New York's Best Escort!
Straining at the ropes at the International Escort Awards.
In the newest installment, OSS 117: Lost in Rio, the character goes to Brazil to track down a Nazi in hiding in the '60s, though he doesn't seem that aware of what Nazis exactly are. "Some people in the French film industry advised me against making this film," Dujardin told me, "thinking erroneously that it would be racist. It's actually much more humanistic than that."
Especially during the scene in which the hapless spy gets fingered by a male hippie without realizing it! "It was a good memory," Dujardin said, laughing. Was he surprised to be nominated for a César for something like this? "No!" he said, mocking indignation. Pause. "Yes, because it's a comedy."
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"To go back to the finger in the ass," he interjected, as I really fell in love, "there was a real will to damage the image of the secret agent, the James Bond image. So you can imagine what the third film will be like!" "A whole fist?" I wondered, zanily miming this possibility for the whole table. For once, I didn't require the use of the translator.
I should raise fists in the air over never getting invited to any Disney screenings, but at least I'm on the list for films about Disney—like Waking Sleeping Beauty, the absorbing documentary about the studio's renaissance from 1984 to 1994, when crabs and teapots elevated it from obsolescence. The movie probes both the artistic triumphs and the ego clashes that made that period a real-life fairy tale with all the dark trimmings.
At the premiere, the director and producer said they were cinematically saved by lots of old home-movie-style footage made by an insider, "illegally filmed on the Disney lot." Walt's frozen corpse must be rotating inside Cinderella's Castle.
More lightheartedly, hi-ho, I asked the doc's screenwriter, Patrick Pacheco, to name his fave Disney film of the modern era, and he picked Up, having identified with both the fat boy and the old man. Not me! I saw myself in Kevin the flightless exotic bird!
Ultimately earthbound, The Exploding Girl is the most energy-draining movie ever made about the mopiest people who ever lived. It makes Cassavetes's films look like the opening number of Hairspray. It makes mumblecore seem like That's Entertainment! Part III. But let me be, you know, a total whore and proclaim for the ads, "Exploding Girl explodes even more than my bowels did last night after Mexican!"
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