Now that Bored to Death has been cancelled, leaving behind a hole in the “bumbling unlicensed detective who has read too many hard boiled detective novels and has daddy issues” genre, here’s my idea.

She is a socially inept science major, obsessed with gadgetry (because she’s Asian, ya see?) and decides that going into the detective game would be a good way to interact with people. But here’s the best part, she would be her own femme fatale (with the gowns and hair and everything) because, get this, she is her own destruction! (dun dun duuuuun.)

Her father figure is a low profile thug who owns a speakeasy, who, in support of her new found career has to stop himself from finally coming clean with his criminal activities (and hopefully one day passing it on to her) and hide it from her. (MORIARTY IS HER GOD-FATHER, YA SEE???)

Oh and she would actually be good at it.

Now someone make this happen for me, I want to dress up in tweeds, and dress up in gowns.

Oh @stephenfry I see no reason why…

Doesn’t he look chuffed?

(Taken with Instagram at Barnes & Noble)

And So It Goes.

My personal god, Phillip Adams, has a chat with one of my favourite writers Kurt Vonnegut in that venerable little radio program.

(In Bed With Phillip - an internet repository of the best of Late Night Live)

Beauty Quick Tip.

This is it guys, this is the one to get excited about. All that blackest blackness, with all that Stila Smudgestick glide-y-ness, encased in all that much larger, and cheaper 24/7 gel pencil-ness.

@lloyd_ay I see your moustache, and I kick it unabashedly to the curb with my boot. (Taken with instagram)

Just seeing this little guy again has been worth my trip already.

1. The Tree of Life
Life changing business. Lincoln center is playing it again this week. It’s definitely something you need a big big screen and lots of speakers for. 

2. Shame
Whereby Steve McQueen solidifies his position as a formidable force in cinema. That sequence of him clearing the house is one of the best bit of editing I’ve seen all year. Both Fassbender and Mulligan were excellent.

3. Sleeping Beauty
Exquisite all around. Remnants of Buñuel in the best possible way.

4. Melancholia
From the standpoint of craft and artistry, you cannot argue that this is clearly one of the best films of the year. Doesn’t mean I liked sitting in that cinema.

Not In Contention (Because I suck and haven’t seen them yet)

Le Havre
Pina
Martha Marcy May Marlene
Descendants

Honourable Mentions

Another Earth
Bridesmaids
The Look (A documentary around Charlotte Rampling)

Notably Missing

Both RyRy Gosling’s heavyweight contenders. Drive and Ides of March. Neither did very much for me.
The Artist - Call me when they make a brand new silent film that actually feels brand new.
Hugo  - While it was very sweet and generally well done, there were just too much pacing issues and editing issues.

re-evaluating feminism.

When I was younger, I was all about doing it on my own. Every act of what I understood to be female empowerment seemed to mean individual ass kicking, pushing away the crutches of male dominance and standing on our own two feet. This meant that whenever I felt like I needed someone, it made me weak, and somehow taking giant steps back into patriarchal doom.

This, is fucked.

Needing someone does not make you weak, it makes you just like ANYBODY ELSE. And the fact of the matter is, the person it makes the most logical sense to fall back on, is the person you share a sexual intimacy with. Not in any heteronormative hegemony sense, but in the “I’m sharing my most physically intimate aspects with you, so I’m comfortable with you” sense. For a heterosexual girl, this unfortunately means a man.

This post, is me giving myself permission to need someone, anyone, and still feel like an empowered female individual. Because it’s about damn time.

It has been a hell of a year, dutifully swept through with equal shares of serenity and violent disruptions; record breaking weather conditions, seemingly never ending barrage of world changing events and torrents of personal milestones never thought to be crossed. I, for one, would be grateful for a calm (or dull, even) remaining few weeks before we put 2011 to bed.

(Photo curtsey of Reuters best photos of year 2011)

As a general rule, don’t make your first film about yourself. If you must do it, only do it if there’s money backing you, and that very experienced eyes are responsible for that money, and are frugally overseeing the whole process.

If you have sole creative control, chances are you will be obsessively possessive in keeping it all very ‘authentic’, which ends up as something similar to trying to explain a break up to someone; you will harp on about some minute detail which is meaningless to anyone else, and you will then try to explain the significance of that detail, which in turn makes it even more insignificant, and now everyone is bored.

You have theories and ideals, that’s great. Let that merely inform your first creative out-pouring and not overtake it. That extremely personal story that’s burning inside you? Save that for later in your career when you’ve gained more money and greater technical skills to execute it. And, more importantly, perspective.

Addendum: I do not feel the same way about books. Make that first one as personal as you can. You have all the time and space and edited eloquence in the world to explain that detail no one else cares about until someone does.