While I haven’t seen “Weapons” (because I’m a horror weenie), I have seen Aunt Gladys – especially around Halloween when I saw so many incarnations of her on adult women, and men, in person. Still I was a little shocked to read that the character was played by Amy Madigan. That is what I call disappearing into a character. From “Field of Dreams” to “Uncle Buck” and “Female Perversions," she has put in the work over the years. Now, the 75-year-old consummate working actress has more than earned her hit.
And she credits the LGBTQ+ community with some of Aunt Gladys’s success. She told The Hollywood Reporter:
“As you very well know, the gay community has really taken to Gladys. That’s really great — especially in this framework of the demonization of anybody other than a cis person — for the trans community. I think they really appreciate Gladys’ drag and makeup and how confident she is. So that’s a really nice cherry on top of all this.”
And she looks amazing in a suit to boot. Yeah, it’s good when good things happen good people. Remember that?
Well, well, well. Now if this isn’t something, at long last last, to live to the spring for. Did that sound dark? Just you wait, you’ll feel a whole different kind of dark once you watch this. The trailer for “Mother Mary,” the Anne Hathaway/Michaela Coel “psychosexual pop thriller” about a pop star and her estranged former fashion designer lover, is finally here. And when I say finally, I mean a more than two and a half year wait. I have to say, I was surprised and mostly in a good way. No, I wasn’t expecting the glimpses of supernatural darkness and body gore, if that indeed is what we are seeing here. But I love the over-the-top “epic pop melodrama” operaticness of these clips. And the chemistry between Anne and Michaela, well, it’s good. I’d like to see a little more good chemistry between their lips. But, you know, I guess they have to save some stuff for the movie. My only worry, well, as the trailer says – I don’t know if they’re both gonna make it. But, goodness, will I be rooting for them.
Well, I came back a little under the weather. So please accept vintage Helen Slater from “The Legend of Billie Jean” as my mea culpa for not posting earlier on this most sacred of Tank Top Tuesdays. Or, as I like to call her, the haircut, bodysuit and fingerless gloves that launched a million lesbians.
Welcome to December. We’ve almost made it out of 2025. Just three more years, eh? I wish I had many things this Christmas season – a non-racist, misogynistic, corrupt, felonious, rapist and all-around evil president would be one thing. And also the full-length version of Sarah McLachlan and Kelly Clarkson singing “River” would be another. Look, I didn’t say all the wishes were equal in priority. But, you know, while we’re wishing. Happy Monday, kittens.
I say you pick your craziest outfit, put it on with pride, and sit across from your most MAGA relative and ask them about grocery prices all Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe add a trans pin and Zohran Mamdani sticker to your ensemble for funsies. If we can’t have peace, no one can.
So I’m having a Friendsgiving and going out of town. But as always I will leave you vixens to be thankful for. Because I would never leave you high and dry on a Tuesday, kittens. I promise. K-Stew clearly knows the rules about sports bras counting as tank tops.
I will have more, a lot more, to say about the utterly lovely “Come See Me In the Good Light,” the documentary about poet Andrea Gibson’s life with their wife Megan Falley and incurable cancer. And the movie’s theme, “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet,” from Sara Bareilles and Brandi Carlile will burrow into your heart like any good poem does. And there’s a good reason for it, because it’s an unfinished love poem from Andrea to their wife. But the lyrics we see flashing over the screen, that’s Meg’s handwriting. Love truly is the reason for it all, isn’t it? Happy Monday, kittens.
What should you do when the President of the United States points his stubby little finger at a female reporter just doing her job and says, “Quiet, quiet, piggy” for all the cameras and world to see?
Yeah, you know what to do. Because fuck that motherfucker. Or, Bill fucker? So let them fly, ladies. Though which style you do it, well, that’s entirely up to you.
Whew, Thursday almost got away from me. Maybe it was because I kept puzzling over this picture, is it kinda cool or extremely cursed? Or both. All I know if lesbian Tom Cruise (Tig Notaro) and real Tom Cruise together 100% counts as a gender fuck. So, got this one in just under the wire.
Gosh do I really, really want to like “Honey Don’t!,” the second neo-noir lesbian thriller from the unconventionally married team of Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke. I really, really do. But, honey, I just don’t.
After last year’s “Drive-Away Dolls” was decidedly mid (am I using that right, youths?), I continued to hold out hope that the second installment of the lesbian noir anthology film series would be better. You know, perhaps this could be a whole learn from your mistakes scenario and make a better movie situation. Alas, that would be a no.
In their second installment, they’ve just swapped out the first movie’s known names (Matt Damon! Pedro Pascal! Beanie Feldstein!) for new known names (Aubrey Plaza! Chris Evans! Billy Eichner!) and kept Margaret Qualley as their lead/muse.
I will say, I like Qualley’s acting better in this film. She never read authentically queer to me in “Drive-Away Dolls” and that accent – yeah, don’t even get me started. So I believe her queerness a little more here, though that’s probably because Aubrey has chemistry with every female co-star ever.
Both films have tried to blend irreverent, screwball humor with edgier, rampant violence to mixed effect. “Honey Don’t!” seemingly has some things to say about patriarchal power structures and the sexual exploitation of women therein. But it can’t help blowing it all up with a “shocking” third act. [Skip the next paragraph if you don’t want to read spoilers.]
SPOILERS: … Yes, they really made Aubrey’s lesbian cop character the killer, and a pretty psychotic one at that. The final showdown scene is fairly horrific/nightmare fuel. Even their earlier bar scene (which, hello, among the straights like that?) and their hookups can’t erase those images. I’ll never look at my tea kettle the same again. /END SPOILERS
Despite my disappointment, I know I’ll end up watching whatever third installment they eventually release. Because, well, I’m a sucker and also as I’ve said I really, really want to like this lesbian noir trilogy. Fool me three times, shame on you, me and the universe I guess.
Earlier this month, when British actress Pauline Collins passed away, her obituaries noted her breakout role in “Shirley Valentine.” The role, which she originated on stage before taking to the screen, earned Pauline an Oscar nomination and Tony, Olivier and BAFTA awards. But what it really did was solidify the still-radical-in-1989 idea that middle-class housewives should be allowed to have dreams beyond domestic servitude. Yet, here we are 36 years later, and a whole genre of men (you know the type, they run our federal government now) are out there saying, out loud, that wouldn’t women just be happier if they were back in the home again? But it was true in 1989 as it is true in 2025, women contain multitudes. And if they want to fuck off to Greece at a moment’s notice, they should absolutely fuck off to Greece. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Thanks for the reminder, Shirley. Rest in power, Pauline.
I missed the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductions from a couple weekends ago. Yes, yes – I know I can probably stream it somewhere. But why go through all that effort when the algorithm keeps feeding me clips of my favorite inductee (no shade, love you too Salt-N-Pepa) this year, Cyndi Lauper, being, you know, amazing. Even in this bootleg, blurry live recording (I can't find an official full-length one), you can feel her power. Be the light. Happy Monday, kittens.
