Today, an odyssey of tweets about the world’s most famous translator, a chic piece of cat furniture, and Olivia Wilde, who has converted me to stan-dom. |
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The One Night a Year It’s Legal to Tweet The posters on the timeline are odd and at sea.
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This week, Becca Schuh brings us tweets about culture, high and low. Emily Wilson is beefing with Christopher Nolan, and JCO is beefing with Wilson. Is this all a viral marketing campaign for Wilson’s forthcoming book? Certainly the whole situation has made me more interested in literary translation. Just kidding; I never want to hear about any of this again. Also, people who write in the margins of books are all nuts.
Two movies inspired funny tweets this week: one about a man struggling to get home and another about the one night a year it’s legal to have sex. So far, only one of them has inspired Joyce Carol Oates to weigh in, but stay tuned.
This has got to be one of the niche-st infights of niche infights.
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Omg, and now JCO is involved? Yessss … |
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I love the used-book economy and the entertainment it produces. |
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I’m especially into “hospitality slay” in the below example … |
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I’m trying to understand the central conceit of One Night Only through tweets. |
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Photo: Courtesy of Sundance Institute
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As you know if you listened to me on the Critical Darlings podcast, I am over the moon for The Invite, which Olivia Wilde both directed and starred in. Her performance in that film starts out a bit shaky — at first, I wished that literally any female comedian had been cast — but gradually it becomes layered and heartbreaking, in addition to hilarious. She’s got the goods! And even though our critic Bilge Ebiri didn’t share my enthusiasm for that film, he did find a lot to admire about her performance in Gregg Araki’s I Want Your Sex, out today. In The Invite, Wilde has convincingly denuded herself of all sex appeal. In I Want Your Sex, quite the opposite is true.
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Gregg Araki described Olivia Wilde as “a true old-time movie star” at the Sundance premiere of his film I Want Your Sex last night, and it wasn’t hard to see why, even though the movie in question largely requires Wilde to play a flamboyant, foulmouthed, sex-crazed artist in various BDSM getups. The actress has always stood out when she’s allowed to go big, and as controversial artist Erika Tracy, a self-described “pretentious bitch from hell,” she gets what might be her best part yet. This is a woman who instantly peppers her newest assistant, the unassuming Elliot (Cooper Hoffman), with all sorts of inappropriate questions, and within a week of hiring him turns him into a sex toy, making him crawl on the floor of her office, tying him up, spanking him, dressing him up in leather and women’s clothing — just about all of it to his incessant delight. Of course she’s his boss, and of course it’s all totally outrageous and wrong. “But in a way, that’s what made it so hot,” Elliot says.
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I am dying to see this movie (I love Araki in the way one only can when Doom Generation melted one’s teenage brain), and now my entire happiness hinges on whether I can find a babysitter and a screening with seats available. On Monday, I was indifferent to Olivia Wilde. Now she rules my world! Classic Emily pivot. |
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My colleagues at the Strategist spend their days shopping, but what do they actually buy for themselves? At the end of each month, they reveal that intel, and this month’s batch has some good stuff. There’s an on-sale oversize cotton sweater from the Gap that reminds me a lot of an Alex Mill one I have that was much pricier. Now, I do not need any more sweaters. I could wear a different sweater every day of the week and still have more sweaters left to wear. Truly, I do not need to purchase this sweater in a delightful green stripe for $53, and I shall not do so. I also do not need a glittery rhinestone iPhone case like the one Erin Schwartz got from Etsy. But most of all, I do not need the beautiful, expensive cat tree that “Picky Guy” columnist Michael Zhao bought because he feels guilty that his cats will soon be supplanted by a baby. “The first time I saw one of my cats playing with the ball on the string through the portal on the second tier felt like how I imagine it will feel to watch my forthcoming child graduate from middle school,” he writes. Okay, that’s very compelling.
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The movie about how single people can have sex only one night a year is not called I Want Your Sex. It is called One Night Only, which is impossible to remember. |
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A weekly dispatch on the cultural discourse. |
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https://link.nymag.com/oc/60bf85689b7a136e4b473b24rvvbq.8z0/8f5f7b1a
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