MRNY – The New Yorker Festival

Every now and again, mere mortals are allowed to be in the presence of super-humans. The annual New Yorker Festival has taken place in New York this weekend. It’s basically like a live version of the magazine: interviews and panels with creative types – actors, musicians, artists, chefs. Tickets to the coveted Morning at the Frick event always seem to elude me, but I managed to snag a ticket to a panel that included none other than Laura Dern, Jeremy Irons, William H. Macy, and Edie Falco. Amazing, all, but it’s Ms. Dern and Mr. Irons that make my heart skip major beats. Every time the moderator directed a question at Irons, he looked surprised, as if hearing for the first time ever, and would slowly turn to look in that direction and respond in some terribly clever, terribly British, faux grouchy way. In fact, they were all quite deadpan and comical up there – I started fantasizing that they would end the event with a fun round of improv comedy, but of course it all ended very respectably.
Laura Dern: “There are a lot of damaged people out there” (on reality shows, and American Idol in particular).
William H. Macey: “Sometimes the climax comes at the wrong time” (on story progression).
Jeremy Irons: “You can’t even look a woman in the eyes!” (on the extreme PC-ness of American culture).
My love of Laura Dern arose out of my love for David Lynch, but quickly became a love of Dern herself. She seems a favorite of his, appearing in three of his films, my favorite being Wild at Heart. The story of Sailor and Lula, star crossed lovers, on the run from the law and Lula’s crazy mother. Swoon! Doesn’t hurt that Isabella Rosellini and Willem Dafoe are in it too. No, not at all (though you won’t see a pic of Dafoe here – in the film he’s a total sleaze ball with gnarly grimy teeth and I don’t want his likeness sullying my post full of beautiful people).
Isabella Rossellini as Perdita Durango, wearing a crazy blonde wig, one dagger earring, killer gaze, dirty fingernails, the best fuchsia lipstick, and super awesome one sleeved top with cut-out sleeve and attached fingerless glove.
Lynch’s films aren’t always (or, really, ever) easy to follow, but they’re unquestionably a visual pleasure. Dern looks amazing in this film – if she’s not lounging around in a sleazy motel in a negligée, she’s out at a gas station or a bar… in a negligée. Or occasionally, a dress so skintight it’s a wonder she could breathe. She’s got this pin-up girl biker chick vibe (not surprising given Lynch’s apparent penchant for all things rockabilly), with her pouty red lips and luscious curly blonde hair and did I mention the lounging around in negligées (and red pumps)?
She classes it up a bit at the end with an only slightly revealing polka dot halter dress, but never loses that pin-up look. I may or may not have a remarkably similar dress in my wardrobe, as inspired by Lula. There’s also a chance I have a drawer full of variously patterned fishnet stockings – for all the lounging in negligées and fleeing that I do.
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