My review of Black Swan is up on Velvetparkmedia.com. I’m not generally very happy with anything I write, but I do like a few of the phrases in this one, so go read it!
I loved the movie so much, I’ve just decorated my three work desktops with three of these gorgeous Black Swan posters:
I especially love that last one. You can find desktop-tailored versions on the official Black Swan site (Downloads > International Teaser Art).
Now that’s the way to get through a workday!
Oh, Lip Service 6 (aka the finale of series 1). Where do I begin?
I guess I’ll start with this: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
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Ahem. And now let me quote myself on Twitter:
I’ll attempt to clarify by expressing my many and varied emotions.
Cat. You trollop, you ridiculously confused thing! How COULD you?
Yeah, I know how you could. You and Frankie made it very clear: that was about your past, and how much you mean to each other, and all kinds of other stuff we probably won’t ever understand.
But still. Have you seen Sam?! She’s especially cute when you’ve just asked her to move in with you.
The suspense was almost intolerable. Thank god for Tess, who provided the usual comic relief — she’s got six expressions more than all them Barrymores put together — and also a really lovely bit of romance of her own. Sparky sparky.
And then there’s Frankie. I’m so conflicted. My girlfriend kept shouting things like, “Throw yourself out the window!” and “You’re on a roof! Jump!” and I don’t really disagree with her. But the whole thing about Frankie’s uncle (he’s my uncle! he’s my father! my uncle! my father!) and her mom — who was obviously very pleased to see her — well, that’s hard to resist. Maybe, by finding out who she really is, she’ll finally grow up? Hmmm.
And then — AND THEN — there’s Sam. Hellllloooo again, Sam’s sinewy back.
Sam showed some frailty in the finale: she is so very much in love with Cat, she can’t quite function. She’s almost clingy, and she aimed below the belt when she confronted Frankie, which doesn’t really seem like her. And she looked so pained — it hurts me — when Cat trotted off to meet Frankie again, instead of getting ready to meet Sam’s friends.
Dammit. How COULD you, Cat?!
I really, really hope series 2 will explain it all, or that it will at least give us more of this maddening, satisfying drama. It’s very delicious.
One slightly more serious thought before I stop (or try to stop) thinking about Lip Service for a while: in my last post on the subject, I noted that the characters on the show are too busy being gay to talk about being gay. I think that might be the natural result of social and legal validation: in the UK, gay people are people. They can carry on doing people-y things without feeling like second-class citizens. When you’re able to form a legal union, have full access to the courts, and can even consider (as I hope Cat’s considering) filing a harassment complaint against your heterophobic boss, you feel like you matter. You see yourself as equal. Normal. Real.
And that allows you to stop navel-gazing and get on with things. And get it ON!
Or at least that’s how it seems to me. And I hope we’ll see more of all that in a series 2. OH GOOD LORD, PLEASE GIVE US A SERIES 2!!
(Or just give the hot cop her own series. <Cat’s accent>That would be totally, totally fine.</Cat’s accent>)
I didn’t expect anything much from Lip Service.
I’m an Anglophile from waaaaaaay back, but I didn’t have high hopes for a show that claimed to be any kind of answer to The L Word. I’m sure you know this by now, but I’ll say it anyway: I have a strong — passionate, even — love/hate relationship with The L Word. I wanted it to be everything. It was barely anything.
So imagine my surprise, then, when Lip Service turned out to be not just good, but actually satisfying. Who woulda thought?!
It’s partly the setting: pretty, gritty Glasgow. What don’t you have? The people, the sunset, the buildings, the workaday yet wondrous way of life: you’re it. Of course I love your accent, but it’s your attitude that really gets me.
Your attitude is Cat’s. She’s practical, neurotic, sexy, selfish, insecure, competent, adorable, maddening. She’s everywoman in the way that Bette Porter is, with one exception: we can get to her. She’s not unattainable or perfect or out there in any way. She’s right here, brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape, heart open. Present. Steadfast. Yours. Almost.
And that spills over into all of Lip Service, which doesn’t apologize or explain or speechify — because it’s focused on just being. You know how The L Word was about lesbians? Well, let that go and put your arms around something better: Lip Service is beyond that by nature. It’s too busy showcasing lesbians to be about them. It’s too busy being gay to talk about being gay.
For me, that all comes down to one specific gay lady: DS Sam Murray, played by Heather Peace.
What is it about her? I’m not actually asking, because I think I know: she’s the one we recognize. She’s the one we see walking down the street — make that sauntering or strutting — and when we see her, we exhale. We smile, we stop in our tracks, and we say, "Oh, yes."
Heather Peace is a recognizable (soft) butch, and that makes all the difference. Lip Service still gives us the quirky fun one (Dana/Tess), the buttoned-up one (Bette/Cat), the tough broken one (Shane/Frankie). But Shane/Frankie is not the true butch: that’s Sam, and as a bonus, we get Tess’s fully butch neighbor, the "spark" who rivals Corky in Bound. Taken together, she and Sam are what we were missing in Chaiken-land.
In a mere five episodes (oh god I can’t believe it’s almost over), Lip Service has done more for butch lesbians than The L Word did in five seasons. And more for all of us, worldwide, accents aside.
Nobody would dream of playing fast and loose with DS Sam Murray’s sexuality the way Ilene Chaiken played with Alice Pieszecki’s very nature. And why is that? Because Sam — and Lip Service itself — is really, truly gay, and that’s really, truly hot.
(You) rule, Britannia: we humble colonists thank you, and some of us are fully sorry we ever left.
When Lip Service ends, I’ll be lost again, and all the worse for having had a glimpse of what the truly gay ladies can be. Come back, hot cop!
