It’s interesting how memory works. I was looking something up on IMDb and I came across this old poster for the movie Havoc, and my immediate thought was:
Huh, didn’t that Oliver Stone movie from last year have almost the exact same poster? What was that movie called? Babylon? No, that’s not right. Savages. Where did the word Babylon come from?
It turns out Babel also had a very similar poster.
A lot of my conversations about television-watching are couched in deliberately vague language to obscure the fact that I stream everything to my Roku box via Amazon-Netflix-Hulu like some survivalist weirdo.
I’ve never said “fuck you” or “go fuck yourself” to anyone in my life. It’s not my steez. I have, however, said “be well” on a couple of occasions when I really meant “fuck you” and “go fuck yourself.”
(And while we’re on the subject: “Take it easy” is pretty much the worst thing one human being can say to another.)
In terms of face-replacement voodoo, Framestore’s mute, ageless, undead Audrey Hepburn in this Galaxy chocolate commercial is closer in its verisimilitude to Eric Barba’s revelatory work in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button than it is to, say … Eric Barba’s (curiously inferior, ghoulish) work in TRON: Legacy. It probably helps that Hepburn’s proportions are beguilingly anime to begin with.
It almost doesn’t matter to me if it’s in poor taste. It’s the future. There’s more where this came from. (Driverless cars, people wearing cameras on their faces. NBD. We’ll figure it all out.)
I am, however, reminded of a passage from William Gibson’s Neuromancer, set in a “puppet parlor,” or brothel:
“The girl sat up in bed and said something in German. Her eyes were soft and unblinking. Automatic pilot. A neural cutout.”
Oh, and here’s a lame quote from Hepburn’s sons, via a press release:
“Our mother often spoke about her love of chocolate and how it lifted her spirit so we’re sure she would have been proud of her role as the face of Galaxy.”
There ought to be a word, if there isn’t already in Portuguese or Japanese or Viennese, for the unbearable lightness of watching someone strenuously attempt to befriend one of your friends solely and conspicuously via social media; for that particular orgy of at-signs, superfluous photo-comments and automatic reblogs.
(Maybe the word for it is bruxism.)
Originally, Gene Roddenberry conceived Betazoid females as having four breasts. He was persuaded not to use this idea by writer D.C. Fontana.
That Gene Roddenberry was one horny guy.