Showing posts with label creepers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creepers. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

An Education gets an A (in awkwardness)...



On Monday, my history prof asked if anyone had seen the movie, An Education. I eagerly put my hand up but no one else wanted to join the party. He asked me if I liked it, and I said it was creepy. He looked at me as if I had two heads and told the class, "Don't listen to her! It's a wonderful movie" While my prof and many critics seemed to have been charmed by the sorta-cute-sorta-totally-creepy flick, I'm can't say I'd give the Nick Hornby tale (I gave the man my heart with High Fidelity and About a Boy, and he gives me this?) a top grade. Except, maybe in utter sketchiness.

An Education seems like a text-book example of a movie I'd love. The story follows Jenny (played by Carey Mulligan), a Brit teen who dreams of living the life of an intellectual at Oxford. She's book smart, speaking French at the drop of a hat and referencing Camus over after school snacks, but she's yet to really get out in the social world. Enter, David, a charming man (played by the strangely off-putting Peter Sarsgaard). He takes her to clubs, buys her expensive perfume, showers her with flowers, whisks her to Paris and wins over her parents. I know, sounds like a cute coming-of-age flick right? It's not.

You see, David, is 30 and Jenny is 16. Perhaps I'm more conservative than I thought, but this particular May-December romance really weirded me out. I'm talking, I-was-squirming-in-my-seat weirded out. I love me some Sarsgaard, but the man just came out as a sketchy creeper from beginning to end for me. Whenever he and Jenny had a sensual moment, it got really uncomfortable for me - most notably when he suggests jokingly (I hope) that she try having sex with a banana before they actually do the deed (I'm serious).

Saturday, May 23, 2009

(Don't you) forget about Wayne Brady..




Finally, someone understands the utter brilliance that is Don't Forget the Lyrics!

P.S. - Can you please look at Wayne's hands in this pictoral? Where are fuck are all his fingers coming from!? I mean, I know where they're coming from, but my god, they look creepers. I don't know about you, but I'm starting to believe the man is an extraterrestrial sent to earth to invite people to join in awkward karaoke-style sing-song bliss.

Mood Music: "Spirit Of Radio" by Rush