I was turned off by the ad campaign for this movie originally. I hated that it used the phrase, "The race for the Oscars has begun." I thought, what am obnoxious way of telling us that a movie is going to be filled with Oscar-bait moments designed to appeal to the greatest common denominator in a critically-pleasing way. Plus, I gotta be honest, never have been a big fan of the Clooney. I'm not a player hater, the man has his charisma and talent, but he just never really floated my boat. But then I noticed four little words . . . Directed by Alexander Payne, and that was all it took for this fangirl to completely change her tune and want to see this shit pronto.
Before I delve into my actual review of the movie in question, I want to back up a bit to 2002. I went by myself to see About Schmidt, because I am a dork that likes to see all of the movies nominated for the big awards, and Jack Nicholson had just been nominated. As I recall, I wasn't looking forward to it all that much, mainly for the much of the same reasons that I was initially turned off by The Descendants . . . I thought it seemed Oscar-baity and full of itself, and I thought Nicholson was an overrated actor. But I ended up being blown away by it. I thought it was such a smart balance of humor and pathos. I loved all the detail and care that obviously went in to making each set piece of the movie be at once both completely authentic and deeply comical. I still maintain that it's the best work Nicholson has done before or since. And the Dear Ndugu letters can simply never be topped as the most ingenious way of injecting first person narrative into a movie, ever. Then came Sideways, and while for me it didn't quite top About Schmidt (an opinion that most disagree with me on, I will concede), it certainly cemented Alexander Payne for me as quite possibly my favorite contemporary filmmaker.
So it was with high, high expectations that I went into Payne's latest directorial effort. And once again, I fell in love. Alexander Payne has restored my faith in the movies, y'all! It's such a great feeling to fall in love with a movie, and for me it happens so rarely that when it does I just want to sing its praises from the rooftops. Most of my favorite aspects of About Schmidt also hold true for this movie . . . It has that
really smart, watchable blend of humor and pathos, the sets feel completely lived in and utterly real, and It's certainly the best work I've ever seen from The Clooney (obviously, the lone exception being his finely nuanced, sharply drawn work as George on The Facts of Life). It's easily my favorite movie in years, and if I was really going to sit down and rank them, I feel like About Schmidt, Sideways, and The Descendants would all earn a place in my all-time favorite top ten (just offhand, I know I would also put Raising Arizona, Heathers, The Big Lebowski, Fearless, Before Sunrise, and Thelma and Louise in there. Guess I'll have to think on the one remaining slot--but who am I kidding? It totes goes to Some Kind of Wonderful).
So, why? Why do his movies work with me so much? I will say that I could understand someone else not feeling quite as strongly about them; although I don't think I would ever understand somebody not liking them at all or not at least considering them good movies. For me, I think it's because the humor, and the pathos, and the sets, just all feel so incredibly organic. Like, this is what that specific person's house would really look like. Or, that is exactly how that character would respond to this situation--those are the exact words he would use. Nothing feels drummed up for dramatic effect. To me, Payne's movies make the pain and the humor of everyday life cinematic narratives. As opposed to giving the audience a cinematic narrative, and then asking us to see ourselves or real life reflected in it. His movies just feel like real life to me.
I think part of the reason for this lies in the fact that he apparently spends a lot of time looking for novels to adapt into movies. I believe all of Payne's movies I've been referencing have been adapted from novels. Also, Election was as well, and I will say that that one does not quite make my all-time best list because it's more of a satire than the other three, but it's certainly a very good satire. I love to read, and many times have thought to myself, "Why doesn't someone turn this into a movie?" There does seem to be a dearth of good ideas out there when fucking Disney rides, shitty TV shows and nostalgic toys are the basis for many a contemporary movie script (and I say this as someone who loves Disney rides, watched Speed Racer as a child and owned my share of Transformers, or at least had a brother who did). So hallelujah for someone realizing that the best way to tell a compelling story onscreen is to start with a compelling novel. And for realizing that just because it sold a bajillion copies, doesn't mean it's necessarily the most compelling or original source material, either. The quieter novels have their merits.
I know I didn't end up actually saying that much about the movie itself. i think that's because I do feel Payne has hit on, for me, the winning combination of making a movie I want to see, so much so that the specific details hardly matter. It's a great movie, go see it, and I'ma leave it at that.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
American Idol!
Sucks. obvs. But on the for realsies, I feel like "the Voice" has given me what I have been lacking with AI for a while. And look, I know this much seem so very gay, or irrelevant, to those among you that don't give a fuck about this stuff, but I finally figured out that, this is females and gay folks and anyone who doesn't give a hang about sports, sports. And for those of you that are into music for the way it makes you feel, this shit is for the people who like it for the performance. I mean, I like the way music makes me feel too, but I also like seeing someone just fucking KILL a note that you can tell she's striving for, and I love rooting for someone that can bring together a performance that just gets it on every level. And that is why I have always been, and will continue to be, a fan of Idol, the X-Factor, the Voice, whatevs. Fantasia on Summertime. Haley on House of the Rising Sun. Shit, Siobhan on House of the Rising Sun. Adam on Mad World. Kris on Heartless. David Cook on Always Be my Baby. Carrie on Alone
That being said, I thought this season sucked. I think not being judged in any way made too many of them think that they were beyond reproach or criticism, and they weren't. I almost wrote a blog post when Pia was eliminated, because she was who I thought should win, but you know what? She IS boring, and uncharismatic. So, meh. I liked James Durbin, and I thought he slayed it on "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow", and had a real "Idol moment", but on the for reals, he was a less in tune Adam. Sorry, player haters, but he was.
However, I always like the AI final like some people always like the Superbowl. I just like to see people sing and dance, and do it reasonably well, and I do always like to see some of those crazy kids sing with actual pros. And, I'm not going to lie, I like that Tim McGraw song, and guess what, Tim McGraw look kinda good. I'll finish this up later, y'all, bedtime calls.
That being said, I thought this season sucked. I think not being judged in any way made too many of them think that they were beyond reproach or criticism, and they weren't. I almost wrote a blog post when Pia was eliminated, because she was who I thought should win, but you know what? She IS boring, and uncharismatic. So, meh. I liked James Durbin, and I thought he slayed it on "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow", and had a real "Idol moment", but on the for reals, he was a less in tune Adam. Sorry, player haters, but he was.
However, I always like the AI final like some people always like the Superbowl. I just like to see people sing and dance, and do it reasonably well, and I do always like to see some of those crazy kids sing with actual pros. And, I'm not going to lie, I like that Tim McGraw song, and guess what, Tim McGraw look kinda good. I'll finish this up later, y'all, bedtime calls.
Friday, April 29, 2011
I'm a Level 25!
I did the Pearl Cafe's spicy food challenge tonight. I threw down on a level 25 stir fry cashew chicken. You can do the challenge on any of their curries, stir fries, or noodles spiced up to a level 25, and the proprietor of the place told me that a stir fry was probably my best bet as it was a lesser amount of food than the noodle dishes, and with the curries you have to eat all the sauce, too. He said if i completed it, I would only be the third female to do so. I completed it with little to no problems. It didn't taste much spicier than the way I prefer my Thai food, to be honest, although eating a whole dish like that was a little challenging--knowing I couldn't save some for later and eat only half of it. Aside from some nose running, I came through relatively unscathed. Their dilly-yo is that you start with a level 25, then work up to a 50, 75, and finally, a 100. You only get a reward for completing the 100. Even though I completed this without much difficulty, I don't know that I could do the same at level 100. I think I could take a few bites of it, maybe even finish off about half of it if I had a lot of time to kill, but I don't know if I could eat a whole plate of it at one sitting. So... I may try to throw down on a level 50 at some point if I'm feeling frisky, but for now I will just bask in the glory of going where few women have gone before. Truly, this is my proudest accomplishment to date besides birthing an awesome daughter and winning on Jeopardy. I kid, but only a little bit.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
What's Heather Putting in her Mouth? NYC Edition
I just got back from my trip to NYC to visit Lisa, go to restaurants, and watch a shitload of Ricky Gervais produced telly episodes (see, I feel British now because of all the Gervais-watching, hence my use of telly). I didn't know the last thing was on the agenda, but I was all for it. If you haven't already, I urge you to check out An Idiot Abroad and The Ricky Gervais Show.
But on to the restaurants. The first place we ate was Kin Shop, which is owned and run by one Mr. Harold Dieterle, the first winner of Top Chef. Harold has another restaurant in NY that's been open longer called Perilla, but their menu is the kind of new-Amercian, braised rabbit and squab-type entrees that I know I should crave as an aspiring foodie, but I just don't. So I was more into the idea of Kin Shop, because it is Thai-inspired. As in, not straight-up traditional Thai, but with those same flavor profiles. And yes, I hate myself a little bit that I seriously just used the phrase "flavor profiles" in earnest. I ordered the beef tartare and the spicy duck laab salad. And I don't even like duck, but the menu put their 5-star extra-spicy designation on that dish, and that's like my bat signal. It was the stuff! Probably the best thing I put in my mouth on my trip. So spicy, and served on these lettuce leaves that you could kind of fold up and make your own wraps with. The beef tartare was served with a quail-egg yolk on top, so that was cute. The tartare itself was tasty, but it was more like cubes instead of ground meat, and I think I prefer it ground. The duck on the salad was all ground up, and Lisa and I agreed that it didn't taste like any duck we'd ever had before, in a good way. If I could pick one nit with the place, it was that there was nothing on the table to amuse my bouche before the meal. Call me hopelessly Midwestern, but I'm a gal that likes a bread basket. Or shrimp chips. Something.
The next restaurant we went to was a place called Beauty and Essex on the lower east side. This place was more "trendy" or "scene-y" or something, which I knew going in, but I wanted to see one place like that on my trip. It's also kind of American tapas, all about the small plates for the table that you're meant to share. Plus, they serve bone marrow, and I wanted to try that, because I'm disgusting. Fuck Charlie Sheen, I'm running around Manhattan eating raw beef and sucking the marrow out of bones. Who's the tiger now? And I'm here to tell you that bone marrow is...not all that great, really. I'd eat it again, but then, we've already established that I'm a disgusting tiger. I wouldn't necessarily seek it out again. It tastes like that melty fat part of a steak. It was served with toast and a savory jelly, and that helped. It's just not all that flavorful on its own. We also got this tuna sashimi with chorizo that, next to the duck salad, was probably the most delicious bite I had all week, but the portions on that dish were super-small, so it really was just a bite or two. The lobster tacos were good, but not great, and I was annoyed that there were three of them, seeing as how there were two of us. We also ordered the NY strip steak, which is again meant to be shared and comes with four different dipping sauces. It was really good, and I loved mixing the bearnaise and the chimichurri sauces. Last, but decidedly not least, was the molten chocolate bread pudding with hazelnut ice cream. I'm not the biggest dessert person, but I could not stop eating this. And that came in a huge portion that was more than enough for two, probably three people to share.
For my final fancy meal, we went to Les Halles on Park Avenue in midtown. This place kind of classifies itself as a basic, no-frills French bistro, and if you've read any of Anthony Bourdain's books, he talks about it like it's kind of a dive with decent food. It's not a dive. There was a cluster of what I'm assuming were male models drinking at the bar near our table; in fact, in terms of general attractiveness of the patrons, Les Halles had it going on over Beauty and Essex, which surprised me. I had the frisee aux lardon salad with a poached egg, which is a fancy way of saying a bacon and bleu cheese salad with an egg on top. And it's that kind of lettuce that's all, you know, frizzy-looking. Then I had the steak tartare and frites. The steak tartare was prepared tableside, which was cool in the sense that you could tell the dude if you wanted more or less of the various add-in's, but I always kind of feel like an asshole when I order things like that that draw attention to the table and make more work for the waiter. Lord knows I used to want to cut a bitch for ordering the guacamole that we used to have to prepare tableside at Ramon's Jalapeno. The steak tartare, you will be happy to learn if you are a tiger, was the best I've ever had, and there was quite a large portion of it. The fries were pretty delicious too. Lisa got an order of profiteroles for us to share (oh, and by us, I mean me, Lisa, and Ted Cancila--kicking it old school SLU theater style) for dessert, but I didn't think they were all that wonderful. Just all right for me, dawg. I guess overall Les Halles was my least favorite of the three restaurants, but it was still pretty damn good, and seriously, if you have any desire to try steak tartare, this is the place to do it.
But on to the restaurants. The first place we ate was Kin Shop, which is owned and run by one Mr. Harold Dieterle, the first winner of Top Chef. Harold has another restaurant in NY that's been open longer called Perilla, but their menu is the kind of new-Amercian, braised rabbit and squab-type entrees that I know I should crave as an aspiring foodie, but I just don't. So I was more into the idea of Kin Shop, because it is Thai-inspired. As in, not straight-up traditional Thai, but with those same flavor profiles. And yes, I hate myself a little bit that I seriously just used the phrase "flavor profiles" in earnest. I ordered the beef tartare and the spicy duck laab salad. And I don't even like duck, but the menu put their 5-star extra-spicy designation on that dish, and that's like my bat signal. It was the stuff! Probably the best thing I put in my mouth on my trip. So spicy, and served on these lettuce leaves that you could kind of fold up and make your own wraps with. The beef tartare was served with a quail-egg yolk on top, so that was cute. The tartare itself was tasty, but it was more like cubes instead of ground meat, and I think I prefer it ground. The duck on the salad was all ground up, and Lisa and I agreed that it didn't taste like any duck we'd ever had before, in a good way. If I could pick one nit with the place, it was that there was nothing on the table to amuse my bouche before the meal. Call me hopelessly Midwestern, but I'm a gal that likes a bread basket. Or shrimp chips. Something.
The next restaurant we went to was a place called Beauty and Essex on the lower east side. This place was more "trendy" or "scene-y" or something, which I knew going in, but I wanted to see one place like that on my trip. It's also kind of American tapas, all about the small plates for the table that you're meant to share. Plus, they serve bone marrow, and I wanted to try that, because I'm disgusting. Fuck Charlie Sheen, I'm running around Manhattan eating raw beef and sucking the marrow out of bones. Who's the tiger now? And I'm here to tell you that bone marrow is...not all that great, really. I'd eat it again, but then, we've already established that I'm a disgusting tiger. I wouldn't necessarily seek it out again. It tastes like that melty fat part of a steak. It was served with toast and a savory jelly, and that helped. It's just not all that flavorful on its own. We also got this tuna sashimi with chorizo that, next to the duck salad, was probably the most delicious bite I had all week, but the portions on that dish were super-small, so it really was just a bite or two. The lobster tacos were good, but not great, and I was annoyed that there were three of them, seeing as how there were two of us. We also ordered the NY strip steak, which is again meant to be shared and comes with four different dipping sauces. It was really good, and I loved mixing the bearnaise and the chimichurri sauces. Last, but decidedly not least, was the molten chocolate bread pudding with hazelnut ice cream. I'm not the biggest dessert person, but I could not stop eating this. And that came in a huge portion that was more than enough for two, probably three people to share.
For my final fancy meal, we went to Les Halles on Park Avenue in midtown. This place kind of classifies itself as a basic, no-frills French bistro, and if you've read any of Anthony Bourdain's books, he talks about it like it's kind of a dive with decent food. It's not a dive. There was a cluster of what I'm assuming were male models drinking at the bar near our table; in fact, in terms of general attractiveness of the patrons, Les Halles had it going on over Beauty and Essex, which surprised me. I had the frisee aux lardon salad with a poached egg, which is a fancy way of saying a bacon and bleu cheese salad with an egg on top. And it's that kind of lettuce that's all, you know, frizzy-looking. Then I had the steak tartare and frites. The steak tartare was prepared tableside, which was cool in the sense that you could tell the dude if you wanted more or less of the various add-in's, but I always kind of feel like an asshole when I order things like that that draw attention to the table and make more work for the waiter. Lord knows I used to want to cut a bitch for ordering the guacamole that we used to have to prepare tableside at Ramon's Jalapeno. The steak tartare, you will be happy to learn if you are a tiger, was the best I've ever had, and there was quite a large portion of it. The fries were pretty delicious too. Lisa got an order of profiteroles for us to share (oh, and by us, I mean me, Lisa, and Ted Cancila--kicking it old school SLU theater style) for dessert, but I didn't think they were all that wonderful. Just all right for me, dawg. I guess overall Les Halles was my least favorite of the three restaurants, but it was still pretty damn good, and seriously, if you have any desire to try steak tartare, this is the place to do it.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Reality TV Musings
I guess I've abandoned that idea I had to review all 10 of the Oscar movies. I think the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Oscar telecast kinda took the wind out of my sails on that idea. I'm sorry I have to punish you, pretty good and creative movies, for the sins of your celebratory dinner's hosts (well, host...I'm still willing to give Hathaway a half a pass), but that's the way my ADD-like approach to pop culture crumbles. You're yesterday's news.
So lately, I've been really into Intervention thanks to its preponderance on my Netflix streaming. And it's become a bit of a problem. I seem to gravitate toward the heroin addict ones, and a lot of them talk about "chasing the dragon", like they're continuing to search for that hit that's gonna be as good as the one in their memory. I find myself doing that lately with the episodes themselves. I'll search and search the episode descriptions for the ones that are gonna give me the greatest hit for my money.
I am also one of those dumbasses that watches the Bachelor with alarming regularity. Hey, I didn't say I was proud of it, but to me, there is nothing like watching a weird, creepy, half-fake, full-dysfunctional pseudo-relationship play out before your eyes for like 24 hours worth of filmed entertainment, and then watching the sad aftermath of said fake relationship play out on TV and the internet to appease my nosy-parker instincts quite like that show. Because in one way, it seems like, well of course none of these relationships work out, they're conducted by people on TV, for TV, in a creepy, misogynistic, simultaneously antiquated and fraught-with-the-modern-perils-of-a-life-lived-without-shame-or-boundaries type of way, so of course it wouldn't ever work for real. But then there's another part of me that thinks, if these two famewhores and exercise addicts can't make it work out, what with their apparent shared zeal for both famewhoring and exercise, what chance do any of us crazy kids have in this world? I'm bumming that Chantal won't be the next Bachelorette, though. I'd have liked to see what that big-chested crazy wonder would have brought to the table, much more so than I give a shit what girl-dentist Ashley does in the romance department. Because certainly, dentist-Ashley deserves love, and I'm sure can find it someday, but really, what are the chances it's going to happen this way? There's only so many really dim, really sweet firefighters like Ryan to go around, girl-next-door types. Didn't we already see that? I'd like to see what a rich, chesty, divorcee prone to drunkeness and emotional manipulation would have done with the title. And what the men's response would have been.
I still watch the "skill-based" reality shows too; right now it's Top Chef season, which is my favorite one of all. Cuz it combines a competition with food porn. I just like to imagine what all of their crazy creations would taste like. But my two beefs with this all-star season are...really, it's Mike I., Richard, and Antonia in it to win it, still? I gots no beef with Richard Blais, clearly it's his mission in life, it's going to kill him to not win it, and he is crazy talented. Yes, he's cocky, but it's combined with a crippling lack of confidence, and that's a combination I can get behind, neurosis-wise. It makes no sense, but then, I'm sure it makes no sense in Richard's disturbed mind either, so I call us even. Antonia seems cool....to smoke weed with, but to be my Top Chef? I'm not sure she's ready for the responsibility, you guys. And Mike Isabella, oh Christ, I don't know what to think. Just a dude. Who can occasionally cook really tasty food. And seems like a woman-hater. But like, not as noxious of a woman-hater as some. And seems kind of douchy. But in a way I could maybe stand, as long as he was bringing it with the platefuls of gnocchi with a pork bolognese. Like, his jokes might be funny if they were coming from the dude that just served me a plate of that stuff that he made. So, you know, I hope he doesn't win, but I don't hate him. There's my ringing endorsement of Mike Isabella.
Maybe I can throw some love, last but not least, on The Amazing Race. Flight Time and Big Easy are princes among men, and I won't hear a bad word against them. OK, not really, but they've sure mastered the art of the finely-timed bon-mot, and the legitimate good-friends-ness that permeates through them make them a pleasure to watch on the TV's. And sure, they're more used to it than some, but good-on-em for realizing that people will root for you more if you appear funny and nice than if you appear dickish, weird, frail, or creepy, which seems to be what a lot of the all-stars are going for. I mean, really, Christina's dad (is it Ron?), are you going to subject us to your emotionally abusive behavior towards your daughter a second season? And what in holy hell was up with the Goths this last leg? Was the pressure of pretending to be in a heterosexual relationship when there's clearly more to that story getting to the both of them? God love em, they seem like nice people, but pressure-cooker situations do not seem to be their strength. Perhaps this is owing to the creepiness of the one guy eschewing his natural sexual tendencies for the more socially acceptable relationship, except not really because who really thinks a goth girl with pink hair pretending to have sex with a goth guy with matching drawn-on eyebrows is more socially acceptable than the gay dude just boning another dude and the lady goth being free to have sex with either a more masculine goth or a lady-friend of her own choosing? Do not get. Do not want.
I don't know if I can touch Idol with a ten-foot-pole this week. This is the show, more than any other of my dumbass obsessions, that I try to drag more sane friends into. Just watch it this week with me, I urge, with all the verve and charm of your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. It doesn't make you dirty, I say, it makes you more like me. I like to judge performance. Man, do I like to tell you, my imaginary friend or blog reader, about why or why not someone's talents live up to my exacting standards. And I do. I like watching that show. I thought Simon Cowell leaving was the deal-breaker for me, because I did enjoy that asshole's eviscerations of performances that I felt were also not up to my quality standards. But lately, I've felt like, what's the goddamn point, really? Some kids are gonna suck, some are gonna suck less than you thought, but I'm still gonna keep watching anyway for that elusive magic-in-a-bottle moment that makes you think that some talent that really wouldn't have gotten the light of day otherwise is going to be showcased on this goofy little show. So, I'm protective of the show, that can so easily and so usually spin off into goofball entertainment. Because of this, it makes me sad to say that none of the current crop are roping me in enough with their performances on a week-to-week basis that I can really champion them. So, I'm not going to be able to point to one performer and say, "That's why I watch this show. Because sometimes, you'll see something like that, " with a straight face this year, because even my favorites are inconsistent. But I am digging the fact that I've finally pieced together that Stefano is Tony Danza and Matt LeBlanc's love child, and Scotty is Alfred E. Neuman and George W. Bush's.
That's all I've got, folks. Don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses. They work hard so that you don't have to.
So lately, I've been really into Intervention thanks to its preponderance on my Netflix streaming. And it's become a bit of a problem. I seem to gravitate toward the heroin addict ones, and a lot of them talk about "chasing the dragon", like they're continuing to search for that hit that's gonna be as good as the one in their memory. I find myself doing that lately with the episodes themselves. I'll search and search the episode descriptions for the ones that are gonna give me the greatest hit for my money.
I am also one of those dumbasses that watches the Bachelor with alarming regularity. Hey, I didn't say I was proud of it, but to me, there is nothing like watching a weird, creepy, half-fake, full-dysfunctional pseudo-relationship play out before your eyes for like 24 hours worth of filmed entertainment, and then watching the sad aftermath of said fake relationship play out on TV and the internet to appease my nosy-parker instincts quite like that show. Because in one way, it seems like, well of course none of these relationships work out, they're conducted by people on TV, for TV, in a creepy, misogynistic, simultaneously antiquated and fraught-with-the-modern-perils-of-a-life-lived-without-shame-or-boundaries type of way, so of course it wouldn't ever work for real. But then there's another part of me that thinks, if these two famewhores and exercise addicts can't make it work out, what with their apparent shared zeal for both famewhoring and exercise, what chance do any of us crazy kids have in this world? I'm bumming that Chantal won't be the next Bachelorette, though. I'd have liked to see what that big-chested crazy wonder would have brought to the table, much more so than I give a shit what girl-dentist Ashley does in the romance department. Because certainly, dentist-Ashley deserves love, and I'm sure can find it someday, but really, what are the chances it's going to happen this way? There's only so many really dim, really sweet firefighters like Ryan to go around, girl-next-door types. Didn't we already see that? I'd like to see what a rich, chesty, divorcee prone to drunkeness and emotional manipulation would have done with the title. And what the men's response would have been.
I still watch the "skill-based" reality shows too; right now it's Top Chef season, which is my favorite one of all. Cuz it combines a competition with food porn. I just like to imagine what all of their crazy creations would taste like. But my two beefs with this all-star season are...really, it's Mike I., Richard, and Antonia in it to win it, still? I gots no beef with Richard Blais, clearly it's his mission in life, it's going to kill him to not win it, and he is crazy talented. Yes, he's cocky, but it's combined with a crippling lack of confidence, and that's a combination I can get behind, neurosis-wise. It makes no sense, but then, I'm sure it makes no sense in Richard's disturbed mind either, so I call us even. Antonia seems cool....to smoke weed with, but to be my Top Chef? I'm not sure she's ready for the responsibility, you guys. And Mike Isabella, oh Christ, I don't know what to think. Just a dude. Who can occasionally cook really tasty food. And seems like a woman-hater. But like, not as noxious of a woman-hater as some. And seems kind of douchy. But in a way I could maybe stand, as long as he was bringing it with the platefuls of gnocchi with a pork bolognese. Like, his jokes might be funny if they were coming from the dude that just served me a plate of that stuff that he made. So, you know, I hope he doesn't win, but I don't hate him. There's my ringing endorsement of Mike Isabella.
Maybe I can throw some love, last but not least, on The Amazing Race. Flight Time and Big Easy are princes among men, and I won't hear a bad word against them. OK, not really, but they've sure mastered the art of the finely-timed bon-mot, and the legitimate good-friends-ness that permeates through them make them a pleasure to watch on the TV's. And sure, they're more used to it than some, but good-on-em for realizing that people will root for you more if you appear funny and nice than if you appear dickish, weird, frail, or creepy, which seems to be what a lot of the all-stars are going for. I mean, really, Christina's dad (is it Ron?), are you going to subject us to your emotionally abusive behavior towards your daughter a second season? And what in holy hell was up with the Goths this last leg? Was the pressure of pretending to be in a heterosexual relationship when there's clearly more to that story getting to the both of them? God love em, they seem like nice people, but pressure-cooker situations do not seem to be their strength. Perhaps this is owing to the creepiness of the one guy eschewing his natural sexual tendencies for the more socially acceptable relationship, except not really because who really thinks a goth girl with pink hair pretending to have sex with a goth guy with matching drawn-on eyebrows is more socially acceptable than the gay dude just boning another dude and the lady goth being free to have sex with either a more masculine goth or a lady-friend of her own choosing? Do not get. Do not want.
I don't know if I can touch Idol with a ten-foot-pole this week. This is the show, more than any other of my dumbass obsessions, that I try to drag more sane friends into. Just watch it this week with me, I urge, with all the verve and charm of your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. It doesn't make you dirty, I say, it makes you more like me. I like to judge performance. Man, do I like to tell you, my imaginary friend or blog reader, about why or why not someone's talents live up to my exacting standards. And I do. I like watching that show. I thought Simon Cowell leaving was the deal-breaker for me, because I did enjoy that asshole's eviscerations of performances that I felt were also not up to my quality standards. But lately, I've felt like, what's the goddamn point, really? Some kids are gonna suck, some are gonna suck less than you thought, but I'm still gonna keep watching anyway for that elusive magic-in-a-bottle moment that makes you think that some talent that really wouldn't have gotten the light of day otherwise is going to be showcased on this goofy little show. So, I'm protective of the show, that can so easily and so usually spin off into goofball entertainment. Because of this, it makes me sad to say that none of the current crop are roping me in enough with their performances on a week-to-week basis that I can really champion them. So, I'm not going to be able to point to one performer and say, "That's why I watch this show. Because sometimes, you'll see something like that, " with a straight face this year, because even my favorites are inconsistent. But I am digging the fact that I've finally pieced together that Stefano is Tony Danza and Matt LeBlanc's love child, and Scotty is Alfred E. Neuman and George W. Bush's.
That's all I've got, folks. Don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses. They work hard so that you don't have to.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Shit I Hope I Remember to Say to My Daughter When She's a Teen
I feel like I got lucky with Elodie, in that she's not like me. She doesn't seem to recognize bullshit as readily as I feel I did even at a young age. She gets along with people of all stripes, all ages, all skin tones, all douchebag levels, and she accepts people where they are and gets down to the get down with them...her go-to question with a new person is where can we connect? Is it over play-wrestling, or you picking me up and swinging me around? Fine, let's do that. Are you into make-up, and dress-up? I can do that too. Do you want to play pretend? Pick your poison, we can play school, we can play fairies, we can play princesses, we can play family, etc. etc. So, maybe she doesn't need these words from her mother as much as I probably needed them when I was a preteen, but on the chance that her hormones will go all wiggidy-wack and she'll turn into a monster I don't recognize in adolescence, here's some shit I hope I'll remember to say...
1. Adolescence is torture, and anyone that tells you that high school is the best years of your life is a loser.
2. Your mom truly is the smartest person you know, and her advice is correct, and you know this is true, Elodie, because your mom won money for being right on Jeopardy.
3 Just because someone seems to have nothing in common with you on the surface doesn't mean they have nothing to offer you on any level. Conversely, having the same movie tastes, TV tastes, video game tastes, and music tastes in common doesn't mean you agree on life's big questions.
4. Teenagers are terrible people. Don't trust any of them, including yourself. You are making terrible choices right now, probably, and if you aren't, your friends certainly are. That heady cocktail of peer pressure, insecurity, and hormones practically guarantees that what you think is a good idea isn't. Therefore, don't make any decision at all in this state that will have long-term consequences for your future.
5. You wanna know another thing teens suck at? Judging people. Do you think it's just some crazy coincidence that most of the awesome adults on this Earth admit to feeling bullied, or judged, or picked on as a teen? Not fitting in, being smart, being sensitive--believe it or not, actual adults that exist in the real world admire those traits. You never know which of your "dork" acquaintances might be Bill Gates, and if you yourself are a dork? Count yourself lucky. Dorks are usually the people who can see through the teen bullshit at a younger age and aren't willing or able to play along. Being the prettiest girl in high school never guaranteed anybody a trouble-free life.
6. If somebody seems a little off, they are. Everybody who is crazy gives you ample warning signs. I know it seems like the right thing to do, to be their friend, but trust me when i tell you it is better for all involved if you cut them off and walk away. If your crazy friend loses friends, it's going to be a wake-up call to them, and if not, it's better to cut your losses. Specifically, remove yourself from any situation or friend that wants you to do something that you know is wrong or incredibly dangerous. Look, slightly dangerous situations are the lifeblood of a teen, and I get that. I'm talking about if in your gut, even you know this is insanity. Get out of there. He/She is not worth it. You are.
7. Love. Sex. Hoo Boy. I will say just this...Love is great. Sex is grand. The two combined are the best of all. But boys will never be more of a sex-focused pig than they are in the next ten years, and you have to always remember that some of these sex-driven maniacs will turn out to be decent men, and some of them will continue to be sex-driven maniacs, and it's best if you can try to discern between the two. And always, always keep in mind that there are many men out there that will feel the same way about you as whatever Boy X is spouting off to you. In fact, it may be a useful exercise to say to yourself, when Boy X says, "I just think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known", or "You are my soul mate and therefore you must sleep with me," that there exist at least 10 more men on the planet that would/could/do feel the exact same way. And then, pick and choose among them. And use a condom, for Christ's sake. I don't wanna be a grandma yet.
1. Adolescence is torture, and anyone that tells you that high school is the best years of your life is a loser.
2. Your mom truly is the smartest person you know, and her advice is correct, and you know this is true, Elodie, because your mom won money for being right on Jeopardy.
3 Just because someone seems to have nothing in common with you on the surface doesn't mean they have nothing to offer you on any level. Conversely, having the same movie tastes, TV tastes, video game tastes, and music tastes in common doesn't mean you agree on life's big questions.
4. Teenagers are terrible people. Don't trust any of them, including yourself. You are making terrible choices right now, probably, and if you aren't, your friends certainly are. That heady cocktail of peer pressure, insecurity, and hormones practically guarantees that what you think is a good idea isn't. Therefore, don't make any decision at all in this state that will have long-term consequences for your future.
5. You wanna know another thing teens suck at? Judging people. Do you think it's just some crazy coincidence that most of the awesome adults on this Earth admit to feeling bullied, or judged, or picked on as a teen? Not fitting in, being smart, being sensitive--believe it or not, actual adults that exist in the real world admire those traits. You never know which of your "dork" acquaintances might be Bill Gates, and if you yourself are a dork? Count yourself lucky. Dorks are usually the people who can see through the teen bullshit at a younger age and aren't willing or able to play along. Being the prettiest girl in high school never guaranteed anybody a trouble-free life.
6. If somebody seems a little off, they are. Everybody who is crazy gives you ample warning signs. I know it seems like the right thing to do, to be their friend, but trust me when i tell you it is better for all involved if you cut them off and walk away. If your crazy friend loses friends, it's going to be a wake-up call to them, and if not, it's better to cut your losses. Specifically, remove yourself from any situation or friend that wants you to do something that you know is wrong or incredibly dangerous. Look, slightly dangerous situations are the lifeblood of a teen, and I get that. I'm talking about if in your gut, even you know this is insanity. Get out of there. He/She is not worth it. You are.
7. Love. Sex. Hoo Boy. I will say just this...Love is great. Sex is grand. The two combined are the best of all. But boys will never be more of a sex-focused pig than they are in the next ten years, and you have to always remember that some of these sex-driven maniacs will turn out to be decent men, and some of them will continue to be sex-driven maniacs, and it's best if you can try to discern between the two. And always, always keep in mind that there are many men out there that will feel the same way about you as whatever Boy X is spouting off to you. In fact, it may be a useful exercise to say to yourself, when Boy X says, "I just think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known", or "You are my soul mate and therefore you must sleep with me," that there exist at least 10 more men on the planet that would/could/do feel the exact same way. And then, pick and choose among them. And use a condom, for Christ's sake. I don't wanna be a grandma yet.
Monday, March 7, 2011
What's Heather Putting in Her Mouth? Trader Joe's Edition
Everyone knows that Trader Joe's is the best supermarket in all the land, right? Global Market on Kirkwood Road is pretty damn good too, but I think Trader Joe's still wins, mainly because of the service and ambience. If you've never been there, I...judge you, frankly. Shit, fool, it's been open in Saint Louis for seven years! But even if you have been there, maybe you've gotten stuck in your own Trader Joe's rut. You know how you do, you have three or four favorites, so you go in, grab those, maybe try a new cheese, bread, or wine if you're really feeling fancy, then leave. I don't purport to be a Trader Joe's expert, but I do have a few favorites that I'll share with you, in no particular order, so you can mix it up a little the next time you go in.
1. Mochi. It's a ball of ice cream surrounded by a gelatinous dough, y'all. Popular in Japan, they have it in flavors such as mango, green tea, and chocolate. Normally, I'm a chocolate girl all the way, but I find the fruitier options are a better choice when you're talking mochi. I think the green tea is my favorite. As my brother said the first time he tried one, "It would almost have been worth it for the Japanese to have defeated us in World War II if it meant I would have grown up eating these."
2. Smoked Salmon. If you're a fan at all of lox and bagels, this salmon is just as good as you would get ordering that in any restaurant, and better than you'll get from like an Einstein bagels or some other chain. Plus you can get a bag that'll hook up at least four big-ass bagels for like 8.99. You can't order one serving of lox and bagels at a restaurant for that price. And it's nice and salty, and pink looking, and non-fishy smelling.
3. Pot Roast. Look, I'm not trying to say pot roast is the most delicious or exotic meal of all time. But theirs comes in a bag, which you can microwave, and it's really freaking tender and yummy. And you can microwave it. In a bag. Throw it on some instant mashed potatoes, and there's dinner--in like three minutes. (get some bleu cheese from their cheese selection and throw it in the instant mashed potatoes and now there's gourmet dinner in like three minutes).
4. Cheese Enchiladas. These come in a one-serving size in the frozen food section. They have chicken enchildas too. Both of them cost around 2 bucks, and they take about 4 minutes in the microwave. They're great to take for your lunch, because they're delicious, they're filling, and each of them is around 400 calories. They're a damn sight tastier than a Lean Cuisine meal for about the same price and about the same calories, is what I'm saying.
5. Mousse Pate. They have a few different kinds of this, some made just with chicken livers, some with chicken and pork livers, some with truffles, some with mushrooms. If you're kind of fancy and like high falutin' meatstuffs, this really is the shizz with some crackers and some cheese. If you think you're not fancy, but you've ever liked braunschweiger, try this because you may just like it. It's spreadable meat!
6. Sea Salt Brownies. I for one am a fan of the put-salty-on-sweet trend, and these little bite-size brownies have just a sprinkle of salt, which makes the chocolate taste more chocolately without imparting much of a salty flavor. Just a soupcon, just a smidge. Yes, please.
7. Cilantro Jalapeno Hummus. All of their hummus is good, but this one is my favorite. The cilantro imparts a fresh taste, and the jalapeno imparts just a little heat. This hummus on some bagel chips may be the world's most perfect snack food.
I may come back and add to this list later, but this ought to get you started...
1. Mochi. It's a ball of ice cream surrounded by a gelatinous dough, y'all. Popular in Japan, they have it in flavors such as mango, green tea, and chocolate. Normally, I'm a chocolate girl all the way, but I find the fruitier options are a better choice when you're talking mochi. I think the green tea is my favorite. As my brother said the first time he tried one, "It would almost have been worth it for the Japanese to have defeated us in World War II if it meant I would have grown up eating these."
2. Smoked Salmon. If you're a fan at all of lox and bagels, this salmon is just as good as you would get ordering that in any restaurant, and better than you'll get from like an Einstein bagels or some other chain. Plus you can get a bag that'll hook up at least four big-ass bagels for like 8.99. You can't order one serving of lox and bagels at a restaurant for that price. And it's nice and salty, and pink looking, and non-fishy smelling.
3. Pot Roast. Look, I'm not trying to say pot roast is the most delicious or exotic meal of all time. But theirs comes in a bag, which you can microwave, and it's really freaking tender and yummy. And you can microwave it. In a bag. Throw it on some instant mashed potatoes, and there's dinner--in like three minutes. (get some bleu cheese from their cheese selection and throw it in the instant mashed potatoes and now there's gourmet dinner in like three minutes).
4. Cheese Enchiladas. These come in a one-serving size in the frozen food section. They have chicken enchildas too. Both of them cost around 2 bucks, and they take about 4 minutes in the microwave. They're great to take for your lunch, because they're delicious, they're filling, and each of them is around 400 calories. They're a damn sight tastier than a Lean Cuisine meal for about the same price and about the same calories, is what I'm saying.
5. Mousse Pate. They have a few different kinds of this, some made just with chicken livers, some with chicken and pork livers, some with truffles, some with mushrooms. If you're kind of fancy and like high falutin' meatstuffs, this really is the shizz with some crackers and some cheese. If you think you're not fancy, but you've ever liked braunschweiger, try this because you may just like it. It's spreadable meat!
6. Sea Salt Brownies. I for one am a fan of the put-salty-on-sweet trend, and these little bite-size brownies have just a sprinkle of salt, which makes the chocolate taste more chocolately without imparting much of a salty flavor. Just a soupcon, just a smidge. Yes, please.
7. Cilantro Jalapeno Hummus. All of their hummus is good, but this one is my favorite. The cilantro imparts a fresh taste, and the jalapeno imparts just a little heat. This hummus on some bagel chips may be the world's most perfect snack food.
I may come back and add to this list later, but this ought to get you started...
Friday, March 4, 2011
American Idol Top 13
I gotta say, as much as I feel vindicated for my pre-Oscar fears that Anne Hathaway and James Franco were gonna bite the big one as hosts, is as much as I feel I have to eat a little crow for my insistence that the departure of Simon Cowell and the addition of J-Lo and Stephen Tyler were going to be the ruination of Idol. For a while there, during Hollywood week in particular, I was even starting to think that maybe Cowell's been the major problem with the show for the last few years. Now that we're out of the semifinals and into the finals, I've dialed back on my enthusiasm for this new judging panel a touch. They're starting to fall into that new-judge trap of wanting to be nice at all costs. But I do feel they did a better job assembling a top 24 than other groups did in years past. Apparently, Cowell was on the Tonight Show the other night too talking about how he would have kept Chris Medina around. NO, GOD, NO. I have never sat around saying, "These kids sing well and all, but I just don't feel any connection to them. Don't they have any dead or tragic fiancees they could be pimping out at every turn?" Lord knows what Idol doesn't need is anything remotely resembling Danny Gokey darkening its stage again.
With this years top 13, I think the closest we're coming to the scary depths of sucks previously plumbed by the likes of Camille Valasco, Paige Miles, and Jon Stevens is maybe Haley Reinhart, possibly Ashthon Jones (and I'm not a fan of the superfluous h in her name, either). I don't hold out a ton of hope for Scotty McDeepVoice either; I feel like he's a one-trick pony that is gonna get old quick, but I have to admit that thus far, the majority of his performances have been solid. James Durbin certainly seems like a grade-A douche bag--I feel like with him, I finally understand what some of the Adam Lambert haters were going on about. But Adam always had an air of humility about him that James would be wise to at least pretend to possess as well. I'm always amazed, too, at contestants like Stefano, who pretty well stunk up the place on Tuesday night, then freakin' killed it with his wild card song on Thursday. Why you holding out on us when it counts, man? If you had that in your arsenal, why didn't you bust it out on Tuesday? Could nobody tell the young man that that song was the better choice? And what's up with this Jordan Dorsey? He alluded to this on the show that aired on Tuesday, but apparently he pretty much said on the unedited broadcast that that deadly Usher song was foisted on him against his will. The hell? I mean, if someone was torpedoing him on purpose, I'd like to buy that someone a beer, because he also gave me douche chills, but, why would Jordan let that happen?
I was glad to see Naima get put through on the wild card, but I would have switched Kendra for Ashthon. Jovanny was pretty, and he stayed on pitch and all that, but I think it is a testament to how decent most of the contestants really are this year that he rightfully didn't make it through for no greater sin than being boring. I was sorry to see my sparkly twink Brett get the boot; I held out some hope that he was going to be some awesome combo of the dorkiness/beautiful voice of Clay Aiken with the shimmery awesomeness of an Adam, but there was truly no redeeming that whispery and embarrassing Jim Morrison cover, so he had to go. Jacob Lusk had previously bugged with his rampant over-the-topness, but I thought his Tuesday offering was a bit dialed back, and I can't deny his pure vocal prowess. That Pia chick did kick all sorts of ass with Stand By You, and that really is just about a perfect song to sing at this stage of the competition; good on her for realizing that. Finally, my pick to win the whole shebang is the adorable cuddly lumberjack Casey. I pick him to be the target of my inappropriate cougar crushing for the season as well.
With this years top 13, I think the closest we're coming to the scary depths of sucks previously plumbed by the likes of Camille Valasco, Paige Miles, and Jon Stevens is maybe Haley Reinhart, possibly Ashthon Jones (and I'm not a fan of the superfluous h in her name, either). I don't hold out a ton of hope for Scotty McDeepVoice either; I feel like he's a one-trick pony that is gonna get old quick, but I have to admit that thus far, the majority of his performances have been solid. James Durbin certainly seems like a grade-A douche bag--I feel like with him, I finally understand what some of the Adam Lambert haters were going on about. But Adam always had an air of humility about him that James would be wise to at least pretend to possess as well. I'm always amazed, too, at contestants like Stefano, who pretty well stunk up the place on Tuesday night, then freakin' killed it with his wild card song on Thursday. Why you holding out on us when it counts, man? If you had that in your arsenal, why didn't you bust it out on Tuesday? Could nobody tell the young man that that song was the better choice? And what's up with this Jordan Dorsey? He alluded to this on the show that aired on Tuesday, but apparently he pretty much said on the unedited broadcast that that deadly Usher song was foisted on him against his will. The hell? I mean, if someone was torpedoing him on purpose, I'd like to buy that someone a beer, because he also gave me douche chills, but, why would Jordan let that happen?
I was glad to see Naima get put through on the wild card, but I would have switched Kendra for Ashthon. Jovanny was pretty, and he stayed on pitch and all that, but I think it is a testament to how decent most of the contestants really are this year that he rightfully didn't make it through for no greater sin than being boring. I was sorry to see my sparkly twink Brett get the boot; I held out some hope that he was going to be some awesome combo of the dorkiness/beautiful voice of Clay Aiken with the shimmery awesomeness of an Adam, but there was truly no redeeming that whispery and embarrassing Jim Morrison cover, so he had to go. Jacob Lusk had previously bugged with his rampant over-the-topness, but I thought his Tuesday offering was a bit dialed back, and I can't deny his pure vocal prowess. That Pia chick did kick all sorts of ass with Stand By You, and that really is just about a perfect song to sing at this stage of the competition; good on her for realizing that. Finally, my pick to win the whole shebang is the adorable cuddly lumberjack Casey. I pick him to be the target of my inappropriate cougar crushing for the season as well.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Musings on the Academy Awards
When I first heard that James Franco and Anne Hathaway were going to be the hosts of this year's Academy Awards, I believe my exact words were, "Oh no." I mean, come on. You've got to earn that shit, by virtue of being known for being quite funny, quite charming on live televised events, quite a song-and-dance man, something. And I mean, I think James Franco is a good actor--you may recall that right on this very blog, I said that I wouldn't have minded seeing him win Best Actor for 127 hours--but I also predicted that he was gonna suck monkey nuts as an Oscar host. And hoo boy, did I hit that one out of the park. I think I predicted that he would be a "pretentious time suck"; change "pretentious" to "catatonic", and you can call me Miss Cleo. The only thing that surprised me, host-wise, was that I was expecting to want to punch Anne Hathaway in the face afterwards more than Franco, but those roles have been reversed. I didn't think Hathaway was good, mind you, but at least she tried. And she had maybe one or two decent moments last night compared to Franco's goose egg. She could have maybe been bumped up to passable if she had something other than a block of wood to play off of. And she sure looked nice. Franco's eyes looked like blind albino mice eyes, and he looked like shit in drag, too. And why is that funny? Just...some dude in drag? That's the whole joke? Do. Not. Get. Do. Not. Want. Ever again.
Let's move on. Except, move on to what? Everything was so boring, and predictable. I'm tired of the big surprise being that that rule about there being at least one surprise winner each year isn't true anymore. Let's face it folks. It was boring, and lame, and there wasn't really anything, anything to hang your hat on or sink your teeth into entertainment-wise. I feel like I felt when I found out Santa Claus wasn't real. I'll still watch the Oscars, but I think this is the year the scales fell from my eyes, and I'm never gonna feel about the Oscars the way I felt about them when I was 25 again.
OK, but now I will talk a few specifics. Kirk Douglas has been touted as a highlight. Really? I mean, it's sweet and all, I guess, but I don't necessarily want such a stark reminder of how time just keeps a' marchin' on for us all. I would have been fine with it though if he would have cut it in half. But I found the dragging-out-the-winner's-name bit kind of cringeworthy, and a little rude. And then I found what followed it, Melissa Leo's speech, absolutely cringeworthy, and a lot rude. No, I'm not talking about the f-bomb, I'm talking about...learn how to speak publicly if you're going to be called upon to do it in such a public forum, for heaven's sakes. Get it together. If you think you may be nervous, which I get, have a few choice lines memorized so you can use the audience's laughter to compose yourself a bit.
One more word about Melissa Leo. I thought it was bullshit that she was getting called out so hard for those cheesy campaign ads she did. Yes, they were cheesy; yes, it was too much and made her seem narcissistic, but I thought the potential punishment (losing the Oscar over it) would not have fit the crime, had that come to pass. Because I thought that if it was a man that did something similar, nobody would seriously suggest that he deserved to lose because of it. But then she gave her speech, and I thought, "Oh Melissa Leo, I'm not going to defend your crazy-pants-ness anymore. Nobody's against you because you're a 50-year-old non-ingenue in a sexist industry, they're against you because you grate. Badly."
A few other random musings--Gwyneth Paltrow is a pretty decent singer for a non-singer, and I'm not sure why we're all supposed to just accept that she's any more special at it than that. Jennifer Hudson's new body is sick (sick good, I mean). Robert Downey Jr. would have been a much better host choice than Franco. Oprah's boobs are ginormous. I read on another blog that Reznor's score is the main thing elevated The Social Network to a potential best picture, and I think I agree with that. And I'm not going to break up with the Oscars over this year, but I don't know that our relationship will ever truly be the same.
Let's move on. Except, move on to what? Everything was so boring, and predictable. I'm tired of the big surprise being that that rule about there being at least one surprise winner each year isn't true anymore. Let's face it folks. It was boring, and lame, and there wasn't really anything, anything to hang your hat on or sink your teeth into entertainment-wise. I feel like I felt when I found out Santa Claus wasn't real. I'll still watch the Oscars, but I think this is the year the scales fell from my eyes, and I'm never gonna feel about the Oscars the way I felt about them when I was 25 again.
OK, but now I will talk a few specifics. Kirk Douglas has been touted as a highlight. Really? I mean, it's sweet and all, I guess, but I don't necessarily want such a stark reminder of how time just keeps a' marchin' on for us all. I would have been fine with it though if he would have cut it in half. But I found the dragging-out-the-winner's-name bit kind of cringeworthy, and a little rude. And then I found what followed it, Melissa Leo's speech, absolutely cringeworthy, and a lot rude. No, I'm not talking about the f-bomb, I'm talking about...learn how to speak publicly if you're going to be called upon to do it in such a public forum, for heaven's sakes. Get it together. If you think you may be nervous, which I get, have a few choice lines memorized so you can use the audience's laughter to compose yourself a bit.
One more word about Melissa Leo. I thought it was bullshit that she was getting called out so hard for those cheesy campaign ads she did. Yes, they were cheesy; yes, it was too much and made her seem narcissistic, but I thought the potential punishment (losing the Oscar over it) would not have fit the crime, had that come to pass. Because I thought that if it was a man that did something similar, nobody would seriously suggest that he deserved to lose because of it. But then she gave her speech, and I thought, "Oh Melissa Leo, I'm not going to defend your crazy-pants-ness anymore. Nobody's against you because you're a 50-year-old non-ingenue in a sexist industry, they're against you because you grate. Badly."
A few other random musings--Gwyneth Paltrow is a pretty decent singer for a non-singer, and I'm not sure why we're all supposed to just accept that she's any more special at it than that. Jennifer Hudson's new body is sick (sick good, I mean). Robert Downey Jr. would have been a much better host choice than Franco. Oprah's boobs are ginormous. I read on another blog that Reznor's score is the main thing elevated The Social Network to a potential best picture, and I think I agree with that. And I'm not going to break up with the Oscars over this year, but I don't know that our relationship will ever truly be the same.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The King's Speech Review
Let me start out by saying that this is a good movie. It looks pretty; the acting is uniformly solid, in the instance of Geoffrey Rush, even transcendent; and the story is compelling and well-written. But I'm still just bugged by this notion that because it happened to a royal, or a rich, famous, and powerful person, it's inherently more interesting. It's like, why not make a movie about Angelina Jolie's astigmatism? Cause let's face it, nobody would ask us to sit through two hours about some dude's speech impediment if it wasn't supposed to be so important and British and blah, blah, blah who cares, really? It's stuttering, it's not pancreatic cancer.
I had a hard time buying Colin Firth as the younger brother of Guy Pearce in this movie, too. I thought both of them were great in their roles, but Firth does not look or act like a man who would be intimidated by, and younger than, Pearce. One of the roles should have been recast for that to work, I think.
There's a scene late in the movie where Firth is going on some tirade about how Rush's character isn't qualified, and then he turns around, and look! That cheeky Rush is daring to sit in his throne, impertinent grin on his face. It's scenes like that in movies that remind me of what this little 1st grader I used to tutor said about another little girl..."She think she cute". The King's Speech sure thought it was cute right there, boy. I felt like the movie really "think it's cute" too in the scene where Rush's wife discovers the royals in her home. I guess what I'm struggling to say is that too much of this movie felt like manufactured, "How charming!" moments to me. It's just so....Oscar bait-y.
All in all, I have to put this one pretty far down my list this year, maybe 9th or even 10th. But it's still totally going to win tonight. And I can live with that, because it certainly doesn't suck. It's just the opposite of inventive.
I had a hard time buying Colin Firth as the younger brother of Guy Pearce in this movie, too. I thought both of them were great in their roles, but Firth does not look or act like a man who would be intimidated by, and younger than, Pearce. One of the roles should have been recast for that to work, I think.
There's a scene late in the movie where Firth is going on some tirade about how Rush's character isn't qualified, and then he turns around, and look! That cheeky Rush is daring to sit in his throne, impertinent grin on his face. It's scenes like that in movies that remind me of what this little 1st grader I used to tutor said about another little girl..."She think she cute". The King's Speech sure thought it was cute right there, boy. I felt like the movie really "think it's cute" too in the scene where Rush's wife discovers the royals in her home. I guess what I'm struggling to say is that too much of this movie felt like manufactured, "How charming!" moments to me. It's just so....Oscar bait-y.
All in all, I have to put this one pretty far down my list this year, maybe 9th or even 10th. But it's still totally going to win tonight. And I can live with that, because it certainly doesn't suck. It's just the opposite of inventive.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
True Grit Review
You know how the Coen brothers always have their Coen-brothery schtick in just about every movie they make? It's not the same schtick in every movie, and it's a schtick I like almost always, but it's there. You never don't know you're watching a Coen brothers movie. I like that in this movie, their schtick was, there is no schtick. I guess they figured they'd tried just about every other cinematic trick in the universe, so why not just play this one straight and see how that'd go? It's like if Jackson Pollock just said, "Ah, fuck it. I'm just gonna paint a really pretty picture of a pony today," and was super good at that too. OK, there are a few little Coen-isms here and there, like how no one in the whole movie uses a contraction, ever. And certainly Jeff Bridges' Rooster Cogburn evokes the Dude more than a little. But mainly it's just a straight-up well done Western.
I loved Matt Damon too, and am surprised he didn't get more praise for his work in this. Hailee Steinfeld is great as well, but I'm going to go out on a bit of a limb and say she's been maybe a touch overpraised. She did a great job with the difficult dialogue, but I never forgot she was acting. The same could also be said for Jeff Bridges work in this film, but my adoration of him knows no bounds, and I mean, come on. It's Jeff Bridges--if not the most awesome man in the entire universe, then at least the most awesome man in Hollywood, ever. So, yes, nits can be picked, but the overall effect seems to be a very faithful adaptation of a very funny and compelling novel, done lovingly and well. It didn't blow me away, but it was very satisfying. In my Best Picture nom rankings, this one is usually somewhere in the middle, maybe 4 or 5. Which sounds like faint praise, but this was a pretty good year for film, and there isn't an actual stinker in the bunch, so...Yeah. 4th or 5th.
I loved Matt Damon too, and am surprised he didn't get more praise for his work in this. Hailee Steinfeld is great as well, but I'm going to go out on a bit of a limb and say she's been maybe a touch overpraised. She did a great job with the difficult dialogue, but I never forgot she was acting. The same could also be said for Jeff Bridges work in this film, but my adoration of him knows no bounds, and I mean, come on. It's Jeff Bridges--if not the most awesome man in the entire universe, then at least the most awesome man in Hollywood, ever. So, yes, nits can be picked, but the overall effect seems to be a very faithful adaptation of a very funny and compelling novel, done lovingly and well. It didn't blow me away, but it was very satisfying. In my Best Picture nom rankings, this one is usually somewhere in the middle, maybe 4 or 5. Which sounds like faint praise, but this was a pretty good year for film, and there isn't an actual stinker in the bunch, so...Yeah. 4th or 5th.
127 Hours Review
In honor of the Oscars, I'm going to try and review all of the Best Picture nominations in the next few days. I actually saw them all this year, so I'm going to go ahead and get myself a cookie and be right back. Ah, that's better. Girl Scout cookies truly are the bomb.
127 Hours, or as you may know it, that movie where James Franco cuts his arm off, starts out really annoyingly. It's directed by Danny Boyle, who also directed Slumdog Millionaire which I didn't like. Don't tell anybody. Them's apparently fighting words to a lot of people, I have found. But he seems to have a love for a really hyper, pulsating, kind of bad 80s music video vibe, and that's sort of how he starts this movie. And the character that Franco plays...lets just say that about 10 minutes in I turned to Matt and said, "If they're trying to make him so insufferable that I will relish seeing him have to chop off his own arm, then mission accomplished."
It sounds like I didn't like it, doesn't it? Not true! I did like it ! In fact, when I rank all the Best Picture nominations from this year in my head, which I actually do more often than I care to admit, many times this movie comes out number two, right behind that gay fantasia Black Swan, which had me at "creepy movie about anorexic ballerinas". After you get past the first 10 or 15 minutes of annoyance, you know, once the Franco settles down and gets all wedged into a chasm, it gets really compelling. It's one of those movies where once it's over you feel like you lived through the experience yourself, and you come out of the theater slightly dazed and so damn glad that that nice young couple saw you wandering armless around the Utah desert and called for help for you. And let me just add, that as much as I am against Franco and Hathaway as Oscar hosts, and think they will be pretentious and humorless time sucks that aren't in any way ready for this kind of heady responsibility (yes, I've seen the ads. No, I don't think they're funny) one Mr. James Franco can act his face off, and he does that in this movie. That's a good thing too, because you have to spend the vast majority of this movie just staring at his face, so it's best that it's a handsome and a talented one. Still doesn't mean he should host the Oscars, though. Just that he maybe should win Best Actor, but that isn't going to happen.
Like I say, maybe my second favorite of the Best Picture nominations. Too bad it came and went so quickly from the theaters, because i do think it'll lose something on DVD. Oh, and that arm cutting scene isn't really all that gross, and I'm kind of squeamish about that kind of shiz. It also takes up maybe 10 minutes of the movie, max.
127 Hours, or as you may know it, that movie where James Franco cuts his arm off, starts out really annoyingly. It's directed by Danny Boyle, who also directed Slumdog Millionaire which I didn't like. Don't tell anybody. Them's apparently fighting words to a lot of people, I have found. But he seems to have a love for a really hyper, pulsating, kind of bad 80s music video vibe, and that's sort of how he starts this movie. And the character that Franco plays...lets just say that about 10 minutes in I turned to Matt and said, "If they're trying to make him so insufferable that I will relish seeing him have to chop off his own arm, then mission accomplished."
It sounds like I didn't like it, doesn't it? Not true! I did like it ! In fact, when I rank all the Best Picture nominations from this year in my head, which I actually do more often than I care to admit, many times this movie comes out number two, right behind that gay fantasia Black Swan, which had me at "creepy movie about anorexic ballerinas". After you get past the first 10 or 15 minutes of annoyance, you know, once the Franco settles down and gets all wedged into a chasm, it gets really compelling. It's one of those movies where once it's over you feel like you lived through the experience yourself, and you come out of the theater slightly dazed and so damn glad that that nice young couple saw you wandering armless around the Utah desert and called for help for you. And let me just add, that as much as I am against Franco and Hathaway as Oscar hosts, and think they will be pretentious and humorless time sucks that aren't in any way ready for this kind of heady responsibility (yes, I've seen the ads. No, I don't think they're funny) one Mr. James Franco can act his face off, and he does that in this movie. That's a good thing too, because you have to spend the vast majority of this movie just staring at his face, so it's best that it's a handsome and a talented one. Still doesn't mean he should host the Oscars, though. Just that he maybe should win Best Actor, but that isn't going to happen.
Like I say, maybe my second favorite of the Best Picture nominations. Too bad it came and went so quickly from the theaters, because i do think it'll lose something on DVD. Oh, and that arm cutting scene isn't really all that gross, and I'm kind of squeamish about that kind of shiz. It also takes up maybe 10 minutes of the movie, max.
Cedar Rapids Review
So, I was conceived in a trailer park in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I am also in love with Ed Helms. Well, maybe not love, love, as we've been through no tough times together and grown stronger as a couple, but at least in serious like. The man can act in a sitcom, act in a blockbuster movie, act in a Sondheim musical in service of his role in the sitcom, sing like a bird, play the banjo like a dream, and apparently, rollerskate like an extra in Xanadu as well. So sue me that I find that impressive. Plus, you know, I like to work blue and I enjoy seeing frank depictions of drug use, alcohol abuse, and sex after the age of 40 on the big screen. So I go into this review knowing that I am the absolute target audience for this flick.
That being said, it's wonderful, and you should drop whatever you're doing right now, and if not rush right out and see it, at least get out your cute little i-phone or blackberry or whatever the kids are using nowadays and coordinate your plans to go see it in the next week or so. If you're in St. Louis, these coordination efforts should take on a tone of some urgency, considering it is currently at the Moolah, and will probably not be after this week. So, go do that now. I'll wait.
OK, did you scare up a friend to go see it with you at the Tuesday rush hour showing? Good. You'll be glad you did.
Because what you'll get is a truly funny movie that gets the details right. If they didn't film this in the hotel where my now 32-year-old brother got drunk for the first time at our family friend's wedding, I'll be damned if they didn't find its doppelganger. And no, I'm not stupid enough to imagine it was actually the same motel, just that it looked like it could be, so win for the art direction, but on the other hand if you've gotten drunk for the first time in some second-rate midwestern motel with an indoor swimming pool, you've gotten drunk in them all, truly. And I loved that the "wacky, cutting loose" arc of the movie moved beyond SPOILER ALERT doing shots and sleeping with Anne Heche, and came boomeranging back at smoking crystal and narrowly escaping a beat-down by some sinister-looking country boys. Y'know, as you do in Iowa.
Did you want more? Didn't I already mention Ed Helms, Cedar Rapids, frank depictions of drug use, sex, and alcohol abuse? If you actually need another reason, allow me to add...it's as if the movies Sideways and the Hangover had a baby. And John C. Reilly rocks the party that rocked the party, so there's another one. And stay for the ending credits, particularly if you're a connoisseur of jokes about anorexics and yeast infections.
That being said, it's wonderful, and you should drop whatever you're doing right now, and if not rush right out and see it, at least get out your cute little i-phone or blackberry or whatever the kids are using nowadays and coordinate your plans to go see it in the next week or so. If you're in St. Louis, these coordination efforts should take on a tone of some urgency, considering it is currently at the Moolah, and will probably not be after this week. So, go do that now. I'll wait.
OK, did you scare up a friend to go see it with you at the Tuesday rush hour showing? Good. You'll be glad you did.
Because what you'll get is a truly funny movie that gets the details right. If they didn't film this in the hotel where my now 32-year-old brother got drunk for the first time at our family friend's wedding, I'll be damned if they didn't find its doppelganger. And no, I'm not stupid enough to imagine it was actually the same motel, just that it looked like it could be, so win for the art direction, but on the other hand if you've gotten drunk for the first time in some second-rate midwestern motel with an indoor swimming pool, you've gotten drunk in them all, truly. And I loved that the "wacky, cutting loose" arc of the movie moved beyond SPOILER ALERT doing shots and sleeping with Anne Heche, and came boomeranging back at smoking crystal and narrowly escaping a beat-down by some sinister-looking country boys. Y'know, as you do in Iowa.
Did you want more? Didn't I already mention Ed Helms, Cedar Rapids, frank depictions of drug use, sex, and alcohol abuse? If you actually need another reason, allow me to add...it's as if the movies Sideways and the Hangover had a baby. And John C. Reilly rocks the party that rocked the party, so there's another one. And stay for the ending credits, particularly if you're a connoisseur of jokes about anorexics and yeast infections.
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