Thursday, June 02, 2005

new zealish cinema and soi-même head-shrinking



i've just finished watching whale rider - it's one of those films i've waited to see until i'm so ripe i'm ready to go rotten - and it was incredible. i really enjoyed it; i'm glad i waited until the right moment. so often i find i need to watch movies with guns and killing; when i can sit down and enjoy something without explosions have to be carefully timed. well, it were worth the wait, that's for sure.

apparently, keisha castle-hughes, the amazing actor who plays the main character, paikea (pictured at left), is also in star wars: episode III, which is somewhat startling. though not entirely so. ms castle-hughes plays the queen of naboo, in case you wondered and/or have seen/will see it. and didn't already figure that out from the photo on the right.

now, i've got quite a fetish - not the sexual kind, darlings, be kind - for the outfits of the queens of naboo, past and present; in fact, a christmas gift i've adored was a little cut-out doll from my mother of the outfits queen amidala wore in the episode one. i should really look for a complete collection - there's got to be one out there of the massed outfits. because the queen who designed those outfits would never spend all that goddamn time and effort just to have a few moments on screen. no, no. there's documentation, i'm sure. i mean, christ: they never appear in the same outfit twice, and each is more remarkable than the last.

i'm unclear about the origin of my interest in dress-up; i'm not the most femme of women and have only one dress, which i wear to sleep in and is made of a single piece of fabric. and barbie was the great satan of my childhood. there is a degree of exoticism in it, i think; it's a touch disturbing, given the orientalism of the outfits - a false imitation of some exotic cultures' outfits, all rolled into one - and that the queens appear like dolls. not to mention their composure and speech remind us of the fundamentally undemocratic vision of mr lucas' elitist visions of those who have power - real or political - being born into it.

but enough of that. i think it's part of my magpie mind - shiny shiny! - and the ethics of sex and power, no matter their disturbing origin. i wouldn't care if men were dressed up in whatever the equivalent was; their outfits of creaking manhood wouldn't make me blink.

putting aside this yet another example of the sexualisation of the young, there is also the sheer gorgeousness of the outfits, which each took ages to make. hand-beaded with thousands of pearls, designed and redesigned. and they give the viewer a chance to explore "ethnic identity" without tresspassing on the real-world ethnic identity of another, real person. i mean, no matter how moved i was by whale rider, i am not maori. i cannot participate as insider. in fact, i can't participate as an insider in any culture; i'm neither fish nor fowl on every level of my existence, from sex to sexuality to ethnic origin to culture to language. i'm between everything, and the image of a beautiful cultural experience - even if it's just a signifier - is naturally attractive.

i think it's too late and i'm thinking too much.

one last note: check out the fiery furnaces. they fucking R0XXOR.

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