Ryan Gosling: Frog or Rat?
21 and never been kissed, poor newsletter :(
First, let’s set the mood-
This one is for the Ramones t-shirt that’s been floating around the house for several weeks that I have finally decided to take into my possession.
What’s on your mind?
You wanna know what’s on my mind? Why do you wanna know that?
The shot of Ryan Gosling Universal just released from the set of Greta Gerwig’s Barbie movie, which is due out next summer (!). Has everyone seen the image of which I speak?
As you can see, in the image Gosling sports a sleeveless denim jacket, bleached blonde hair and a very striking tan.
Have you heard about frog or rat? It is a theory dating back to the mid-20th century, widely cited in academia… No it’s not. It’s a tiktok trend from 2020 that my sister told me about the other day. But it is valid nonetheless. Frog or rat is a theory that a group of girls came up with that everyone resembles either a frog or a rat.
So… Ryan Gosling; frog or rat?
Yes. You got it. Ryan Gosling is a big fat rat man. In terms of looks, of course. I’m sure he’s very sound and very loyal to his friends and family (I’m basing this assumption purely off the fact that he doesn’t use social media. That man is the best of us).
Anyway, let’s talk about me for a minute. I am, if you haven’t already guessed, a frog. And I’m wondering if that’s why Ryan and I aren’t meant to be? Do frogs go with frogs and rats go with rats, or is that a bit incestuous? For the sake of the human race, should frogs and rats be pairing up to diversify the gene pool and keep us all from turning into inbred, no-sweat Prince Andrew?
Don’t get me wrong, if the fate of the human race depended on it, I’m sure I could make an exception for poor wee Ryan. He’d have to keep the bleached hair though.
On the whole, I’m not a huge fan of rats. I’m different to everyone else on this planet in that way. They are gross and I don’t like them. High up on my list of worst nightmares is a sleek-haired rat coming on to the subway car I’m in, dragging a slice of pepperoni pizza with his mouth (this does happen, I saw it on the Subway Rats Instagram page once).( I have also been on the subway because, you may or may not know, I used to live in New York.) Why does the rat have to be sleek-haired? Because, isn’t a greaser so much more intimidating? He drops his pizza on the seat next to him, whips out a little comb, runs it through his hair and winks at me… I shudder at the thought.
All of this being said, frogs kind of freak me out too. The way their legs move. I’m not going to say “legs shouldn’t move like that”, because human legs are not the only legs. Legs do not just bend with a simple hinge joint at the knee. But imagine a human-sized frog with froggy legs. And imagine those legs are covered in human skin instead of whatever amphibians are covered in (stratified squamous epithelium, apparently). Yuck. Why are we imagining this? Stop it now, please.
For balance, I’ll tell you a nice frog story:
Many, many moons ago, I was staying on the Thai island of Koh Tao. Ever been? It’s a gorgeous island. White sands, blue seas, and a gentle blood orange sunset; probably the best sunset I have ever seen. There were several resorts packed in a strip along the beach, next to massage huts and nail places. Idyllic. But we had managed to book our accommodation a “quick walk” away, in the back arse of nowhere.
Rumours of a man known only as Machete Mike permeated conversations in the Fish Bowl, the club that every South Dublin person found themselves in at around 11pm every night. Supposedly, this lad went around slicing the heads off tourists, his machete glinting with the light of the moon. This didn’t really make any odds to us, on our walk up the hill along a quiet stretch of road. Machete Mike seemed only to go for male tourists, and he might’ve been doing us all a favour in thinning out some of the group we found ourselves in every single night.
Our walk was only interrupted by one sound. As we made our way up or down the road, we would hit a bend and hear their song. This happened at around midnight every night. A chorus of frogs-
(I think they were toads actually - warty skin and short, stumpy legs; legs you might see on a toddler).
A cacophony of toads, anyway. Chirping and harmonising from the storm drain as you walked along this patch of road. The moon high in the sky, Machete Mike a ways away hacking at some poor unsuspecting young lad in a New York Knicks jersey. On a holiday fuelled by Chang and something called “Lion King White Spirit”, for a moment we were at one with nature. Just for a moment. At peace. Imagine that.
Where was I?
Before the human-sized frog and the cacophony of toads? Oh, yes. Greta Gerwig’s Barbie film.
And so, let us talk about Greta Gerwig for a minute. I recently rewatched 20th Century Women (which I will talk about more in the near future) and she was wonderful as a struggling photographer in her early twenties recovering from cervical cancer. She had a small role in No Strings Attached, a wholly underrated film from the writers of New Girl. Not to be confused with Friends With Benefits, which is wholly awful, no offence to Mila Kunis.
But it’s her directing we’re here to talk about. I would go so far as to say Gerwig has brought us Saoirse Ronan’s best performance since Atonement, in the form of Lady Bird. Go on, fight with me about it. I dare you. Lady Bird also gives us Timmy Chalamet’s most insufferable performance, and Little Women contains one of his least insufferable performances. The range!
Like anyone, Greta is flawed. She is married to Noah Baumbach, who directed Marriage Story AKA (500) Days of Summer for big boys. I like both films, in actuality, but I also like being a dick. Speaking of (500) Days, and therefore Zooey Deschanel, I haven’t stopped thinking of this New Girl clip since seeing Elvis on Friday.
Which brings me to our next order of business:
Movies, books, TV
Elvis
This is a cinema experience, if nothing else. Baz Luhrmann doing what Baz Lurhmann does Baz Lurhmann best.
The story is flattened by the weight of dazzling sequences, elaborate costumes and the worst performance of Tom Hanks career. I’m talking Jared Leto in House of Gucci (see here for reference, if you wish. I won’t be watching any of that nonsense again though).
But why was it from the perspective of Colonel Tom Parker at all? The moments when Elvis is out in the world alone are by far the most interesting. His music isn’t given half enough attention, nor are the boundaries he broke.
Right, I’m off to watch Walk the Line.
Good Luck to you, Leo Grande
Oh, this is a gorgeous film. Daryl McCormack is a gorgeous man. And Emma Thompson, my queen whom I would die for? Gorgeous.
None of This Is Serious by Catherine Prasifka
My buke club buke this month. I wish I could say more, but you know the rules, so I’ll leave it at this: I really enjoyed reading None of This Is Serious. The science fiction elements just…
No.
Sorry.
I’ve said too much already.
The Summer I Turned Pretty
Watched this to laugh at it and it made me cry, so I guess the joke is on me.
The Summer I Turned Pretty, from To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before writer Jenny Han, is pure fun. It had me giving out to the screen like I was watching Love Island. Buoyed by Lola Tung’s excellent debut performance, she’s definitely a gal I’ll be keeping an eye out for in the future.
Unlike most of the shows I recommend, The Summer I Turned Pretty is easily accessible on Amazon Prime. If you have morals and don’t give Jeff Bezos your money I’ll give you my mam’s password so you can watch it.
Tweets
With the overturning of Roe vs Wade, Twitter is not a beacon of joy this weekend. Which is a real departure from how it usually is. I’ve tried my best all the same.
And if anyone sees a stray Olivia Rodrigo ticket please sneak up and capture it and send it to the ticket pound (me).