From: I. Zelnik
Category: Amis
Date: 7/23/99
Time: 6:44:16 PM
Remote Name: 129.219.247.118
I am the Zelnik. They are the shmendricks. He is the Luke. Goo goo goo joob.
[Poster's note: The following movie review originally appeared in *The New York Review of Jules*. A biweekly fanzine that advertises itself as "The only adult pictorial forum devoted exclusively to the glorification & abject worship of Julie Clinch". From the July 23, 1999 issue.]
*THIGHS WIDE CLINCHED* / BY BABY LUKE AMIS
Along with 300 million other male practitioners of manual catharsis, I have not been immune to the psychosexual thespic stylings of Nicole Kidman. My introduction to this fiery-haired femme phenom dates back to the glory days of *BMX Bandits* & *Bush Christmas* from 1983, when Nicole reigned triumphant in the glittering glory of her sweet goosey youth. Since then she has remained a cinematic sight for sore hairy-palms. But her appeal spans beyond the hankerings of the hankerchief clean-up contingent. Women & children & little green men adore her too. The fact that Nicole has a daughter named "Isabella Jane" and has furthermore essayed the rôle of "Isabel Archer" in *Portrait of a Lady* are circumstantial tidbits that have served to endear the actress to my own mommy.
But I digress. Julie Clinch---that two-fisted web-footed Goddess Of Our Idolatry---is strictly heterosexual. So therefore the only relevant topic in this critique should be: The Cruiser. Tom Cruise. The man, the myth. Actor, stud, *bon vivant*. Ever since Tom Terrific leaped off the screen and into our crotches, Julie's bedroom has doubled as a mystic shrine to The Cruiser. Her Tom Cruise posters show definite signs of saliva-inflicted warpage in the vicinity of his lips---thanks to Julie's long wet necking sessions with that oh-so-iconic kissy-mouth. Who could forget Tom's romantic subway-ride with Rebecca DeMornay in *Risky Business*? Or how about Tom's bonerific shenanigans in the borderline-beatific *Losin' It*? Just thinking about Tom's buttadelic scrumptiousness is enough to convert me to homosexuality.
But the crucial question remains: Is *Eyes Wide Shut* just too darn sexy for Mistress Jules? If Julie sees this movie, will she drop dead from erotic overload? Well, my unequivocal answer is: I sure as heck hope so. When La Clinch sees this movie, I hope she bursts into a sheet of flame---never to be heard from again. So that the Martin Amis Discussion Site may be forever freed from her "spurious allusions to crap movies". (My gratitude goes to Jim Murphy for providing me with that butt-lovely phrase. Cowabunga, Murph the Surf. Oh and please don't bother to respond to this post, Anal-Lane, as I for one am sick of the self-congratulatory hipster-gibberish that you have hitherto brought to this forum.)