Pandrogyny. That is the real subject of Marie Losier’s documentary about eccentric couple Genesis P-Orridge and Lady Jaye Breyer. What is pandrogyny, you (presumably) ask? Well, I suppose you might say it’s androgyny meets total obsession with another person. Although The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye covers the highlights of Genesis P-Orridge’s career as the trailblazer of industrial music via the formation of Throbbing Gristle, followed by the more ethereal project, Psychic TV (which P-Orridge started with Peter Christopherson in 1982), the film is really a testament to one of the rarest, most all-consuming loves to hit the screen in decades.

Promotional poster for The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye

If imitation is, in fact, the sincerest form of flattery, then Genesis P-Orridge flattered Lady Jaye more than any human being possibly could have. Believing that the purest manifestation of love is to become quite literally the same person, P-Orridge underwent major reconstructive surgery that included both breast implants and facial alterations to mirror Lady Jaye as closely as possible.

Starting to think this is where Pedro Almodovar's true inspiration for The Skin I Live In came from.

With the occasional random smattering of avant-garde imagery (P-Orridge making over the top expressions as bird sounds play at the beginning of the film, for instance), Losier approaches the story of P-Orridge and Lady Jaye with a uniqueness that could only suit this particular couple. P-Orridge’s reminiscences about meeting Lady Jaye for the first time are incredibly heartfelt, in spite of the fact that their initial meeting place was in a dominatrix dungeon (Lady Jaye paid for most of her luxuries that way during the 80s while living in Alphabet City). The genderless guru also finds time to reflect on the profundity of an early record s/he put out with the disclaimer: “We have nothing to say, but we’re saying it anyway.”

P-Orridge commemorates the love of his life in many ways, including this tattoo.

This tongue in cheek warning, however, does not mirror the message of The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye, a documentary that seems to impress upon its viewer an unlikely dichotomy when it comes to relationships: One can be both self-obsessed and obsessed with another–the catch being that you are basically the same person. The idea of modifying their bodies was ultimately a substitute for having a child in that the two of them were essentially creating another person by melding into one: A hybrid of themselves called Breyer P-Orridge.

Together forever.

One of Lady Jaye’s most vehement wishes for what has been dubbed the Pandrogyne Project was to be remembered as “one of history’s great love stories.” While, at this moment in time, their love story might be underrated and viewed as a novelty rather than genuine, I think time will favor their romance rather well. After all, what other couple has sacrificed its bodies so freely in the name of love?

It isn’t really a secret that once a couple, married or otherwise, starts to have kids, there is an inevitable lapse in any sort of romantic inclination felt toward one another. Everything begins to feel like one endless, sleep-deprived nightmare. And then, after eighteen years, you can maybe think about returning to some semblance of what you had with your significant other. Jennifer Westfeldt’s directorial debut, Friends With Kids, explores this very conundrum in a semi-original manner that somewhat bears a resemblance to Nicholas Hytner’s 1998 film, The Object of My Affection (which I find myself referencing rather frequently lately; who knew a Jennifer Aniston vehicle could set so many precedents?).

Adam Scott and Jennifer Westfeldt star as Jason Fryman and Julie Keller.

A group of friends living the proverbial dream in Manhattan consists of Missy (Kristen Wiig) and Ben (Jon Hamm, Westfeldt’s boo since 1997), Leslie (Maya Rudolph) and Alex (Chris O’Dowd), and Jason (Scott) and Julie (Westfeldt). Jason and Julie are the only two who aren’t a couple, though they have known each other for years and live in the same apartment building. Opening with the six of them meeting at a restaurant, Missy and Ben are so consumed with each other that they have to have sex in the bathroom before rejoining their friends at the table, while Leslie and Alex are at the point in their marriage where Leslie has finally gotten pregnant–a fact she announces to the others after Jason and Julie finish chastising another patron of the restaurant under their breaths for bringing a toddler. Leslie assures them that nothing will change. Cut to: Four years later.

Missy (Wiig) and Ben (Hamm) before their kid bomb.

Leslie and Alex now live in Brooklyn, a fact that Jason and Julie absolutely scorn as they take a cab ride there that tops out in the forty dollar range. Jason chirps, “Brooklyn is the new Manhattan,” causing Julie to counter, “Manhattan is the new Manhattan.” Upon arriving at Leslie and Alex’s, who Jason and Julie haven’t seen in months, chaos erupts as their son tornadoes throughout the apartment. Leslie has no qualms about expressing her irritation with Alex’s overall laziness/apathy as she struggles to prepare dinner in honor of Jason’s birthday. Missy and Ben arrive late with a fussy infant of their own, leaving Jason and Julie to stare in awe at both couples over the dinner table as they realize how much their friends have changed in the wake of having children.

Promotional poster for Friends With Kids

Faced with the painful reality that she will end up loving her own child more than the man she would marry, Julie proposes an unorthodox idea to Jason: Have a child together so that it doesn’t tear apart their nonexistent marriage and then both of them will still be able to find true love with someone else. What could go wrong?

Friends With Kids cast

One of the two’s (I won’t say which, but I’m sure you can guess it’s the person with the ovaries) emotions gets more involved than anticipated, leading to complications with their respective relationships with other people–Jason is dating a dancer named Mary Jane (Megan Fox, in a predictably vacant role), while Julie is deeply committed to a divorcé named Kurt (King of the Lackluster Indies, Edward Burns). When the film finally does draw to a close, you find yourself feeling that the message of the story trumped the actual story. But, on the plus side, Adam Scott has really honed his acting skills and you can just pretend Jon Hamm is Don Draper like you always do.

Tilda Swinton is no stranger to the dramatic film category, but, with We Need to Talk About Kevin, the renowned Scottish actress portrays the extremely singular experience of being the mother of a child responsible for the massacre of his high school peers. Told through the device of flashbacks that are occasionally choppy (but always make sense), the audience is able to feel and grieve as the character of Eva Katchadourian.

A creepy promotional poster for We Need to Talk About Kevin

The film, adapted from Lionel Shriver’s award-winning 2003 novel, has the enunciated stoicism and style of writer-director Lynne Ramsay (also a Scot like Swinton), whose first major movie, Ratcatcher, gained favor and recognition at the Cannes Film Festival and the Edinburgh International Film Festival in 1999.

The oh so sinister Kevin (Ezra Miller).

It is clear from the outset of Kevin’s birth that Eva is resentful toward him for compromising her career as a successful travel agent living in New York. So perceptive to her uncertain regard for him, his response to being told he’ll get used to having another sibling is, “Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean you like it. You’re used to me.” Fearful of Kevin’s actions, she allows him to manipulate her and everyone around her, including her extremely clueless husband, Franklin (John C. Reilly, who is, at times, a bit difficult to take seriously in this role).

Drifting apart.

As Kevin continues into adolescence, his sociopathic nature is more prominent to Eva.  Her reflections on his youth include just one memory of him ever showing affection toward her–and that was when he was sick and wanted to hear her read the entirety of Robin Hood to him, a book that would fuel his interest in archery and become the means for which he would murder his classmates. An ironic show of affection in retrospect.

Promotional poster for We Need to Talk About Kevin

While most might flee the scorn and derision of the town, Eva stays in spite of her son’s depravity and blatant lack of concern for her so that she can be close enough to the prison to visit him. On the two year anniversary of the massacre, she goes to see him. Normally with very little to say to one another, Eva is moved to ask him why he killed her husband and daughter. His reply is: “I used to think I knew.” With that, Eva and the only person left in her life embrace. It is perhaps one of the most emotionally cutting depictions of unconditional love–the kind that can generally only exist between parent and child.

“Ain’t on my period, but I got a new pad.” And that new pad is Moscow, the latest adventure for Nicki Minaj’s alter ego, Roman Zolanski to embark upon. “Roman in Moscow” is our first glimpse of Minaj’s upcoming sophomore album, Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded. Set to be released in February 2012, the introductory song is a strong indication that Southside Jamaica’s pride and joy is back and better than ever.

Single cover for "Roman in Moscow"

Roman’s most memorable appearance on one of Minaj’s tracks was during “Roman’s Revenge,” arguably the best offering from Pink Friday (followed by “Moment 4 Life” and “Girls Fall Like Dominoes”). Assertive and empowered, Nicki as Roman matches the anger and ire of Eminem’s vocals easily. But on “Roman in Moscow,” the beautiful combination of Minaj and another incensed voice is noticeably missing. As far as Behind the Hype is concerned, two vexed rappers are better than one. Then again, as Roman reminds us, “I told you bitches last year I’m a rap bitch nightmare,” so I suppose that gives Nicki/Roman the license to do whatever the fuck they want.

With the advent of the second decade of the twenty-first century, it feels as though films have become more comfortable with a nihilistic approach to portraying humanity. In Steve McQueen’s (not to be confused with the hero of so bad it’s good 1970s cinema) sophomore film, Shame, Brandon (Michael Fassbender) shows us a world of sexual debauchery that we’ve only dreamed of–or at least never talked about with anyone else.

Brandon shares as close to a heartfelt moment as he can get with his sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan, and yes it is repetitive that she's a sister named Sissy. It is a name best suited to a girl with no siblings).

Opening on an overhead shot of Brandon as he stares at the ceiling in his bed, we are immediately familiarized with the emptiness of his life. After about a minute of this, the title of the film, succinct and ominous, appears onscreen. From this point onward, a series of shots in which Brandon parades around his apartment nude (Fassbender has no problem with full-frontal, let me tell you. As well he shouldn’t.) after having sex with a random girl–in most cases, a prostitute–dominates the initialization of the first act. Throughout each of these shots, he plays a different voicemail from a girl we later learn is his sister. His aversion to establishing any form of communication with her is instantly evident as he would rather interact with his online mistress or concentrate on some form of penetration than deal with familial matters.

Looking pointedly dissatisfied.

With no response to confirm or deny whether she can come and stay with him, Sissy infiltrates his apartment and his life like the force of nature that she forthwith (that’s right, I said forthwith) comes across as. The nature of their relationship is easily classified as ambiguous, often veering much too closely to potentially incestuous–and there’s really no evidence to tell us that they didn’t fuck one or more times in the past. Considering the no holds barred sexual lifestyle of Brandon and a disturbing message from Sissy on Brandon’s cell phone in which she states, “We’re not bad people, we just come from a bad place,” incest doesn’t seem like the worst thing that could happen to either of them.

Getting a little too close, if you know what I mean.

The possessiveness and jealousy Brandon feels for his sister becomes more palpable when she brings Brandon’s sleazy boss, David (James Badge Dale), back to the apartment. The only activity that can distract Brandon from his pain, both with regard to his life and the presence of his sister, is sex. It is his drug of choice, the notion he contemplates most in life. But conventional ideas of intercourse bore him. In fact, he can’t even get it up for someone he’s been on an actual date with/shared any sort of cerebral exchange. Brandon is much more partial to the “stranger on a train” concept. Though it’s difficult to think there’s anything sexy about people who ride the subway when you’ve actually lived in New York.

Singing a bittersweet rendition of "New York, New York."

The woman who Brandon lusts after in this particular scene is pivotal to the film’s conclusion, an open-ended denouement that leads us to believe no one ever fundamentally changes his behavior. Especially when the behavior in question is his only solace from the heartache of living.

Unlike most famous people, Mindy Kaling is quite alright with being known for one thing, and one thing only: Writing for and acting as Kelly Kapoor on The Office. But, with the release of her memoir Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns), Kaling has shown that her talent is too great to be relegated to just one sitcom. Her life experience coming up in the world of comedy rivals, yes, that of Tina Fey’s (who also has a similar comedic memoir, Bossypants, addressed by Kaling in the introduction when she notes that people will invariably ask, “This sounds okay, but not as good as Tina Fey’s book. Why isn’t this more like Tina Fey’s book?”). The difference is, Kaling is actually a bit more cutting edge because 1) She doesn’t talk about “being a woman” in the world of comedy and 2) She wants a family, but she doesn’t prattle on about “balancing it all.”

Yes, I maintain that Mindy Kaling is cutting edge.

Like any denizen of the east coast/comedy writer aspirant, Kaling headed for New York City after attending Dartmouth. The chapter in which she discusses the highs and lows of this particular period is entitled “I Love New York and It Likes Me Okay.” Like all fresh-faced inhabitants of the city, Kaling had grand dreams of instant success, but, ultimately, after long stretches of doing nothing, babysitting, and botching a few interviews (chiefly, working as a page at NBC, or TBN, as she refers to it), ended up as a production assistant for the show Crossing Over with John Edward, though, in the book, she politely refers to the show as Bridging the Underworld with Mac Teegarden.

Celebrating the release of her book at Tory Burch's boutique on Madison Avenue.

Kaling is both vivid and humorous in rehashing her New York struggles. Describing the apartment she lived in with her friends from college, Kaling delineates,

In the summer, feral cats in heat clung onto the screens of our living room, meowing mournfully until we threw a glass of water at them. When it got cold, the roaches migrated in and set up homes in every drain. Sometimes, when I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I would feel a disgusting crackly squelch under my foot, and I’d know I’d have to rinse off a roach from my heel. That was our apartment. We took the bad with the pretty good. Plus, we could afford it, Prospect Park wasn’t too far, and people already assumed we were lesbians, so we fit into the neighborhood right away. It was all good. Until we tried to pursue our dreams.

Inhabiting the world of The Office

The candor of her endeavors to succeed in the entertainment business are among the best anecdotes in the book, second only to her assertion of how easy it is to be a dude in the chapter appropriately titled, “Guys Need to Do Almost Nothing to Be Great.” Kaling, who admits to her share of unpleasant dates/relationships, proffers, “Forgive me, but being a guy is so easy. A little Kiehl’s, a little Bumble and Bumble, a peacoat, and Chuck Taylors, and you’re hot.” The truth has been spoken. But Kaling also addresses more important, less shallow truths throughout the book. Like “Types of Women in Romantic Comedies Who Are Not Real,” a probing account of all the nonsensical, impossible characters in rom-coms that could not exist in real life.

Looking pointedly modest.

While at times roaming and random, essentially all of Kaling’s observations about life are either accurate (“Why Do Men Put On Their Shoes So Slowly?”) or at least infused with hilarity (“Revenge Fantasies While Jogging”). The collection of reminiscences detailing the various lives Kaling has led is a strong and determined step in the direction toward life after The Office.

What is this power that Lana Del Rey seems to have over us all? Is it her sultry monotone? Her entrancing stare? Or is it the straightforward earnestness of her music? Probably a combination of all three. But what really makes Del Rey stand out is that she is the first American version of a product that Britain has been churning out since the early 00s–that of the Amy Winehouse/Adele/Duffy variety.

Bitch, I'm American.

The other factor Del Rey has going in her favor is the whole jilted lover persona. In an interview with 3VOOR12 (it’s Dutch, okay? I swear it’s real), Del Rey acknowledges that the songs on her album are about “honoring love lost.” This is certainly a topic that most people can get on board with considering we all tend to be plagued occasionally by the thought that maybe we’ve lost “the one” and are just settling for whoever the current asshole we’re with is (or is that just me?).

Not many people can carry off this look. Another reason we love her.

Although Del Rey (whose real name I won’t mention, because what’s the point of having a stage name if everybody’s always bringing up your true identity?) was born in New York City–maybe that’s why she seems so bluesy and wise beyond her years–she spent much of her youth in Lake Placid, New York (yeah, like that horror movie that’s also called Lake Placid) and Connecticut. The shape her music career would ultimately take appeared, to Del Rey, a far off possibility as she shuffled from one management group to the next, each with its own idea of how Del Rey should be “packaged.”

Sultry and shit

But, like all great success stories, Del Rey had the last laugh by choosing to stick to her own musical guns. Her propensity for simple song titles (e.g. “Blue Jeans,” “Kill Kill,” and “Kinda Outta Luck”) are in sharp contrast to the emotional intensity of the content. In the past few months, “Video Games” has been almost omnipresent, playing in the background of everything from Gossip Girl to Made in Chelsea. With this sort of increased pervasiveness, Del Rey has quite a bit of pressure to put out an album that will be equally as lauded. But I have faith in her. She’s from New York City, after all.

New York’s Greenwich Village music scene in the 1960s and 1970s was instrumental in the evolution of modern music: it was a vibrant avenue for artists to express issues that mattered at the times, including free speech, civil rights, and love.

Artists and common folk could gather together and protest, sing, unite, and generally help lay out the blueprint of social action that is still felt today.

A new documentary entitled Greenwich Village: Music that Defined a Scene highlights this impactful time in American cultural history, with an emphasis on on-screen interviews with many of the artists who took part and rose to fame in the area.

Some of the musicians interviewed in the film include Kris Kristofferson, Carly Simon, Eric Andersen, Steve Earle, Pete Seeger and Michelle Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas.

Here’s the official trailer for the film, which hasn’t been released yet but should be in the next few months. This really looks pretty awesome.

Greenwich Village: Music That Defined A Generation from Greenwich on Vimeo.

For more on the film, read an article from Back Page Magazine, featuring an interview with director Laura Archibald and lots of details about the movie.

The first minute of Gossip Girl’s season premiere, “Yes, Then Zero” (thank you for the Bret Easton Ellis reference), is mildly alarming because you briefly think that the writers ran out of every possible story line and had to resort to setting the show in the 1920s.

The Beautiful and the Damned

Fortunately, the scene cuts and we realize it is not a past life regression, but the movie set for The Beautiful and the Damned. Serena (Blake Lively), who has snagged the oh so coveted role of L.A. intern, has been working on the David O. Russell (who must be real hard up for agreeing to make such a prominent cameo) film for most of the summer. Although, generally, when a series moves its characters to L.A., the plot starts to turn spectacularly to shit (Nip/Tuck being the most obvious example), Gossip Girl reins in the crazy with a fair amount of aplomb.

Promotional poster for Gossip Girl

Chuck (Ed Westwick) and Nate (Chace Crawford) visit Serena after docking their yacht (won from a poker game with Allegra Versace–sweet Jesus, the nuances of this show) in the waters of what is possibly Marina del Rey. Chuck grapples with Blair’s (Leighton Meester) impending nuptials to Prince Louis Grimaldi (Hugo Becker, whose accent makes him sound just a little bit impaired), while Nate continues to try reinventing himself (which is just code for fucking an older woman, Elizabeth Hurley as an as of yet unnamed rich bitch, who actually beats David O. Russell in the being hard up category).

J was always the outsider. Thank fuck she's gone.

The premiere also focused on Dan’s (Penn Badgley) novel, Inside, being leaked by Vanessa (Jessica Szohr). Mercifully, she and Jenny (Taylor Momsen) are expected not to return this season as regulars, but we are still saddled with another duo of annoying characters in the form of Georgina Sparks (Michelle Trachtenberg) and Charlie/Ivy (Kaylee DeFer). Then there’s Blair’s pregnancy snafu: Will it be Chuck’s? Will it be Louis’? Will it be Dan’s? Shit, will it be Serena’s? Round and round the plot twists go and where they stop, don’t nobody know.