it.

The Dandy Warhols are a psychedelic folk space rock band from Portland, Oregon. Do you know where I saw him?

In concert.

I paid $32.00 Canadian to see Courtney Taylor-Taylor and The Warhols at a warehouse-like venue in downtown.

You see, I go to the Toronto Film Fest every year. But this year I really didn’t think I could afford it. And I really couldn’t afford it. And I was also told that I really couldn’t afford it.

But then I had a Kid Krisis, and in response I raced to the computer to check out the film schedule.

Some people feed their emotional needs with chocolate or alcohol. I feed mine with film.

OK. OK. I do all three.

But with the price of gas and all, I came to my senses and decided to stay home and rent In Bruges from Netflix—-a great black comedy in which midgets get their due.



But then one day I was checking out the concert dates for the Warhols and I saw they were playing in Toronto at the same time as the film fest. Needless to say, I grabbed my credit card and was on line in as short of time as Sarah Palin was vetted.


FOREIGNERS


I mentioned I met some foreign types at Hemingway’s. And being the friendly girl I am, I felt compelled to chat with them. But how do you chat with foreign types? I don’t know how you do it, but I talk film.

With the guy from Northern Ireland, I drop In the Name of the Father, about a chap wrongly accused of a 1974 IRA bombing in England. The conversation slowly disintegrates to an actor from the Republic of Ireland and star of In Bruges—Colin Farrell.

The Iranian was easy. Children of Heaven, of course. I mean, how many Iranian films are there? The conversation with this guy soon turns into Middle East policies of which I am greatly versed having dated that Palestinian.

With The Short Italian Waiter it was Life is Beautiful, what else? That discussion soon turned into the ways Italian men show affection such as pinching a girl on behind. When the guy wanted to give me a demonstration, I quickly changed the topic to Peroni (I can also talk beer in many languages).

Now the Romanian threw a monkey wrench into my plan. Turns out he’s obsessed with Smoke Signals— The film with the distinction of being the first motion picture with an exclusively Native American creative team. And by Native American I mean, Indians. For that is what I recently learned they preferred to be called.



With the Chinese-Canadian guy, I had to be careful. Do I go with a movie from the mainland like Raise the Red Lantern, or do I go with one from Taiwan like Eat, Drink, Man Woman? And what if his family is from Hong Kong?

Turned out I didn’t have to worry. Being an engineer in the oil business, he brought up the movie Syriana, which he claims gives a pretty realistic view of the oil fiasco.

Of course not understanding what the h-e-double hockey sticks what was going on in Syriana, I quickly changed the conversation to George Clooney. I mean, it's the natural thing to do, right?


FOREIGN FILMS


Disclaimer: Some of you know that I prefer my fantasy life with John Cusack. What you may not know is that if My John Cusack is in a movie like this one:



And if the movie happens to s*ck. I will not finish it.

Which it did. So I didn’t.

But if he is in a good movie like this one:




I will watch the movie multiple times and begin to quote lines from it at the dinner table.

Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with your life?
Marty: Uh... professional killer.
Mr. Newberry: Oh! Good for you, it's a... growth industry.

That means my interest in film trumps my interest in eye candy. Surprised?

And that means that when I go to Toronto I avoid films with John Cusack and Colin Farrell and Mark Ruffalo (as painful as it is) and opt for films from countries that Sarah Palin couldn't find on a globe.

One of the movies I saw was a Turkish movie called Sut(milk).

The scene opens with a young woman being hung upside down from a tree, her head a few inches from a pot of boiling liquid. She begins to cough.

Are they torturing her?

Curing her?

No.

Slowly a two-foot snake crawls out of her mouth.

Later, she has a kid who ends up writing poetry and delivering milk.

One day he gets a draft notice. They both freak. However, we soon learn Poet fails his medical exam. Meanwhile Mom meets the station master and develops a crush. Poet Son spys Station Master picking up Mom every morning and one day follows them. He spots the car in a field.

Is Station Master teaching Mom English?

Are they getting it on?

No.

The car is empty. Poet follows their tracks. He sees Station Master with a gun.

Is Station Master intending on murdering a rich man to get Mom of out the milk business?

Or is he planning on murdering Mom because he likes Poet son?

No.

Station Master is teaching Mom to duck hunt.

Poet picks up a large rock with the intention of bashing it into Postman’s head. He drops it suddenly.

Is he having a stroke?

Did he have a change of heart?

No.

He sees a monster four-foot carp in the water and bends over to pick it up.

In the next scene Poetic Carp Hugger is holding the fish out to his mother while she plucks the feathers from a duck. It’s about as phallic as the opening scene.

But cut...

Poet appears at a mine with soot on his face, hard hat on head. He looks into the camera. Camera zooms in on the light. The audience looks at the entire screen flooded with light.

We look at it for 30 seconds.

For 60 seconds.

For 100.

Roll credits.

Yep, should have gone for the eye candy.


If you like this post, or if you didn't but feel sorry for me that I had to sit through such a sh*tty movie, vote for me at Humor Blogs.