Sex. Violence. Revenge. “On The Doll” is a dark look into the lives of sex workers and the affect it has had on their lives. Balery (Brittany Snow) is a call girl desperate for cash who conspires with Jaron (Josh Janowicz) to rob one of her regulars. Chantal (Shanna Collins) wants out of her door to door exploits to start life over with her boyfriend and Tara (Angela Sarafyan) has been pulled so far into her seedy peep show underworld that it could be too late. Mr. Garrett (Eddie Jemison), is a high school teacher who looks to bring some of his students (Candice Accola & Chloe Domont) into his world of sex and drugs. And behind it all is Jimmy Sours (Paul Ben-Victor), a twisted mastermind of the sex trade who controls the fate of everyone mixed up in his world. A cast of young, up and coming actors takes you to a place where victims search for new meaning in their lives, while fighting off the demons that lead to more pain. The first feature by acclaimed music video director Thomas Mignone, “On The Doll” is a shocking, but powerful look into a world that is sure to strike a chord.
2007. Certificate: Unrated. American Film. 7.0 out of 10
As everyone knows, I’m a hard rockin’, hard drinkin’, womanisin’ Lothario. Recently I’ve added to my vices by also becoming a hardened gambler too. How did this happen? Well a few days ago I found myself standing in the queue at Tesco. I refuse to use those nasty, automated, DIY checkout machines. I want to be served by a human being. I value the social intercourse I get with the frequently bored people I meet in this way; it helps give me a better prospective on my own life. The choice as to whether or not to take advantage of the plastic bag I’m always offered keeps my mind sharp and helps me hone my decision-making abilities for the more ‘mission-critical’ circumstances to come, such as when to cross the road outside in a way that enables me to beat the traffic at the lights, before I’m turned into road-kill. I distrust those self-service machines. This is partly because all they’re good for is to do people out of jobs to boost shareholders’ profits. I’m not letting them crush our will and independence comrades. They also seem to have, en masse, taken a very personal dislike to me and enjoy nothing better than screaming out really loudly whenever I go near one that there’s an “unexpected item in the bagging area”. Yes, me. This phrase basically means the same as, “ha-ha everyone, let’s all draw attention to the stupid, luddite, fuckwit, who can’t operate us ‘idiot-proof’ machines properly and is now going to have to deal with the very public humiliation of being ‘helped’ by a smirking and bad-tempered shop assistant. Seriously, it would be less embarrassing to stand in the middle of the High Street in Reading on a Saturday afternoon, dressed as a ballerina and announce to everyone there that I have the world’s lowest recorded sperm count. (Which of course, I don’t). Anyway, back to my gambling addiction. The person in front of me bought a Lottery Scratch Card. I’ve never ever bought one of these. I’ve always considered that they’re basically designed to entrap ‘weak-minded poor people’ into a downward spiral of debt and despair. These people can then of course seek help to overcome their addiction, by attending a community-run self-help group, funded by the very same Lottery that caused their problem in the first place. I don’t know what came over me, but when I got to the checkout I purchased three, £2 Scratch Cards. And blimey, I only went and won £10 with one of them! I must be so clever and skilful. Trouble is, now this has happened it’s going to be a lot harder to ignore these things in future. I feel my life now stands at a crossroads. In one direction is a steep descent into a pit of unrelenting gambling debts, depression and finally suicide. In the other is my present path, a steep decent towards a pit of unrelenting aging, depression and finally death. I think I need to hone my decision-making abilities more. This movie focuses on one vice that I don’t seem to have picked up yet, although I live in hope.
For a film about sex workers, this one’s surprisingly lacking in nudity; actually there isn’t any at all. In fact it’s quite stylish, given its setting. I find I don’t have a great deal to do with the sex industry on a regular basis myself, (but I guess that’s a good topic for a future blog entry), but if I did I can’t help thinking it would all seem a lot more seedy this this movie makes it out to be, although it does have its moments. I guess they all just seemed a bit too clean, healthy and happy, even the sick, sad ones. This ‘small detail’ aside, it’s actually quite a decent film, occasionally funny, occasionally painful. (The latter will make sense if you watch it.) The ending is a bit melodramatic but it kinda works. I’m not sure if you’re really supposed to enjoy movies like this but I did.
There’s a fair bit of music used in this film. Most of it is fairly anonymous, modern indie rock, but it gets the job done.
It’s not a bad trailer. Quite watchable as its own, little ‘mini-film’ that doesn’t give too much of the plot away.
Movie Weather Forecast. It’s another warm, dry, sunny day in movie land.
Recommended for prostitutes, school-girls, teachers and magazine publishers.
No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.
Top badass moment? So few people really seem to make an effort to do their best at work, so it was great to see our anti-hero Jaron taking special care that the ads for prostitutes he was doing the layout and design for, were both spelt correctly and made sense logically. Taking a pride in your work is badass, especially when it’s basically a crappy job to start with.
Isolation… alienation… happiness. In America they all go hand in hand. Buy a new TV and you will be happy. Still not happy? Experience alienation. Can’t afford a new TV? Then live in isolation. “Be happy”, and if that doesn’t work, pretend to make it work. For the characters in Todd Solondz’ award winning, subversively funny film “Happiness”, the struggle to attain such a state is fraught with perils both heartbreaking and hilarious.
1998 – Certificate: 18 – American Film
Rating Details: Adult theme, strong sexual references, language and sex
8.5 out of 10
The National Lottery spoilt my day today and it was going so well too. It started off sunny. Then I drove to Berkhamsted, which included a slow selection along the M4. This provided me with a golden opportunity to open all the windows and ‘educate’ my fellow motorists in what good music sounds like, whether they wanted educating or not. It’s never too early in the day for some noisy punk rock. I then passed my MiDAS trainer/assessor reassessment. This means I can continue to train people to drive minibuses in my own, inimitable style. (e.g. “Just put your foot down.” “It’s not your vehicle, so don’t worry.” “You’re not paying for the insurance.” “You’re bigger than they are.”) I then drove home again with the windows open. This time there was no slow section, so thanks to a large articulated lorry I no longer need to tidy up the interior of my car, as all the rubbish in it suddenly got sucked out of the window as the lorry went past. Then I got home and opened a letter from the Disclosure and Barring Service, which was happy to report that I’m not a pervert or a weirdo; at least not one that’s been caught anyway. But then the Lottery spoilt my happiness by rejecting a funding application I’d made for a project. For the second time! Bloody hell! I even buy two lottery tickets every week by Direct Debit. That should guarantee success. (Then again, I don’t know why this surprises me. In the 19 years it’s been running, I’ve bought one or two tickets virtually every single week and personally never won more than £10; and that’s not happened more than a few times either. I’m relying on a Lottery jacket win to act as my pension too.) My failure was highlighted in some nonsense about insufficient evidence of need. I guess interviewing every single person on the whole planet about the project and finding that all 7,164,915,211 of them supported it and would benefit from it, wasn’t sufficient. Still, I’ve been invited to reapply if I can provide more information. It’s lucky I’ve just got my DBS Certificate, as I’m now going to need to hang about in various maternity wards and try to consult with some babies as they come out of the womb, as just about everyone else has already expressed an opinion. It’s not the rejection that hurts, (well okay it is really), but the fact that some of my colleagues north of the border seen to be able to provide enough evidence for similar applications, by simply stating that they think the project they’re apply for money for would be “nice”. This doesn’t make me very happy. It’s so easy being Scottish. We have to work hard in the South East of England for everything. I think a career as a diplomatic would suit me better. That would make me much happier too. This is a film about happiness.
This is a sick film. It’s exactly the sort of perverse movie that the DBS should ask about before issuing Certificates. It’s also very funny, in a blacker than black way. There’re loads of reviews of it on the Internet, half of which say it’s great and the other half say they walked out of it after 15 minutes because it was so “disgusting”. Despite its reputation as a bit of a dodgy film, it’s also surprisingly moving and very well acted. I think I like it as it features a load of people who think they’re happy but actually they’re not, yet they still are in a rather strange way. I like to see people bought down to my level. It’s a movie for grow-ups you should watch. You can always use a pair of sharp scissors to cut the DVD in two if you don’t like it. (But remember to take care with the scissors, especially as DVDs can suddenly shatter into sharp pieces when stressed. I’d advise you wear gloves and goggles too, just in case.)
There is a soundtrack but it’s pretty unmemorable. Music is sparsely used, although when it is it does support the action nicely. On many occasions it’s used more as an element in the scenes themselves, rather than simply as background ‘noise’ to build tension or whatever. Michael Stipe does sing the theme song though.
Recommended for weirdos. (Sorry, I can’t be arsed to write anything else.)
No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.
Top badass moment? At the start of the film, Allen strikes a blow for downtrodden men everywhere, with his “I’m Champagne” tirade. Admittedly he picks on the somewhat weedy Joy as the target for his ‘stand’, but nevertheless he knocks the ball right out of the ground. Yeah; men rise up and take back your birth right! No more will we be under the thumb of woman-kind! Reclaim the mighty sword of masculinity and trousers of relationship power! (Do I come across as sounding bitter or twisted at all?)
I buy two tickets every week in the National Lottery. Winning the Jackpot is effectively my retirement plan and a whole lot simpler to sort out than all those pension scheme things you read about. Anyway, it’s been a long time since I won anything on it so I’d started to imagine it was saving up the biggie for me. So last week it was no real surprise when it finally happened, I won! I actually won. Now its happened though, I can’t really get my head around it. The money has already been transferred to my account so it’s definitely true. I must have ticked some ‘no publicity’ box at some point, as I’ve not been hassled about being involved in any of that sort of thing, which is good; I don’t want hundreds of begging letters from those in need as I’m a greedy, selfish slob who’s going to keep it all to himself. I can’t work out what to spend it on first; there is only so large a TV, stereo and computer you can actually buy. (I’ve no imagination okay?) I don’t want it to change my life, but I guess that’s going to be difficult considering what’s happened. I have thought I might go travelling, fly everywhere first class and fuck up the environment a bit; I’ve more than done my bit for it already so why shouldn’t I take advantage of it now? Penny is going to be a bit of a problem, as I obviously can’t take a cat with me, so I guess I’ll have to have her put down. She’s 16 anyway, so quite old. I haven’t told anyone at work yet that I’m leaving. Might buy them a cake or something as a good-bye present, not sure yet.
Actually I’ve just read that back to myself. It’s amazing how winning £10 has turned me into a complete shithead. I’m so shallow.
Right now I’m listening to “One Man’s Meat” by the Lurkers.