THANK YOU, Your Majesty.

It is insidious.

Not too long ago, Yasmeen Ghauri, ethnically half Pakistani, often appeared on the cover of Vogue, along with Heather Stewart-Whyte, of full-blooded mixed-southeast-Asian blood. (Christie Turlington, come to think of it, is half Salvadoran; Helena Christensen, half Peruvian.) They also peopled the pages of Victoria’s…

Yes, it was a terrible semiotics prof.

Indeed, a good place to start. If it means anything, I would highly encourage you to take the plunge if you have a film in your head; I’ve found the actual industry is far more vital and open than film school had ever suggested. :)

All the way.

Yep.

But the problem is that — in my experience at least — a semiotics class doesn’t do jack, and maybe even makes it worse. I went to a university in Evanston, Illinois, and the typical film student jackass there is the worst kind of jackass. I don’t think anything compares. And the point of the semiotics course is…

No kidding? Wow.

Man, she’s even more of a dipshit than I imagined. Fuck her.

Iranians are a lot like Americans. They’re bewildering. Same culture produces Forugh Farrokhzad and this dipshit. We somehow made David Lynch and Mitch McConnell.

It’s an amazing song. One reason among others that it has that peculiar floating quality is that it never resolves to the tonic chord, like Radiohead’s “The Tourist,” the final song on OK Computer. It’s always hovering around an authentic cadence we never hear.  

That’s not correct. We’re too fat.

Plus, the definition of the word is otherwise meaningless. Just looked up the word:

Yes. We simply don’t know yet.

You are automatically unhealthy by being a bit overweight. That is what the word means.

I’m a bit overweight. I’m a bit unhealthy.

!?

(Not even his best quote. That distinction might go to “Ingrid, it’s only a movie”)

The Crime of Padre Amaro is a daring film about abortion. Just Another Girl on the IRT is a daring film about abortion. Jim Mckay’s Our Song is a daring film about abortion. I recently saw a wonderful Brazilian short, Doll and Silence, on the subject.

But no, Obvious Child is the first “real” one.

What scares me is…

No. It doesn’t.

Personally, I hate the presumptuousness of Obvious Child. A superhot actress plus vocal fry does not equal honesty. I’m uncomfortable with the producer explaining that the film isn’t an “abortion film” but rather a romcom where things happen, one of them being an abortion.

That’s a cop-out. That’s not…

Hitchcock put it best. “Some directors make slices of life. I make slices of cake.”