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Dan Wilkerson
Dan Wilkerson

You Have Requested : Even.Cowgirls.Get.the.Blue...

Dayna Troisi is a freelance writer, poet, and teacher. Her essays have been published in Buzzfeed, Vice, Racked, Jezebel, Broadly, SELF, Bright, and elsewhere. Her poems have been published in Wordgathering, all the sins, The Tiny Tim Review, Stirring, and more.

You have requested : Even.Cowgirls.Get.the.Blue...

I'm partial to something a little different every now and again, and Gus Van Sant's Even Cowgirls Get The Blues is most definitely that. Now I'd heard that this had gained a cult following over the years, but even with 4K views on LB I'm not sure that's filtered through to those apparent cult followers. Most people have asked, WTF? And they'd be right, because this is one off-kilter film which is indeed hard to describe. Adapted from Tom Robbins' 1976 novel of the same name, he must have been as stoned as Van Sant was when he decided to direct this?

GUS VAN SANT WYD LMAOOO. Absurdly bad adapatation of such a wonderful book. At one point Uma Thurman masturbates while imagining Keanu Reeves' face in the sky but then her giant thumbs get in the way. Idk I guess you just have to see for yourself. There's also this scene...

There's a difference between bad movies: some are just bad, while some are so offensively terrible that they inspire a near physical revulsion in the viewer. It's unfair to even place movies that are merely gross in the second category. For example, just because you're grossed out by the eight minute rape scene in Irreversible, you can't categorize the movie alongside something like Cowgirls. They aren't the same type of bad. Bad is 16 Blocks, or the Assault on Precinct 13 remake. Even Cowgirls Get The Blues is somewhere beyond those movies--or, to be more technically accurate, somewhere beneath them. Similar to the common cliche that you can't really hate something if you've never had any liking for it, Cowgirls is one of those astonishing failures made almost completely out of objects that had worked, and would work again--yet when those objects came together in Cowgirls, they annihilated one each others respective goodness and laid bare a movie that, had films any power to damage the world they are viewed in, would have broken our planet in half.

It should be noted that, regardless of what the world may think, the offices of the Factual firmly hold the belief that all of Tom Robbins literary output belongs solely under the purview of a toilet bowl; less histrionically put, the man writes books of shit. It's not only unlikely that a good version of a book of his could be made into a film, it's also true that any accurate representation of his works would result in a film that wouldn't be even remotely entertaining. Considering that Gus Van Sant's version of the Cowgirls novel is oft-derided by Kool Aid slurping ex-hippies as not being faithful enough to Robbins new age horseshit, this viewer wishes that the Van Sant has just gone ahead and filmed the damn book in it's entirety. The resulting film would have still been horrible, but at least all the blame could have rested on Robbins shoulders--as it is, the mess Mr. Portland brought to the screen is, in some aspect, partly his fault. As a side-note, Rain Phoenix is, without any shade of doubt, completely his fault. There's not a single director on earth that would have been foolhardy enough to give this young lady such a healthy part. While we're all sure that she's a real sweetheart, she can barely form cogent sentences, much less act. She's got the type of charisma that makes people fall asleep at documentaries--she's just that boring. Watching her drop her pants and threaten a homosexual John Hurt with her "stinky, tuna fish-smelling, unwashed" genitalia doesn't help. Honestly, Judi Dench and Glenn Close probably couldn't make that hideous scene work, but Ms. Phoenix is particularly unsuited for it. We were all real upset about River too, Mr. Van Sant, but it doesn't mean i asked Joaquin if he wanted to clean my teeth. I asked my dad, because he's a dentist. Having a dead brother doesn't make anybody a great actor.

Rain may have have the excuse that she doesn't have a clue how to speak, but the rest of the cast doesn't. All of these people, even the abominable Lorraine Bracco, have been good before. (Well, Roseanne was only good on her sitcom, and Mr. Miyagi's career is made up of extended riffs on racial stereotypes, but still, both know how to work with a bad script.) It's easy to single out certain performers for abuse--John Hurt has been a genius in some awful stuff, and his one-note performance here, in a role that screams for far more exploitation than he's willing to give, speaks to a lack of courage that is totally incongruent with the performer we know he can be. His omnipresent narrator in Von Trier's Dogville is far more fascinating in one-minute sound bites than the irritating and neutered Countess he appears as in Cowgirls. Uma Thurman learned how to make the bizarro work by the time her career took her to the Kill Bill films, and she's able to skate by here solely by using bland facial expressions, but the movie never attempts to explore what type of story can be told when it's protagonist is a numbed out cypher of a human being. In all, only two of this films performers actually move into the realm of good, unsurprisingly enough, it's Udo Kier and Crispin Glover--two men who have the most pumped up charisma of any human beings on the planet. (In all seriousness, isn't it about time to clone whatever is running through Udo Kier's veins? The man made Johnny Pneumonic entertaining. He's clearly a god.)

At the station, Clive meets with the lieutenant in charge, Devore. She tells Clive that they've brought in the convenience store shooter. However, they need the gun to make the case stick. FBI agent Dale Bozzio is there and Devore explains that she'll be working out of their office looking into a string of missing person cases. Dale explains that several rich guys in Seattle have gone missing, and Devore suggests that Terrence Fowler fits the pattern. She tells Clive to give Dale whatever she needs.

At the funeral home, Blaine worries to his henchman Chief that two of his customers have gone missing. Don E comes down and says that he found Gabriel, the guy who cut the Utopium the night of the boat party.

Rick turns himself in and he and his pregnant wife Pamela tell Clive that Lacy was in love with Rick. Liv comes in, and Rick claims that Lacy made a move on him. When Liv calls him on it, Clive tells Rick not to lie to them. Rick insists that it was a misunderstanding and Pamela blows up at her husband, saying that she lied and he doesn't have an alibi. Clive separates them and arrests Rick.

Escaping Montana, she finds work as a model with the misogynistic Countess, a cross-dressing marketer of feminine hygiene who can't abide women's natural genital odor. The pink-clad Brian Thompson is a scream as the love child that John Waters and Divine could never have.

Johnson's adaptation keeps the Book-It narrative style to a minimum, relying on Robbins' abundant dialogue to form welcome scenes. While most of the book's philosophical digressions have been cut, Johnson preserves many (and at 2 1/2 hours, perhaps too many) of the book's juicy tangent episodes.

Had "Saint Heaven" been mounted when it is set, the year desegregation was enforced in Little Rock, its interracial love would have been incendiary. Yet there is little sense of fear, other than vague reference to faceless others. The show demands a song like "South Pacific's" "You've Got To Be Carefully Taught" but, apart from Thom's vinegar, Gordon and Casella retreat from the ugliness within.

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Sissy's thumbs take her all over the United States and she becomes somewhat of a legend along the way. When Sissy finds herself in the Big Apple, she also finds herself under the employ of a gay male billionaire named the Countess. The Countess' business is women - more specifically women's hygiene products. Sissy begins to model for him and is the star of one of his campaigns. The Countess insists upon introducing Sissy to Julian, a full blooded Mohawk Native American artist. Julian and Sissy meet and instantly discover a they have a connection. The two quickly marry.

Upon leaving the clinic, Sissy decides to return to the ranch because she cannot stand to be with her husband. She is also conflicted over her relationships with Jelly Bean and the Chink. When Sissy returns, the cowgirls are at war with the FBI for kidnapping the endangered Whooping Cranes. As a result, the FBI shoots down the ranch, thus causing the death of Jelly Bean. Once all the smoke has settled, Sissy is renamed the caretaker of the ranch. She and the cowgirls finally have a place where they can be themselves.

All cheeses vary in aromatic intensity. Some, like Mt. Tam, should have a delicate earthy and mushroomy aroma, whereas others, like Red Hawk, have a characteristically robust aroma ranging from pot roast to peanut shells.

Even cheeses with mild aromas can seem extreme when first presented to the room, so we suggest first giving the cheese 5 minutes to "breathe" unwrapped. If at this point, the cheese smells strongly of ammonia (glass cleaner) or bitterness, have a small taste. If the intense aroma has made its way inside to the flavor of the cheese, it won't hurt you or your guests, but is probably past prime and should be disposed in favor of a newer piece.porate.

You have to like the off-color and some raunch to enjoy this book. You also have to have a special love of language for its own sake, I think. There are a lot of meandering chapters. But for the most part, this is a really delightful book, and its accessibility is appreciated, considering the genre. 041b061a72


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