January 27, 2014. It's just hours before Monday Night Raw, the biggest show in the history of professional wrestling, is scheduled to begin, and CM Punk's voice is echoing through the cavernous backstage of Cleveland's Quicken Loans Arena. He is screaming for someone to help him. Tonight. Right now. His head feels like it's going to explode from a stiff blow he suffered during the Royal Rumble last night. He's had enough concussions to know he's got one. There is a disgusting welt on his ass that hurts like hell and keeps getting bigger. His ribs ache and his knee is shot. An infection rages in his body; he's been coughing up yellow bile for weeks. A steady stream of oral antibiotics has been causing such intestinal distress that he shit himself on live TV a month ago. CM Punk calls himself "the best in the world," and to the millions of fans of professional wrestling who watch him every week, he is exactly that. But today—right now—he feels like the world has broken him.
January 27, 2014. It's just hours before Monday Night Raw, the biggest show in the history of professional wrestling, is scheduled to begin, and CM Punk's voice is echoing through the cavernous backstage of Cleveland's Quicken Loans Arena. He is screaming for someone to help him. Tonight. Right now. His head feels like it's going to explode from a stiff blow he suffered during the Royal Rumble last night. He's had enough concussions to know he's got one. There is a disgusting welt on his ass that hurts like hell and keeps getting bigger. His ribs ache and his knee is shot. An infection rages in his body; he's been coughing up yellow bile for weeks. A steady stream of oral antibiotics has been causing such intestinal distress that he shit himself on live TV a month ago. CM Punk calls himself "the best in the world," and to the millions of fans of professional wrestling who watch him every week, he is exactly that. But today—right now—he feels like the world has broken him. Drink the good stuff from a good glass. Great for hosts, but also for lone cocktail drinkers who appreciate the finer things. There's something indescribably cozy about the 1970s. Maybe it was the shag carpets, overstuffed furniture, and generously knit sweaters. Maybe there were just fewer things to do outside the house. Whatever the reason, photos from this era evoke a certain vibe. A mood. And it's perfect for right now, when the boredom of being home all the time is running into the reality that because of the changing weather we'll all have to spend more time at home. Don't despair. Put a record on the hi-fi stereo, pour yourself a cup of something hot, or strong, or both, and enjoy these photos of celebrities at home in the '70s. Dunk it in the pool. Go white water rafting. Spill seltzer. These'll hold up. The style is as timeless—and timely—as ever.  The Batman, which hit theaters this Thursday, is still rattling around my mind. It's a strange—and seemingly simple—thing to write at the given moment, but after Robert Downey Jr. put on a red-and-gold mask, called himself Iron Man, and established 14 years of a house style of filmmaking, it's great to see something so cringingly different. Our hero, played by Robert Pattinson, makes Bruce Wayne weird. Not Christian Bale, I-live-in-a-cave-but-am-also-suave-and-jacked weird. Not Taika Waititi weird, but the kind of cutesy weird that still makes your parents laugh. It's Battinson putting on tiny, rectangular sunglasses when he gets a whiff of the daylight weird. The guy muttering, absolutely deadpan, you got. a lot. of cats., to Zoë Kravitz's Catwoman, as the furry little things nuzzle his knockoff Doc Martens. He's pale. So damn awkward that he can often only mutter a declarative sentence or two at a time. If "gritty camp" wasn't a searchable subgenre on Netflix before, then it sure as hell should be now. |
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