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Hello Crush,
Hope you’re enjoying a summer in full swing!
I’ve had too many un-ignorable demands of the “there’s nobody else to do this but me” variety over the last couple of months to get The CRUSH Letter out on a steady basis, between some serious health issues for my mother and other family needs, trying to sell my house and etc., etc. But I did see The Invite — Olivia Wilde’s new film — and I wanted to make sure it was on your radar because I think you might want to see it, too, CRUSHes. My thoughts are below — no spoilers!
dishing.
things that are getting me off these days.
A Smart, Sexy Romp for “Us“: The Invite. By Dish Stanley
I love a RomCom for grown ups, particularly if it involves a dinner party that takes place in a stylishly inviting urban apartment and Penelope Cruz is a guest.
NO SPOILERS HERE.
I saw the new RomCom(ish) film from Olivia Wilde The Invite in New York last week end. That I jumped on it opening week end won’t surprise you, CRUSHes, because the trailer promised that it would touch on so many of the subjects I delight in dissecting with and for you: the dynamics in long-term marriages; the dynamics in romantic partnerships that develop later in life; sex; making new friends at this stage; making new friends that you might possibly have sex with?; the components of a truly good dinner party right now; witty conversation that swings from light to deep reflection (and back) on a dime; the inescapable, existential midlife+ questions of “what’s next?” and “how’d I get here, exactly?” and “is this really all there fucking is?;” as well as, I’ll admit, the shallower but nonetheless endlessly fascinating-to-me topics of home decor porn and 50+ women and men dressing well (which is not dressing “cool” and definitely not dressing in flashy logos, but rather, dressing in a way that perfectly suits who you are — because, at this stage, you know who that is).
The only thing the film was missing in my list of current obsessions, frankly, was a dog.
If you haven’t heard, in addition to Wilde (who directs this adaptation from a play by Cesc Gay), it stars Seth Rogen, Penelope Cruz and Ed Norton. Wilde and Rogan play a quarrelsome married couple living in an apartment in San Francisco that is directly beneath the apartment occupied by the couple played by Cruz and Norton. Wilde’s character invites the Cruz/Norton couple for dinner, to the surprise and annoyance of her husband, Rogen, who has just cycled up the equivalent of Mount Rushmore to get home. Over the course of the evening we learn that Norton’s character was a client of Cruz’s, who is a psychotherapist and sexologist, before they evolved into a romantic partnership. I won’t reveal more because the many small and big revelations that build up about each character, and the various unexpected ways in which they are intertwined, provide so many of the delights of the film. But that set-up alone: the married couple’s “miscommunication” and the dating couple’s rule-breaking evolution from therapy/client relationship to romantic partnership, provides the footprint for you to imagine all the various directions this dinner party quartet could go.
In fact, the ensemble of Wilde, Rogen, Cruz and Norton works together like a masterful jazz quartet. Each player weaves in and out of what feels like a rambunctious improvisational set piece with a solo turn that perfectly captures the essence of their character: Rogen’s career has disappointed; Wilde is an anxious, under-occupied housewife; Norton a smug retired fireman-turned-neo-sensitive-man; and Cruz is, well, Cruz, which is to say a sensuous, smoldering shaman whose every move hints at her wilder side. (Her performance in The Invite was so much fun that it prompted me to rewatch her enjoyably unhinged performance in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which saved my Saturday night.)
I saw The Invite at a 3:30 matinee at the AMC Lincoln Square — they were running the film almost on the hour all weekend — and the theater was packed. The audience erupted with spontaneous laughter throughout the film, almost as if we were the background riff to the exciting improvisation on stage. Even though I walked in solo, I left the way you leave a fabulous concert, feeling like we were all walking out of a satiating, cathartic experience together, loose and free and still moving in sync with the music.
I can’t remember the last time going to the movies was such a kick.
CRUSHes: Would You Want Me to Write a Considered Piece on Throwing a Great Dinner Party These Days?
One of the funniest moments in The Invite is when Penelope Cruz’s character surveys the spread of sumptuous food artfully arranged by Olivia Wilde before pointing to each item on the table and saying “For me, no gluten, no dairy, no meat, no sugar.” Ruling out, of course, everything that Wilde’s character had spent the day meticulously gathering up from a variety of the best specialty vendors San Francisco has to offer. (And I’m not spoiling anything here, because this moment is captured in the trailer above (so it’s already out there)). Funny to everyone who frequently hosts, in that hurts-so-bad-it’s-funny way.
Whoosh! A whole day of work, gone. The fantasies of how perfectly the night would unfold, up in smoke. The night had just begun, and instead of relaxing into her couch to encourage overflowing cocktails and conversation, you see Wilde dashing back into the kitchen, opening and closing pantry and refrigerator doors in an attempt to find an alternative menu (or at least menu item).
The scene struck particularly hard for me because I had just, only two nights earlier, hosted a small group of new friends to my New York apartment for an impromptu coed Hong Kong Mahjong gathering. Mahjong (Hong Kong, rathern than American style) was the main draw but we were gathering at 7pm and some were coming straight from work. I had thought that I had sidestepped any potential food allergy conflicts by sending a note just as soon as the plan came together saying that — coincidentally — my new pizza stone, as well as my subscription to Poco Bero Pizza Dough, had just been delivered that day so I could make some pies for us before we got started if everyone thought that sounded good. “Great, thanks!” and “So thoughtful!” were the replies.
But the scene in my apartment played out just like the one in The Invite. Except that instead of Cruz’s elegant Castilian accent, the guy (a nice guy, really!) passing on my fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza had more of an edgy American Long Island accent (except, fascinatingly, when he spoke in perfect French later in the evening). Not only that, everyone else at my little last-minute party shared that they, too, were “avoiding gluten these days.” ”I can’t look bloated this week end in Sag Harbor,” one of my most flirtatious guests shared, “I have guests and they’ll want to go to the beach.”
It has all made me step back and seriously consider, for the umpteenth million time, what makes for a truly good dinner party right now. I’ve gone through many distinct periods in my life when I’ve thrown a lot of them. Periods when I thought I had gotten to a point where I nailed the formula. But I’ve been to quite a few in the last six months or so — from casual to formal — and my thinking has evolved. For instance, post-COVID I had come around to thinking that a more casual atmosphere and approach made for a more relaxed, and therefore more enjoyable, evening. But a recent night called that into question. I was a guest at a dinner party thrown by an accomplished host and it was the most formal one I have ever been to (at least in somebody’s home), everything from the structured way the evening unfolded to being served by household staff in formal black and white maids’ dresses. I knew none of the other guests going in, except the host, and the dinner party for eight was the most fun, friendly and, oddly, felt the most relaxed, of any I could remember. It was the best.
So I’m considering putting a lot more thought into this subject — what makes for a truly good dinner party right now? — but only if it’s something you’d be interested in reading, CRUSHes. I’ve seen some articles on this topic lately but they have been of the “let’s ask a lot of famously experienced hosts what one thing they would recommend and then compile all those together“ in a list sort of article. I find that approach — to any subject — to be among the most haphazard, least comprehensive and least helpful (as opposed to one person thinking a thing all the way through). But what do you think? Please let me know whether you’re interested in reading such a thing by taking the poll below!
By the way, I had also gotten a delivery from Fresh Direct the same day as my coed Hong Kong Mahjong night, so with some last minute scurrying around in my kitchen, I fed them and the night ended up being a lot of fun, and we’ll be doing it again (in somebody else’s gluten free apartment). Also - if you have guests who still eat gluten, mine who still eat gluten have loved the Poco Bero Pizza Dough. It is famously made with New York City tap water, which is widely regarded to have the specific chemistry that makes New York pizzas some of the best in the world. It comes frozen in pre-sized balls.
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Songs That Make You Wanna F*ck. A Compendium from the Readers of The Crush Letter.
An occasional pop-up where we share the songs that make the readers of The Crush Letter want to bang. Got one? Send it to me at Dish@PrimeCrush.com.
[I’m re-running one of my favorite F*ck song submissions in part because I think it’s great, but also in part to remind you to send yours in, if you haven’t already.]
Love to Love You Baby by Donna Summer
Submitted by CRUSH Reader: John
Who/What are you thinking of when you listen to this song?
It would be the 20+ orgasmic moans that Summer makes during the song. Plus, some of the recordings are in one of the original disco lengths, almost 20 minutes, which is long enough to rev anyone up.
Is there a memory you think of when you hear this song?
I was too young really to fully appreciate it when it first came out in the mid-70’s but I caught this one in the early 80’s when Summers’ other single “I Feel Love” (similar sound, no?) was re-released. I mostly remember this as a popular dance town - and I wasn’t a disco guy - but it really struck a chord the first time I heard it. I also read that it was banned in some places because of all the orgasmic songs. My memories honestly revolve around hearing it and wondering / wishing I could be the guy who had the ability and power to make a woman feel like that. If I were putting together a playlist for a romantic night in now, I would definitely include this song and I haven’t seen it in the column yet, so I thought I’d send it in.
Anything else?
The song’s history is interesting. Donna Summers was living and recording in Germany at the time, presumably because she was getting more traction with her career in Europe than in the U.S. Check out the Wikipedia on the song to read about it. Thanks Dish!
I expect that I’ll be getting the CRUSH Letters out on a more sporadic basis over the summer, because as I look ahead I can see that my summer is going to continue to demand that I juggle a lot of balls, from helping to care for my mother to managing an upcoming house move to work to — hopefully — also some summer fun.
Wishing you many days on the beach with warm waves washing over you, CRUSHes.
XO,
Dish
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The Crush Letter is a weekly newsletter from Dish Stanley curating articles & intelligence on everything love & connection - friendship, romance, self-love, sex. If you’d like to take a look at some of our best stories go to Read Us. Want the Dish?
