BREASTS, FISH BALLS, NOODLES, AND DRAMA

When I came home yesterday my apartment mate was watching the movie Cleopatra, made in 1963, featuring Elizabeth Taylor, a woman who manifestly did NOT require a push-up bra, but probably benefited from a well-constructed supportive device at times. Very likely she ended up with a bad back. I could not recall her having monuments of such excessive size, but then, I never especially enjoyed her films.

Most of them, anyway.

This time around, I noticed how badly written the dialogue was in that production. Which explains why my apartment mate was fascinated.

The grand theatricality appeals to her Cantonese side, the ridiculous speeches and melodrama speak to her wicked sense of humour.
She's always loved splendidly vulgar cinematography.
Off-kilter declamation is its own reward.



Personally, I've never understood why Elizabeth Taylor was such a huge megastar. Must have largely been because of the breasts. That probably awed the critics. Simple souls, them.

A total cynic might surmise that smaller breasts make faces more noticeable. And that therefore intelligent looks would stand out.

I like intelligent faces, and I am indeed a total cynic.
Nix the enormous tits, they do not appeal.

I'm more of a face man in any case, and find humongous tatas rather repulsive. Sadly, Elizabeth Taylor's reptilian make-up -- Aegyptoid, in intent but not effect -- made her face look like a braindead bimbo.
There was far too much of her bosom, but that did not make up for her empty eyes, vacuous acting, or the laughably bad dialogue and Beverlyhillsian ho' costuming.


Who the hell designed that movie?!?!!


The sleazy lapdance-ish disportment at the banquet Marc Antony attended on Cleopatra's boat was reminiscent of nothing so much as a North Beach stripshow, albeit with many more plump vixens.
I used to live in North Beach, and I know tackiness.
No wonder Marc Antony got drunk.


Apparently that was something that Richard Burton, the actor portraying Marc Antony in that uninspired performance, excelled at.
In that regard the casting was brilliant.


Big breasts and alcoholism probably go together.




BIG DA DA DADA DADDY!

Elizabeth Taylor was brilliant in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, by the way. The mixture of steamy Southern degeneracy and Tennessee Williams' brilliant script gave her something into which she could sink her teeth.
I cannot remember either of her bosoms in that film.
They were probably featured, but evenso.
The dialogue was perfect.



AFTERWORD

This post was inspired by my reader Jackie, who mentioned fishballs (魚丸 'yü yuen') which are splendid in fishball rice-stick noodle soup (魚丸米粉湯 'yü yuen mai fan tong'), and also by a box of girl scout cookies. I was consequently reminded of how much I like to see nice women enjoying delicious food, which is exceedingly lovely.

A place I know in the Tenderloin serves fine fishball noodles.
It's well worth visiting.
Because.




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