Where on earth are the mommies in “mommy porn”?
I hadn’t heard of the phrase “mommy porn” until I started reading reviews for the 50 Shades of Grey movie. Then it seemed like it was everywhere, from respectable news sites to Urban Dictionary. ABC explained why mommy porn is “hot.” Hip feminist site, Jezebel, reflected on whether or not the best selling mommy porn was “worth the hype.” Huffington Post also got in on the fun, writing up it’s very own “realistic” version of mommy porn. But even as every review I came across declared 50 Shades mommy porn, I couldn’t help becoming more and more confused. What is mommy porn? And if I am a mommy (which I am, although I prefer to go by “mami”), why do I feel like slowly sinking into a murky pond at the mere thought of watching it?
“Snow In Paradise” is a crucial milestone in the development of the British Gangster genre.
Dave is the real face of multicultural Britain; his best friend Tariq is a rapper and his uncle Jimmy is a racist gangster selling overpriced coffee to young professionals by day and cocaine to them by night. Dave’s a wiry force of nature, forever moving like an East End squalus against the tide of gentrification. No white flight for Dave’s family in the 70s and 80s they stood their ground in their council houses and gradually watched their estates become cheap crash pads for city boys and then extortionate rentals for middle class media hipsters.
One thing is for certain: these programmes will force other creators to up their game, and that’s a very good thing.
Russell T. Davies may be particularly famous for his revival of Dr. Who and spell as showrunner from 2005 to 2010, but before then, he made the shortlived series Queer as Folk, chronicling the lives of the gay community in Manchester. He’s returned to that theme with a recently concluded interlinked series: Cucumber, Banana, and Tofu. The three programmes explore sex, sexuality, and queer life from a variety of angles and perspectives, bringing a new and dynamic approach to the handling of these issues on television.
Most reviewers will tell you that The Children Act is either about Jehovah’s Witnesses and their belief structure, but The Children Act is actually about middle-aged rancour and loneliness.
When picking my holiday reading this year, one book that was front and centre on my list was Ian McEwan’s latest, The Children Act. I was intrigued by the premise, had seen some positive reviews indicating it was a complex and compelling story, and confidently expected to enjoy it.
Peggy Carter is not just a bad ass. She’s so much more than that.
In the next few months, you’re going to hear a lot of feminists reflecting on if Marvel’s latest dip into television, the mini-series, Agent Carter, is “feminist or not.” With a show that features a woman in the title role and the woman is a tough woman navigating an action filled largely male world, it seems almost inevitable that that feminist critiques will debate how “bad ass” Agent Carter (played by the magnificent Hayley Atwell) is and if she and the series are worthy of the title of “feminist media.” In these days of limited representation of women in the superhero genre, it’s an interesting discussion, but one that entirely misses the point. Peggy Carter is not a bad ass. She’s so much more than that, and that’s where her importance lies.
For actors like Redmayne and Moore, the disability vanishes as soon as they leave the set.
The 87th Academy Awards aired to a lacklustre audience on Sunday—the viewership was the worst since 2009—but it sparked plenty of fireworks, particularly over Patricia Arquette’s incredibly dense comments on women’s rights and equal pay, in which she effectively advocated for the rights of cis white women and nobody else. But there was another controversy buried in this year’s Oscars—or, at least, it should have been a controversy, but no one seemed to pay much attention, other than the disability community.
Let’s get down and dirty for real.
Now that all the hoopla surrounding the film adaptation of E.L. James’ BDSM book for ladies who lunch has died down (or rather tanked if you read the Rotten Tomatoes reviews) let’s get down and dirty real. Long before there were “50 Shades” teddy bears and “50 Shades” cookbooks (“50 Shades of Kale”? WTF?) there were movies that actually dealt with the subject of sadomasochism from a non-“Twilight” perspective. So as a longtime film critic and the author of “Under My Master’s Wings” – an erotic memoir about my time spent as the personal slave to a gay for pay stripper – I feel it’s my duty to offer five cinematic suggestions that go beyond bondage bears and kinky kale.
Catch Backstrom while you can.
Catch Backstrom while you can, because the Fox series about a misanthropic and irascible police detective isn’t likely to last long in the US television landscape. The show is a delight to watch, but the complicated social politics and nuanced storylines are combining to make it a bit of a ratings drag, and many reviewers aren’t big fans either; the show’s currently scoring 34% on Rotten Tomatoes, which isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.
Better Call Saul may have nailed the Breaking Bad aesthetic, but it’s not quite there yet in terms of characters and stories that gel together to create a cohesive whole.
How much does a prequel really have to offer audiences? AMC is aiming to find out with Better Call Saul, the story of how Walter White’s shady attorney became…Walter White’s shady attorney. Clearly banking on the Breaking Bad fandom, the show’s aiming to keep viewers coming back to AMC for another go, and this week, the pilot aired over two nights, trying to take advantage of the big audience for the Walking Dead premiere. The question of what happens next is a bit up in the air, not least because ratings dropped by half between the two episodes.
Downton’s not willing to go so far as to depict a socialist character with politics we can take seriously.
Downton Abbey is back in the States, showcasing the winds of change sweeping across upper class British society. The show becomes more flawed with each season, spinning out more and more outlandish plots in an attempt to keep itself relevant, resorting to tactics like rape as plot device, penile sparring between jealous men, and illicit babies. One plot this season, however, is of particular interest: The story of Edith Bunting (Daisy Lewis), the little schoolteacher that could.
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