Wonderland Burlesque's Adore & Deplore Quiz - Winter Edition, Part I

Wonderland Burlesque's

Adore & Deplore Quiz

Winter Edition, Part I

This is quite simple: five topics: what do you currently adore / deplore?

Today's focus is all about various media. 

Now, keep in mind, this isn't about all-time faves and flops. Focus on the last six months. Think: recent views, listens, reads, etc.  They don't have to be recent releases, simply whatever it is your eyes, ears and mind happen to glom onto since late spring.

There's only five topics. Explain your choices, if you wish. 

Let's dive in!

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Music

Adore:

Chill In: India II - Various Artists

Compiled by Alejandro Seoane, a musician from Argentine, who specializes in putting together culturally-specific compilation albums, this one is a feast for the ears. 

I have never been much of a fan of Eastern Indian music, but this collection grabbed me by both ears and held on for most of the summer. I just happened to find it in a dollar store bin.

I adore all the female vocalists. Lila Liu's The Love Supreme is everything I could hope for. Orleya's I'm Waiting for Love (Original Version), likewise. While Dew's Please Say Good-bye is positively lovely. Very sensual. Very exotic. Seonane changes up the sound just enough to keep things interesting, as if cleansing the pallet before every new deep dish is served. 

I would love to host a make-out session and use this as the soundtrack.

Deplore:
Voyage - ABBA

Deplore is rather harsh, it's more a case of being 'disappointed.'

Those of you expecting another Waterloo or Name of The Game or Knowing You, Knowing Me?

Don't hold your breath.

My expectations (along with billions of other people's) ran rather high when I learned that this release was finally going to happen. I really should have thought it through.

They're grandparents. 

The last time they got together and released anything new was 1981! Now, I must say, that 1981 release is my favorite album of theirs. The song, The Visitor, for example, seemed to indicate a new era for the group. The songwriting had actually grown leaps and bounds, so I was thinking... what's next? But that was not to be. They split up. 

Radio silence for decades with lots of rumors circulating about a possible reunion. And then, just when we'd all given up hope, this arrives.

At first listen, I was crushed. They seem focused on recreating a lot of their lesser songs, with all the stodgy musical clichés intact, topped off with some truly cringe-inducing lyrics. They're all too old and too rich to be this naïve. But, further listens have revealed that this album was most likely not intended to reestablish themselves as worldwide hitmakers or for anyone other than the country they call home, Sweden. It's a valentine of sorts to tide over their fellow countrymen during these perilous times.

Okay, perhaps their UK audience was kept in mind as well. That might help explain When You Danced With Me which, with its quaint Sottish/Irish leanings, sounds as if it could have served as the theme song for Jam And Jerusalem. 

The songwriting is all over the place. They resurrect a leftover from 1978 (Just A Notion), sprinkle in Chess-like nuggets (Ode To Freedom, I Still Have Faith In You), and attempt to provide insights into domestic situations (I Can Be That Women, Keep An Eye On Dan.) What's puzzling is, none of it works well next to one another and one can't help but wonder why they didn't have something more intersting to write about. 

Fighting the lethargy, there are a trio of pop songs that bring to mind the ABBA of old (No Doubt About It, Don't Shut Me Down, Just A Notion), while Little Things harkens back to the treacly pleasures of Like An Angel Passing Through My Room. There's also a bit of urgency to be found in the form of the curious Keep An Eye On Dan, a saga whose story escapes me. I mean, get it - she drops of the kid, the kid reminds her of her ex... so? What? I don't understand it's purpose. 

The songs range from mawkish (I Still Have Faith In You, Little Things) and naïve (Bumblebee)  to tepid, but effective, ear candy (No Doubt About It, Don't Shut Me Down), with the worst of the bunch (I Can Be That Women) landing squarely in the what-were-they-thinking? pile (a truly terrible idea, terribly executed with excruciating lyrics). I think The Boyfriend put it best when, upon first listen, was heard to say, "It's like eating mac n cheese and finding chunks of wood in it." Disconcerting, to say the least.

Adhering to the old tradition of a solid ten tracks, as in the halcyon days of vinyl, at first glance, the album appears truncated - something that by the time you've listened to the whole thing, you come to appreciate.

Still, even if their voices show a bit of age, it is ABBA and you will find a number of the songs sticking in your head. I also have a feeling, as we approach the holiday season, that Little Things will end up being added to the rotation of LOVE 104's annual month of Xmas songs. 

Well, with all that said, put it in perspective, dears.

If one imagines a group of grandparents getting together and recording a pop album? It certainly could have been worse. 

Or so I imagine.

Movies

Adore:

Cruella

I finally got to see this Halloween weekend. It was streaming on Prime for only $2.99. I can't tell you how much fun I had watching it. It mixed a whole bunch of my favorite things together: epic storytelling with a twist, a nod to the punk fashions of Vivienne Westwood, and plenty of old-fashioned movie magic and mayhem. 

Emma Stone acquits herself quite nicely in the titular role, with the rest of the cast doing a bang up job of the rest of it. As Disney backstories go, this one is given a complex, psychological reading which pays big dividends. As prescient and distasteful as the notion is, only the briefest of allusions are made to the idea of a coat being made of Dalmatian skins - which is a good thing because that would have been a deal breaker for me. 

Colorful and quite mad, this is one film I think might bear repeated viewings. 

Deplore:
Halloween Kills

Oh, my. This MAGA-era piece of crap limped its way to the screen on Halloween. The Boyfriend  signed up for a trial subscription to the NBCUniversal's streaming service, Peacock (terrible reception - it stalled out over a dozen times), which, upon watching this monstrosity, was canceled promptly. 

It's all sorts of wrong from frame one.

Picking up where the re-reboot (2018's rather stellar Halloween) left off, Jamie Lee Curtis is inexplicably thrown into a hospital bed for the bulk of the film. Why you would bother to hire Jamie Lee Curtis and do this to her is anybody's guess, which also much sums up the state of the average viewer's mind as they witness this film unfolding before their eyes like some tribute to the accomplishments of the orange ogre's time in office. 

Yes - this is one for the MAGAts. I was aghast, but that appears to be the target audience, with it's constant cries in favor of mob rules vigilantism, rampant sexism and racism. Poor Omar Dorsey is given little more to do than stand around with his mouth agape - not at the atrocities being committed by Michael Meyer, but by those being done by his fellow citizens.

Tired sloganism and brutish actions abound, as, at one point, we're treated to a modern retelling of The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, all the while, franchise favorite Michal Myers continues to bemuse us with his tired, nothing-can-stop-him antics. Yes, he's a Weeble - he wobbles, but won't stay down. 

The dialogue is terrible. The acting? Horrible. The plot? Unimaginable in the worst of ways. Characters lack motivation. Monologues that make the baby jeebus cry unfold without rhyme or reason. This is a failure on every level possible. And the violence is so unnecessarily graphic, it makes you wonder what kind of creep was getting off on this in the editing booth.

Do yourself a favor - if you have any fond feelings for either the original movie or 2018's re-reboot? Avoid this one like the plague. For, like the plague, it will destroy parts of your mind and body, until you lose all will to live.

Television/Cable

Adore:

Call The Midwife

We're in season three (which is not very good), and it's quickly becoming a bit of a parody of itself, but season one is dynamite in a bottle. The acting is quite good (bravo, Miranda Hart), it's very, very BBC, and each episode had me in tears (which quickly dried up sometime during season two.) 

Based on Jennifer Worth's memoir of the same name, Call The Midwife is historical (although the poverty presented is quite fantastical) and dramatically electric. I'd resisted watching it, even though my youngest sister kept pestering me to watch it. During a recent cat-sitting week at her home, I finally relented and am damn glad I did. 

While I very much doubt the remaining seasons hold out any hope of returning to the brisk heights of season one, I do plan on watching all seven seasons. After all, I am a completist and remain intrigued by the dramatic arc of several of young nurses, stories I'm most eager to see to completion. 

Deplore:
Big Mouth Season 5 - The Christmas Special

What the hell? 

What a wretched little cash grab is this!

I adored this groundbreaking animated series. I have no idea who the intended audience is (is this sex education for tweens?) and while the humor frequently borders on cringe territory, you actually develop an affinity for this band of middle school freaks. Sadly, the overall quality has been tapering off ever so slightly since season two, taking a deep dip with Season 5. The worst of the bunch? The Christmas Special. It is god awful.

Not one laugh. Nada. 

Hosted and buffeted by a pair of  puppet-ed Hormone Monsters, each animated segment hits the pavement hard with a deafening thud. All the skits are so bad, I won't even bother telling you about them. 

Distasteful, this is an unnecessary and ill-logical addition to the series' canon. When it appears as a standalone DVD at your local big box? 

Do the world a favor.

Take a flamethower to the whole lot.

Books

Adore:

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine - Gail Honeyman

Perhaps I have Miranda Hart on the brain. I sort of adored her sitcom, save for the forced, unnatural romance and subsequent 'specials.' It possessed a sort of hard-to-pinpoint charm and Hart, of course, is a totally winning and refreshing personality. (Though I must warn you, do not read her book about her dog, as it overstays its welcome and will have you questioning exactly what sort of garbage publishers foist on the unsuspecting public these days.)

As I read this book, I could think of no one else but Hart in the role of heroine Elanor Oliphant, for this novel is as curious as is the source of Hart's charisma. 

Hinting at a tragic past, the reader witnesses Eleanor's transformation from socially-autistic slug bug to most capable in the room with ease, thanks to Honeyman's deft, kindly way with words. Yes, there's an odd romance thrown in - but it's rather believable, acting as an unpronounced catalyst, aiding and abetting Eleanor during her journey. 

If you like light character studies and nontraditional rom-coms (ones where all the people do not look or act like they're in a Hallmark Movie), then I recommend this book as a great diversion. Take it on your next holiday and devour it. It's a fast read and one that's well-worth your time.   

Deplore:

For Love - Sue Miller

Sue Miller is one of my favorite authors. 

Or, at least she was. 

During the past two years, as I have become more and more aware of the role privilege plays in people's lives, it has soured me on a number of modern literary assumptions. Long before this latest movement, I lamented and despised  how, on television and in the movies, everyone always seemed to have the perfect apartment (although how they afforded them, I have no idea), perfect jobs, perfect hair, etc. Not only did I find it boring, the lack of reality felt troublesome. What were the writers and designers trying to tell me, the average viewer? Well, now, this jaundiced eye has fallen on the literary world, with Miller being its first victim. 

To those of you who think 'woke-ism' is a terrible thing and a knee jerk liberal reaction? Well, fuck that noise. It's a movement - one that's as important as BLM, #MeToo, and Critical Race Theory - all good things! It's about self-awareness, accountability and personal growth - none of which is a bad thing (though something I suspect those who take issue with the movement are quite lacking.) 

FYI: Evolving as a human being? GOOD. 

Privilege has always been... I've simply never questioned it or it's role in my life. Now I do, and I find its appearance in the media presumptive and off-putting, especially when those who are so-privileged have the audacity to whine. Which brings us back to Miller and this book.

It seems that other than her first novel, The Good Mother, Ms. Miller has been trafficking a brand of east coast elitism, albeit offset with a bit of quirkiness, all along. It reaches fever dream levels in For Love. 

Not only did I find every single character heartless and unlikable, I also grew to loathe their (Miller's) intellectual autopsies regarding what it means to love another human being. At times, it felt tedious and ridiculous. Ridiculous because... you can't intellectualize love. Love is a living, breathing thing.

Granted, I was under the mistaken impression that this was her latest work. It is not. It's actually from 1993, and, somehow, I had missed reading it. I've read all of her other works. - which I enjoyed. This one had me wanting to throw it across the room. 

The writing is not bad, by any means. It's totally up to her usual high standards. But the tone is so presumptuous, it eventually suffocates the novel as a whole, leaving the reader wondering why she bothered. There's no joy to be found. No relevant epiphany, save the sort of bloodless realizations the main character, the anemic, academic Lottie seems to endlessly bring to the fore.

This book made me angry. And not the good kind of anger. This anger? It's as inert and futile as every single character populating this work. 

Bah! 

Blogs/Pod-Casts/Sites/Feeds/Websites

Adore:

Jamendo Music

Of course, I love my blog family (see those listed to the right.) I really couldn't choose one of you over the other and I do my best to comment on your posts on a daily basis (although I am frequently quite tardy to the party.) Forgive. Life gets in the way.

So rather than single out any of our knowns, I thought I'd share one of the internet's best kept secrets.

  am going to call out Jamendo Music.

I've been enjoying this site for a long time, downloading and ripping CDs for my car - hours and hours of free music, given generously by this site and its artists. It is a treasure trove of unheard wonders.

Simply search for Seth Power and you will discover the caliber of artist to be found. That we never hear any of this music on the radio demonstrates the stranglehold the old model of the music industry still has on our airwaves. These 'super stations?' Not so super. And somethings got to change. Remember when individual deejays got to chose the records they'd spin? There really should be a radio station sharing these fresh voices.

The site is easy to navigate and there is music to suit every taste. If you've grown tired of EDM-influenced pop that all sounds alike or whatever the current flavor is - hit this site to expand your musical boundaries. It's great fun and a testament to just how much unsigned talent is out there in the universe. 

Deplore:

XHamster, PornHub

These should be renamed: Time Waster and Rabbit Hole. 

I despise how one takes the time to indicate one's viewing preference (straight, bi, gay) and yet still must endure ads and suggestions for content that has nothing to do with said preference. I don't want to see vagina. I made it very clear that I am looking for man on man stuff. So spare me the sight of all those hard-looking fake titties and abused clitties.

Then there's the matter of the search engines which are totally useless, never truly cluing in on what it is that you're looking for. Why is it so difficult to stay on point? I distinctly entered 'outdoor gay bukkake gang-bang,' so why am I looking at two gym bunnies going through the motions?

I turn to these sites when in need of a little visual stimulation. And it never fails: the fifteen minutes I've allotted myself for self-pleasure, inevitably drags its way into well over an hour and a half. 

Yes, it's free. But when you factor in the frustration and loss of time and sleep? 

No. Not free, at all, I'm afraid. 

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Well, that's all for today.

Your turn. Adore? Deplore? What's on your current list? 

Leave your answers in the comments section. You know I love to hear from you. 

And the wonderful thing about opinions? There are no wrong answers. It's all a matter of personal choice as filtered through our own very unique vision.

Until next time...

Thanks for reading... and sharing.

Don't Shut Me Down - ABBA

I'm Waiting For Love - Orleya