Stop This Salad

I caught ten minutes of Camille Claudel, which put Isabel Adjani on the map (after her boinking Warren Beatty, which prompted the disaster Ishtar). Izzie is impossibly beautiful and it’s no wonder Daniel Day Lewis fell in love and had to impregnate her. In this story, Isabel is a gorgeous genius in an age of male artists. It's so hard for her until she wears black when Victor Hugo dies and Rodin (played by Gerard Depardieu, who is starting to get super-fat) must have sex with her. The clash of the Titans ensues and Camille needs more. She screams and screams and Rodin says, “Arrete avec cette salade!” because Camille is an insane artist squashed by a famous gigantic bearded fat man. After a while, Rodin isn’t that into her, and I keep thinking that if she’d had some good meds, Camille might have been able to deal with Rodin’s sexist-it's-all-about-me ways. Over a hundred years later, I still love Camille's art more than Rodin's. He seemed all about the crotch. Her work exudes more emotion.

To cope with copious ironing, I also caught a gander of Oh, God! which reminded me of John Denver's sweetness. It almost made me cry how nice he seemed. Another one who left this earth too soon...