PicoBlog

SPOILERS FOR SALTBURN AHEAD:

I could very well start off this newsletter by writing an ode to Barry Keoghan’s penis in director Emerald Fennell’s second film, Saltburn. Not over its flaccid size, as impressed as I was, but for contributing to more equity in full frontal nudity. Penises are objectively so silly, especially when you see one flopping around during a tightly choreographed dance to Sophie Ellis-Baxtor’s “Murder on the Dancefloor.” May we see more penises on screen, for the plot or otherwise. 

Instead, I’d like to talk about something that bothered me greatly. Marketed to be a new psychosexual classic, Saltburn had all the elements of one: homoerotic fascination, sexually fluid mean characters, dysfunctional power dynamics, Barry Keoghan’s piercing hooded eyes. Before our screening, we watched Fennell name The Handmaiden and Cruel Intentions as inspirations, but as the hyper-stylized fonts opened the movie, it soon became clear that Saltburn does not join its counterparts’ ranks. 

If you haven’t seen the movie, the plot goes something like this: Ne’er to do well boy on scholarship meets rich boy at Oxford. NTDW boy falls for all the qualities he doesn’t have in rich boy. Rich boy invites him to his home, which is a sprawling old money English country estate. NTDW boy’s obsession unravels a string of lies. Rich boy dies. More deaths follow as NTDW becomes a pillar of support for rich boy’s mother. As she lays dying, NTDW boy confesses that he orchestrated everything – from the first meeting to her family’s deaths.

But there’s something inexplicably hollow about Oliver’s (Barry Keoghan) obsession with Felix (Jacob Elordi). Oliver is ruled by his god complex and all-consuming emotions – envy, lust, ego – which laces every interaction he has with Felix. What’s missing in Barry’s caricature of a homely scholarship student hoping to gain Oliver’s sympathies is real, uncomfortable, good old-fashioned attraction. Not for one second did I believe their dynamic was forged out of Oliver’s uncontrollably controllable desire to have sex with then wear Felix as a skin suit. 

Fennell directs us into a narrowed stream of narrative, leaving little room for ambiguity. Oliver loves Felix, he insists over and over again during Jacob Elordi fancams, but wasn’t “in love.” Mirrored shots of Oliver heavily implied that there was more to his motive than just attraction. It’s an immediate red flag that reads as a poor emulation of the erotic thriller genre. The Handmaiden gently unravels the core conflict then snatches and SHREDS the rug from underneath, becoming an erotic heist thriller in the perfectly paced last third. Saltburn spoon-feeds us depraved stunts in bathtubs and bloody oral sex, setting up the subterfuge Oliver enacts to reach Felix and achieve admission into his world, making the final reveal of Oliver’s poor cosplay feel both anticlimactic and unearned. 

I’m not asking for Saltburn to frame-by-frame copy Will Graham and Hannibal Lector’s subtextual foreplay in the TV show Hannibal (2013-2015), but at least gleam some of that restrained yet all consuming desire that made the series feel like a decadent slow crawl to a taboo romance. I was not filled by Saltburn, no; I left the theater with slight indigestion after Fennell’s transgressions. Or it was the dry Alamo Drafthouse burger, but listen, we’ll never truly know.

Horny Bisexual Representation Coming In Form Of A … Leonard Bernstein Biopic?
There’s nothing more tender than sobbing with your dear friends (minus one) over the tumultuous, complex marriage between composer Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Cohn Montealegre in Bradley Cooper’s Maestro. The details of their lives are so public; Bernstein consistently found affection in affairs, with men and women, outside the marriage, and Montealegre knew and acknowledged his struggle as a closeted bisexual man in numerous instances. In a 1952 letter to her new husband, Montealegre wrote:

“...if your peace of mind, your health, your whole nervous system depend on a sexual pattern, what can you do?”

And later:

“I am willing to accept you as you are, without being a martyr or sacrificing myself on the L.B. altar…Let’s try and see what happens if you are free to do as you like, but without guilt and confession, please!”

Carey Mulligan captures Montealegre’s acceptance and complicated, unconditional love for her husband so beautifully. Love the bisexual in your life! Consider watching Maestro!!

Tarnishing The Golden Bachelor
For some! Reason! I was on DailyMail early Friday morning and I spoiled The Golden Bachelor’s ending before watching the last episode. In combination with The Hollywood Reporter’s piece digging into Gary’s past (which included a secret ex-girlfriend and some very off-putting comments about body image and money), I feel like I know all about Gary’s personality and romantic needs. He’s still just a clumsy, emotionally inept young man in a 72-year-old’s body. Bachelor casting needs to be studied because they consistently pull the snakiest men from different eras of our lives. 

Spotify Wrap It Up, Closet Swifties
Lots of revelations in the Spotify Wrapped results of my nearest and dearest acquaintances: a lot of you are closet Swifties! I recently re-listened to my 1989 CD and it’s actually kind of bad. I say this as someone who used to listen to an illegal “New Romantics” file for much of freshman year. Anyways, against my will, I listened to Noah Kahan and Maisie Williams to confirm that we have made a full 360 back into 2013. It’s been coming for the past two years, from the ballet flats craze to the simplicity of “quiet luxury,” but it’s officially over. Let me dig up my Modcloth dresses and Black Keys CDs and lean in.

In full transparency, let me disclose my own Spotify Wrapped. Tamagotchi at number one is a salute to this newsletter and a shoutout to my fellow horny, Omar Apollo queers. Boygenius and Muna stans can step down. Also, I thought Ariana Grande’s live recording of “Honeymoon Avenue” would replace Caroline Polachek’s “Welcome To My Island” (which I attribute to several consecutive listens while on vacation in Puerto Rico this year), but by and large, this was pretty indicative of the year I’ve had.

This week I learned that Chord Overstreet and Emma Watson dated for a few months in 2018. See you next week! 

ncG1vNJzZmiZnq62r7PGrqZnq6WXwLWtwqRlnKedZL1wscyeqZqklGKzprrNnqOlq12YvKS3jJ6wnpxdq7amw4yonQ%3D%3D