I really hate that Beyonce "to the left, to the left" song.

... and while we're on the topic of things I hate, let's talk about some things that I really don't hate. Everybody has top ten lists at this time of year, and nobody especially cares, but I LOVE them. Like, passionately. So I wanted to throw together a self-serious, totally masturbatory Kevin Manganaro Top Ten Movies of 2006 List. I mean, I REALLY-really love movies, so this seemed like a good way to endorse some shit to the 4-5 people who read this blog. So here goes. Enjoy. Or not. Sorry.

10) Little Children
Todd Fields' dissection of self-destructive suburbia contains not only a provocative look at what it means to be safe in contemporary America but also a knock-it-out-of-the-park performance from Kate Winslet as an adulterous mom. Thoughtful, adventurous stuff.

9) An Inconvenient Truth
The scariest horror movie of the year. Also, since when it Al Gore (a) hot and (b) really touching? Should be mandatory viewing.

8) Come Early Morning
Ashley Judd is perfection as Lucy, a trampy, boozy Southern small-towner with daddy issues in the debut feature from ex-Kevin Smith muse Joey Lauren Adams. It takes a real filmmaking talent to handle Lucy's depressiong and redemption so subtly and with so much compassion. Also, extra points for a subplot about a jukebox.

7) The Queen
Helen Mirren's unprecedented netting of every precursor award was kind of to be expected: She's the Queen, and she rules. Using just a few days in the life of this woman, Peter Morgan's insightful script gives us her whole life crystallized. On a personal note, as someone who finds the whole notion of a monarchy ridiculous and insulting, I was shocked at how convincingly this film makes the case for enduring, unbending, permanent insitutions. Bloody good.

6) Babel
I can't imagine a film that could be a more potent antidote to the ignorant, mean-spirited foreign policy in place in this country right now than this expansive, powerful drama. A stylish international cast does wonders with the material, particularly Rinko Kikuchi as a deaf-mute Japanese teenager on the make for anonymous sex. After two previous dour, self-flaggelating (and lazy) collaborations, director Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu and screenwriter Guillermo Ariaga have struck an awesome balance between the cynical and the heartfelt.

5) Little Miss Sunshine
Priceless. Just... totally priceless.

4) Dreamgirls
I will babble on and on to anyone who will listen about how much I love this movie. It's powerful and superbly performed, but its best asset is undoubtedly the speed and precision with which it tells the well-trod rise-and-fall story. To the untrained eye, director-writer-demigod Bill Condon is just zipping along, offering Cliffs Notes of the plot. But as one marinates in the film, you see that this deceptively simple framework offers sophisticated hints about a whole industry and a whole generation of African American performers who confronted professional compromise.

3) Marie Antoinette
The year's most unjustly derided film is a cooly passionate trip into the head of one of history's most unjustly derided figures. We've all seen plenty of historical biopics that offer some insight into well-known figures and their well-known actions, but this is that rare film that lets you inside another person's head. Their concerns, for two hours, are yours. Their world, for two hours, is yours. With this lovely period head trip, Sofia Coppolla asserts herself as the premiere filmmaker of her generation.

2) The Departed
Martin Scorsese's violent, beautiful, erotic, and thoroughly entertaining cops-and-robbers flick has bragging rights on not only the best performance of Leonardo DiCaprio's career but also on the year's brashest, most tone-perfect screenplay. Mark Wahlberg : The Departed :: Frances McDormand : Fargo. Sharp, idiosyncratic characterizations from a perfectly-assembled cast.

1) A Prairie Home Companion
Even before the passing of Robert Altman (the greatest director in the history of American filmmaking), this movie had made me think about life and death, about what it means to appreciate your life while you're living it. The graceful, supremely generous way that that Altman and this magical cast treat the bittersweet moments of a fictional radio show finale are memorable, inspirationally human, and, like Altman himself, totally original. It's not every movie that holds a rosy mirror up to your life. It takes the work of a master to do that.

OK, that's all. I've been self-indulgent enough. This post is insanely long. I should probably be prosecuted. Have a good MLK day, all.

KEVIN.

So, this is what 250 million dollars buys:

Soccer? In America?? Really?!?

I mean don't get me wrong- If America wants to jump on the global football bandwagon, I'd be all for it. I actually like watching soccer-and if Posh and Bex replace TomKat in USweekly, that'll just be a bonus. But are Americans going to really go see the LA Galaxy- even for David Beckham? (I mean, he is easy on the eyes. and apparently not to shabby with a soccerball. But still...)

'007.

Hi Kids. Kevin and I have indeed rung in another new year.(We might not have been standing next to each other at midnight; but we were certainly together the next morning eating burnt cookies and yelling at Adam Pascal to stop running around on giant rock formations during a viewing of the RENT movie.) I truly had a lovely time spending two entire weeks soaking up all the long island I could handle. (Although I somehow only managed to see one movie in all that time. Disappointing. (Though frankly, co-blogger; not as dissapointing as the fact that I never got the "The Good German and Schnitzel" date I was promised...) I'm really trying to make the blog a part of my daily routine; I swear. Yesterday I wondered through Union Station in a daze; (I think I was looking longingly for TRACKS) then I decided to do something I almost never do. I got a on a bus. Not just any bus, mind you. This was The Circulator. It's new. It's a snazzy red color. And it takes me from The Hill to Georgetown in 20 minutes for one dollar. Amazing. Also amazing is the fact the on January 6th; I was traipsing around Georgetown in flip-flops and a T-shirt. There was even a line for ice cream. Delightful. It should be 71 degrees in January more often. If weather is any indication I'm quite unsure of what this year has to hold for us. I'm feeling optimistic though. For me there's a masters degree and a possible move north in the cards... both very good things.
Cheers to a new year & this blog's 325th post!-L

Two-Thousand-and-KEVIN.

Hey all- HAPPY NEW YEAR!! 2007, man. Isn't that nuts?? Can y'all believe how far into this millennium we are already? It's wild. It kind of blows my mind. Anyway, I hope that everyone had an awesome New Years. Your Favorite Co-Bloggers had a great one, complete with fireworks, dancing, bar spats, and a James Brown tribute band. (Even though we weren't lip-locked at midnight, which was crushing.)

Tradition has it that how your year starts is some kind of harbinger for what the year to come will be like. Well, all I can say is, "Fuckin' uh-oh." I spent the stroke of midnight by myself in a crowd sipping gin from a to-go cup (which, granted, is kind of bad-ass), and then even though the rest of the night was awesome and fun, yesterday day (New Years Day) was kind of "Meh." I'd given myself a cold from dancing in the elements, so I hid out at the Angelika with Roommate and saw The Good German, which kind of really, really rules, and Notes on a Scandal.

(ahem)

KEVIN ON NOTES ON A SCANDAL...
Perhaps Roommate said it best- "It's Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? for the new millennium!" Ugh. I mean... OK. If this movie weren't such a hilarious, campy, downright inexplicable mess of a comedy, it would actually be really, really offensive. [Notes on a Scandal : gay people :: Fatal Attraction : working women.] Also, if you've ever wanted to hear Dame Judi Dench deliver the line "I love lasagna!" with lusty gusto, you're in business.

So, if you're following this nonsensical drivel of a story, we've been to two movies, and I'm still kind of working up on a cold, right? OK, cool. So we're at home now. I'm puttering about, wondering why boys don't call me (mind you, I'm dripping from my nose, I'm covered in acne, and I just spent 3.5 hours at a Cate Blanchett double feature). I mull the idea of going to the gym, which obviously got shot down in favor of watching Herbie: Fully Loaded on the sofa. By "watched," I mean that I saw the opening credits before my cold took control and I fell asleep. I woke up for approximately one minute during the running time of the movie. The following:

KEVIN: Why is Matt Dillon dressed as a priest?
ROMMATE: So he can molest you.
KEVIN: That's cool. I'd like that.
(back to sleep)

Today I come to find out that Matt Dillon was at no time dressed as a priest. Fever dream? Fantasy gone wild? Either way- 2007. Dang. Watch out, everyone. It's going to be a lusty, dancy good time.

KEVIN :-)

I'm Black and I'm Proud

Hey everybody! Hope all is well. Are your holiday seasons going smoothly? That's good to hear. Mine? Yeah, it's been relatively hopping, I must say, with all good things. Thanks for showing interest in my life and plans. Readers (of which there are none at this point), you are very kind. And sexy. Did you get a haircut? It suits you.

Anyway, I haven't posted anything since the blog's been back, which is in no uncertain terms totally cunty of me. I'm sorry. This is a slow week at work- as a timekiller, I've increased my coffee intake to 6-7 cups a day- so I should have posted stuff earlier, but truth be told, it's really tricky at work. This computer doesn't allow any pop-ups, so I can't add photos or links or anything. But I've decided that you can all just make do with my beautiful, insightful words. Pictures are for the weak, am I right? (No.) YAY!

Anyway, here are some topics that have been crowding up my ol' brainbox since I last posted, which was, I believe, Spring of 1822. No, really. My last post was all about whaling and "the Colorado Territory." I checked.

Anyway.

THE DEATH OF JAMES BROWN
I dearly loved James Brown, as many people know. He has a greasy face, laughable hair, and a constant, pathological wiggle, so clearly Little Boy Kevin fell deeply in love. (This explains so much about who I choose to surround myself with- I'm looking at you, Roommate.) Also, James Brown had been on mind a lot this month, because (a) I'd bought my friend Joe a James Brown t-shirt for Christmas (which I hope he now appreciates even more, since I'm 85% sure that the t-shirt is cursed and actually caused his death- Curse shirts make killer pressies!!), and (b) Eddie Murphy is basically playing him in the wonderful, excellent, perfect Dreamgirls. Basically, James Brown taught me to love high-pitched yelps of manly swagger. I'm eternally grateful.

But his death has raised a few points of interest:

1. James Brown only won three Grammys. "What?! They must mean TWENTY-three Grammys, right?! Kevin, you're crazy!" (That was my impression of y'all. I scarcely do you justice, and I make you sound more than a little like Edith Bunker.) Well, no. If I'm lying, I'm dying. James Brown only won three Grammys, and one of them was a Lifetime Acheivement kinda thing, so only two Grammys in competitive categories. One was for "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" (YES!! MY FAVE!!) and then other one I can't recall. This make me sad, though. If Ray Charles can win between 15 and 9,000 posthumous awards, can't my beloved JB??

2. Spike Lee wants to direct a James Brown biopic. Now, I dearly DEARLY love and respect Spike Lee, but is he fucking basting my ham with this shit?? NO. Not every famous person deserves a biopic. Unless Sofia Coppola is directing it. Because biopics are lame and formulaic. A famous person has a hardscrabble childhood. Some youthful tragedy marks them for life. (PS- People are complex and reducing them to be defined by a single event in some cases 30 years or more in the past is just fucking weird.) They rise. They do drugs. (Don't!) They fall. They rise again. There's a long-suffering wife somewhere in the story. Blah-fucking-blah. There are planned films covering JB, Freddie Mercury, and even Dolly Parton. This is stupid. Stop it. I feel about biopics the way people feel about jukebox musicals.

3. I just adore the concept of "lying in state at the Apollo Theatre." In related news, I'm going to start calling Sex With Kevin "lying in state at the Apollo Theatre." Ha ha. That makes me laugh so hard. Anyway. I want to lie in state at Dollywood, between the Chasing Rainbows Museum and the bald eagle sanctuary. And then cremated. And for my funeral, I was y'all to play the entirety of Dusty In Memphis. [Note: None of this is a lie.]

DREAMGIRLS
Oh my fucking jesus christ on a lord preserve me. I cannot tell you how into this fucking movie I am. No matter how good people tell you it is, it's better. I've heard a lot of complaints about the pacing, but I really think that the pacing is the movie's biggest strength. It's 100% dead-ahead, and if you're not with them, you get left behind. If the movie can be summed up in a single shot, it'd be in the first five or so minutes, right before the Dreamettes go on to sing "Move," Beyonce and Anika (I think it's them) join hands, and Bill Condon (who cements himself as a god in my universe) keeps SUCH a tight shot on their joined hands. It's a split second and then they're off. Fucking magic. ALSO, FUCKING MAGIC- The girl who plays Magic (Effie's daughter) came into the audience of the Ziegfeld Theatre and pulled tears out of my eyes with little meathooks. Seriously. My eyes were sore from crying by the end. Go. Just go. It's magniffy. All you have to do is dream.

I WANT TO GET MARRIED
I think I'll marry the next guy who makes out with me. I need to start having babies. I've decided on three kids- two girls and a boy. In the following order: Girl, Boy, Girl. Punch Caroline, Parton Richard, and Ramona Mae. I'd been considering the name Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt, but I hear same cockasses took it. Whores. Moving on.

SPRING AWAKENING
Now, OK. It's not, like... OK. It's not terrible, but.... It's just not, you know, successful. OK. I mean, OK. I'll try to be coherent. (Which makes one of us, Spring Awakening! Zing!) I am, and always have been, a fan of stylization and artful pretension. Let's use Marie Antoinette as a pretty relevent example- With that movie, Sofia Coppola makes stylized choices (contemporary music, much like Spring Awakening) with the goal of giving a modern audience a direct line to the main character's inner life. Basically, because of this artistic choice, we get to better know the protagonist. Now, it seems to me that while Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater have some broad, general overarching ideas about what the want to say about sex and teenage angst, they have absolutely no idea what they want to say about any of these characters as people. None of them are afforded personalities or indivdual voices- Is Duncan Sheik, by having every character sing in the same numbing style (AKA, his), trying to say that being a teenager is a uniform, invariable experience? If he is, not only is that a genuinely odd choice as far as crafting a piece of theatre goes, but it's kind of factually... wrong. Yes, I did like that the teenage characters sang unconventional music, but (a) Duncan Sheik's music is kind of 'young-people rock' for old people, and (b) It's not enough to float a show on.

MEDIUM ICED COFFEE (MILK & TWO SUGARS) FROM DUNKIN DONUTS
Love it.

DRINKING IN PENN STATION
Love it.

...

Just kidding, guys. I have more to say than that. My friend Joe recently moved to 34th Street (I know, I don't get it either), and the coolest thing about this turn of events has been the realization that Penn Station bars are Joe's "neighborhood watering holes." Now, Traxxxxx (I forget how many X's) is a pretty well-known seafood bar in Penn, but I'd never been there for some reason. LOVE IT! I'm kind of dickmatized by the constant parade of bridge & tunnel characters that goes by- It's like home, you know? Also, I think that I truly, unironically love Long Islanders. They're a pretty salty, hilarious bunch. New Jerseyites, however, are a far more mixed bag. They vary from "Hey, how ya doin', kid? Lemme buy ya a drink" to "Hey, how ya doin', kid? C'mere, I need to tell ya a story... [cutting my face with a razor]" Yikes, right? I need to drag Joe to 'The Kabooz' (Yes, that's how it's spelled) on Penn's Jersey level as part of my scheme to get Joe an over-40 girlfriend. Seriously, it's a total cougar bar. I love it. And I look forward to many more boozy nights in the Greater Herald Square Business District to come.

I cannot believe that I've written so much. I'm totes sorry. This is what happens when I don't do blog stuff for (2006-1822= 184) 184 years- It all just kind of gushes forth.

Time to go. My friend Katie is bringing me more coffee. God, she's fucking classy.
KEVIN.

SEASON'S GREETINGS

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
XOXO
KEVIN & LEIGH

SALUTATIONS!

"That's my fancy way of saying hello!"

So, I said I wasn't going to- but I did. Last night I saw the new movie version of Charlotte's Web. I wasn't expecting much. I figured they would change it; ruin it. (See: How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Jim Carrey.) We all grew up loving the 1973 cartoon version. (A Fair...is a veritble Smorgesboard; orgesboard; orgesboard etc) I mean really, who needs Oprah we have Agnes Moorehead?!? I just knew Julia Roberts' voice wasn't right. Dakota Fanning would clearly be all wrong; and there would no songs! Kids: I stand corrected. I fully admit it, here on the blog: I loved it. It was so cute. It was completely faithful to the book. The piglet was adorable. Steve Buscemi made a great Templeton the rat. Julia Roberts was really quite good. Dakota Fanning was tolerable; heck; even the presence of Oprah couldn't tear this one down! And yes...when Charlotte died; after writing "HUMBLE" in the web...I totally cried. Go Ahead. Judge me.
-Leighthal

I'M BRINGING SEXY BACK

(To the Internet.)

KEVIN AND LEIGH'S SEXY-ASS BLOG IS BACK!

I know, I know. We've been gone for ages. Last time you heard from us we were excited about Halloween. We've neglected the blog. We're sorry. We'll have some sort of re-commitment ceremony. We promise.

I'm really sorry kids. I never meant to let the blog fall by the wayside. It took the tenacity of one Katherine McGrath to bring the blog back from the grave. (Well, McGrath; and The Lobsterita. But mostly Katie McGrath; for sure.)
I won't even attempt to discuss all thats happened since last we blogged; instead I'll leave with a few choice photos from the HO-HO-HO DOWN 2006:
Kevin and Kate, ever the gracious Hosts.

Kate shows the Pinata who's the boss.

McGrath. Saver of Blogs. Ace Photographer.
(see glowing couch photo above)

Kevin "Steps into Christmas" and takes hostages.


Joe and I know how to belt out a christmas carol. (Especially after a visit to TRACKS)

I'm a classy honey kissy huggy lovey dovey ghetto princess

Greetings dear readers.
I know it's been awhile, but I just wanted to take a moment give you some words of advice:
please go purchase "Tah Dah!" the new album by the Scissor Sisters.
It is amazing! Who knew 1973 and 2006 could be such good friends?
While you're at, pop the first cd in and take a listen to the lyrics of "Filthy/Gorgeous"
wow.
I don't understand why America refuses to throw more support behind this band.
They are superstars in Europe.
(reason number 1,674 why Europe is smarter than the United States)
Good thing I'm thing headed to London in 4 days!!!
-LeLethal