Sociopolitical Drama: Lior Ashkenazi, Walk On Water
Who is Lior Ashkenazi? I have no idea. What I do know is that finally getting around to watching American-born Israeli director Eytan Fox’s 2004 Walk On Water, starring the incredible Israeli hunk Ashkenazi as a Mossad agent who finds himself intertwined in the lives of the grandson and granddaughter of a fugitive Nazi he’s assigned to capture, I realized I haven’t wanted to lay a movie star this bad since I first laid eyes on Daniel Craig’s 007. The sturdy-bodied, raven-haired Marlboro Man with magnetic eyes and a chin both chiseled and Travolta dimpled is so mesmerizing I can’t get his image out of my head – like a catchy techno tune stuck on endless repeat. The film itself is a fascinating character study for the first hour – until the characters leave the Holy Land for Berlin, wherein the plot descends into ludicrous soap opera melodrama complete with Deutsche drag queens and Jean-Claude Van Damme damage (and Bruce
Springsteen’s annoying “Tunnel of Love” stuck on endless repeat). But none of this really matters because it’s also got – Lior Ashkenazi! (And just to make me more hot and bothered he even gets naked, the camera caressing his hirsute chest – before he soaps up another man. And the character is straight. Continue reading while I take a cold shower.)
Suspense Thriller: Said Taghmaoui, Traitor
I recently endured Jeffrey Nachmanoff’s international espionage yawner Traitor (my review at The House Next Door is titled Jihad for Dummies – ‘nuff said) only because it stars Don Cheadle as a devout Muslim/former U.S. soldier/possible terrorist pursued by Guy Pearce’s southern fried FBI man – and my friend Judy talked me into going because she wants to bed Guy Pearce. (Personally I’ll take Russell Crowe’s L.A. Confidential thug over Pearce’s clean-cut good cops any day, but that’s another column.)
Fortunately, the one saving grace of this renegade mess comes in the form of Said Taghmaoui (who made his debut in Mathieu Kassovitz’s La Haine) as Cheadle’s character Samir’s baddie pal Omar (or more accurately, “Oh my” every time I think of those sexy flexed biceps as he grips his gun!) No matter that Omar’s also a religious man, for when I initially caught sight of those dark penetrating eyes set off by a skullcap as he toys with Samir upon their first meeting I fell into immediate lust. During the shoot and bomb jailbreak scene I even not so piously prayed for Omar’s Middle Eastern garments to shred, to fall from him Incredible Hulk style as he emerges without a scratch. (Alas, my prayers fell on Nachmanoff’s tone-deaf ears.) There hasn’t been an Arab actor this Casanova dreamy since Omar Sharif. And speaking of Omar Sharif…
Historical Epic: Klaus Kinski, Doctor Zhivago
O.K., so Kinski only has a cameo as a (what else?) wild disillusioned radical in David Lean’s sweeping take on Boris Pasternak’s Russian Revolution-set novel (screening September 24th as part of the director’s retro at NYC’s Film Forum), but because we’re talking Kinski – a man who doesn’t just chew scenery, but devours it whole like a snake swallowing a rat – his animal passion steals a giant chunk of the show. The first time I saw Doctor Zhivago it took me a moment to realize the ice-eyed and hot-blooded, nonsensical madman was indeed Kinski. No, my very first thought was, “That crazy person would make one hell of a lay!”
The man couldn’t help it. Kinski was an actor who, onscreen (metaphorically) and off-screen (literally) couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, was always showing it off, swinging it around (and oftentimes using it for pissing matches with Herzog). Kinski was one of those rare stars with a sexuality that both infused and dwarfed that of the characters he played. And since I’m on the subject of larger-than-life dudes…
Documentary: The Rock, Operation Filmmaker
So I’ll admit it, the only reason I requested a screener of Operation Filmmaker, Nina Davenport’s painfully P.C. doc following an Iraqi student filmmaker plucked from Baghdad and thrown into the vapid world of Hollywood, is because Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was listed in the credits. Like with Daniel Craig, I’ll get my rocks off to anything with The Rock in it. Or, more precisely, I’ll fast-forward through anything with The Rock in it just to get to the rare scene in which he might show some flesh. And by the way, the African-American/Samoan hunk stalked the ring half-naked and steroid-enhanced, baby-oiled muscles bulging during his wrestling days, and now I’m lucky to catch a glimpse of forearm. What’s up with that? But then, some men ain’t afraid to show some leg.
Road Movie: Terence Stamp, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
Yup, Terence Stamp, like Mastroianni, is a hottie for the ages. Even under all that fab makeup and frou-frou frocks in Stephan Elliott’s drag chick flick, those lusty eyes and Frankenfurter bisexual appetite scream “hardcore perv!” I didn’t buy for one minute that Stamp’s Bernadette Bassenger was the proper good girl on a busload of badass trannies. I kept thinking of Teorema, expecting Stamp to use that entrancing gaze and cat-like prowl that could never be muted to seduce every man, woman and dingo that got in the way of oncoming Priscilla. Pasolini knew instinctively that Stamp has a sexuality that is equal parts sinner and saint – a truly unique and intoxicating combination that transcends both time and screen.
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SpoutBlog » Karina Longworth