This week in the Deep Hurting Project, Mae West's Sextette. It was based on a play West herself wrote in 1954. By the time the play made it to film in 1978, she was 84, losing her sight, and had to have the lines she herself wrote fed to her via an earpiece concealed under her wig.
Next week, I Spit on Your Grave: Deja Vu. Which may or may not be done on Saturday and not Sunday due to its being 2 1/2 fucking hours long.
- The movie starts with people fawning over Mae West, and a song devoted to her beauty. I'm going to assume that this movie takes place in a world where gerontophilia is an extremely common kink. On that note, it's positively surreal to see Regis Philbin as a young man.
- Eucalyptus plants eat up oxygen? I had no idea Dom DeLuise was playing OnlineBiker.
- I don't know what's weirder, that her honeymoon's apparently being televised or that it's happening in the same hotel at the same time as a summit between the US and the USSR.
- Mae West's delivery seems to have suffered a lot since she was in her prime.
- Me give up Hollywood? I did that in 1943! Then I came back just to make two shitty movies. But at least Myra Breckenridge still has enough of a following that it's not eligible for the Deep Hurting Project.
- Hooray for Hollywood! Which is why we're setting this movie in London and not LA.
- That line about being the first man on the moon would probably make more sense if it wasn't established that Mae West has been married hundreds of times.
- Okay, now this random screwball comedy has been interrupted by Mae West's piss take on Krapp's Last Tape.
- Ringo? What the fuck are you doing here? Was this part of the bargain they made so Mae West could make it on the cover of Sgt. Pepper's?
- Marlo's new movie's in Technicolor? That shouldn't be too big of a draw in 1978.
- So, Mae West was a hooker employed by Uncle Sam?
- Mae West is as pure as the driven snow? Isn't her past part of the public record?
- My God, Timothy Dalton has the same gift of accidentally making himself look gay as Tobias Funke.
- You know, they spoke the first half of the first verse of "Love Will Keep Us Together" and somehow, Dalton and Mae West's suddenly launching into a cover of the song is still jarring as fuck.
- You wore that dress, Keith Moon? Thank you for sharing that with us.
- Come on, Chef, even the worst of you should be able to do a cheeseburger.
- You'd think that the British Tabloids would say something more like "Marlo marries a Gaylord" than "Gay Caballero."
- Somehow, Dom DeLuise' cover of Honey Pie is making me wish I saw the 1978 movie of Sgt. Pepper instead. I didn't care for it when I watched it donkeys ago, but at least its covers were better.
- Oars or 'Ores? This joke would have been a whole lot better if Timothy Dalton was speaking in a Cockney accent (or at least one of the other less-rhotic-than-usual varieties of English accents that a movie like this wouldn't be aware of) and not RP.
- Does the Soviet diplomat seriously not know about the phrase "Uncle Sam?"
- Are we sure that you want to count Marie Antoinette as a fellow Soviet, dude? The woman who was executed by one of the earliest ideological precursors to your own damn Soviet revolutions?
- So, the tape containing her memoirs was hidden in the cake? Was it baked into the cake or inserted after baking? Either way, it's got to be unplayable.
- Um, Mae? Is there a reason your response to this guy announcing he's just turned 21 is to sing a song about how you've been grooming him for years?
- So, you're proving you're straight by hanging out among a bunch of muscular men who like grabbing each other's asses? When the remarks that led to people assuming you're gay involved you talking about your time with the Eton rugby team?
- Timothy Dalton's not even aware of the fact that she's working on a screen test? How the fuck has Mae West been keeping him this much in the dark?
- Dude, if you're legally dead, that marriage is null and void. Then again, you're a mobster, so the law probably shouldn't apply.
- I'm sorry, I just sneezed, why the fuck are the nations of the world passing around a goldfish bowl that doesn't seem to have a fish in it?
- Why does the head of this conference (who is American despite Jimmy Carter obviously being among the people in the conference, so I don't know who the fuck he's supposed to be) decide the nations of the world need to hear the memoirs of this star? And why does not-Don-Corleone apparently have veto power over all these heads of state?
- Evidently, getting these heads of state to sing "Baby Face"=World peace?
Next week, I Spit on Your Grave: Deja Vu. Which may or may not be done on Saturday and not Sunday due to its being 2 1/2 fucking hours long.
Comparing the Universal Oneness of All Life to Yo Mama since 2010.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.