Saw 'Queen of the Damned' last night.

And didn't hate it, actually. Well...

You see, I realised that If i had seen it anywhere from 5 to 6 years ago or earlier, I would have absolutely loved it, and it would have been a favorite film. I would gave wanted to be Stewart Townsend of the marbly-white skin and wavy raven-gold tresses.

however-- ahem-- HAIR! no one's goddamn hair was right in this movie. Armand the wavy /blond/? I don't think so.

And then there was Marius. Sorry, the nosferatu who bore the name Marius, and, save the penchant for painting, was /nothing/ like the real (so to speak) Marius. He reminded me of pee-wee herman with a hungarian accent. It seemed, actually, that these fellows were trying to sound terribly transylvanian. Oy.

Paul McGann was a wonderful Dr-Who-Turned-Talamasca. I love the Talamasca. Militant esoteric librarians of the world... And god he had the biggest hard-on for so-called-Marius. It was /so/ cute. They were, I thought, by far the most slashable bodies on screen.

The girl playing Jesse was pretty, but couldn't act her way out of a kiddie swimming pool. Lena Olin as Maharet ruled worlds. There was no Louis at all, oh well.

I have no real opinion of Alyiah. She did a very good Ertha Kitt with Fangies. And her brother did a damn good job on the voices. But /don't/ get me started on the xena-goes-to-egypt garb.

Ooh, all this shallow bitchiness makes me feel so much better! Forgive me kittens, I just woke up.

Am staring at a postcard, which depicts the Toluse-Lautrec painting, quadrille at the Moulin Rouge. I really have to get the scanner hooked up.

Now to play mindless games.

<<agé chose>>

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