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Emilia Clarke as “Sarah Connor”
I’ve been writing about mankind’s imminent demise for half a century. I’m not the first, and another five minutes of life on earth may be all we need for me not to be the last, new writers sprouting every minute, personalizing as they force-meat their inheritance. And I’ve been bitching that our demise is way overdue. Meantime I still love music, women, food, sports, movies. And right now I so love this amazing actress, Emilia Clarke, that I hope the universe lasts long enough longer to grant her an all-time-stellar career. You didn’t want me, at least you’d still have her.
The Terminator series which debuted in 1984 sets a number of bars for a number of themes regarding a number of themes. I’ll select some for a tossed salad here. I’ve been false-starting these comments for several days now under titles such as Fickle Female Fashions. I’m unposting it all and starting again: again it’s a salad, this time I know it’s a salad: the logic can jump all it wants.
For those thirty-odd years Arnold Schwarzenegger has immortally provided its defining images: bravo, the greatest poser ever. Give drawing materials to a little boy and an the man-god Hercules is what you’ll get back. Push for a female, from a girl or boy, and Barbarella, or Barbie, is what you’ll get. Arnold may have given us the Terminator 800 in 1984 but he’d already given us Conan in 1982! And with Conan Hollywood had give us the loving loral Amazon, Valeria, immortally played by Sandhal Bergman. I’ll bet that Ms. Bergman had been doing ballet and acrobatics since girlhood.
bk and I celebrated her manual of swordsmanship. The swords may be have cardboard, but the sound track made them steel. What a wonderful change of pace for an actress, to seem to be actually no only competent but lethal. She matched Arnold’s absurd masculinity with a worthy female mythology. In my life non-helpless females had been taboo. In my parents life the cinema had heroines galore, but they were all helpless, Lillian Gish cringing In the closet under the boots of her father, a guy who makes his living in the ring as a savage. Pauline had adventures but she was passive: she needed rescuing by a hero, or by God, or by Fate: don’t expect her to punch her way out.
Now: women are women. Women have been women since Eve, seventy-five to one-hundred-fifty-thousand years ago. Eve could defend herself on the savanna, of course she could. Still, she didn’t mind a little help from Adam. In fact Eve(‘s body) had figured out a way to enslave Adam to her. He didn’t just go out to find his meat: he found meat and brought it back to her! Cain and Abel got some of the meat! That was a novelty: at the time and since. Good. But how are women portrayed? (and how are men portrayed? as Jesus? as Einstein? as Hercules? as the father with his boots in the closet?
Vulnerable Lillian Gish
1984 had had two years to digest Valeria. Arnold we’d already digested.
Understand, I’m talking about what we are, but more immediately I’m talking about how we portray ourselves. Movies are a good place to look, so’s the tennis court. We were lucky that Susanne Langland had a genius cousin with a camera. Then came Billy Jean, chubby and tough. Justine Henin was skinny as a rail, but she hired a merciless trainer, ordered him mercilessness, beefed up: until the real Serena Williams showed up and put them all to shame. Lengland and Williams are real; Sarah Connon is fiction, but she covers the diapason. In 1984 Linda Hamilton was cute as cute. In Terminator-2 she was tossing Rambo-scale weaponry like flipping pancake spatulas. She was still cute, but now she was a mythic level of tough. Now here’s Emilia Clarke: cute as cute, and tough as nails.
Just last week I was bitching about the ridiculous bleach job on the frozen-faced girl in Thrones.
(pic lost, substituted another, a doozie.)
Same actress? Gotta be. But as Sarah Connor she’s dynamic; in Thrones she’s static: not her fault. The last episode I saw she’s scripted to throw her repellant brother: but it was done by mirrors, tricks. She stood still while the camera did the judo. Well, it does prove that she’s got a great face, join the club: but contemplate her Sarah Connor. You can’t know from the above still, war on the Golden Gate Bridge, but her acting in close up is as good as Julia Roberts, good as anybody’s. Savor her final closeup in Genisys, her love for Reese is palpable. Contemplate her arm. Gorgeous, perfect: gold-plated DNA, worked out, tuned. We get view of this and that leg, just as good. Her bosom is stunning. It may be been inflated, maybe since she was twelve, but it’s stunning. Her hip, her bottom, we get only a hint here, but in the movie we see plenty of prime butt.
She reminds me of my college girl friend, Naomi. Both remind me of Ana Kournikova. Worthily. Both those gals are prettier than Naomi, but not by that much. All three are petite fireballs.
Below I’ll work in a comparison with Kick-Ass. Killer-cute, Chloë Grace Moretz setting the bar high.
Which reminds me of vulgar slang, especially vulgar slang from silver screen beauties.
Is there any girl with a face more beautiful than Emma Stone? Those big blue eyes? in Birdman she’s on the roof of a theater mezzanine. Someone passes, she yells, “Eat me!” When I was a kid not even Talullah Bankhead would yell that on Broadway. Here Sarah Connor, and finally the Terminator too, are forever saying “Bite me”. Really.
But obligatory obscenity has really taken off with adorable females shouting “C-” everywhere: Hit-Girl for example.
But Bite me: I never hear that: do you? C- even my son won’t say aloud.
Back in his Pumping Iron days Arnold made other body builders look pasty. My nextdoor neighbor was Mr.-Universe-second-place thre years running. He was due for first, but Arnold entered. Arnond won, big. It was clear that Arnold would win every year from then on. My South African diamond merchant friend, Franz, wisely retired. (Meantime Franz’s wife (swimming gold) and daughter (pure gold) were jaw-dropping females. Anyway, Linda Hamilton was cast, correctly, as cute. Then she buffed up. She was still cute, but she could knock out the pushups, wow. In Genisys Pop Terminator throws Rambo guns at Sarah, she catches them: snap of steel against flesh: or they bounce off her biceps: the flesh is there for it, tough, taut: this girl is serious. Pint-sized Amazon. Arnold’s bod isn’t world-class: it’s way beyond world-class, Arnold is the all-time champeen. So Kyle Reese has to be some kind of an athlete, and Michael Biehn fit the bill nicely. Ah but now Jai Courtney plays Reese and plays him as buff as Stalone. Gracious. So this Sarah Connor is doubly surrounded by muscle.
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