Back In the Saddle, Again.

Yes, You Are Seeing Double. The 'Fares' of Langhorne Players' Production of "Bluebird"

Next month will mark the first anniversary of my mother's passing. Uncle P's life has changed so drastically in such a short time that it seems both much longer and hardly a minute later at the same time. Of course, this probably only proves that time is an illusion. There can only ever be now. ("Whoa! Dude, too heavy..."  "Shut up, ya bloody wanker!"*)

Most of the inside of my house looks almost nothing like it did 11 months ago. It is very much starting to finally feel like my own place with my own distinct sense of style. That's helped a lot. I've also recently taken on a boarder (something I didn't want to do - I'd grown accustomed to being alone), but not something I regret. He  is a friendly acquaintance I first met while performing as Cassius in Julius Caesar in 1997. He needed the place, I had the room and I certainly like the extra money. Our schedules are different enough that we aren't often home at the same time and even when we are, we seem to get along quite well. He likes to boast that he is sharing a house with a gay man. I like to complain that he leaves the lid (not the seat) of the toilet up (toilet seats have lids for a reason - I don't want to have to fish anything out of mine, thank you) and he claims an inefficient freezer in a former home has left him with a habit of only filling ice cube trays half-way. But I will break him. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! No, seriously. It's working out well... so far. And yes, being a 12 year-old bartender means I must have a full ice bin at all times. Thanks again. Dad!

To tie all of this in with this post's title and the sprawling publicity photo above, despite the crazy crap that's been going on since she passed, I know Mom would be very upset to know that I'd put the thing about which I am most passionate on hold for so long. I was contacted by a director I knew by name only, at the suggestion of my very own Q (who knows me well enough to know it was time, as well). I was asked to come in and read for one or possibly two small roles in a play I'd never heard of, Bluebird by British playwright Simon Stephens. I got both parts and joined a show already two weeks into rehearsals with a bit of trepidation. Yes, they weren't huge rolls, but they were obviously important to the story and both have some hefty monologs. Thank His Great Noodly Appendages for my "Line Nazi" K, who always gets the job done! (LOVE you, Honey!). We officially opened last night (Friday) and while it was good, I still had a flub that almost threw me. 

Tonight, however, I was feeling particularly 'on,' as we say. I was calm and collected; focused and and firing on all cylinders. The performers among you will totally understand the feeling. Even better, two performances in and I am still finding new things about these two characters, both of whom are as different as can be, yet have so much in common. Bluebird is mostly set in a London Bluebird Mini-Cab and revolves around it's driver and a single night of fares who both inform and reflect his own story. I play Robert (a middle-class father returning to the scene of a crime on the day the perpetrator is being released from prison) and Andy (a tough-guy bouncer with a heart of gold, on his way home to his family after a rough night). Stephens' spare dialog is delicious to work with and immediately made me decide Andy was Cockney, which really gives him some delicious linguistic energy that's so very fun to play (and his very dirty mouth doesn't hurt - I love swearing on stage - it's very liberating)! Robert is much darker and sadder (and very drunk) - still a good exercise in character and mood, which is not as 'fun' to play, but equally satisfying. *And while I don't actually say it, "Shut up, ya bloody wanker!" seemed the obvious response in a post that has somehow turned out to be about dichotomy; death; life; theatre; acting; change and growth.

"Dude! What'd I say?"  Yeah, I know, but I'm not going to stop, because if there is one thing I have had reaffirmed these past few weeks (and especially tonight), it's that theatre can and should be transformative, for both performers and audiences. I can't speak for the audiences of any work in which I am involved, but as stressful and wonderful (I've not only made many new friends, but reconnected with one I hadn't seen in 30 years) as Bluebird has been, it reminded of why I do what I do. It is my 'religion' and it feeds my 'soul,'  however you decide to define either. And I am so very glad to be feeding so satisfyingly. Of course, I used to have to add silver to my hair to age me. Now I have to spray it darker to 'youthen' me. And don't get me started about mascara in my goatee!

Depending on when you are reading this, there are still 9 performances left. Be forewarned, this will not be everyone's cup of tea, you should pardon the metaphor. It's dark and spare and doesn't have a lot of action (almost the entire show is set inside the cab - cleverly designed and executed by the director and a fellow cast-mate, so it's never static for too long) but every 'episode' - no matter how brief - informs, echoes and/or foreshadows the bigger picture that is ultimately Andy's path to a sense of closure and self-redemption. Chewy, yummy actory stuff and exactly (as Q knew) what I needed, when I needed it most. For info and tickets, visit www.langhorneplayers.org.

Well, there's a ramble for you, eh? One of Andy's admonitions is "Enjoy the sunshine!" This is my sunshine. It is warm. It is friendly. It is good. Thank you to Mr Ken Junkins, who saw something he liked and trusted me to do what needed to be done.  And forever and forever thank you to Q for knowing this was the right project to ease myself back into and K for the line drills. Small enough to not have the line-load of 'Prospero,' but still artistically challenging and rewarding, I am so happy I agreed to do it.

Things are really starting to look at least a little bit better. At least, I hope so. Change is both inevitable and good. While embracing change isn't always easy, stagnant water both looks icky and stinks!

Here's a bit more about Bluebird and the London company that developed the original production:

I'm not saying it's all roses and lollipops. Hardly. There's all sorts of nonsense still going on that you would think I was making it all up if I told you. But the newest sense of normalcy seems to be a thousand times better than the worst possible scenario. 

Shameless Self-Promotion/Nonsense/Philosophizing over.

More, anon.
Prospero

Good Riddance to Evil Appliances

Keep Away from Belladonna and Baby's Blood

My house is Mid-Century Cookie Cutter. Of course, some unusual renovations to the interior by the original owners have left me with some very limited choices when it comes to where and how things fit, particularly in my already small kitchen. Eight years ago, my 25-year-old refrigerator gave up the ghost. Of course, like an aging pet or an elderly relative, the older it got, the more I prepared myself for its eminent demise. When I went to replace it, finding one to fit the space I had wasn't easy and I ended up with a Kenmore which I quickly grew to despise.

The non-adjustable shelves were in a very odd configuration, leaving little space for tall things like pitchers and bottles. The freezer had one wire-rack shelf with too much space between the rungs, making it almost impossible to have a level stack of packages, let alone a stable place for ice cube trays. Within a week of running out of warranty, one of the vegetable crisper drawers partially disintegrated in my hand, rendering it practically useless. The exterior was some kind of textured vinyl, making it almost impossible to keep clean and while the freezer door refused to not swing all the open, the fridge door had to be tapped with a knee to close tightly. 

Still, I expected the Effer to last longer than 8 years. Yes, after a slow but steady decline that started with milk-shake-like ice cream two weeks ago ended tonight with me unloading and purging the whole damned thing, filling both my big trash can and my recycling bin to the brim. The thought of lugging them to the curb tomorrow night, along with the yard stuff I managed to get done yesterday, makes me cranky, like a baby with a saggy diaper that leaks. I was able, thanks to a giant cooler and bagged ice, save a lot of the newer produce and dairy. And the chest freezer on the back porch is full, so no one's going hungry anytime, soon. Seems like I just did this last Fall...  

A replacement is scheduled to arrive tomorrow. When I finish this post, I will take my vodka out of the freezer and unplug the hellspawn forever. Of course, I fear that when they take it away, they'll forget to take off one of the doors at the dump and a diseased rat will be trapped in it and die. And then a small dog or a raccoon, followed by some form of Belladonna and some baby's blood and it will become an unstoppable demonic machine, devouring anyone in it's path and growing larger and larger with the ingestion of each victim.

Well, that's just silly, isn't it? No sillier than the nonsense that's been going on around Uncle P's house, lately. I have to check with my electric company (PECO here in southeastern PA) because I may get an energy credit for the new one (the commercial for which is where that goofy monster fridge image comes from).

To quote the great Gilda Radner (look her up!):

"It's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. Either you smoke or you have a sweatball hanging off of your nose." Seriously, if you don't know this, look it up. Gilda was a comedy genius. Anyway, as much I hate the rigamarole and extra work the Kenmore's death has caused me, I will be very happy to have a brand-new fridge when I get home from the Day Job, tomorrow. I know there is a Robot Hell, but is there an Appliance Hell? I hope so. And I hope that horrible old Kenmore fridge rots there, writhing in imaginary anthropomorphized pain for all eternity. That is of course, until that first rat...

Sorry. I'm in a mood. What are you trying to do, make me sick? Goodnight my little Roseanne Rosannadannas! I hope you clicked those links!

More, anon.
Prospero

VD

So... Today was Valentine's Day. You'll notice they've taken the "Saint" out of the holiday. Valentine was supposedly a Christian martyr who may have, among many other myths, performed illegal Christian marriages. His remains are reportedly interred in Ireland. Most modern, right-wing Christians don't really think about the time when being a Christian was punishable by death under Roman law. Or if they do, they certainly don't equate that persecution with their persecution of modern minorities.

The image on the right is from a series of "Puritan Valentines" posted on CollegeHumor.com, though it certainly expresses the opinion of the happily dwindling number of people in the U.S. who think I and others like me are evil; possessed; mentally ill; morally bankrupt; perverted; unnatural; hell-bound; filthy; sick or otherwise corrupted.

People complain that Valentine's Day is a "Hallmark Holiday," concocted by the Greeting Card; Jewelry; Floral and Candy Industries to drive sales in early spring, after having drained consumers' wallets just two months prior.. Having spent my fair share of time working in many aspects of retail, I can assure you that this is partially true. Still, there is something exhilarating about romantic love and the idea of a 'soul mate.' While T and I exchanged Valentine's texts (his was particularly sweet) and talked tonight,  I can't exactly say we're each other's 'Valentines.' Not yet, any way.

As for the Day Job's 'Red Food Party' today, everyone laughed along with Uncle P and "The Tale of the Wrong Spice." I promised to make them correctly for next month's 'Green Food Party' (remind me to buy green food coloring). 

If you had hot, romantic fun times with your Valentine today/tonight, go you! If not, here are some goats that sort of sound like people:

Sorry. I'm "in a mood," as they say.

More, anon.
Prospero

A Blogger Comes Out

Dan Pearce - The 'Single Dad Laughing'

Dan Pearce writes several blogs. His most popular one is Single Dad Laughing, in which he discusses life with his son, Noah. Last year, Dan's blog exploded when he wrote a piece called "I'm Christian, unless you're gay." The responses to this insightful and well-written post were nothing less than astounding. Dan's post actually healed wounds and reconnected family members who thought they'd never see one another again. It was quite the phenomenon. Throughout it all, Dan maintained that he was straight. And I wanted to believe him. Afterall, I have many straight friends and acquaintances (both male and female) who not only love me for who I am, but fully support LGBT rights.

I, along with thousands of others, responded with a positive message. His post made me cry and the responses to it were nothing less than amazing. Dan continued to post about life with his son, his relationships with his ex-wives, dancing in a local 'Dancing with the Stars' competition and dating women. All well and good. 

Today, though, Dan did something amazing. He came out, publicly. Finally. Irrevocably. 

Bravo, Dan! I know from experience how difficult coming out to the world can be. It was only after a year of therapy that I came out to my immediate family in my mid-30's. While they were supportive and accepting, the dread of doing so was nearly as toxic as the years of lying to them. But the relief following it was simply amazing. I hope that Dan is experiencing that sense of relief, too. I'm out at work, out to all my friends and out to my contemporary cousins (though my very Catholic aunts and uncles are probably better off not knowing -- and I am probably better off without them knowing. They are in their late 70's and early 80's - why upset the cart?). And of course, my mother and sister both said "Yeah, and...?"

As a country, the U.S. continues to make strides in accepting LGBT people as equals. In the recent elections, four states approved same-sex marriage. It seems that more and more celebrities and politicians are coming out of their closets and the fear we once felt in declaring who we are is diminishing, daily. Make no mistake, we still have a long way to go. As I write this, there are still places in the world where being gay is punishable by death. Indeed, there are still states where it is legal to fire someone for being gay. Hopefully, I will see that change in my lifetime.

By adding his voice to the millions around the world only want to be able to love who and how we love; without fear of reprisal; without fear of discrimination and without fear of persecution, Dan has helped open hearts and minds to the cause of LGBT rights, which are really nothing more than Human Rights. Today, Dan Pearce was added to my list of Heroes. Congratulations, Dan. Welcome to the Light Side. It's so much better here.

If you are ready and are planning to come out yourself, here are a few tips on doing so:

Okay - that was a bit campy. Still, you should know that it really does get better:

If you have questions or fears; if you don't know how or if you should come out, please know that I (and many others) am here for you. Post a comment and I promise I will answer and reach out to help you. And you can always contact The Trevor Project. Come out, come out, whoever you are!

More, anon.

Prospero

Can You Feel a Brand New Day?

As usual, I'm late to the party. That's one thing that sucks about being a night-blogger -- I rarely get scoops or breaking news. So I'm not going to embed video of the interview (though I will link to it here) everyone is talking about. But I will offer up my thoughts on the words I and millions of my LGBT friends, family and peers have been waiting four years to hear.

First, to all the naysayers who have been complaining about his lack of action on LGBT issues: you can all suck it. The end of DADT; the refusal to defend DOMA and now this. Of course we have to thank Mr. Biden for giving him the final push off the cliff on this latest item. Still, no president has ever done more to advance LGBT rights in this country and no sitting president has ever come out in favor of Marriage Equality (Clinton and Carter have been long-time supporters, but not until after their time as POTUS). This is pretty effing ginormous news. 

Mr. Obama did several things by giving this interview, one of which I find very entertaining and will get to in a moment. First and foremost, the man must have HUGE cajones! He super-secret-pinky-swear oversaw the takeout of one of the most evil men in the world AND told the American people that he supports same-sex marriage all in the same term. What bully is going to stand up to the guy with gigantic, solid brass balls? Of course, the Repugnican response was to condemn the announcement. Even Frothy tried to remain relevant by spewing hate disguised as righteousness. Most of North Carolina experienced heart-attacks, strokes and visions of the White House burning in Satan's semen. There are no known straight survivors; only atheists, Jews, florists and that dainty little boy who works part time down to Jonelle's Bridal Shop.

The detractors, deniers and drama queens who sponsor "Don't Say Gay" bills while trolling the men's room in the hair salon at J.C. Penney think this is a win for them. But Obama is a shrewd man. He knows that the haters' constituents (i.e. superstitious back-water yokels who believe everything their priest/minister/preacher/charlatan tells them to believe, using fear to manipulate the ignorant) who think gay marriage is wrong were never going to vote for him regardless of his public stance. Not only has he now secured every gay  Democrat's vote (which he was close to having, anyway), he knows that  independent voters tend to be pro-Equality and has likely secured the majority of those votes, as well. He may even have gotten more than a few Log Cabin votes. I mean, even gay Republicans (an oxymoron if there ever was one) aren't thrilled with their Cigar Store Mormon candidate. Obama has also forever changed the Democratic Party. The DNC had officially adopted a pro-Equality platform and expected and hoped that the President would, too. This means, that no matter what happens in Obama's next term, every Democratic candidate for POTUS from now on will have to be pro-Equality.

The part that amuses me, of course, is the thought of ultra-right wing conservatives' heads spontaneously combusting all over the world, at exactly the same moment. Maggie Gallagher's head alone is filled with enough fat and ugly to burn longer than a tire-fire in a coal mine. I bet Sarah Palin didn't leave much of a mess at all. Her empty head probably just deflated like a flaccid birthday balloon. Seriously, picture her face on that. Doesn't that image send you into giddy paroxysms of joy? And the Pope? Oh, Honey! That pointy hat flew up into the Roman sky like a Roman candle shooting rainbow sparks over the Vatican. But even that did nothing to help his heart grow so much as half a size. Must be a side-effect of the prostate removal. And I must admit that it warms my heart to know that they will all hold their future shameful places on the wrong side of history and human rights. Hey, "Futurama!" Put Sarah Palin's head in a jar and abuse her as only you can. Please?

Finally, the president has indeed delivered on his promise of "Hope." I have more hope for the progressive future of this country than I ever have. Change is often painful and slow. And the man inherited a horrible mess from the idiot fratboy who preceded him. One thing at a time, folks. One thing at a time. But today we came a giant step closer and I have more hope than ever that I will see Marriage Equality in all 50 of these great United States in my lifetime.

Okay, maybe that was a bit over-the-top. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it was! And you wouldn't have it any other way! Nor would I, darlings. Nor would I.

More, anon.
Prospero

Friday Gratuities, Faux Holidays, Cooking and Other Assorted Nonsense

Nature

Let's start with some gratuitous Nature porn, shall we?

I found that picture on this site, listed as an "Epic Win!" I've seen this photographer's work before (if you know his name, please let me know so I can credit him). He specializes in shooting ocean waves in motion and has captured some amazing things, so I don't doubt to the veracity of the photo and I don't think it's been Photoshopped. Light through water is exceptionally beautiful and this wave looks like magically stained glass thanks to a remarkably colorful sunset. Luck, skill, timing and being in the right place at the right time.

Now, I know some folks who would say "God made that wave like that." Um... Okay. If you want to think that, I'm not going to stop you, but actually the photographer used a combination of science, art and nature to capture that moment when the three come together to create something extraordinary as that photograph. Truth is, art couldn't exist without science. Paint; photographs; videotape; compact discs; Mp3s... all of them impossible without chemistry, biology and physics. And quite honesty, it is science that proves how we exist, even if it still doesn't exactly know why.

"Ai-Ooo-Gah!"

And speaking of beautiful (and slightly less philosophical) things, it's time to move on to some gratuitous male flesh. Because you see, Uncle P has fallen in lus... er, uh... love with  ballet dancer Jonathan Guijarro, pictured to the right. You should all expect your "Save the Date" notifications, soon. Jonathan and I will be honeymooning in St. Tropez, Monaco, Nice and Paris, followed by an extended stay with his parents at their beach house in Ibiza.

In lieu of gifts, please donate enough moeny to convince Jonathan to marry me. For reals, ya'll. I mean it. Help a brother out!

Honestly, I don't know the young man's real heritage. He could be Latino or Spanish, but who really cares? The boy is smoking hot! I'm talking 12 alarms. Mui caliente.All that and a bag of chips. The cat's pajamas. The bee's knees. Wait... what? Australia's number one gay men's magazine, DNA has a small photo feature (may be NSFW) of Jonathan on their website this week. Like Hrthiik Roshan; Chris Evans; Ryan Reynolds; Bradley Cooper and My Obsession, Guijarro is just another gorgeous person with whom I actually have nothing in common. But that doesn't mean I can't look at, admire and comment about people I find to be particularly attractive. I'm only human, afterall. And we all like pretty things...

Of course, it's genetics (more science, thank you) that makes people like Jonathan so attractive. Not everyone's DNA is wired for such esthetic perfection. But enough of that.

May the Fourth Be With You!

Let's move on to Faux Holidays. This weekend sees two of the silliest...

Today of course, was "Star Wars Day" (every self-respecting Sci-Fi geek knows why). My equally demented friend and co-worker Mia, shared the image on the left. Of course, Luke Skywalker isn't quite as Christ-like a figure as Spielberg's E.T. but I suppose he'll do in a pinch, even though he's more like young Arhur Pendragon than Jesus of Nazareth. 

And tomorrow (today, actually) is the Mexican St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo. Not to be confused with Mexican Independence Day, Cinco de Mayo celebrates a single victory against the French in 1862. In Mexico, it is only celebrated in the state of Puebla. In the U.S., it is celebrated in Mexican restaurants both good and bed; bars and cantinas (talk about a Star Wars seque!) with tequila shots, Margaritas and dos Equis; tacos; enchiladas; salsa; cilantro; tortillas and rice. All of which, by the way, I will be doing tomorrow.

It just so happens that the next dinner with my college friends falls on May 5th, so we're obviously having a Mexican-inspired feast. We're trying hard not to do the usual. I'm making a "Creamy Taco Casserole" and a rice dish that combines elements of two different recipes I found online, along with my personal tweaks and embellishments.

 

Candy-filled Pinata Cookies

I was very tempted to try to make the candy-filled pinata cookies on the right, but I'm not really a baker. I do well enough with pies, tarts and crisps I suppose, but cookies have never been my thing and while I found these to be delightfully whimsical, they're also pretty complicated for a novice cookie maker. I imagine a sweaty version of myself, cursing and decrying my clumsy ape-like fingers as rainbow sugar cookies crumbled to into rainbow crumb-fetti.

Of course, I'll be posting about our gas-inducing indulgence afterwards.  There are some very yummy-sounding dishes on the menu and I'm looking forward to both seeing my friends and eating great food. What more can one ask of life? Wait... Don't answer that... 

I'll be sure to let you know if I ever do make those cookies.

More, anon.

Prospero

The Least Straight Thing You'll See This Week

This Post Actually Isn't About Richard Simmons, Though It Could Be

Many years ago, I appeared as Arthur in the NJ premiere of Terrance McNally's play Love! Valour! Compassion! The show was a bit of a hit, despite my appearance in the nude. The young Hispanic actor originally cast as Ramon freaked out at the last minute and left the show just about a week before we were supposed to open. Thankfully, we had a backup plan.

A young actor* (who looked about as Hispanic as Prince Harry) stepped in and did an amazing job with only a few rehearsals. The rest of the cast (all but two of whom identified at the time as gay) couldn't help but notice just how comfortable *Shando was stripping down in front of us. One night, celebrating at local gay club, Shando tried to prove how straight he was by making out with another cast member. 

The next Fall, Shando came to me and said "I have a confession to make." I immediately responded with "You're gay." The poor boy seemed upset that no one was surprised by his revelation. And honestly, no one was. We all knew. Even his straight friends knew. I'm happy to report that Shando now lives and bartends in the Castro.I was lucky enough to run into him a few years ago while on a business trip to San Francisco and am happy to report that he is happier than ever.

I must suppose that such is the case with the shirtless young man in the video below, who believes that he is straight enough and comfortable enough with his sexuality that he can make out with a gay friend. The clip has been making the rounds, though I first saw it here.

Here's the thing - "straight" boys who make out with gay boys like this always end up coming out as gay boys, eventually. Always. Just ask my friend, Shando.

More, anon.
Prospero

I Need an Exorcist?

What, Me Worry?

A quickie tonight. Rehearsal was long and just this shy of exhausting.

That's Reverend Pat Robertson on the left. You know, the guy who hosts The 700 Club  on CBN (Christian Broadcast Network) and who ran for President in 1988. Pat thinks medical marijuana is okay, but being gay isn't. Pat's a very pious, but judgmental guy. He doesn't like gay people very much, though in the past he's claimed he loves us and wants us to set aside our sexuality so we can get into heaven. If we can't pray away the gay, then we should spend our lives alone and celibate. Not much different from most evangelical ministers or Catholic catechism, for that matter.

But then today, I saw the video clip below at Truth Wins Out and nearly lost my mind:

That's right, kids -  Uncle P is possessed by a demon! And I'm sure many of you reading this are, too. 

Well that explains a lot! I always wondered why I could spin my head around 360 degrees; spider-walk down the stairs; float three feet above my bed and have all those pea-soup stains on my pajamas. Okay - I'm kidding. I don't actually wear pajamas to bed (TMI?).

Seriously? This is the 21st Century, Pat. If you actually believe that an estimated 7 to 10 percent of the world's population are possessed, then I would suggest some better medication than medical marijuana. Start with some anti-psychotics, as you are clearly delusional. If those don't help, I know a doctor in L.A. who can prescribe something that will let you get some obviously needed sleep. And just in case I'm wrong and there actually is a loving, compassionate God who sends evil people to hell, I hope you like it hot, Pat. I hope you like it really hot.

More, anon.
Prospero

Women in Horror Pt III: The Bad Girls

That's a rare photograph of the lovely Gale Sondergaard in test makeup as the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. Ultimately, she was deemed too pretty and the role went to Margaret Hamilton, as we all know. But that didn't stop Sondergaard from playing villainesses in movies like 1940's The Blue Bird, 1944's The Spider Woman or 1946's The Spider Woman Strikes Back. Beautiful and seductive, Sondergaard's exotic looks often meant she was cast as bad girl.

And bad girls, despite director Mervyn Leroy's insistence that a witch had to ugly, are usually quite the opposite in film. Especially when it comes to Horror movies.

Take young Patty McCormick in the 1956 classic The Bad Seed. McCormick, reprising her role from the Broadway production,  plays Rhoda Penmark, a lovely young lady with impeccable manners who always appears immaculately groomed and knows exactly what to say to get the adults in her life to do what she wants them to. The problem? Well, it seems young Rhoda is a sociopathic murderess who will stop at nothing to get her way.

In the 1960's and  '70's, movie villainesses were regulated to crazy old broads like Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? her rival, Joan Crawford in Strait-Jacket and Berserk and Shelley Winters in What's the Matter with Helen? and Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? (and what's the deal with all the titles as questions?).

The tides soon turned as Paula Sheppard became the prime suspect in Alice, Sweet Alice (aka Communion), a 1976 slasher tale about the murder of a young girl who gets all the attention in her family. The movie is actually the film debut of Booke Shields, who plays the young murder victim.

Gee - nothing like stealing the theme from Psycho, eh?

Since then, villainesses have slipped back and forth between children and adults. There's Kathy Bates' Oscar-winning performance as Annie Wilkes in Rob Reiner's amazing and chilling adaptation of Stephen King's Misery:

Let's not forget South African actress Alice Krige, who has been the very bad girl in everything from Ghost Story and Star Trek: First Contact to Silent Hill.

Of course, there have been two rather remarkable "child" villainesses in recent Horror history... First is Daviegh Chase as Samara in the American version of The Ring:

And then there's young Isabelle Fuhrman in the very disturbing Orphan:



But for my money, the most effective Horror movie villainess in recent memory is Lorna Raver as Sylvia Ganush is Sam Raimi's brilliantly effective Drag Me to Hell, a movie I love on so many levels:



 

So, is there anything scarier than a wicked woman? Maybe. But these gals sure got to me. Maybe its an Oedipal thing? Or maybe it's the mistrust men seem to naturally have of women. Or maybe it's just good movie making. In any case, it often seems the best and most frightening Horror villain is a woman... I'll leave it up to you to decide why that is..

More, anon.

Prospero

Alien Hand Syndrome?

A dearth of anything truly interesting to say combined with a particularly nasty bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder have left your Uncle P in a rather dour mood of late.

I'm still keeping my Dream Journal though, and hope that my most recent bizarro dream about Alien Hands (don't ask, just yet) will result in another full-fledged screenplay, though I have to wonder where that particular scenario might lead. The dream itself involved dismembered alien hands that turned into feet which grew legs that developed into a torso... And no, I didn't eat anything strange, spicy or greasy before bed last night. I'd detail the entire dream here, but I don't want to risk your thinking I'm completely insane (as if you don't already think that, anyway).

I am still feeling rather trapped by snow (and not at all happy to hear that another major storm may be headed our way this coming week), despite having done some grocery shopping today (parking was a literal nightmare, thanks to the 8+ feet high piles of snow in the stores' parking lots). Give me a day or so to cope and I'll be back to my usual shenanigans. Or not.

In the meantime, I encourage the less squeamish among you to check out Bugcrush, a short, gay-themed horror film from 2006. Suggested by J.A. at My New Plaid Pants and posted on Post-Mortem Depression, this short (31 minutes) but effective film captures gay teen angst in a way that few modern filmmakers have been been to do. It's also probably NSFW.

Bear with me. Spring is just around the corner. 

More, anon.
Prospro

The Heat Is On

By now, regular readers know that Brit action star Jason Statham is at the top of my obsession list. No, he doesn't have the beautiful good looks of Brandon Routh or even loony-tune Tom Cruise. But damn! -- He is Masculinity personified... All I ask is an hour alone with him... TMI? Maybe. But posts on Caliban's Revenge about hot men are not exactly a priority. In fact, there are only 23 posts in two years with the label "Hot." Still, in my book, they don't come much hotter than Mr. Statham. Of course, aesthetic taste is completely subjective. You may find Jason Statham repulsive, for any number of reasons.

Over the past two years, I've posted about more than a few celebs who "turn my gears," as it were. Most recently, it was gorgeous Bollywood star Hrithic Roshan who caught my attention. Then there was the very hot and very gay video for Lady Gaga's "Teeth." Damn! And there was Dennis; Victor; Bradley; John; Alexander; Will; James; Ryan; Nathan; Hugh; Jake; Daniel; Cody; Adam and the one that started it all, Danny.

Needless to say, these are all fantasy men, who probably wouldn't give Uncle P the time of day if he passed them in the street. But still... you have to admit they all share an undeniable hotness for any number of reasons. And while Caliban's Revenge may not be one "those" blogs (you know the ones I'm talking about, even if you won't admit to visiting them), when I see something I like, the shrinking violet I am can't help but talk about it.

Such is the case with latest hottie to catch my eye, Isaiah Mustafah, former NFL player and star of Gillette's brilliant "Old Spice" body wash campaign. Isaiah has been all ove the web, posting video responses to Twitter tweets and blog posts about the campaign:

I don't know about ya'll, but I'd have no trouble finding Isaiah in the woods, no matter how he smelled, especially if he was only wearing a towel.

Okay, enough TMI for one night.

More Anniversary Nonsense, anon.
Prospero

John Cusack Is a Freak

I've always liked John Cusack. I love Say Anything with its iconic scene of Cusack holding a boom box over his head, playing Peter Gabriel's 'In Your Eyes' in an effort to win back the girl he loves. So romantic. Or his hilarious turn as a hitman attending his high school reunion in Grosse Point Blank (which also features a bravura performance from his equally talented sister, Joan). Then there's the brilliant insanity of Being John Malkovich and the almost scary version of Stephen King's 1408. And let's not forget Sixteen Candles or the completely hilarious Better Off Dead ("...and to drink... Peru!"). Currently (and, I think, sadly) he is starring in Hot Tub Time Machine, a movie I have no intention of ever seeing, even when it shows up for free on TBS in about 3 months.

Anyway, Cusack is also currently a guest blogger on BoingBoing, the Science/Sci-Fi/Steampunk/Free -Speech/Arts-and-Crafts/Gadgets/Bananas/Whatever-the-Hell-They-Feel-Like-Posting-About blog run by Science Fiction author Cory Doctorow. Today, Mr. Cusack posted the video I am about to share with you.

If you have seen Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland and thought he must have been smoking some primo ganga while making it, I can't even imagine what you will think about Czech animator Jan Svankmejer's take on Lewis Carroll's seminal work of nonsense incarnate. As a long-time Alice aficionado (I once wrote a play called "Through a Looking Glass, Darkly"), I am always excited to find new takes on Reverend Dodgson's allegorical and politically satirical fairy tale. Svankmejer's disturbing stop-motion/live action short is nothing less than brilliant, though as insane as anyone can imagine:

Cusack also links to another Svankmejer short, Meat Love. I'll leave it to you to form your own opinion:

As if I needed another reason to love Cusack, his taste in bizarro filmmaking only cements my admiration of him further (Hot Tub Time Machine not withstanding).

Interestingly, BoingBoing contributor Mark Fraunfelder also posted this piece about the British Library's online version of Carroll's original manuscript, which is available for your perusal and delight, for free. As you may well imagine, Uncle P is ecstatic about this link. Despite owning several versions of both Alice books (including "The Annotated Alice"), this is the first time I've been able to actually see the original book in his own handwriting, complete with his original illustrations. Nonsense just doesn't get better than this.

If you aren't familiar with Mr. Cusack's or Reverend Dodgson's works, I highly suggest you go to Netflix and/or your local library, posthaste. I promise you will be disappointed by neither. And just as a side note, the best concert I ever attended was Peter Gabriel's in the late 80's. I believe my sister will also attest to that fact.

More, anon.
Prospero




More, anon.

Prospero's Trauma

Regular readers know that I visit multiple blogs and movie sites every day. I visit some to be informed on any number of topics (Towleroad; Boing Boing); some to be amused (Regretsy; BizzaroBlog; Sleep Talkin' Man); some because I just love the opinions of like-minded folks (Just a Jeep Guy, Are You There Blog? It's Me, Stephen); some because they are even more obsessed with movies than yours truly (My New Plaid Pants, Final Girl, Film Experience) and some just because I like what the folks writing them have to say (Post Apocalyptic Bohemian). I have become online friends with several other bloggers (Sean at Just a Jeep Guy and the two Stephens at Are You There Blog? and Post Apocalyptic). I comment on all of them from time to time and many of them comment here.

One of my favorite blogs is Kindertrauma. The writers on Kindertrauma are Aunt John and Uncle Lancifer, who I assume are romantic partners (and they should forgive and correct me if I am wrong). They write about the things (movies, mostly) that left traumatic scars on people as children. People write in with stories of books, movies and TV shows that gave them nightmares as children, often asking for help in identifying those traumatic TV shows, movies and/or books.

Well, as you can imagine, not much traumatized your Uncle P as a kid. Thanks to a weird father, I grew up on the Universal Monsters canon. I was the 10 year-old who stayed up past his bedtime to watch Doctor Shock movies on Saturday nights. I was the kid who drew vampires on his Valentine cards and thought that blood tasted like cherry syrup (big surprise there, eh?).

Still, there was one thing that really freaked me out - burning alive. The story of Joan of Arc could send me fleeing to my room and tales of witch burnings in 15th Century Europe made me cower under the covers. Of all the ways one can die, burning to death freaks me out like no other. I think its the combination of pain and the smell of burning flesh that really gets to me. I once dreamt about a horrible wreck in which I could smell the burning flesh of those in the wrecked car, and I woke up gagging. It really is the most horrible way I can think of to die. So imagine my horror when, as a youth in the early 70's when I saw a movie (TV show?) in which a young woman was exhorting her friend to burn her at the stake for being a witch. Yikes!

So recently, I sent an email to Aunt John and Uncle Lancifer about that very trauma, asking if they, or any of their readers, could identify the scene for me. Lo and behold, the posted my query here, Of course, no one has stepped forward to identify the source of my particular Kindertauma, though I am hoping some one will.

And almost as importantly, they have linked Caliban's Revenge on their site. Hopefully that will mean more traffic for your Uncle P. That, and the answer to my question. Perhaps one of you know what movie or TV show I'm referencing. It's been bugging me for years, now. Any ideas, friends?

More, anon.
Prospero

Tiny Art Director

This is a quickie tonight (again), but I love this blog I've just found (via) so much, I had to share.

The painting to your left is "Dog Legs" by artist Bill Zeman, who as been collaborating with his now 5 year-old daughter, since she was 2. Basically, she tells him what to paint, and he does so. Then he posts the results and his daughter's critiques. The directive for this particular painting was "Draw a dragon sneaking up on a girl. She's picking flowers." She complained that the dragon had dog legs, hence the title.

Tiny Art Director is also now a book, which I will be buying for a certain someone for a certain day coming up, because I know this person would love it (and I'll be buying a copy for myself, as well). I urge you to buy it, too. Prints of Zeman's works are also available for purchase on the site.

Off to write elsewhere but as always, more, anon,
Prospero