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I recommend you see...
The Big Town
by Veroniqueposted 16 hours ago -
I recommend you see...
Other Men's Women (The Steel Highway)
by Veronique"other men's women" is one of those experimental pieces of works in the early sound movie stage. even it's directed by the maverick who created the legend of james cagney's "public enemy", william a wellman, but inevitably it's raw and primitive, in need of more polishing mellowness since cienma then still had its tiny span to adapt into the sound to emulate popcorn noises in theater. it also features fresh-looking enormously pretty mary astor with innocent wide eyes and lips of cheery blossom. most of all, it has young jimmy cagney before he hit big as the tough bootlegging gangster.
the flick is upon the absurd melodrama of threesome romance among the railroad coal-refilling workers whose code of buddy language is "have a little chew on me"(a sign of exchaning pop-gum), tiptoeing upon the freight train, leading a freewheeling proteriat lifestyle of hard-labour, booze and easy dame after work. somehow the sceneries do have a touch of americanistic realism which could compete with italian neo-realism despite its occasional backfires of overly deliberate melodrama. and the descriptive viewpoint is entirely male-centered, and mainly on the struggle of brotherhood and the illicit passion which is suppressed and un-fulfilled except a brief kiss without further developments. the rest of the story is relentlessly mushy about the manly principle of never crossing your pal's wife even you desire her to death...blah blah blah.
as the notorious grapefruit scene in "public enemy" suggests, director wellman may have an obvious reluctance to deal with women in his movies, when a guy's showed off by a dame, he doesn't know or not willing to cope with that but smash a bundle of grapefruit to her face then takes off since misogynism is primarily due to man's fright to confront the womanly menace. (ha)..there's rarely a place to deepen into a woman in "other men's women" since its two female roles are either disposable waitress(joan bondell) you swoon on monday and ditch by tuesday when you're lonely and miserable or the demure angelic wife (mary astor) who remains passive without actions, the object of desire, something you want greatly but could never have. then a whole long-winding story on brotherhood and the code of manhood.
but un-deniably, the fun of "other men's women" is its naturalistic shooting of proteriat lives within the inland states of america, just like a fragment of past coming into reality which you cannot resist appreciating and life was so simple when you could just climb upon the ladder of a freight train to do your own petite illegal drifting without costing a cent."other men's women" is the work of maverick director william a wellman who made cagney's public enemy. pre-code flick, but nothing too controversial or immoral about it. it showcases the naturalistic side of old america of inland states that you may appreciate if you endure its melodramaticity.
posted 1 day ago -
I recommend you see...
Merrily We Go to Hell
by Veronique"marrily we go to hell" is a pre-code celebration of reckless brass toward hedonism as well as some possible suggestive content of marital promiscuity. sylvia sidney is still typecasted as the virtuous good girl who sticks to her beau even he may be a drunk wimp who cannot just make up his mind whom he truly loves, incurred with a very shakespearan issue "to be or not to be", absolute melodrama. besides that, you could take a peep at young gay cary grant who seductively tosses his champagne while leering the dame next to him.
so sidney is enormously rich but well-behaved nice dame who's got attracted to a handsome alcoholic who has a strange sort of quibing cuteness to charm the lady of silks into the slave of love. so she's determined to love him and wed him even he's abscent in their engagement party, forgot to bring along his matrimony ring in the ceremony and mostly he still possesses a self-contradictory crush to a broadway prima donna of blonde hair. gorgeous sidney of brunette hair still tolerates that since her beau always says "you're the swellest dame i've ever met" without any assured announcement of L. O. V. E. later she descends along with him while he's hanging over the blonde on the other hand, so merrily they go to hell in booze and decadence despite our swell dame still looks helplessly chaste in decay. would good sydney win the man she deliriously loves?
the best pleasure of pre-code movies is its indulgence of thorough melodrama without the moralistic hindrance for better light of doctrine. somehow sylvia sydney, whose mostly reputed work remained today is still hitchcock's "sabotage", shimmers in her adorable ingenune naivete whether it's pre-code or post-code, unlike norma sheer who conducts like man-hunting tramp before code but stingy mama after code. but i do harbor a private wish to see sylvia sydney act sluttish just like loretta young in pre-code "midnight mary" to gratify male audience's voyeuristic covet, but it ain't goody sydney. (lol.)it's a rare pre-code movie which is nearly lost. pre-code flicks have the best of melodrama without the moralistic redemption i disdain. sylvia sydney, the grief-stricken wife in hitchcock's "sabotage", is now in the arms of fredric march to merrily go to hell. (i simply love the title!)
posted 2 days ago -
I recommend you see...
Dr. Strangelove Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
by RCA classic! Kubrick is arguably the BEST film maker of all time. Peter Sellers plays three roles,George C.Scott is hilarious,and Sterling Hayden should have won an Oscar as the insane Gen.Ripper-obssesed with the idea that the Commies are poisoning our "precious bod'ly fluids' with florided water! And I love Slim Pickens!
Hey, you should really see this!
posted 6 days ago -
I recommend you see...
Satan Met a Lady
by Veronique"satan met a lady" is a typical example of how you could ruin a ballistic novel by whimsically twisting it into a slapstick comedy. "satan met a lady" is based upon the well-reputed novel of danshiell hammett "maltese falcon" which had made a legend of humprey bogart as sam spade in early 40s. "satan met a lady" is destined to be forgotten (which i wouldn't call a doom) for its misguided adaption. there's no hard-boiled grit which is the essential attribute to "maltese falcon"...and the primary question would be: why bother to make it tough task by farcial attempt? is that a joke on hammet? sure, a forgotten joke.
names of the protagonists are all changed. william warren is the womanizing detective shane who toys around with dames, and bette davis is the femme fatale who doublecross shane for a precious "flute" instead of the phenomenal black bird. then the rest follows along the fixed storyline of maltese falcon. an obese rich dame and her also overweight tepid assassin united together against davis while shane observes with smirks. warren william does have an idiocyncratic sense of ridicule, a surviver from the silent movie days in transition to talkies, and he's tall, dashing and suave with a profile which could rival john barrymore. unfortunately, william's charisma is soon to be dated after the 30s. william is the ideal personification of leading man in pre-code hollywood, and he's the only one who could blend elegance with cynicism without vulgarities but a refined sort of decadence. every player in "satan met a lady" seems playfully abscent-minded to deliver their lines, laughing flirtatiously on the script dispatched to them. it's the least noirish movie made upon american detective novel ever, and even more frivilous than william powell's "thin man" which has been turned into a screwball comedy of success.
warren william's physiques do fit into sam spade by the novel but he's a reluctant sam spade who doesn't wish to be sam spade. he ain't so bitter like spade. how about davis? the only worthwhile moment she employs is her feministic assertation of asking a man to hold his hat high while being threatened with a gun because she's a LADY in presence. there's no female ferocity she expresses in "human bondage", no dubious sexuality but a girlish poise of mischief as she remakrs to william at the end "you would regret turning me in because you cannot find any other woman who is as smart as you"...so? is that a desire to be so obviously cute??
generally, the value of "satan met a lady" is its campiness, the campiest version of "maltese falcon" ever! no actor involved is really paying a heart to pull it off, and the whole set of cast is literily mocking themselves. and the treasure is a flute? so, you're gonna blow it off soundly, i suppose."satan met a lady" is the second adaption of hammett's "maltese falcon"..(bogie's version is the THIRD)...and it's the least noirish one because it's A SCREWBALL COMEDY! the campiest maltese falcon ever! there's even no black bird but a toyful flute. the movie is a joke, and the campiest joke, needn't take too seriously.
i do wanna say warren william was quite a dashing gentleman in the 30s and has a pretty profile like john barrymore. ideal leading man in pre-code hollywood.posted 7 days ago -
I recommend you see...
À l'intérieur (Inside)
by Veroniqueperhaps personally i do possess a prejudice against shock-cinema which is to offend the tolerance of your senses continuously, and what's exactly the point to stir up your worst imaginations on various nightmares? do you need such perverse stimulus because you're too callously jaded? maybe it's the contradiction of human nature that you cannot resist the curiosity of the strange and the bizarre, and there's a voice inside you that drives into a peep at the deviant. but you bounce back just like your reaction against the over-heated stove. the procedure is nothing enjoyable but catalysis of vomit.
the story is about a woman's diabolical obssession of motherhood, so she haunts over an ill-fated pregnant woman by tracking into her house then brutally breaking into her room with a pair of scissors in attempt to cut the baby out to keep as her own. so the deeply endangered mother-to-be hides in the bathroom to defend herself...then the psychopathic wench shrewdly utilizes her fatal pair of scissors to slaughter any possible interference which includes the pregnant woman's parents...any potential cruel killing method is contained within this film such as stabbing a man's genital grudgingly...it's an extreme dosage of mental disturbance..surely there's no peaceful ending: the wench's got to sing her lullaby with the infant she freshly cut from a woman's belly while herself is deformed by a gas sprayer as she previously tries to light off a cigarette. in a nutshell, "inside" is a story of pure evil and absolute malice.
the massacre is deviced with every bit of "creavity" you could imagine as if the director remarks "let's think of every worst way of torturing someone in the most disgusting ways which would make you puke"...i've got to admit the french ways of killings are more "innovative " and scarier than american michael bay's recent "chainsaw texas massacre",,,i have no problem with cinematic violence as long as it's upon the dark side of humanity. yes, you might say such terrible massacre do happen in this world since serial killers do exist. but how about their minds? any profound motivation or character sketch?? yes, it has but very limited and meager. so the victim is a survivor of car accident and the killer is made barren also by a car accident..anything more?? it doesn't have any spare time for dialogues except fanatic continuous killings. very often it does sicken me to think of the raising popularity of shock cinema, whether it's french or american ones like saws or chain texas, audience doesn't have a heart anymore to probe the depths of characters but request of intense amount of irritant to defy your adrenaline. you wanna challenge your adrenalin, go parachute-diving which might teach you something of REAL SURVIVAL.frankly i've got to admit, i rent this just to see how disgusting it could be, curious whether i could tolerate this. myself fits into the symtom of "too bored, and look for something to stimulate your adrenalin" but i ain't proud of it. when i finished it, all i wanted to do is to wash off the memories of this picture. maybe i do have a "cowardly" side.
posted 8 days ago -
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I recommend you see...
Grand Hotel
by Veronique1932 "grand hotel" shall be one of the most essential popular classic movies of 1930s ever with its starry cast of john barrymore, greta garbo and joan crawford. it's also where garbo utters her legendary "i want to be alone!" along with an admiring barrymore as her consoling escort. it's probably a landmarked feature which epitomizes the star personas of barrymore, crawford and garbo thru parodical romanticization of their screen images under a multi-scaled story of synchronicity. "it's grand hotel, people come, people go, nothing ever happens" the commentary line shall be the metaphor of life, imbued with a sense of literary lyricisim that might be considered cliched nowaday but a ground-breaking triumph in the early period of sound flicks of 1930s.
it's not an easy task to put the story into a concrete term thru words due to its simultaneous plot developements, even they're still in a conventional sort of linear stretch. basically it whirls around the six inhibitants of grand hotel in berlin: the snobbish capitalist, a desperate dying factory worker, a cynical doctor whose face has been marked by the wretched war, a prima donna ballerina who loses her artistic drive, a geogeous but petite stenographer who's willing to sell herself for better money, and of course a gentleman-alike hotel thief in a ergent need of big cashes. the thief (john barrymore) flirts with the beautiful stenographer(crawford) in an unexpected encounter, enchanted by her lively vivacious demeanors. but later when he bumps into the room of the prima donna(garbo) to steal her pearly necklace, he's completely spellbound by her enthreal poise like a fairy goddess into flesh, he's hers. so the thief annuls his mission but determined to seek a way to gather the sum to pay the debt and his travelling expenses with this striking ballerina. somehow fate hasn't favored him, he's beaten to death by the conning capitalist who has harbored a grudge against him. so the woman he loves is leaving the hotel in a carriage without him, and the woman he's once enchanted is heartbroken by it, eloping with the dying elder man for paris in oblivion of his death. the capitalist is served by law, and the doctor mournfully signs "people come, people go, nothing ever happens"
greta garbo is an odd presence to cuckor's "grand hotel" as she shifts her ancient tragic queen persona into this very modern piece of work: she weeps, she frowns, she utters the sorrowful emptiness of life as if everything is a prop of dreams but still she cannot be gratified by the limited caricature of fantasies, longingly grasping something larger than life like most of her screen characters are. what's the thing which could be larger than life? L. O. V. E. that's the archetype of garbo romantic anxiety in her movies with clarence brown like mata hari and anna karenia. when she dives into buttom, miracle happens, her romantic anxiety turns a thief into a gallant knight who suddenly summons the metto to rescue her. audience buys into that becuz it is greta garbo, only things faraway and larger than life fit her. only she could inspires the utmost noble spirit of men. BUT she might histrionically overdo it when she says "i want to be alone!" (is that a joke the scriptor plays on her?)
previously the entrance of joan crawford forms quite a opposite contrast to garbo in her verbal love scene with john barrymore. crawford the stenographer, the earthy surviver with the angst to live, to prosper in the leanest condition of great depression, even she has to eat one meal a day. she smiles gayly, she sneers playfully to the gentlemanly stranger who seems to take a spontaneous interest in her. she flames like a ball of fire to tantalize men, fun and laughes in dance after dance. her sex appeal is a stock at her disaposal for wealth and self-improvement. wouldn't those qualities also be her trademark in crawford's mgm movies like "chained" and "possessed"...she's the dame who grins even when she has nothing from the man she appreciates but a brief flirtation while garbo oozes sadness even when she has everything and a miraculous love interest. strangely greta garbo has no scene together with joan crawford just like the whispers of fancy cannot meet to perish by the grim reality. either these two women have a cat fight over the same man they covet or one's bitter over another as the sour loser. greta garbo also has no scene with wallace beery, lionel barrymore and lewis stone. garbo's section with john barrymore alone seems to be part dissected from the rest unpleasant part of life as a one small garbo episode within a big movie. john barrymore acts the stance of the audience to travel thru dreams to reality, then backward again. that's the evidence of the director's talent to melt different sub-gendres into one grand watchable movie as it does have some unharmonious compositions.
yearning over greta gabo is like craving for the shiny stars above the sky, when you have her, the star falls upon your palm to glitter, to fascinate you into an insatiable state of ecstacy. appreciating joan crawford is like smelling the scents of a wild red rose over the bushes with thorns and un-tidy grasses, you gaze it and observe its rapturous blossom on its own, then you're aroused to pluck it to put into your pocket even it takes efforts. these two are different sorts of cinematic romanticism which has graced me over for years even it's doomed by its existentialist oblivion as life moves on, nothing ever happens.it is my personal intepretation of grand hotel romanticism. you could tell a odd presence greta garbo is in this movie, but somehow it works becuz the garbo and the non-garbo part have been compartmentalized well like dream and reality separate.
posted 15 days ago -
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I recommend you see...
Lady Chatterley
by Veronique"lady chatterley's lover" was once the most notorious novel by d h lawrence in british literature history and its title was once named after the genitals of two protagonists. now it's adapted by french the first time in cinematic history, and surprisingly how soft-core the french presents the story despite the bold audacity french cinema often impresses the audience on the subject matter of erotica. certainly there's a purpose to re-modify the name "lady chatterley's lover" into concise "lady chatterley": to utilize it as a feministic vehicle to assert the notion of woman's sexual awakening and her determination to be her own master. lawrence's novel's is about lady chatterley's LOVER, the proteriat macho man who stands for the vigor of life, the laborous blue-collar stud who is the object of desire for the upper-class dame who cannot get satisfactory laids from the men in the same social level as her. the book even manifests a voyeuristic scene of the lady drooling over the luscious junitor's nude during bath. the movie only reveals the lady bumps into the topless janitor wiping his own sweat. besides the casting choice of male protagonist is quite unusual to select a middle-aged uncle with thinning hair as the supposedly younger man of rags who elopes with an attractive mature woman of better upbringing.
briefly, the scenario of "lady chatterley's lover" is about a sexually ungratified bourgeois dame whose husband's been handicapped by the war from the waist beneath, so this loaded woman hooks with the janitor who guardes the backyard forest. the woman abandons the bondage of status gap and moral constraint to unite with this wild man who considers sex as the sacred primitive ritual within the nature. so they gallope toward their instintual drives of life which, of course, includes sex. the novel majorly announces lawrence's revolt against puritanical sexual suppression by middle class.
so how about the movie? what's the difference? as the popular french wave of feminism which has prospered since the 80s have two tendencies: the difference of gender attributes has been a subject matter rejoiced by helen cixious and julia kristieva, as well as the supreme esteem toward the uterus. so these two elements shall be the central spirit of the movie which is only about lady chatterley herself, her discovery of sexual pleasure and her assertative choice of individuality.
firstly, the movie is made more puritanical than the novel could ever be. from the numerous sex scenes, lady chatterley appears like an adult virgin who never witnesses a male frontal before. (but in the novel, lady chatterley has cheated her husband with his friend before she meets the janitor, but experienced enough to recognize he ain't considerate partner who cares about her part of pleasure) more than half of the love scenes are fully clothed with only the genitals out to put the activity into function until later she requests to see how his "stock" looks like by curiosity. basically the french lady chatterley is more like a timid woman with electra complex, who never knows what sex is like rather than the sensual woman in full bloom as the novel describes.
secondly, the male protagonist isn't exactly that virile as lawrence's depiction, more like a paternal figure with an apparent soft center, who declares himself has some sensitive feminine sides which prefers to be enclosed by the breeze of mother nature (a surrender to the grandeur form of uterus) instead of the volcanic phallic man who is a semi-misogynist repulsing over lesbianism and cursing feminine frigidity. the french LOVER seems even more frigid than lady chatterley who drags the palm of his hand over her one breast to encourage him into having sex with her. could i call the sex scenes lame? i suppose they're just NORMAL and highly conventional even they still preserve some crucial sequences of the novel like scurrying naked in the pouring rain within the forest and embellishing your sex organs with flowers that are the naughtiest and funniest parts in the story. but the movie expresses them with more childlikeness instead of frivolous humor.
thirdly, the cinematic ending is lady chatterley finances her janitor lover to purchase a ranch of his own. he refuses it gently but she persuades him into it anyway so she could occasionally sneak into his ranch to date him behind her husband like a kept male mistress despite he still views himself big man of machismo. (while he confides her his "feminine" side of character)...so it's like, hail to the all-mighty woman who manages to stay in the marriage with an impotent puppet and still harbor a secretive love interest for her own private amusement as she suggests to him that she needs his "talent to live" to feel alive. does it make sense to you? (it's an open ending anyway) on the contrary, the novel ends with the couple's glorious triumph to shed off the confinement of classes and revolutionalize over the banal system of hypocritical civilization to have a baby and build a home of their own.
the comparisons i've made above just bare the feministic resort this movie applies. whether you would be entertained or not depends on your preference and acceptance over the issue of matrix celebration. but un-deniably, the movie shoots the nature in such a pleasant scale to saturate you into an idyllic land of oblivion and temporal naivete, for that merit i deem it highly watchable. as for lawrence's novel, in the course of reading it, i do detect the preachy undertone filled with a sort of male-centered angst which catapults this novel into the classic niche of literature. the book has a message which is political and judgemental; the movie's reluctant to convey any message but indulge in constant haltings over the smell of morning dew and the scent of floral blossoms. which is better, it various from individuals. the book is more spunky and provocative; the movie is more lyrical and freewheeling. "lady chatterley" is NOT a faithful cinematic adaption of a mighty literature classic, but i certainly wouldn't dismiss it as a lackluster flop.
(ps) marlon brando came into my mind as the blueprint of d h lawrence's original stud who enlightens the path of un-bridled sexualities for this desperate dame who just awaits him to conquer. don't you find brando fit, considering his perfomances in "last tango in paris"?it's rare case of contemporary movie adaption over such controversial material in literature. it's softer and gentler and reluctant on nudity. and it's from FRANCE who has made its fame by explicitness. you wouldn't feel bold over it despite it does grant a clear closeup of male frontal to you. the feministic version of "lady chatterley's lover"..is on lady chatterley not on the lover.
posted 21 days ago -
I recommend you see...
Cleopatra
by Veroniquethe legend of cleopatra is literily the original utterance of "femme fatale" in western civilization, the primitive concept of femme fatale is the woman whose sex appeal is powerful enough to cast doom to men. but the progressive term for femme fatale would be more like woman who utilizes her sex appeal to infiltrate into the system of men then earn her position of power among the elites of men. so naturaly cleopatra is THE ORIGINAL FEMME FATALE. any actress prescribed with such role is surely complimentary to the ego. BUT i'm probably so far the only one who says elizabeth taylor doesn't fit the part despite she has the gears to look that part. neither is richard burton or rex harrison. generally the whole flick is a disaster, roughly made just to flaunt how much of cashes it has blown off.
as my principle calls, whatever you'd like to demean something, give people reasons to do it justice. first of all, it doesn't appear right in the superficial level, clothings. no matter how much people praise over taylor's glamour in it, the costumes look odd as if taylor is showcasing a modern fashion season called "how cleopatra inspires fashion" instead of dressing as cleopatra. thay all appear like some fancy contemporary gowns rushly decorated with few very egytian-looking garments, then here there are. the designer renie is no travis banton who operated the 30s cleopatra with cecil b demile and claudett colbert. anachronism is the word for it.
second of all, the script softens off every climax the story should have, such as the notable assassination of julius ceasar. where's the classic line "you, too?! brutus!" and it's backfired by its over-ambition on the political renderings of that time on lots of dreary scenes of roman congress and political feuds, or some silly scenes of ceasar teaching his son how to behave like a king, blah blah blah, and also why on earth the scriptors have to put the son of ceasar and cleopatra into the movie...besides, the historical fact would be cleopatra has one son with ceasar and a twins and son with marc anthony. i mention it not for the sake of historical accuracy since we all romanticize ancient tales. my point is why bother?...the attention is obvious: to moralize cleopatra, to maternalize her, to exert on presenting her more like the appendage to the granduer men instead of an empress as the phenomenal woman individual she is supposed to be. if you wanna produce a movie ON CLEOPATRA, why bother to take the major focus away on ceasar and anthony or octavian?
third of all, and most of all, elizabeth taylor doesn't have a queenly gesture as cleopatra, the most important element of such woman egoist would be her pride, and why cleopatra hooks with ceasar and anthony is for the survival of egypt since roman is quite a menace. her main purpose is POLITICAL, amoral by any means, so it wouldn't trouble her to bed with any married man as long as her purpose is served. but taylor's elizabeth snares at anthony after he reaches her political aganda but married to octavian's sister, why she even bothers to get sour? additionally, would a confident queen like cleopatra be histerically shouting or begging over a man? there's nothing composed or icy cool about elizabeth taylor, and everything is sentimentalized and melodramticized. further, the scriptors make a even bigger mistake to turn burton's marc anthony into an envious wimp over ceasar. except his masculine looks, nothing courageous or virile about his character. the sequence of cleopatra swooning anthony into eloping to egypt with her is ridiculously blatant: the woman provokes the man's envy with unfriendly words and vaudeville mockeries, then he beds her, next day, they confide how they have a crush on each other like a bunch of loverstruck teenagers. frankly it reminds me of the love scenes in "butterfield 8", and the same formula of angering a man into your bed seems a bit too cliched and juvenile here. she presents herself more like a pouty bickering matron who likes to quarreal men into her favors meanwhile un-capable of standing on her own.
the behind-camera stories tell all, if you read enough of classic hollywood biographies, no one involved in this project has a heart to finish it. taylor has spine issue during the shooting, and the director mankiewicz has to take severe dosage of pain-killers and tranquillizers (same as taylor) to get the nerve having it done. the abscence of the leads and director has deteriorated the schedule into enormous debt. but eventually it's redeemed by the publicity of the illicit affair of taylor-burton to arouse the audience's snooping curiosity to enter the theater. the sountrack is poorly composed, drab without background melodies at most of time except the few crucial sequences like cleopatra strutting over the roman squad or some burlesques to entertain marc anthony.....elizabeth taylor's glamour is always a big selling-point but she's only at her adequate best with helen rose' wardrobe("cat on a hot tin roof", "butterfield 8") or with edith head who sketches her gown in "a place in the sun".
(ps) another note i would like to make is its brief usage of yellow-face stereotype. one scene features an oriental servent called LOTUS whose profession is to taste the queen's drink and food to prevent cleopatra from being poisoned, why on earth ancient egypt would have a chinese servent? i'm not protesting since the scene is so brief and inconsequential but i just feel extremely absurd over this. see how much thought this movie has put on?!the only reason why 1963 cleopatra worked is becuz elizabeth taylor cheated eddie fisher with richard burton. i could only taylor's performance look exactly the same as butterfield 8.(helen rose designed the clothes)..if you pay the attention to taylor's fashion, when she looks her best in helen rose' clothing..except once by edith head in "a place in the sun"...unfortunately, renie designs cleopatra, even the clothes ain't that ugly, but it ain't timelessly chic as it's supposed to be.
posted 32 days ago
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