Milk That Dead Horse, Cowboy

With the release of Milk, freaky Gus Van Sant puts gay activism in the ultimate closet: the grave. ARMOND WHITE takes a closer look at how the director’s latest crossover hit-to-be references each perverse stage of his film career.

HOW DID GUS Van Sant, of all camera-wielding hipsters, come to direct Milk, this year’s official gay martyr movie? Van Sant once expressed his reluctance to be pigeonholed with the gay political movement—a bold, intransigent stance and personally justifiable considering the gap between political posturing and artistic achievement. Yet Milk, the story of San Francisco’s first openly gay politician, C...

Columns NY Life

Gut Instinct: Hello, Sweetness

Forget diamonds, JOSH BERNSTEIN knows chocolate is a girl’s best friend

THE PANIC SET in—hummingbird heart and clammy palms—as a rampaging grandma bull-rushed me aside and lunged forward, her thick fingers wrapping around a dark, jagged chunk of her drug of choice: chocolate. “This must be penance for patronizing pseudo-stripper bars,” I told my girlfriend, my eyes dinner plates of fear. Around me, sugar-crazed tots shrieked like they were reenacting Lord of the ...

Transcendent Thrill Drive

Forget the Oscar bait, Transporter 3 is the only movie you need to see this season

NOTHING IN CINEMA this week is more important than Transporter 3. It’s been a long time since a new movie has been so spiritually and aesthetically exhilarating. Producer Luc Besson, director Olivier Megaton and star Jason Statham work at the top of their imagination and abilities—not like they’re completing a formulaic sequel but reinventing the action movie genre. The chase sequence, the fight sc...

Columns Parties

Bash Compactor: Pets New Home

Penthouse magazine has moved downtown, next door to the Stock Exchange. So, on Friday night, some beleaguered Wall Street types packed into the back room of Fraunces Tavern to drown their sorrows and ogle the new neighbors. When asked his thoughts on the scene, Richard Torres—a business writer— ran his hand over his shaved head and looked at buxom blond Penthouse Pet Lexi Blade. She was wearing a minisk...

Columns Sex

Flavor of the Week: Hot, Gooey Casserole Love

As CHRIS VARMUS discovers, some things can never be reheated

Casseroles had always been our sore spot. A baked dish of pasta and protein bound together with cheese or cream of mushroom soup. When Emily and I were dating, I tried to like them. I really did. But when she started working on a cookbook about them, suddenly there was more casserole chatter than I could bear. Of course there were plenty of other factors that lead to our breakup, but the casserole continued to symbol...

Music Features

Sounds Like a Plan

Pop music advice from the mind of Mark Blankenship

Dear Mark, I’m head over heels about my neighbor. He is perfect in every way—he doesn’t even slam the door like the other folks on our floor—but I can’t seem to get him to notice me. We’ve made conversation in the hallway, had drunken stumbles home from the bar together, and he’s even come over to slay bugs, but I am having trouble taking things to the next level. What can ...


 
 
 

'Coastal' Service: Ying Li at Lohin Geduld Gallery

There is this stereotype regarding abstract expressionism where it’s forever linked to a type of broodiness, a sense of struggle and (at times) madness. One only has to think of Jackson Pollock or Vincent Van Gogh to conjure up images of the obsessed, troubled soul trying to deal with inner demons. As often as this may be the case, this is not really the rule. Ying Li’s “Coastal Paintings” makes the argument that gestural expressionism can be raw, contain an extraordinary amount of energy, be deeply moving but also have a sense of pure excitement in place of doom and darkness.

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