|
Wednesday September 18, 2002 - 3:20 p.m. Okay, you know how you feel after you've been sick, and then you get up and start moving about because you're a little bit better, and your head is all floaty and your eyes don't focus very well and everything is weird and you feel tired but not? Yeah, that's how I feel. I would say it's somewhat like being high, but really, let's be honest: what do I know about being high? Last night I couldn't sleep even worse than usual. I ended up watching Under the Cherry Moon on cable, which is the one and only Prince movie left that I had not yet viewed. My, my, my. He's an interesting one, our Prince. You gotta love how he wooed Apollonia, fought bravely with his father, simulated sexual intercourse on stage while performing Darling Nikki and ultimately triumphed over Morris Day and The Time (and we know what a scourge those bastards were) in Purple Rain. In addition, I feel that you must appreciate Graffiti Bridge for treating us to his love for the angel that lived under a bridge and wrote poetry, his use of hangman as a post-seduction trick, and as a bonus, the single most bizarre sex scene ever committed to film. (Wait, I take that back. The most bizarre sex scene ever committed to film would have to be between Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche in Damage. GOOD GOD. And there are two of those. So this, I suppose, would have to be number three.) And of course babies, we can never forget his gentle, chiding insistence - presented to us in musical skit form in Sign 'o' the Times - that while he was indeed qualified for a one night stand, he could never take the place of our man. Anyway, I had several thoughts whilst enjoying Under the Cherry Moon. These thoughts of mine were many, multi-colored, and varied, and also had an interesting texture sort of like that nasty fake fur they use to make purses for pre-teens. That may have been because of the cold medication, however. For your perusal, here a few that floated through my head: * Oh, please. That is so not his real ass. He's got some kind of...is that a prosthetic? What the hell is going on there? (This particular thought was so all-consuming that I missed a good portion of the dialogue, worried I missed something important, laughed hysterically, and lapsed back into a woozy, stopped-up comatose state.) * Okay, come on. Mysterious, wealthy "ladies in white" would not pick up Prince in a piano bar and give him all kinds of money. Prince is great, yeah, but if he wasn't, you know, Prince? Besides, look at that scarf on his head. I'm sure it was well-intentioned but it looks like Christmas gone horribly wrong. * Wow. Sex with Prince looks really uncomfortable. * Wait a minute...why does it look like their bodies keep trying desperately to get together but can't quite manage it? Does it burn their skin if they touch for too long? How the hell are they ever going to manage sex that way? * Okay, what the hell was that with the bats? Is that going to be important later on? Maybe I should be taking notes. * Woah...listening to Kristin Scott Thomas read Prince lyrics aloud is a surreal experience. * Oh look, there's Wendy and Lisa. I wonder which one is Wendy and which is Lisa, anyway. Oh wow, and there's that guy that always dressed up like a doctor. There was something sad about that. I always wondered if the rest of the band, like, felt sorry for him. And, at several intervals, * Oh. Ew. I had to drink tea and lay very still for a while after that one. A tip for all of you: if you're sick and it's late at night and you're all alone, listen to the soundtrack instead. It's safe, and there will be plenty of time, when you're mentally ready, to watch the movie. Okay? Okay? Good.
-Mlle R
|