So. Many. Fergies.

Just like the first time a picture of Madonna and Lourdes was captioned "Madonna and Child", those of us in the shallow trench that is celebreportage have been eagerly awaiting the first appearance together of Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, and Stacy Ferguson, Black-Eyed Pea.

They have more in common than their names, honestly. Uh... They're both... Female?
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Why Was Pam Booed At Cannes?

When I first heard of this, I assumed it's because the French are leg men.

It turns out they felt she was rude. Apparently no one is allowed to be rude in France.

She showed up late for a photo call and refused to be a party to the madness of such a thing. Why, then, even bother going?

[S O U R C E]
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Musing Aloud...

I've often wondered what, if anything, conservatives are in favour of conserving.

Certainly, when it comes to cutting down trees and covering everything with pavement, they're the first ones in line. Yet one clear difference between then and now is surely that then there was more wilderness than there is now.

Similarly, conservatives seem to have little or no regard for our architectural heritage, preferring instead to mow down whole blocks of lovely character homes - which could benefit from conservation - in favour of block after block of soulless apartment buildings. As with our natural environment, the movement to preserve our built environment is spear-headed mainly by lefties.

The only thing conservatives seem to be in favour of conserving is some version of the past (ie: the good old days) that simply never existed. The 1950s, of all decades, is one most right (as in correct) thinking people should wish to see consigned to heaps of memorabilia in museums.

I understand that change brings with it fear, and that some people don't deal well with fear. Conservatism seems to be the worst way of all, because it denies the very real phenomenon that change is inevitable. Rather than accepting that, and growing from it, they seek to suppress and crush it.

The one kind of "growth" conservatives do support is the growth of the economy, and in order to do that it seems increasingly necessary to destroy, whether it's forests or worker's rights or dreams. And as for growing the economy, a willing well-paid workforce is key, and the only such pool of talent remaining appears to be immigrants.

The Bible exhorts all Christians to be "stewards of the Earth"; so how does hating on so-called minorities preserve the planet? Clearcuts cause erosion, not Muslims. Factories and cars cause pollution, not gays and lesbians. As for what causes change, look no further than free will.

I wonder what it'll take to cause conservatives to start conserving things...
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Newsflash: BC Liberals Value Money Over Wildlife

BC's Liberal Government plans to capture the estimated 16 spotted owls remaining in the wild and put them in zoos for purposes of breeding, Environment News Service is reporting.

This is because the BC government values the destruction of old growth forest over the preservation of either habitat of wildlife stock.

But capturing birds to breed in captivity to then release them back into the wild doesn't seem to be the most reasonable plan when there'll be no more habitat for them to return to. Habitat fragmentation remains unaddressed by government policy, specifically because the Liberals altered the existing policy to disregard it.

The plan has been leaked to the media by the Western Canada Wilderness Committee, which is trying to compel the Federal government to use the Species at Risk Act to preserve the owls and their habitat, which should go well. The Tories love wildlife like I love sarcasm.

I wish someone would put the BC Liberal government in captivity, although the thought of them breeding fairly turns my stomach.

[S O U R C E]
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Screened: "The Princess Comes Across" (1936)

When first we see Carole Lombard in The Princess Comes Across, she is vamping. Hard. "My name iss Princess Olga of Sveeden," she says, staring - nay, glaring - down her nose in the iciest way possibly, sounding for all the world like Great Garbo.

And there's me, in the dark in more ways than one, thinking: "What the F?"

Lombard is a workhorse among comediennes; she keeps up the Garbo shtick throughout most of the first act, so convincingly, in fact, that once the initial shock is worn off you almost start believing her. When finally her ruse is exposed, though, it's a relief; running gags of this nature tend to be a bit tiring for the viewer. Waiting for the other shoe to drop can become stressful, which can erode the whole "comedy" thing.

It is, however, an apt metaphor for the movie as a whole, because nothing (and indeed, no one) in The Princess Comes Across is as they seem.

In addition to the ample surprises to follow (which, for an avid viewer of 30s movies such as myself, well-acquainted with all the formulae inherent therein, is reason enough to watch) there are a handsome leading man (Fred MacMurray) whose lithe frame is fitted out in all manner of yummy suits, a pair of reliable villains (Porter Hall and Douglass Dumbrille), and a veteran character actress (Alison Skipworth), with whom all and sundry may toss around barbs.

There's even an appearance by a future television legend - seen here years before the advent of the device that would bring about his most enduring fame: William Frawley, better known as Fred Mertz of I Love Lucy, is to MacMurray what Skipworth is to Lombard - a cynically wise sidekick.

Naturally, being of its era, the film is stylishly photographed, and though it's set almost entirely onboard a ship the sets are lovely.

The Princess Comes Across is, in many ways, an odd movie, one which doesn't lend itself to a single viewing perhaps. Since it eschews (indeed, thumbs its nose at) convention to a large extent, as well as trying to wring comedy out of murder, it might be uncomfortable for some to watch.

So is it a funny movie with creepy moments, or a thriller with levity? Whether it's both or neither, it is a curiosity nonetheless.
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Verka Serduchka Keeps Me Dancing

Thanks to Joe.My.God I've been grooving out to Verka Serduchka all week. I mean, "accordion techno"? What's not to love?

Ms. Serduchka (actually Andriy Danylko) performed at the Eurovision Song Contest in Helsinki recently, with a glitterball-inspired performance of Dancing Lasha Tumbai. Members of the Ukrainian Parliament have been hating on Serduchka for months now, calling his performances "grotesque and vulgar". As opposed to politics, I suppose, which is all kittens and roses. Don't get me started.

The song eventually came in second, but it came first in my heart, for what it's worth.

If all the notoriety gets to be too much for Danylko/Serduchka, he/she/they can always move to Canada, where a tubby Ukrainian can become famous. Just look at Luba Goy.

In case you missed it...

Campy, yes... But I like it too.
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Now Showing - "Kingswood Country"

Yesterday, while recovering from my kidney stone, I decided that I felt like watching YouTube. Not content to watch the same old same old I made a stab in the dark, and typed in "Australian sitcom". This is what I got: Kingswood Country.

It's not terribly good, although it's apparently based on Til Death Do Us Part, the Britcom which so memorably inspired All In The Family. Well, I've seen Til Death Do Us Part and I've seen All In The Family. Kingswood Country is neither.

Then again, Australia isn't known for its sitcoms. I may do some further research and/or watching. The available clips don't exactly bristle with references, although according to Wikipedia the show was topical.

(The title seems to be a reference to Kingswood, a suburb on the western edge of Sydney, as much as a car of the same name.)
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Kocis Murder Solved?

As reported on the Pop Culture Institute on 26 January 2007...

It looks like the murder of Bryan Charles Kocis, the owner of gay porn studio Cobra Video, may have been solved.

Two models employed by Kocis have been charged with "criminal homicide, conspiracy to commit criminal homicide, abuse of corpse, robbery, burglary, theft and two counts of arson" according to Towleroad. Kocis' body was found with a cut throat and multiple stab wounds inside his burning house.

Harlow Raymond Cuadra and Joseph Manuel Kerekes are being held at Virginia Beach Detention Center.

[S O U R C E]

Previously, on the Pop Culture Institute...

Cobra Video Owner Murdered
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Harry NOT Going To Iraq

UPDATE: The Army's chief-of-staff admitted that press reaction was one of the reasons he decided against sending Harry to Iraq. Way to go, fellow muck-rakers!

The army has finally accepted what you and I have known for months - that not only would Prince Harry be in danger in Iraq, so would everyone in proximity to him. The notion of a soldier in a war zone needing bodyguards (which was suggested) is ludicrous.

It was probably all a ploy anyway, a bit of sabre-rattling. Maybe Prince Harry even wanted to serve, but the inevitable camaraderie of Sandhurst must be tempered by the possibility that the threats received against his person would have been carried out.

[S O U R C E]

Previously, on the Pop Culture Institute...

- Britain Offering Terrorists Plum Hostage
- Egregious Paranoia Department - HRH Prince Harry
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Le whoops!

In a maneuver that will forevermore be known as the Duceppe Two-Step, Bloc Qubecois leader Gilles Duceppe entered the race for leader of the provincial Parti Quebecois only to withdraw less than 24 hours later.

Duceppe explained his error away as 'a mistake'. Rather like his support for sovereignty.

[S O U R C E]
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Screened: "Dancing Lady" (1933)

Few movies have come to me as highly recommended as Dancing Lady. Now, normally a rave review is enough to send me running - in the other direction. Seeing as this rave came from my film buff friend Norman I decided to give it a try. I mean, come on, it's a 30s movie. At its worst, how bad could it be?

It was, in fact, better than the best. A backstage musical in the tradition of 42nd Street (which was released the same year), Dancing Lady dazzles from the first shot to the last. Partly this is a result of the painstakingly restored print, but mainly it's due to its beautiful cast brilliantly executing incisive dialogue.

Of course, there's a love triangle. Jane Barlow (Joan Crawford) can't decide between wealthy Tod Newton (Franchot Tone) and fellow theater rat Patch Gallagher (Clark Gable). Lucky bitch. In real life, of course, Joan didn't have to decide. She married Tone and had a torrid affair with Gable. To reiterate: lucky bitch.

I always enjoy seeing these big stars on their way up, as contemporary audiences might. Often I'll see a huge star and wonder how they got so big, since once they get to the top they rest on their laurels a bit before they start their long coast down. Well, it's immediately obvious here. Crawford is beautiful in a Hilary Swank way (and can she ever dance!), Tone is dapper and charming in a blond sort of way, and Gable... Gable is in a class all his own. Not for nothing did they call him "The King".

Dancing Lady also marks the film debut of Fred Astaire, at the time already well-known from Broadway, where he danced with his sister Adele. The Three Stooges also appear, bringing the odd moment (and I do mean odd) of slapstick (and I do mean slap) to the proceedings. Blink and you might miss Eve Arden (as a blonde - I recognised her by her voice alone), May Robson, and Robert Benchley. Nelson Eddy (minus Jeannette MacDonald - thankfully) camps his way through one number, and there are throughout the film the usual bevy of scantily clad vintage lovelies, if you're into that sort of thing.

MGM was the usual purveyor of such high-gloss glamour and boy do they deliver it in this one. It's like everything in the movie has been dipped in Shinola. In fact, I hadda watch it twice, because the first time I was so blown away I couldn't remember any of the specifics, like character names.

I have a feeling Dancing Lady will be screened again and again her at the Pop Culture Institute.
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God Finally Strikes Down Jerry Falwell

Jerry Falwell (seen here praying that all gay people and the friends and family who love them would die) was found unresponsive and unconscious at his desk this morning. Some news outlets are already reporting that he's dead.

Before he discovered gay people, Reverend Falwell supported racial segregation, and in his pithy way often referred to the "Civil Wrongs" movement. He also founded the Moral Majority, which was neither.

In keeping with our policy of hating on haters, Pop Culture Institute would like to wish this paragon of evil a nice journey in Hell. God, who could not be reached for comment, has issued no statement on why it took so long.
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E'rybody Say "Awww"!

I, for one, cannot resist a baby animal. Why would I want to?

This Canada gosling was sunning on the beach on Saturday (while I was waiting for the ferry to Nanaimo) with two siblings and Mama guarding one flank and Papa guarding the other.

Personally, I think they were all enjoying the attention.
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"Michael Tolliver Lives"

As will often happen, while researching the previous post I made a discovery so incredible I almost couldn't finish the last post because I was so excited to write this one.

June 1st, 2007, marks the US publication date of a new book by Armistead Maupin entitled - you guessed it - Michael Tolliver Lives. It's been nearly 20 years since Sure Of You completed the run of Tales of the City, and now finally comes word of the seventh book in this beloved series.

This from the publisher:

Michael Tolliver, the sweet-spirited Southerner in Armistead Maupin's classic "Tales of the City" series, is arguably one of the most widely loved characters in contemporary fiction. Now, almost twenty years after ending his groundbreaking saga of San Francisco life, Maupin revisits his all-too-human hero, letting the 55-year-old gardener tell his story in his own voice.

Having survived the plague that took so many of his friends and lovers, Michael has learned to embrace the random pleasures of life, the tender alliances that sustain him in the hardest of times. "Michael Tolliver Lives" follows its protagonist as he finds love with a younger man, attends to his dying fundamentalist mother in Florida, and finally reaffirms his allegiance to a wise octogenarian who was once his landlady.

While "Michael Tolliver Lives" is a stand alone novel, accessible to old and new readers alike, a reassuring number of familiar faces appear along the way. As usual, the author's mordant wit and ear for pitch-perfect dialogue serve every aspect of the story— from the bawdy to the bittersweet. "Michael Tolliver Lives" is a novel about the act of growing older joyfully and the everyday miracles that somehow make that possible.
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Screened: "Stella Dallas" (1937)

The reputation of the film Stella Dallas as a paragon of motherlove suffers, mainly because such a label both reduces and disguises what the film is really about.

Poor Stella Martin (Barbara Stanwyck), the daughter of a millhand and a drudge (an all-too-brief appearance by Marjorie Main), is an ambitious girl. Entranced by a story of lost love in the weekend photo supplements, she sets out to woo and wed its swain, Stephen Dallas, played by the handsome John Boles.

That she succeeds is a foregone conclusion. That she then transforms herself into a scheming social climber would be easily explained away if the birth of her daughter Laurel (later played as a teenager by Anne Shirley) didn't turn her overnight into the kind of woman whose own thwarted ambitions are sublimated onto her daughter. Stella doesn't seem to know who or what she is, which may also be part of the problem, although it is unaddressed in the film.

Much of this is the fault of the author, Olive Higgins Prouty, whose feminism is unfortunately nearly always smothered in the kind of melodrama that would suffocate a Victorian. Prouty was later to tout psychotherapy in another potboiler made into a tear-jerker (Now, Voyager), but it seems Stella Dallas could use a session or two on the couch as well.

After marrying and becoming Mrs. Stephen Dallas, then having her daughter, Stella can't seem to catch a break. She wants the swell life but doesn't like the swell people who come with it, and they decidedly don't like her. She talks of wanting to be refined, but makes no effort to do so, mainly because the man who loves her tells her not to change. Stella's friendship with Ed Munn (a blowhard played with great verve by Alan Hale) seems to play an equal part in her downfall, inasmuch as Munn seems to have a habit of putting Stella in awkward situations which Stella, for her part, can't or won't explain away.

When Stephen Dallas is shopping for Laurel's birthday present one day, long after he and Stella have separated, he meets his old flame (Helen Dane Morrison, played by Barbara O'Neil), which is bad enough. When it's shortly revealed that she's a widow this rapidly becomes as heart-breaking a scene as any in the film. Gradually, of course, Laurel is won over, and soon Stella is given the onerous task of driving her own beloved daughter away for her own good.

True, there is much in here about a mother's love and sacrifice, but the film's subliminal message seems to rail against social climbing and dating outside of one's class. Since Stella is referred to consistently as an excellent seamstress, it would seem that a truly feminist message would be that Stella should open a dress shop, and so gain her entree to so-called "polite society" in that way. Then again, despite her ability with a needle, much is made of the garish way Stella uses those talents.

If such a suggestion were made by Mrs. Prouty in the novel, it is not present in the film. In fact, I would be eager to read the book, if only because it might serve to flesh out the inner life of its heroine better than a film portrayal can hope to. Not that Stanwyck doesn't try, and in fact, this confusion over her identity may have been intentional.

I doubt anyone but Stanwyck could have played such emotions so naturally, but play them she does, and for all they're worth too. Several times she lets conflicting emotions loose across her face, and it's as much a testament to the clarity of DVD technology as it is to Stanwyck's abilities that we actually get to see them all.

In the film's famous final scene, a bedraggled Stella crowds her way to a window at the Dallas' townhouse, and there witnesses her daughter's marriage. Just to add insult to poor Stella's misery, it's pouring rain; then, for punctuation, she is given the bum's rush by a cop with a truncheon.

It's Mother's Day, so I'll go easier on the film than Mrs. Prouty was on the character. Love and sacrifice are excellent qualities in anyone, including a mother; martyrdom and the subsumation of a woman's identity for her children... Not so much. While there is much to be admired in this production (it's an excellent movie) it serves a modern audience best as a curio, rather than a model.
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RIP King Malietoa Tanumafili II of Samoa

His Highness was the oldest head of state in the world; he died Friday aged 94 in hospital in the Samoan capital, Apia. He was also the world's third longest reigning monarch, behind Bhumibol of Thailand (1946) and Elizabeth II (1952), having come to the throne in 1962.

[S O U R C E]
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BC Ferries: Cruising The Straits

Well, this is the thanks I get for going off half-cocked.

It turns out my big day trip to Nanaimo was a flop, so rather than dwell on the failure of it, I have chosen to look upon it as a) a learning experience, b) a fact-finding mission, and c) an excuse to have a lovely boat ride and take a lot of pretty pictures.

In fact, I took enough pictures to do three or four photo essays.

First, I should explain: the title isn't mine.

There is a legend (which many claim is true, which is the way it is with legends) that either in the 70s or in the 80s (legends not being known for their accuracy) BC Ferries commissioned that very slogan and either was about to or had already rolled out their ad campaign based around it, when someone explained to them what it meant.

Ever since, certain muck-raking bitches (myself proudly included), have refused to let the legend die. I would love to come into possession of some piece of proof that the story was true, and so I am making my wish upon the Internet, which has done so much for me thus far.

Maybe some day the evidence I seek will surface.



British Columbia's waters are very much working waters: the Port of Vancouver does a massive amount of the Nation's business, car and passenger ferries chug between the mainland and dozens of offshore islands (the largest of which is Vancouver Island) and fishing boats, whale-watching and other eco-tours, cruise ships, and pleasure craft make up the rest.

On this day I took the ferry from Horseshoe Bay, on the mainland, to Departure Bay in Nanaimo, which is on Vancouver Island. It sailed at 3 PM, arrived at 4:40, at which time I turned around and came back on the 5 PM, returning at 6:37 - three minutes early! It cost $11.50 to go, and $5.95 to return, plus $4.50 for bus fare there and back - $21.95 for a nice day out.



The ferries themselves can be quite large, but they are dwarfed by the sheer immensity of the Coast Mountains. The arrival and departure provide the best scenery (if you can find a spot at the rail between photographers) mainly because the boats are moving more slowly, but also because of the stretch of open water in the middle of the journey.

This is more pronounced on the southern route from Tswassen to Saanich/Victoria.

It can be furiously windy, too, as it was this day. As warm as it was on land, I was wishing I'd worn long pants once I was on the boat. Fortunately there are many places to go to warm up, and the amenities on the boats are ample.



Leaving Horseshoe Bay, the ferry gets a pretty spectacular view of Vancouver between the mainland (on the left) and Bowen Island (on the right). I was unprepared for this, as it had been 25 years since I'd last taken the trip. Also, 25 years ago, the view would not have looked quite like this. Our little city has certainly done some growing up!



Mid-water can be the most relaxing. The passage itself is a symphony of blue and grey tones at the best of times. This combined with the sea air and the gentle rocking motion is almost worth the fare itself. Since I have no time or money with which to travel, I was looking for an experience that would feel like travel, and I got it, right down to the relief at finally being home.



Approaching Nanaimo the spiny back of Vancouver Island looms up; some of these mountains are visible from Vancouver's English Bay (on very clear days). Though it is thought of as something of a backwater populated by yokels, this is a typically urban myth. Most of the people on Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands are refugees from the city.

Besides which, there are plenty of rednecks and yokels living right here in the city. I know this because, in my line of work, I either deal with them or work with them regularly.



I don't know anyone who's moved offshore, so I have no pied-a-terre on the Sunshine Coast as of yet. But some day, maybe... I keep telling myself that I'll one day rent a kayak and travel around these islands a little more intimately. I may yet do that as well.



I was surprised to see so much snow cover so late in the season. Though it's picturesque, it spells potential disaster if a heat wave hits, which has been known to happen in May. Some of the snow cover is glacial, though, in which case, I'd prefer it if it stayed right where it is.



I decided to end on a poignantly arty shot of a fishing boat sailing off into the sunset. I tweaked it a little, casting a golden hue over what was originally almost black and white. The BC fishery could use a little golden glow right now seeing as it, like all fisheries, is threatened.

I will get the trip to Nanaimo I originally planned, only next time I'll put a little more preparation into it. In the meantime I hope the pictures show that the day wasn't a total wash.
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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

In answer to alla y'all who seem to think that I was hatched, or came from spores (you know who you are), I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my mother, Penny.

In addition to being a community leader in Kelowna, serving as President of the Ladies Auxiliary of the Royal Canadian Legion there on several occasions, she is also personally involved in caring for the elderly in a palliative setting. She has always been a fervent animal welfare activist, having rescued the 10 cats which live with her, and dozens more from a thoughtless neighbour whose two became thirty or forty recently.

Though I have often cited my grandmother - her mother - as the greatest influence on my life, I would not be who I am without my mother's guidance. Her mistakes, as well as her successes, gave both my life and my ambitions their focus and drive. When I was younger I fought with her (often quite bitterly) and through it all she never once lost her cool, even though I was a real jerk. I guess I was testing her unconditional love. She passed that test, though, as that is the only way she knows how to love.

I can see now that even her mistakes were well-meaning, that I as a teenager turned her protection into smothering and her concern into censure. There were a few years there in which it was anybody's guess whether I would survive myself; I have no doubt I wouldn't have if it hadn't have been for her.

Mother's Day, then, is a very special one for me and always has been. In my heart, every day is Mother's Day.
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WTF: Purex Billboard, W. 8th & Ash

Normally, I am so inured to advertising that I can pretty well ignore it. Hell, I have to; I'm so suggestible I'll be in line at the Shopper's Drug Mart with the box of maxi-pads even before I realise what I'm doing. Nevertheless, my photographer's eye snagged on this ingenious bit of business one day recently when I was already late for work.

So out came the camera, followed by this shot, which was itself followed by several blocks of speedwalking to make up for lost time. In fact, I was so worried I'd be late for work, I could have used some Purex.

Hmm...
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Isn't It Funny?

Last week at lunch I was asking a great friend of this blog if, in his opinion, there was anything I could be posting about here that I haven't been. He said he couldn't think of anything. Personally, I think he was just being nice, because I thought of a couple things myself without hardly any effort.

The first of these: I mentioned to him that I'd often come across a birthday in my research that I was reluctant to headline as "Happy Birthday" since the person in question was dead. As I was wondering aloud how I might include them anyway I suggested posting them as "In Memoriam". Bang! An idea is born.

This was not the first time I've answered my own question; Hell, it wasn't even the first time last week.

Another thing that interests me that I don't blog about is movies, especially those from the 1930s. The post from a couple of days about "Thirty Day Princess" felt so good to write (and is just the sort of thing one might Google) that I've decided to do more of these.

A lot of blogs (such as Y|O|Y) cover new shows, and it's these posts which drive alot of traffic to their sites. Well, I'm not able to blog about new shows, due to my hectic and changeable work schedule, but I can go the other way, and chronicle the obscure, in hopes of luring those of similar taste into my clutches. Er, my, uh... Oh, let's face it, the only word that works is clutches.

Plus, if I can interest someone who isn't a fan, that'll be a bonus.

I just wanted to say thank you for Seumas, for being such a good sounding board, and Gavin as well, for obliquely giving me an idea that may yet elevate me into the next level of the blogosphere.
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