THE GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE
A Film Review by Malik Isasis
It was Saturday, May 23, 2009, evening, when my friend Rosario called me from Union Square in Manhattan to suggest that I join her in seeing the film Terminator: Salvation. After an ennui of explosions and asinine dialogue that carried on for two hours, we regretted not going to the Angelika Film Center to catch more cerebral fare. After the movie ended the film was promptly forgotten. We walked along Park Avenue in the Gramercy neighborhood, which is filled with unaffordable carriage houses, walk-ups and brownstone apartments. It is not unusual in these upscale neighborhoods to see nice furniture on the curbside, and it is not unusual to see New Yorkers walking with sofas, tables, lamps that they’ve found on the curbside.
Rosario and I came upon a nice pile of wooden crates on the curbside that were used to ship wine bottles. We crossed the street and stared at the wooden crates debating on whether we wanted to take some to use as a bookshelf, or storage containers for our apartments. It was still relatively early, and residents were walking their dogs, and passing by with curious stares as we inspected the crates, which brings me back to last spring.
Last spring New York Governor Eliot Spitzer was caught on a federal wiretap soliciting high-priced escorts. Spitzer, a Democrat and ethical crusader (and a damn good one at that) was brought down by his own ethical shortcomings. He resigned in humiliation and shrank into the shadows of obscurity, but when the 22-year old escort, Ashley Dupre was identified as the $1000, an hour escort, she became infamous overnight. The New York Post, New York Daily News and other New York press hounded Ms Dupree, capturing photographs of her on the beach, on the streets—her infamy garnered million dollar offers from Playboy, Girls Gone Wild and other pornographers. For weeks, this woman was all over the news, and when the corporate media was done with her, she too faded into obscurity.
Rosario and I were still debating on whether to carry the wooden crates. Finally we decided that we’d take a few. As we began digging the crates out of the garbage heap, an attractive young woman who was walking her two dogs paused and began talking to us.
“Are you guys art students?”
“No,” I said, “We’re gonna use these as furniture.”
“Aw, that’s a cool idea,” the young lady said. “I wish I would’ve thought of that.”
She had a familiarity about her I couldn’t place. Her body was in good shape so I took noticed and along the way, I noticed her tattoos, and Disco! This was the woman whose face was plastered on the tabloid magazines for weeks. Rosario had not a clue.
“Okay, bye,” she said.
“Have a nice night,” I said.
She waved as she disappeared into the darkness of the tree-lined street.
“You know who that was?” I asked Rosario.
“No.”
“That was the prostitute that caused the Governor to resign.”
Rosario didn’t seem moved either way; she was more concerned about how she would carry the crates back to Harlem on the train, but I couldn’t help but think how normal she was, and how eager she seemed for just a regular interaction. We were complete strangers, yet I had her at a disadvantage, her life had been turned inside, out for the world to see, and be feasted upon. I gave no hint of my knowledge of who she was during our brief interaction on the sidewalk; she deserved her anonymity and normalcy. Rosario and I carried our crates off to the train, looking like New Yorkers do when they find good junk on the side of the road.
Why do I tell this story? Well, because this Girlfriend Experience was exponentially better (and cheaper) than the film The Girlfriend Experience, which is composed of beautifully synchronized shots of New York City. The film is amazing to look at, and Chelsea (Sasha Grey) is even more stunning. Grey who comes from the world of porn has been criticized for her performance, but I think she had very little to work with, the script is a scatter shot of sequences (could be the editing), which plays more like a dreamscape than a story.
This Steven Soderbergh film carries his stamp, the L-cuts that have scenes overlapping dialogue from a previous scene with the subsequent scene, and then there is the plot folding back on itself, which causes further discombobulation. There are just a few moments when Soderbergh let us have a peek behind the emotional curtains to see what is driving his characters, however he closes them quickly to indulge himself in film technique that has very little to do with advancing the story.
Grade: D
Terminator: Salvation
Grade: D
A Film Review by Malik Isasis
It was Saturday, May 23, 2009, evening, when my friend Rosario called me from Union Square in Manhattan to suggest that I join her in seeing the film Terminator: Salvation. After an ennui of explosions and asinine dialogue that carried on for two hours, we regretted not going to the Angelika Film Center to catch more cerebral fare. After the movie ended the film was promptly forgotten. We walked along Park Avenue in the Gramercy neighborhood, which is filled with unaffordable carriage houses, walk-ups and brownstone apartments. It is not unusual in these upscale neighborhoods to see nice furniture on the curbside, and it is not unusual to see New Yorkers walking with sofas, tables, lamps that they’ve found on the curbside.
Rosario and I came upon a nice pile of wooden crates on the curbside that were used to ship wine bottles. We crossed the street and stared at the wooden crates debating on whether we wanted to take some to use as a bookshelf, or storage containers for our apartments. It was still relatively early, and residents were walking their dogs, and passing by with curious stares as we inspected the crates, which brings me back to last spring.
Last spring New York Governor Eliot Spitzer was caught on a federal wiretap soliciting high-priced escorts. Spitzer, a Democrat and ethical crusader (and a damn good one at that) was brought down by his own ethical shortcomings. He resigned in humiliation and shrank into the shadows of obscurity, but when the 22-year old escort, Ashley Dupre was identified as the $1000, an hour escort, she became infamous overnight. The New York Post, New York Daily News and other New York press hounded Ms Dupree, capturing photographs of her on the beach, on the streets—her infamy garnered million dollar offers from Playboy, Girls Gone Wild and other pornographers. For weeks, this woman was all over the news, and when the corporate media was done with her, she too faded into obscurity.
Rosario and I were still debating on whether to carry the wooden crates. Finally we decided that we’d take a few. As we began digging the crates out of the garbage heap, an attractive young woman who was walking her two dogs paused and began talking to us.
“Are you guys art students?”
“No,” I said, “We’re gonna use these as furniture.”
“Aw, that’s a cool idea,” the young lady said. “I wish I would’ve thought of that.”
She had a familiarity about her I couldn’t place. Her body was in good shape so I took noticed and along the way, I noticed her tattoos, and Disco! This was the woman whose face was plastered on the tabloid magazines for weeks. Rosario had not a clue.
“Okay, bye,” she said.
“Have a nice night,” I said.
She waved as she disappeared into the darkness of the tree-lined street.
“You know who that was?” I asked Rosario.
“No.”
“That was the prostitute that caused the Governor to resign.”
Rosario didn’t seem moved either way; she was more concerned about how she would carry the crates back to Harlem on the train, but I couldn’t help but think how normal she was, and how eager she seemed for just a regular interaction. We were complete strangers, yet I had her at a disadvantage, her life had been turned inside, out for the world to see, and be feasted upon. I gave no hint of my knowledge of who she was during our brief interaction on the sidewalk; she deserved her anonymity and normalcy. Rosario and I carried our crates off to the train, looking like New Yorkers do when they find good junk on the side of the road.
Why do I tell this story? Well, because this Girlfriend Experience was exponentially better (and cheaper) than the film The Girlfriend Experience, which is composed of beautifully synchronized shots of New York City. The film is amazing to look at, and Chelsea (Sasha Grey) is even more stunning. Grey who comes from the world of porn has been criticized for her performance, but I think she had very little to work with, the script is a scatter shot of sequences (could be the editing), which plays more like a dreamscape than a story.
This Steven Soderbergh film carries his stamp, the L-cuts that have scenes overlapping dialogue from a previous scene with the subsequent scene, and then there is the plot folding back on itself, which causes further discombobulation. There are just a few moments when Soderbergh let us have a peek behind the emotional curtains to see what is driving his characters, however he closes them quickly to indulge himself in film technique that has very little to do with advancing the story.
Grade: D
Terminator: Salvation
Grade: D
posted by Malik Isasis at
1:27 AM
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