Ouch Charlie, You Bit EVERYONE

While I may have taken the last month or so off from blogging, Charlie’s story is far from over folks. He’s the gift that keeps on giving…and giving…and giving. In fact, he’s the gift that gives so much that you want to just return it to the gift store but when you do, the cashier tells you it’s past the expiration date and hey, sorry, store policy, and now you’re stuck with it for life.

Things were looking promising after the last Charlie post. He finally worked up the balls to dump Gel (no guys this time it was sooooo totallllyyyy for real, not like the other 20 times, those were just super big fights). We all celebrated, party hats and the likes. Finally, I’d be getting some more sleep, he’d be getting more work done…well, he’d be getting ANY work done for the first time in months. Our room would finally be habitable. Then came the classy Christmas party. That’s the night that my girlfriend Jen and I got together, but we’ll save that story for another time because as usual, Charlie stole the spotlight once again. That night, only a short week after breaking up with Gel, Charlie hooked up with one of MY friends (and one of Jen’s best friends, as a matter of fact). Her name was Reba, and she’s one of my favorite people at this school. I knew what was going to happen—Charlie was going to go all crazy on her like he did to Gel, and I didn’t want that happening to such a sweet girl. As it turns out, I was being paranoid (silly ol’ me) and the two of them were perfect for each other. She kept him in line (finally! Someone else OTHER than me telling him he had to wash between his toes, etc) and kept him busy. He was out of my hair during one of the busiest weeks of the semester (finals week). When he and Reba parted ways, even thought it had only been a week, they agreed to not see anyone else over break. Mind you, they weren’t officially dating or anything guys, and that’s super important to the story you know cause like, it doesn’t count as cheating if you aren’t dating Brennan so it’s not a big deal at all, I don’t know why you and Jen are so pissed at me, we only agreed verbally, it wasn’t a contract or anything and it doesn’t even matter because she’s weird because she likes songs and poems and art and stuff. Yes, Charlie, liking art and songs makes you weird, love that logic.

In case you skipped that ramble, Charlie quickly turned around and sowed his oats elsewhere, elsewhere in this example being good ol’ GEL, less than ONE WEEK after he and Reba agreed to be exclusive. See, Gel was still obsessed with Charlie so she thought it’d be in everyone’s best interests if she went to Chicago to see (stalk?) him. Like a fly drawn to a rotting carcass in the woods, Gel and Charlie found their way back to each other (in the carnal way) MANY times over the break. They even “found each other” in the snow in an alleyway, and once on a rug giving them both rug burns (really makes you rethink the Magic Carpet from Aladdin doesn’t it?).

A Single Man

A Single Man marks a triumphant return to the screen for Colin Firth, whose last few movies (I’m looking at you “Mamma Mia” and “St. Trinians”) have been as fluffy as fluffy can be. In Tom Ford’s devastatingly beautiful debut, Firth rises above the occasionally slogging script to fuel the movie’s fire.

Firth plays George, a recently widowed homosexual grasping to get on with his life as a university professor. He brings to the role the fervor of an actor half his age—it is abundantly clear that this is a project that he felt supremely passionate about. His passion is understood—his lines roll of his tongue as if it was a whip, allowing Firth to disappear into the role. Equal credit must be given to Firth’s supporting lady, Julianne Moore. Her recently divorced Charley is absolutely heartbreaking and Moore, fresh off a poorly received stint on 30 Rock is in fine form here. The way in which her face crumples when she is upset is simultaneously the mark of a brilliant actress and a shattering revelation. Ford’s decision to have Charley love George unrepentantly is a small stroke of genius—their scenes together are marvelous and near breathtaking. Praise should also be set aside for the lovely Ginnifer Goodwin (so good on “Big Love” but so cloying in “He’s Just Not That Into You”) who plays “sixties housewife” with grace and charm. Lee Pace of the now cancelled Pushing Daisies makes a brief but welcome appearance as a fellow professor (might this reviewer be overlooking things in seeing a love come and gone between Firth and Pace’s characters?). Nicholas Hoult, who played the young Marcus opposite Hugh Grant in About a Boy, shows just how much he has grown (following a provocative role in the BBC hit Skins) in his role as a student of George’s who is completely infatuated with his professor.

While the script at times runs into clichés and clunky monologs, Ford masterfully commands the movie, steering it to a crushing conclusion. Ford’s fashion expertise (known primarily as a designer, this is his directorial debut) is abound—the costumes are first rate, as if the characters were born to wear their dazzling clothes, and the sets themselves could walk the runway. The beautiful lighting expertly blends in with the film. Firth, broken and haggard, veers in and out of an unflattering shade of gray, while Goodwin and her onscreen children are always bathed in a cheery glow.

In the end, Ford has created a beautiful piece of art, buoyed by Firth and Moore, the masters of their craft. Though destined to be label an “art house flick,” A Single Man deserves to be seen by so many more.