PUMP UP D'ANGELO

Rip It Up, Issue 180, 1 July 1992, Page 32

PUMP UP D'ANGELO

What sort of fashion victim are you? In order to decide you just have to state whether you think the 50s are back in fashion, or the 60s, or the 70s. I won't tell you which answer is correct, but if you said "the 80s!" you're not only wrong, but a complete dickhead.

Aside from the fashion angle, I thought this was the 90s and we were all wiser, caring,

and more understanding individuals. Not so, as I found out to my peril this month. You would not believe the funny looks I got as I did the rounds of chemists, pharmacies, and supermarkets in search of adultsize Pampers. It seems no-one had them in my size — and with cruel leers, stares and jeers I was referred to some K Road B&D outfit whom I was assured catered for my peculiar tastes. Peculiar tastes nothing! I have no desire to dress in a giant nappy, sit in a high chair and drink milk from a Tommy Tippy. It's just that Auckland now has a new, full-on, hardcore, daddy-mack, livin' large, Urban Radio Station and every time I hear it I wet my pants! What's a boy to do when he can hear wall-to-wall funk, rap, and hip hip pop 24 hours a day? 88.6 Mai FM is proof positive that there is a god. It's Hip Hop Heaven (except when they inexplicably play the Cure). With my obvious credentials and huge following in the rap community I immediately offered my services to the station. Unfortunately for my WASP ego Te Pakeha didn't qualify as a recognised tribe and 1 was kindly thanked for my offer, given a bumper sticker and gen-

fly shown the door. A personal blow, but life goes on, as Auckland's 91FM have discovered. Being the hip sort of guy that I am, I get to go to all the private screenings of the hippest films years before they get released. Last Easter I saw Batman Returns, but y'all have to

wait till August to get your chance. One film I did see with Joe Public was Basic Instinct. Sick

of all that wine and cheese I get at the private screenings I had a craving for cold buttered popcorn and flat cola so I chose to slum it with you lot. Aside from sitting in cramped seats surrounded by people that smelt, it really was quite a nostalgic experience. I'd forgotten what impact this sort of film has on middle New Zealand. I really wasn't expecting you all to reel in horror when Sharon Stone kisses her female co-star. Have you never seen a lesbian before? If god hadn't wanted them to have a sex life he wouldn't have given them lips would he? Considering that the most common male fantasy is to watch two women having sex (or join them!) I was genuinely surprised at the response to that scene. I was also surprised when the audience gasped as Sharon Stone re-crossed her legs to reveal shock-horror! that she was a natural blonde. It wasn't as if the director hadn't telegraphed in the previous scene that she was sans-nickeurs. You know it's coming.

This is perhaps the kick that director Paul Verhoeven is on. He uses sex in the same way he used action in his previous films (Robocop and Total Recall) to

divert your attention from what is going on. If you're busy being shocked at the sex scenes you won't

have time to think. Is Stone the killer or not? The answer is obvious, but Verhoeven clouds your thinking by throwing in all these other images. Some members of the Gay and Lesbian Community in the US chose to protest the film for its portrayal of lesbians as psy-

chopathic killers. This presupposes that cinema does in fact portray all its characters realis-

tically. If we can be entertained by a flesh-eating serial killer in Silence of the Lambs, then we

can be entertained by an ice pickin' blonde bisexual in Basic Instinct.

And entertaining the film is. Despite being a thriller, some of the lines and situations had the audience laughing out loud. Particularly funny to watch was the impact that Stone's character has on all the men in the film. Verhoeven shows that all men are dogs and Stone has them on her leash. As she says to her co-star Michael Douglas in the film: "You think I'm going to confess just because I've had an orgasm?" Of course he does — like all men he thinks he can control a woman by dispensing sexual pleasure. God knows that's how I do it. I had to beat them back with a stick (metaphorically) at a party last weekend. And there were some pretty sexy people there too. Despite my growing penchant for younger women, my attention was fixed on Belinda Todd and her man. Watching those two dance was almost as exciting as watching Fenella Bathfield leaning over the prize barrel on The Bugs Bunny Show. Don't get me wrong, they weren't doing anything rude, it's just that they were Cool As Fuck. Being CAF myself I appreci-

ate that in other people. Watching Shortland Street is CAF, because everyone else is dissing it. Sure, it's absolute crap, but at least it's local and the accents are ours. Nothing pisses me off more right now than Kentucky Fried Chicken and its "I like it like that" Listening to those god-awful Australian accents trying to sell me "Cheeckin" drives me to McDonald's. You'd think with all the money KFC spends on TV advertising they could afford a NZ voice over. And while we're on the subject of teevee, who gives a toss if the All Blacks vs Springboks is going to be on Sky? How on earth the free-market user-pays National Government can even contemplate bringing in special legislation to ensure the games are screened on State TV I don't know. I reckon it's all just a big scam to force NZ On Air to fund sporting coverage for games "of national importance". Excuse me while I rush to pay my Broadcasting Fee, I don't think.

Actually we're drifting off the subject, which is Dyke Action Videos. One was taken recently at the Unicafe for the Lesbian Ball and should turn up in edited form on our TV screens. I am presently trying to gain a copy of the out-takes as I hear rather a fun time was had by all. I didn't get to see as I was thrown out before the head polishing began. It was my mistake for turning up in dungarees and hairy armpits which I thought was de riguer for lesbians. Sadly, I had been sucked in by the popular stereotype. Who would have expected to get sprung for looking too masculine at a Lesbian Ball? Aside from the standard (but beautiful) cocktail dresses, the more adventurous turned up as Japanese Geisha girls, Southern Belles, Leather Dominatrix, PVC Bondage sexkittens — and among them all I stuck out like, well, like a man in room full of lesbians.

NICK D'ANGELO