quick comment

Tom Cruise must have the best plastic surgeon in the country...

Serrriously! Listen, the man is completely nutballs - sadly, the dream of him being a nice, normal, mentally-stable human being are gone forever - but, (and this is a big but) this image of Tom's new face almost (just almost) convinces you that he's the same old handsome man who wooed in Jerry Maguire and caused a little palm sweating in Mission Impossible. He looks like he dipped his head in the Scientology fountain and went back to 1996! I'm super duper impressed.

I acknowledge that this lighting is superb (as is his hair, but that's another story), that many photographers (even paparazzi) have their shots photoshopped these days and that he is in excellent physical condition. All that aside, you can't make sweet, sweet lemonade like this with sour fruit. His companion is proof of that statement. It's hard to believe Cammy D is a full 10 years younger than Tommy Boy! Dang, girl! What did you do to yo face, child? You're getting Meg Ryan cheeks! (Prepare yourself for that posting... a clear sequel to my Joan Allen diatribe.)

Alright, Mr. Cruise, I'm giving you a point on my scoreboard. If you keep away from your squinty "wife" and avoid reminding us that you're a Xenu-loving, Dr. Phil-wannabe, crazy-town nutjob, then I think there's hope for you yet.

you guys, prepare yourselves...

today we're going to talk about bad plastic surgery. this is is going to be scary, because we're going to be looking at some horrific plastic surgery. it's going to be so scary that this is going to be at least a special two part series, because i don't think even i can stomach to do this in one sitting. if you've eaten recently, you might be in danger of having a free lunch (shout out to sharon! and sharon's sister! best phrase ever). yep, you might crap your pants. it's that scary.

i'm not talking about kiddy work like boob jobs and nose jobs. leave that for the dumbos hanging out with hugh hefner. i'm talkin' bout crazy stuff: mature ladies who took it too far. we're talking: crazy. lady. faces. this is going to be a mixed bag because it's a little funny, just a little, but it's mostly really sad... like, reaaaaally sad. reaaaally. ok, let's begin.

this whole posting is inspired by one woman, in truth. you may call her my mutant muse, if you will. i had noticed her from time to time over the years. she's an unusual woman by hollywood's standards: tall, strong-jawed, a little masculine, but definitely a woman in touch with her lady business. it took me awhile to find her in a movie that interested me, but when i finally saw her in "the contender," i was in awe. (if you haven't seen it, i implore you. it's brilliant! much, much better than the tv show it spawned: "commander in chief." speaking of crazy faces... poor geena davis. i digress!)

in "the contender," joan allen was radiant, lovely, charming, disarming, dare i say, brilliant? as a senator nominated to ascend to the vice-presidency, she was incredibly authoritative. cool, calm, but tough and ballsy. it was an excellent movie (ok, it was a better-than-most movie) centered upon her excellent performance, which is all too rare for women of a certain age. she got a well-deserved oscar nomination for the role (she lost to julia roberts. that was a tough year: laura linney in "you can count on me," ellen burstyn for "requiem for a dream."). joan was in her prime and she looked great.


look at that sexy biatch! perhaps she's a little over-made up here (that lip liner, those spider lashes!), but overall, she looks like a woman confident in her skin! embracing her age! loving that menopause! she followed up the contender with a few nice roles here and there and, if you can imagine it, (no need to imagine, my friends, photographic evidence is a'comin') she looked even better a few years later in "the upside of anger."

dayummm, woman! look at that hot mama! maybe standing next to kevin costner makes you look hotter. maybe it's that low cut dress. maybe it's that sassy little flippy haircut she's got goin' on, but something is working here. but, we're still looking au naturel. but, you know, roles weren't necessarily flow joan's way and, methinks the lady got a little desperate. i mean, the same woman who won a tony for "burn this" and was nominated for oscars for "nixon" (that movie was insane. and long.) and "the crucible" agreed to co-star in a little film called "death race." 'nuff said. ya dig? perhaps she thought she needed to freshen things up a bit. give herself a little edge over some of the other baby boomers.

so, before her big return to broadway (in a stinker of a play called "impressionism" - don't even bother to google it. you're wasting your time, chasing that cultural reference) she decided to have a little work done. thankfully for us the new york times decided to do a big profile on that famous punam. and, well, this is what the photographer found when he showed up.

ahhh!!! it's horrifying!! whatever you do, do not look directly at the image. for the love of god, use your peripheral vision! i mean, it's shocking. i'm pretty sure the first time i saw this photo in the times i gasped out loud. i can't even discuss what we're seeing yet.

let's talk about the circumstances: firstly, if her publicist was present at this photo shoot and knew that this shot was occurring, he/she should be fired. secondly, said publicist should have told the photographer beforehand: "i swear to god, if you shoot a picture of my client's crazy chipmunk cheeks up close, i will castrate you." (or, steal your lady parts if the photographer in question is a woman.) why not take a cue from the title of her play at the time and insist that they publish an impressionistic portrait of the lady? eh?

but, no... that new york times photographer knew he had struck gold with this train wreck. he saw those porked cheeks and that mound of barbie hair and must have thought: this is too easy. can you imagine being that photographer? i mean, i wonder if someone prepped him for what he was walking into. a little aside, like, "by the way, don't make a big deal about it, but joan had some crazy plastic surgery. she looks like a muppet now, but it's totally hot. totally normal. she's going to look great. just shoot her from behind. can you imagine trying to keep a straight face in the presence of this? if not crack up, i'm pretty sure i'd at least get caught staring at that blob of silly putty that used to be her face! perhaps what impresses me most though is that they not only convinced her it was a good idea to do a closeup, but that they should do it with her playing the role of an asylum candidate. how in the world did they convince her to do this manic, over-the-shoulder, death stare? and why so much barbie hair in the frame!

ugghhh! joan, i'm so sad! why?! whyyyy!?! it's all so bad now. all that intelligence, all that dignity, all that loveliness gone! and for what? so that you can look like kelsey grammer's dumbo wife? (all due respect, camille, you've stuck with frasier through thick and thin. big ups.) my face hurts just looking at your face. it just looks like your poor skin could pop at any moment! take those chicken cutlets out of your cheeks so that you can frown again.

to be continued...

In defense of poor Ke$ha...

Friends! It's been so long since I've posted... I've failed you. I'm ashamed! I'm horrified! I've been busy! So, here goes, dipping my toes back into the murky water that is known as... I can't even bring myself to say the word (blogging). Let's call it sharing, shall we?

So, this is old news, I realize, but I just finished a conversation with my sister, Betsy (Holla! What up twin that's 10 years older than me? What? You don't understand?! Neither do I. Ask Jesus how twindom can span a decade.), and I feel compelled to share our thoughts. We have both confessed that we appreciate the weirdness that is known as Ke$ha and I for one feel compelled to defend the girl's freaky SNL performance.

This girl is truly bizarre in the most embarrassing and amazingly un-self conscious ways. She's not weird-cool like Lady Gaga, who has hoodwinked everyone into thinking her particular brand of abstractness, aloofness and product-placement is the second coming of Andy Warhol dressed in Alexander McQueen. Ke$ha is just weird. This girl is like middle-school weird. Not middle-school weird like, I wear my grandma's vintage clip-on earrings (that's Gaga territory), but middle-school weird like, I wear my grandma's teal nightgown with a bandanna and neon snap bracelets because I think it's boss. Or middle-school weird, like I put Fritos in my peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Yet, somehow I think it's working for her and I'm starting to really dig this freak flag-flying weirdo.

Ke$ha has so many elements to which I'd normally find oppositions. How did I get to this level of appreciation? How did I overcome all of the misspellings and gross-misuse of capitalization? Let's discuss. First of all, at first I hated that song "TiK ToK." There is just no way to justify it as genius or ambitious songwriting. Then again, I should start criticizing songwriting only when, like this man, I write a song that has both infected the minds of innocent, unsuspecting civilians and generated gajillions of dollars. It's a weird song, full of strange references that seem somewhat contradictory. Do Valley-girls who appreciate pedicures on their toes and tryin' on all their clothes really brush their teeth with a bottle of Jack Daniels and seek out men that look like Mick Jagger? (By the way, which Mick Jagger are you looking for, Ke$ha? Are we talking '60s Mick Jagger? I'd even accept '80s or early-'90s Jagger, but present-day Mick Jagger is unacceptable. I won't allow it. Proof below.)

But, against all odds, this song has still managed to get this booty a'shakin'. I freely admit that my last trip to the gym was made 10 times more pleasurable by two things: Oprah's vocal ac-RO-baaaaa-tiCCCCs (Damn, girl, that's an art! And, who doesn't love watching Oprah on their day off while working an elliptical?) and Ke$ha's "TiK ToK" video. That song got me freakin' pumped! She built me up! She broke me down! My heart DID pound! Ya, she got me. With HER hands up, I put MY hands up! I gave in.

Let's move on to another serious, potential source of opposition: the dollar sign. Ke$ha, what is this?! Do you realize how strange this is? Did Prince convince you to do this? P. Diddy? You should know, both of those men have had name-identity crises. I'm very perplexed. I think it's very confusing for all of us. You might have won me over sooner if you didn't have both a dollar sign in your name AND misspellings PLUS alternating capitalizations in your first single. It's just too much for America all at once. We're not ready! What's next? If I see an @ symbol, I'm really going to reconsider my level of affection. I'm serrrrious. Still, here I am, defending your weirdness... oh, who am I kidding?! It's going to take a lot more than an @ sign to shake me, you crazy loon!

Somehow, Ke$ha makes all these wrongs just feel so right! It's a perfect storm of weirdness that is beautifully embodied in her performance as musical guest on SNL a few weeks ago. There is so much here to discuss that I'm at a loss for anything beyond simple exclamations. Skin-tight metallic wetsuit! Acapella/synthesizer opening! American-flag cape flaunts! Awkward toe-tapping and eye-searching as the first glorious Nintendo beats hint of the weirdness to come! Truly inspired hand motions! The fist in the air for each "Don't Stop!" Valley girl hair flipping! Robot-arm dangles! Time-lapse booze bottle tipping! It's all here. All of this genius, however, culminates in the most amazing, indescribable dancing, gamely delivered by truly talented astronaut-helmeted robot dancers. Don't get me wrong: first, just enjoy the weirdness of Ke$ha here. She is, without a doubt, the main attraction in this freak show from the facial expressions to the laser orchestrations. But, do yourself a favor: watch the video a second time. Take the time to really embrace the commitment her backup dancers bring to this roboting. Watch those hip rotations. Love those crunches. Try to emulate those happy skips and arm pumps. It's the kind of dancing that can only be achieved when made anonymous by astronaut helmets. I just may get one myself. After all, what if we really ARE the aliens?

It's Been Good While It Lasted, Netflix DVD

You should all be happy to know that I finally watched a DVD that I've had from Netflix for almost an entire year.

That's right. I have been paying $10 per month, for a year - for you math dummies, that's $120 - to have a DVD collect dust in my apartment. I have essentially been allowing Netflix to use my apartment as a storage facility. How did this happen, Dan? Where did this go wrong. So many questions... I received the DVD on March 13, 2009. There was so much promise then, so much anticipation! At one point, I looked forward to receiving this DVD! I pined for it! And now, almost an entire year later - a year of guilt and self-loathing, a time that I looked at that DVD with both sorrow and resentment - now, $120 later, I have finally watched this film, which I could have bought on Amazon for $17.99 (plus shipping and handling).

Why has it taken me so long, you ask? Only god knows. I've resisted it for so long for no good reason. Firstky, it's an Almodovar movie... I love Almodovar! Every time I hear he has a new film coming out, I freak out! I love his movies so much that I study the trailers and obsessively seek out interviews, articles... and yet, there are countless movies that he made in the past three decades that I've never seen and apparently am in no rush to see! Here is a perfectly delightful and fascinating example of his cinema - one of the films that, no doubt, made his reputation - and I have treated it like my redheaded, bastard stepchild. Why is that?! Why would I be so cruel to Pedro? Especially when all of his movies are consistently good. This one is called "What Have I Done to Deserve This?" and it turned out to be excellent. Was it his best ever? No. Then again, that's a tall order. Still, it was better than 70% of the films I saw this year (and I've seen a lot).
In truth, I'm sort of sad to return the movie... it's been with me for so long. I mean, first of all, it's seen my bedroom in so many configurations! It was here when I added the new desk. It saw the end of the green sheets in favor of blue stripes. It sympathized with the addition of a sad little khaki dust ruffle (poor dust ruffle never had a chance - was always a disappointment to me). It even supported me when I made the brave decision to add a nightstand to the side of the bed that I don't use for my non-existent (but, somewhere-out-there) boyfriend. Speaking of, it's been with me through good dates and bad. It's witnessed the full-cycle of a relationship (and maybe a few friendships). Yes, it sulked in the corner as I watched the entire first 4 seasons of the Office (not to mention an entire year of other instant Netflix films and tv series), but it stuck with me through the spring rain and the windy fall, through the blistering summer and through the snowy winter. It didn't quite spoon me on my birthday and through the holidays but, I felt its envelope-y presence. It might just be the best, most non-judgmental friend I have!

So, on this Wednesday, February 24th, Happy (belated) Valentine's Day, Netflix DVD and Happy (early) Anniversary! I hope you find luck with your next recipient, but I'm almost certain it won't be a long term relationship like ours. Netflix DVD, je'taime.

Oh Blog, how I forget about thee...

What can I say? Rather than hear that I'm lounging at home writing about the most inane topics, wouldn't you rather hear that I'm leading such a busy and fulfilling life that I don't have time to blog to you fools? For all the lovelies that do wish I had more time, I'm going to share with you an old story that is still priceless:

The story is freaking ridiculous (and long!) Prepare yourself.

On Sunday evenings, especially during the summer, I like to trick myself into thinking that it's still the weekend, when in fact we all know the death of the work week looms. You gotta mix it up and keep things loose and unpredictable. You gotta kick that Sunday night feeling and say, I don't need you Teri Hatcher! I can stay at home, cook soup and watch Desperate Housewives on Monday! Or Tuesday, if we're getting feisty.

There are a number of ways to make those weekend feelings last longer: sometimes I'll meet friends for dinner and encourage them to mix hard liquor with prescription meds (pills are always good for you - don't pay attention to those insurance lobbyists trying to take away our fun). I love to go on carefree walks through the city, soaking in that crisp air, chasing rabid squirrels and throwing myself in front of speeding taxis. Homeless hunting is always fun too. But, most of the time, I like to go to the old fashioned picture show and see what those crazy liberals in Hollywood are cranking out. One such Sunday evening, I went to see a lovely movie at BAM - by far my one of my favorite theatres in the city, despite the fact they carry Pepsi products (sorry Molly). You see, the brand of soft drink carried by a theatre is important to me. I will determine which movie theatre to frequent based solely on this criterion. When the Angelika on Houston switched from Pepsi to Coke, you couldn't have understood my joy! And, I'll have you know, since they switched I've increased my attendance at the Angelika threefold. It may be my favorite movie theatre in the city for this very reason... actually, I know it's not. How can I take a movie theatre seriously when two out of three soap dispensers in the men's bathroom never have soap in them? (Try it, I dare you. The one closest to the door always has soap... too bad I can't say the same about the other two.) This has been a major digression... wow.

After the movie, I took a leisurely trip to a neighboring Fort Greene market. Sometimes I compulsively shop for groceries when I'm in a good mood. It's a bit of a sickness. I like to shop for an odd mix of practical things that I regularly use (milk, eggs, bread) and novelty items that I usually regret (raspberry-flavored licorice comes to mind... it's not as good as it sounds). On this particular evening I bought my staples (mostly cereals in assorted varieties - hey, I'm a single man) and a big bunch of flowers (cough. a single GAY man).

Off to the subway I went. The C train stop in Fort Greene happens to have grates at street level so you can hear when a train is approaching (a blessing and a curse). This particular evening I could hear the train arriving just as I was entering the station. I decided to make a run for it. The train doors opened as I swiped through the turnstile. I ran through the gate and flew down the stairs. It was a mad dash to the train but, I made it. There were open seats on the train but, since I was only riding for two stops, I stood.

The doors closed shut and pretty much immediately, before we even start moving, a skinny, kinda skanky, young black girl sitting among her friends makes eyes at me and says in serious, low voice, "I found mine." I ignored her. I had no reason to believe she was talking about me. What in the world could I have to do with this? I returned back to my thoughts. Little did I know that this crazy was referring to me. That is, I didn't know until she started singing, in a very full voice, the lyrics from Beyonce's Dangerously in Love directly to me. For those uninitiated to these oh so subtle lyrics, here they are:

I love you, I love you, I love you...(this goes on for awhile) Baby I love you. You are my life. My happiest moments weren't complete if you weren't by my side. You're my relation. In connection to the sun. With you next to me there's no darkness I can't overcome. You are my raindrop. I am the sea. With you and God, who's my sunlight I bloom and grow so beautifully. Baby, I'm so proud. So proud to be your girl. You make the confusion. Go all away. From this cold and messed up world.

She's staring at me, gesturing towards me, acting out the whole song with arm movements, dance moves, this girl had obviously practiced this a few times in the mirror... but, I ignore her and just avoid eye contact. Naturally, this is unacceptable to her, so she stands up and begins circling me! She begins dancing around me, touching me and even trying to take my flowers away (I didn't oblige - I wasn't giving away my flowers)! Now she's got crazy Beyonce eyes and is really singing the song with a lot of voice:

I am in love with you! You set me free! I can't do this thing called life without you here with me! Cause I'm Dangerously In Love with you! I'll never leave! Just keep lovin' me! The way I love you loving me!

I was so embarrassed. Everyone on the train is staring at us, people are laughing, some almost in tears over this. Thankfully, my stop is coming up next and I begin to move away from her and stand near the door. She was totally unrelenting. Not only did she follow me to the door, prancing and glaring like a matador, but she interpreted my attempted escape as some additional challenge. She stepped in front of me and blocked the door way. By now she's singing:

And I know you love me! Love me for who I am, cause years before I became who I am. Baby you were my man! I know it ain't easy! Easy loving me! I appreciate the love and dedication from you to me! Later on in my destiny I see myself having your child! I see myself being your wife and I see my whole future in your eyes! Thought of all my love for you sometimes make me wanna cry!

On top of this - she began to do a strip tease around me - undulating against the door, spanking herself, practically screaming the lyrics by now to the point that her voice was cracking and removes her bandanna from her hair and begins to use as if it were a feather boa tickling my neck, ears and nose (mind you this girl and that bandanna were no sight to behold). As you can imagine, I was so relieved to see my subway stop! I rushed past her to get out! Sadly, I CAN think of times I was more relieved to get off a subway car (like the time I was the only other person foolish enough to get on a seemingly empty subway car that actually held a lone homeless man reeking so badly of piss and god knows what else that I nearly suffocated - but that's another story). I was so red in the face from this girl, I had to be burning. It was on a whole new plane of crazy. The girl was freaking cray - zay! But, it all made for a pretty good story. Don't you just love New York 's mentally ill population?

Now, please enjoy Beyonce (herself) sing the whole crazy song. Sadly, it's no less insane coming from her, especially with this crazy cinnamon-bun hair and enormous funereal corsage:

Oscar Nominations!

I don't have the energy to comment in depth about the Oscar nominations, so I'm just going to do highlights here in a kind of stream-of-consciousness style. Here goes:

Gyllenhaal? What are you doing here? That's a pleasant surprise!

Cruz?! WTF?! I heard Nine blew! See if you can exchange your nomination for a gift certificate. Raincheck?

Damon! You made it!

Lead Actors and Actresses: Here, just as expected (glad to see you came through unscathed, Dame Helen; you're one fine sexagenarian).

Honestly, do you need more than this to vote for Dame Helen? (OK, ignore the man behind her, pay no attention to Taylor Hackford! Just focus on her suppleness, her warmth, her beauty, not Harry the Henderson behind her.)

District 9... I guess I have to watch you now.

The Blind Side: You must have paid off people for that nomination. Either that, or Academy members are seriously THAT amazed and surprised that Sandra Bullock was in that lifetime movie that somehow made it to multiplexes across the country.

Yeah, I saw it and, I admit, I enjoyed it but, Best Picture nominee? I'm gonna have to think about this.... I mean, when you think of best picture, you don't think of this sort of movie. Then again, if Steel Magnolias were nominated for Best Picture, how would I feel? Touché.

This is only the beginning, my friends.

Speaking of Charlie Rose and the New Yorker...

...every time I mention Charlie Rose, I think of this brilliant SNL commercial and wish that I too had the "Magic Mouth." I can't embed, so you'll have to trust me and follow the link for pure genius.

http://www.fortunatoprocopio.com/snlmagicmouth.html

Awesome Issue of the New Yorker

Ok, it's a bit late since I got the latest issue of the New Yorker in the mail today but, I just have to say it: Last week's New Yorker was definitely one of the best issues evaaaaar. ( I know, I know, but can you really expect me to review the thing until I've had time to read it?)

Today, as I was finishing an article about NYPD espionage (well, kinda... I'll get back to that in a moment), I imagined all of the staff members of the New Yorker giving each other chest bumps and high fives. I bet when they put that issue to bed they all just looked at each other and were like, "Beat that, Newsweek!" and, "You can suck it, Atlantic!" I mean serrriously, who does it better than the New Yorker?

Here are some highlights from last week's issue:

First, let's start with the genius cover. It's an image of a Christlike Obama gracefully strolling on water toward the foreground of the image.... ....at which point he takes a very human spill. All too topical as the whole country, scratch that, the whole world, is starting to acknowledge that our President isn't the Second Coming as some had hoped. It's a great image and, despite my political leanings, I applaud the New Yorker for being so brave. A conservative friend from college always used to complain when I'd borrow facts or comments from the New Yorker. He always claimed it was biased and therefore - particularly in the Bush II era - incredible. While I admit their editorial-ish section - The Talk of the Town - leans liberal, this administration has proven that the magazine's overall content is only beholden to reporting the facts. It's a mini revolution in today's "news" media where taking a stance has somehow become a journalist's duty. Anderson Cooper, I don't care what you think about the future of Haiti! Just tell us what's happening and look pretty, you silver fox!
In all seriousness, I can't watch televised news any more, it's obnoxious. Well, with the exception of PBS - but admitting that I watch PBS news will only earn me admission to the AARP.


Let's continue on about the virtues of last week's New Yorker. I always turn to the critics' section first and check out reviews of new films, art, architecture, etc. Last week they had an encouraging review for the revival of Arthur Miller's "A View from the Bridge," starring Scarlett Johansson and Liev Schreiber and a pretty tough review for the revival of Noel Coward's "Present Laughter" starring Victor Garber (speaking of silver foxes). I think the consensus around town about the success of the former is, "Who knew?" I mean, most have seen Scarlett Johansson on screen in our lifetimes and I think few would claim that she's the most gifted actress around. Maybe she's found her calling on Broadway? Too bad it's probably already sold out. Arg. Damn you, New Jersey! And you too, Long Island! The two of you steal all the tickets in sight. Let's throw Texas in the mix there too! Always seems like there is a surplus of Texans swiping seats on B'way. You may never get to see them, but you can still read both reviews here... actually, to add insult to injury, I'm mistaken, you can't read the articles on newyorker.com afterall... but, you can read an abstract of the article! Woopee! http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/theatre/2010/02/01/100201crth_theatre_lahr

Then, I moved on to an architectural review for Aqua, a new apartment tower in Chicago, designed by Jeanne Gang. She's an interesting architect; firstly, she's a woman. Sadly, high-ranking female architects are a rarity. Also, she happens to come from the Koolhaas school of architecture (who hasn't worked with Rem? Lordy!) and is a proponent of functional design, unlike Zaha Hadid, which is a breath of fresh air after reading this crazy article (also from the New Yorker): http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/12/21/091221fa_fact_seabrook.


And, while I'm absolutely petrified of Aqua - until those balconies are glassed-in I'm not going anywhere near it - I can appreciate the design, especially considering how much thought was put into making it an efficient and fully-functional form. And, whoa!, the New Yorker is actually letting you read the entire article online still! Enjoy: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/skyline/2010/02/01/100201crsk_skyline_goldberger

Next, I read a fascinating article discussing throries on grief. Though intended as a critical roundup of books specializing on the subject of grieving, the article is far more interested in exploring the subject itself. It was enlightening. The author, Meghan O'Rourke, writes with great clarity and, as the article reveals, empathy. Well worth reviewing for anyone who has experienced loss of any kind, if only to know others have felt the same way as you (not matter how irrational it may seem). I fully intend to look up some of the books Meghan cites but, I'll add one not included in the mix that I think is more than deserving: Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking." (Yes, I hear your collective groans and I see those eyes roll. I know, I know, you've all heard how much I love Joan but, you must admit, that book is truly brilliant - and although that word is FAR overused, it's more than earned here.) Thankfully, you can still read the full article on grief here: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2010/02/01/100201crat_atlarge_orourke.

And, as long as we're talking about Joan. This is a remarkable conversation between Charlie Rose and Joan Didion about the book. If you've already read the book, it's further insight into what you already know. If you have yet to read the book, in my opinion, it's a great introduction to a book I think you'll want to read. If you have the time, watch it:

Video embed isn't working properly... you can find video here: http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/682

Finally, the big tease: Today, I finished a fun read about NYC's D.O.I. or Department of Investigation - the city's undercover unit that "investigates fraud and corruption among the city employees and people who deal with them." It's a mild pulse-racer about uncovering crooked deals using old fashioned espionage: button cameras, watch microphones, walkie-talkies and all. It's quite a read. It was even more fun to read because much of the action occurs near my own hood in stake outs off Roosevelt Avenue and secret meetings at the Boston Market on Queens Blvd. It's a relief to hear that some arm of the city's government is trying to uncover corruption among city employees. While it's no surprise to hear that health and safety inspectors are being bribed left and right at restaurants and construction sites, it's still disheartening, especially to think that they're being bought for as low as $20. Sadly, this article is not online in toto, but you can read the abstract here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/02/01/100201fa_fact_macfarquhar.

And, who knows? After this sterling review, maybe you'll decide you should be a subscriber too!

If you haven't already seen this...

then, I hope this makes your Friday a little bit brighter:



Oh, Brendan... I can't say I feel sorry for you; I've never really liked you that much anyhow. Plus, this tribute of sorts seems earned. Was that a shameless ploy for attention during the Golden Globes or are you really that bizarre? Anyhow, I enjoy the video - reminds me of how much I used to love that song during my Sophomore year of college. Good times.

The Misanthrope Rides Alone

One cold Sunday afternoon my good friend, Patrick, called me and said, "Hey man, do you have any plans tonight?"

Patrick, I love you, but I hate when people ask that question because it means you already have plans for me and, if I don't already have plans, I either have to:
a) admit it and pray to Lord Jesus that your plans are amazing (and usually if anyone is calling with last minute plans, they're not going to be amazing), or
b) make a quick determination that your plans will bring me nothing but trouble and and hope that I don't miss something spectacular

On this particular Sunday I was feeling Christian... I couldn't lie to Patty! Patrick is my oldest friend! What kind of a friend would I be if I just blew him off without even hearing what he had in store? So, I told the truth: I didn't have plans (beyond watching Desperate Housewives - that's a good show, I'll have you know).

Patrick happened to have three tickets to an Off-Off-Broadway play and he hoped that our friend, Meg, and I could join him. I was cautiously optimistic. I hadn't been to the theatre in awhile and occasionally these things turn out well: a diamond in the rough. The play, Patrick continued, was an "adult puppet show" - three words that don't exactly inspire confidence - and it was playing in the East Village (instant Herpes) in a theatre operated by a nonprofit troupe that one could tell, by name alone, had reached its peak in the late 1980s. Ugh. I got a stinker. I knew it! I knew I should have lied!

But, I had been inside all day - lazy guilt had overcome me. I couldn't stay in my warm and cozy apartment watching 30 Rock re-runs all day, that would be too indulgent. No, no. I had to be ripped from my cocoon of warmth and take a shower, and put in my contacts and wear real pants, with a damn button and everything, just to go to some stupid play that I knew I would hate. I began to think of excuses. I really did have clothes in need of laundering; I mean, being down to your last pair of underwear is a real excuse, no? Was I sick? Could I fake a cough? How about a migraine? Charlie-horse limp? Aww, c'mon! Was dirty laundry really the only excuse I could muster? It wouldn't be enough! So, with much chagrin, I took my damn shower. I put in my damn contacts. I buttoned my damn pants and I rode the subway, with transfers I'll have you know, to the damn East Village. I found the damn theatre, right off that damn, desolate triangle/death trap of the East Village that I hate (near that damn ugly new building) and I began to prepare myself for a damn good night of theatre-going, dammit!

But, I couldn't help but feel that my initial feelings of dread were well-founded. Firstly, the theatre was located on the 2nd floor of a building that resembled my grade school: no good comes of 2nd floor theatres. Why? Why even have them? It's not a pleasant feeling. Theatres should always be on the ground floor. Climbing stairs hurts my mind. Secondly, the signs directing one to the theatre were taped haphazardly throughout the entryway with arrows this way and that. Clearly this was not the work of a genius-perfectionist, such as myself. Amateurs. I was trying to think positive thoughts; I swear! I was! I overlooked that shim holding open the door, didn't I? I even began feeling sorry for the door when the shim began to fail and the door inadvertently locked people outside of the lobby. (Did I dare re-open the door, allowing patrons to enter the lobby? And deprive these good people of a perfectly logical and cosmic excuse to avoid seeing the adult puppetry to come?! Of course not! That shim-fail was a gift! One I would have gladly accepted.) Climbing the stairs had hurt my mind (as predicted) and my thoughts started to conspire against my good intentions. I told myself: ignore the freakfest around you, your friends will be here soon, everything will be better.

But, by the time Meg arrived, all hope had been lost. Women with purple-streaked, asymmetrical hair had entered the lobby, awkward introductions were witnessed, people even had the audacity to participate in public laughing. Who were these happy, laughing people? I couldn't take it! I had to bust out. It didn't help that Meg reminded me that this was the very theatre in which she had been subjected to "the worst 'opera' she had ever encountered," just last summer. That story had haunted me for months; little did I know that I had stepped foot in the very theatre where Meg had to escape into her bowels of her mind, assembling her mental grocery list, to avoid bearing witness to the atrocities of theatre before her. To what certain slaughter had Patrick lured us? Despite the mounting dread, I could tell Meg was going to stay, and when Pat arrived - bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, feather in hair (yes, a feather in his hair, don't ask) - I knew a group evacuation was a lost cause. So, I told the truth. I said, "Guys, I can't do this. I have to go."

Yes, I had come all the way from Queens to the East Village. Yes, I had made transfers to be here (hey, transfers are a big deal to me, OK?). Yes, I knew we'd be suffering together, if we were to be suffering at all. Still, I couldn't bear it. I was a... I was a.... the word escaped me. I asked, "What's the word for someone who doesn't like to spend time with people?"

"Anti-social?"
"No."

"A recluse?"
"No!"

"A curmudgeon?"
"Eh, closer."

"A loner?"
"No."

"A loser?"
"Aww, suck it!" The point is, I can't do it.

Today, I remembered the word I was looking for: misanthrope.

When I die (and here's my bi-annual reminder to you all: you all will die and so will I, you're welcome), I want my organs harvested, then my body donated to science, then cremated and scattered away all over (it's very important that it happens in that order). Instead of a tombstone, you can have something functional created in my memory, say a park bench. On said park bench, I want the following written: In memory of Dan Riley: Son, Brother, Friend, Misanthrope and General Asshole.

Note: this list may grow depending on my achievements: I could foresee a circumstance where you might need to add the word Father, for example, as I will have had a child. I will not actually deliver the child, of course, because that's not physically possible (yet). Then again, if I were to actually deliver the child, that is, carry it in my man-womb to term and somehow deliver it through some orifice on my person (and maybe that orifice doesn't even yet exist, but will soon thanks to America's genius scientists and doctors - wrap your head around that one, America), that would be quite an accomplishment and you should acknowledge that as well somehow. Still, this list could also contract depending on my lack of achievement or, better yet, due to my superior achievements in asshole-dom, having lost the love and support of my friends and family, therefore no longer being a son, brother or friend and just a misanthrope and general asshole... scratch that, "superior" asshole.

Please don't say Squinty will be Spidey

According to the AP, Marc Webb, director of (500) Days of Summer, will be directing Sony's next Spiderman film (full article here: http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/2010/01/19/arts/AP-US-Film-Spider-Man.html?_r=1).

My only question is: Does this mean Sony is hoping they can lure Joseph Gordon-Levitt into playing Spidey by using Webb (ha ha ha ha - pun intended, m'lady!)? (500) Days of Summer was considered a (modest) hit by Hollywood and has even garnered nominations from the Golden Globes, The Writers Guild of America and the Independent Spirit Awards. It also made numerous top 10 lists (despite the fact that it was lame! c'mon, people! are we THAT desperate for a good romance!?)... so, it would make sense that Sony would want to reunite an already successful team for a re-boot of a big franchise that appears to be a little shaky after numerous re-writes and delays.

I could actually handle Zooey Deschanel as Mary Jane - she has a cuteness and sharpness that could be fun, but Gordon-Levitt as Spidey? Wasn't it bad enough that we had to suffer through three of these films with Tobey Maguire? I know Peter Parker is supposed to start out as a nerd, but at some point he should be convincing as a bad ass, right? (Then again, I didn't watch the the subsequent sequels, so I might be a poor judge. But, the first was so terrible! Why would you put yourself through more of that torture? It was so bad that when the 3rd film was playing on an airplane - fo' free - I not only couldn't bring myself to watch it, but I actually chose to watch a two-year-old episode of Project Runway on my gimpy iPod! A free movie people! I watched Hotel for Dogs fo' free! I watched High School Musical fo' free! I watched Rumor Has It fo' free! I have low standards for free movies, and I could not watch Spider Man 3 fo' free!

Anyhow, back to the subject at hand: I liked Gordon-Levitt at first; he was really interesting in Mysterious Skin - a thought-provoking, albeit weird, film by Gregg Araki. Where are you Araki? (Nevermind... just IMDB'd him; he made a bizarre-looking movie called Smiley Face which stars Anna Faris and appears to be about getting high. Enough said. I digress.) Gordon-Levitt followed that with some seriously smart choices; Brick and Stop-Loss were both very unusual films and big risks that were far from boring (if not terribly successful or commercial). I almost started to forget that he used to be on 3rd Rock from the Sun and looked like this:

But, then he did (500) Days of Summer and took a slice out of the good-faith cake I had baked for him. He followed that with G.I. Joe and, to add insult to injury, completely massacred two of my favorite pieces of American pop culture - Singin' in the Rain and Saturday Night Live - with one song and dance (I'm including the link - I can't figure out how to embed Chinese videos - but, I plead, for your own sake, don't watch!):

http://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XMTQyOTI3Mzky.html

That. was. awful. I'm truly sorry, my friends, I just had to let you know what he did. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, you taunted me throughout the Golden Globes on Sunday. Each time you laughed and squinted (like the little Asian man I know you are) and shook that little greasy head in faux wonder, you disappointed me. Wipe that smug squinty smile off yo' face! I can't take it anymore! We cannot let him take and destroy another great American icon! Will we let him continue to taunt us with his haughty laughs and squints!? We cannot let Squinty win!

Stop taunting me, Squinty!

Totally unrelated, but completely hysterical...

This has nothing to do with previous posts, but it happens to be one of the funniest clips I've ever seen. VH1, if you care about the environment so much please, use less-toxic sluts!


VH1 Reality Show Bus Crashes In California Causing Major Slut Spill

Golden Globes: A Few Surprises...

Well, the Golden Globes have come and gone and there were a few surprises, but no big shockers. While I hoped Avatar would win Best Picture - Drama (don't judge 'til you've seen it people; it's impressive), I had convinced myself that Up in the Air still had enough buzz to prevail. Equally surprising was James Cameron's win for directing the film. I didn't think anyone wanted that blowhard near a microphone again, and we all were reminded of why as he began speaking in his secret language of the Na'vi. Oh, James, when will you learn to just smile and say "Thank you." Must you be such a dumbass and alienate (no pun intended) so many people whilst accepting their praise? The biggest shocker was in the Best Picture - Musical/Comedy! I don't think ANYONE expected The Hangover to win. Certainly, many people think it was deserving, but it's still a big surprise. Well done.

Sandra Bullock won Best Actress in a Drama for the Blind Side. I think we all agree her dress was lovely and ethereal. This picture doesn't quite do it justice, looked lighter and frothier (sp?) on TV. Then again, maybe TV did it too much justice and it actually isn't as lovely as I thought. Still, I didn't like the back as much as some... a little odd and unfinished looking. Even though I thought Sandra Bullock would win for The Blind Side, it was still surprising to actually see it happen... I'm conflicted over the win (and for that matter, the movie). I want to be happy for her, I enjoyed the movie and I enjoyed her performance, but at the same time I felt a little guilty liking it... it's got a strange aftertaste of white self-congratulation that, I think, was unintended, but there it is. She certainly has worked hard and made some good movies, but she might be right that this particular award was bought and not earned. Everyone seems to just be relieved that a big movie with a big star can still pass as a major award winner.

Meryl Streep, who won Best Actress in a Musical/Comedy, gave the speech of the night for: eloquent, thoughtful, sweet and deeply human. She really made the most of a few minutes and gave a memorable speech that swept away all the praise that's been heaped on her in exchange for a humble statement: "In my long career, I've played so many extraordinary women that basically I'm getting mistaken for one... I'm very clear about the fact that I'm a vessel for other people's stories and other women's lives." She continued by paying tribute to her mother, who inspired the role and has clearly inspired her. It was a breath of fresh air to hear someone thinking about what the award honored instead of hearing a mad scramble to appease as many agents, publicists and studio execs as possible in a few brief moments. She also looked beautiful and seemingly 20 years younger; that bright red lipstick looks great! Definitely one of the better dressed women of the night. Although, can we talk about Helen Mirren!? Dayyyyum! Serriously, that woman has an amazing bod-ay. Who says a sexagenarian can't be sexy? I have to find a picture of her. For the sake of all the older ladies with body issues, I hope Helen had on at least 1 pair of Spanx, otherwise she may be setting the bar too high.

Jeff Bridges won Best Actor in a Drama; again, job well done, but this performance wasn't his best, it seems to be just good timing for an actor long overdue for some awards hardware. Morgan Freeman, you da man! I hope you win the next round. Robert Downey Jr. won Best Actor in a Musical/Comedy... that was kind of surprising. Although, he's been riding a good-buzz wave for awhile since he cleaned up and re-branded himself. I can't say that I really cared much about that category; still haven't seen many of the nominees.

Mo'Nique and Christoph Waltz walked away with their respective Supporting Actress/Actor awards and the world gave a collective yawn (predictable). Actually, I was genuinely happy for each, even if I'd rather see Christopher Plummer win. And, Mr. Waltz, please shave that nasty grey-brown beard you've been rocking. You are such a handsome man when you're clean-shaven and I want the whole world to know by Oscar night. Mo'Nique looked gorgeous (dang, girl! you have nice skin! That neckline was really elegant, even with the little back fat you had going on) but - and this is directed to the dummy, Drew Barrymore - her speech was not THAT eloquent. It felt more like a plug for her husband. How long until she asks to roll out a preview of his next project in lieu of an acceptance speech? Seriously Drew, what crack have you been smoking!? That speech was rambling and incoherent and set to hyper speed. Last year she showed up with that crazy-train, booze-fest hair and this year she had some sort of light-stick contraption on her dress! What the hell, lady? By the way, that win was shocking! I don't think anyone predicted a Drew-win since her co-star, Jessica Lange, and fellow nominee Sigourney Weaver have been cleaning up all the awards in that category the rest of the year.

Still, a good show indeed, thanks to Mr. Gervais! Job well done. That Mel Gibson joke was priceless! Wow! Ball-sy! More comments to follow in the days to come. In the meantime, enjoy this clip:

The Golden Globes are tomorrow!

How exciting! The first big award show of the year - the Golden Globes - is tomorrow and I'm psyched to see how things shake out. So far, the critic societies' picks have been a little boring; seems like the same people have been winning again and again (Clooney/Daniels, Streep, Christoph Waltz and Mo'Nique). Also, I've been sort of disappointed by some of the nominees that keep popping up. I mean, I love Carey Mulligan; she was remarkable on B'way in The Seagull last fall, but An Education was a disappointment to me. She's certainly beautiful - the comparisons to the likes of Audrey Hepburn could prove to be apt - but, her performance was pretty conventional to me and that movie was not as interesting as I hoped.

Meanwhile, Colin Firth and Sandra Bullock seem to be getting nominations just for choosing (and not sucking in) relatively challenging roles. Everyone was pleasantly surprised to find that both of them were willing to appear in anything beyond a rom-com; but, both of their roles and the respective movies in which they were featured were typical Oscar bait. It just seems so stale. Still, I get it; I think they were pretty good, just not excellent. And while I am a sucker for a good ol' fashioned tear-jerker ala The Blind Side, especially when the characters and the actors playing them are so relatable, I always hope that the people raking in awards have done something above and beyond.

Which brings me back to the Golden Globes; while the Globes often tend to fall for those end of the year stinkers that, on paper, appear to be award-worthy (what up, Nine?), they also have given credit to some great performances and interesting movies that often fall to the wayside by the time the Oscar nominees are announced (Nicole Kidman in Birth, Rebecca Hall in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Jeff Daniels in the Squid and the Whale). They also have a tendency to deliver surprise wins that make everyone a little scared/nervous/excited (Sally Hawkins in Happy-Go-Lucky, Kate Winslet in Revolutionary Road, Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler).

So.... tomorrow everyone has their money on Bullock/Mulligan, Bridges/Clooney for dramas, and Streep and Day-Lewis for comedy/musicals, but I'm hoping for some exciting surprises (even though some of the aforementioned may be deserving). Below are my predictions and alternate fantasy picks (for lack of a better term) for the major film categories:

Best Picture - Drama
Expected to Win: Up in the Air
Should Win: Avatar

Most think Up in the Air has the best shot, but I was disappointed by the film in the end; maybe it was over hyped? Like Reitman's previous films, it just felt so smug and self-congratulatory. It didn't help that Clooney and co. seem equally pleased with their mugging. Anyhow, as trite and silly as it may seem, Avatar was a pretty amazing film. As I watched it, I couldn't stop thinking that it was unlike anything I had ever seen before and for its achievement in sheer awesomeness (and I don't mean skater boy "awesome," I mean Grand Canyon AWESOME - full of awe and disbelief for its magnitude and ambition), I think it should win.

Best Picture - Comedy
Expected to Win: (500) Days of Summer
Should Win: Julie & Julia?

To be honest, I don't think any of these movies were THAT great. I don't expect any of them to make it to the Oscar's final 10 list. So, I'm just going to use this space to say that I think that they should be marketing The Last Station as a comedy and not a drama and that it should win this award! Honestly, it's hysterical! Despite the fact that it's essentially about Tolstoy's last year of life (a phrase seemingly full of pretension that could inspire an eye-roll among the most snobbish), it was a delight! Pure fun and frolic and at the same time, fascinating and full of conflict. I really, really loved the film.

Best Actress - Drama
Expected to Win: Sandra Bullock (The Blind Side) or Carey Mulligan (An Education)
Should Win: Helen Mirren (The Last Station)

Gabourey Sidibe is a bit of a dark horse here as well, favored to win, but somewhat unlikely since Bullock and Mulligan have swept so many awards thus far. While I'd be happy if Sidibe were a surprise winner (her performance did move me, even if the movie left much to be desired), I really wish Mirren would prevail. I've never been much of a Mirren fan... I've admired her personality and respected the wins she had for The Queen (although, that movie blew), but I didn't love her until I saw her in The Last Station. She. Was. Incredible. She navigates comedy, drama, farce, melodrama and romance with such ease, grace and tenacity that it is a sight to behold. I hope Helen is the shocker here and sweeps the rest of the awards season.

Best Actor - Drama
Expected to Win: Jeff Bridges (Crazy Heart) or George Clooney (Up in the Air)
Should Win: Morgan Freeman (Invictus)

Let me start by saying I love Jeff Bridges and I think his performance is award-worthy. I liked Crazy Heart; I admired his performance; I really enjoyed his musicality; but, I wasn't blown away by him the same way I was when I saw him in The Contender or The Door in the Floor or even in The Big Lebowski. Clooney, meanwhile, is always a joy to see: so handsome and charming! Maybe those natural gifts are an obstacle to overcome, but perhaps they're the reason everyone is swooning as well. The true genius this year was Morgan Freeman in Invictus. As Nelson Mandela, Freeman gave a gorgeous performance that was so modest, humble and beautiful that he's almost forgettable. Still, it's hard for me to forget the chills that I had and the little tears that formed in my eyes (I'm man enough to admit when I cry!) as he walked onto the Rugby field as Mandela and shook the hands of both his country's team and their opposition, truly embodying Mandela's peace and confidence in the face of racism and violent threats.

Best Actress - Comedy
Will Win: Meryl Streep (Julie & Julia)
Should Win: Meryl Streep (Julie & Julia)?

I don't know; again, I'm not really overwhelmed with joy for the group of nominees here... I'm not trying to belabor the point, but I do wish Helen Mirren were nominated here for The Last Station as her performance (and the film itself) was quite delightful and comical. Still, I have love for both of Streep's performances and would say that her work in Julie & Julia was quite lovely. If she wins, I'll be glad. I know it's said time and time again, but Streep is definitely gifted and too many of her truly great performances (A Cry in the Dark, The Hours, Adaptation, Post Cards from the Edge, Out of Africa... this could go on for some time) have been nominated or praised without ever garnering actual hardware.

Best Actor - Comedy
Will Win: Daniel Day-Lewis (Nine)
Should Win: uh... Matt Damon (The Informant!)???

I'm not as confident commenting on this group since this is pretty much the only category where I haven't seen the majority of the nominated performances. I heard Nine was awful and Day-Lewis didn't exactly earn the most lovely reviews, so I'm perplexed that so many commentators think he'll be the victor tomorrow. Still, it's hard for me to say that anyone else is more deserving here... I heard Stuhlbarg was good in A Serious Man. However, he was so terrible in another movie I saw this year, Afterschool (awful - don't see it), that I'm inclined to deny him the favor. Downey Jr. was pretty much his usual self in Sherlock, Gordon-Levitt lost all my support after hosting SNL (plus, (500) Days of Summer sucked!), so I'm going to say Matt Damon should win just because I admire him for a) being such a nice guy - (or so it seems), b) being fearless enough to look like a fool in the role and c) managing to look like a stud in Invictus despite how much weight he had to gain for The Informant! In a perfect world, Inglourious Basterds and The Last Station would be considered comedies and James McAvoy and Brad Pitt would be going head to head here... my vote would go to McAvoy.

Best Actress in a Supporting Role
Will Win: Mo'Nique (Precious)
Should Win: Mo'Nique (Precious)

Screw all those other bitches! Mo'Nique was incredible! Who knew the lady who hosted It's Showtime at the Apollo could do that!? I genuinely hope she wins. In a perfect world, however, Juliette Binoche (Summer Hours) and Samantha Morton (The Messenger) would be nominated here too.

Best Actor in a Supporting Role
Will Win: Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds)
Should Win: Christopher Plummer (The Last Station)

Waltz was great - total treat to watch in Basterds - but, I'd prefer to see Plummer take it home. Can you believe that the man who played Captain Von Trapp has never even been nominated for an Oscar?! Somehow, this is only his 2nd Globe nomination as well... and his first for a film! It's crazy. Plummer was amazing in The Last Station; a beautiful and subtle performance that demonstrates how talented he is. He is underrated and overdue for a Globe.

Been awhile... maybe I should write more.

My sister started this blog for me ages ago and I just remembered that it existed in the first place. Perhaps I should come back and try to be more disciplined about writing...

Recently, friends and family have expressed a particular interest in hearing more about movies I've seen. My nana (who, like me, loves movies) has been trying to convince me to start a newsletter, so maybe this is a good way to get started. It just so happens that we're in the midst of my favorite part of the year for films (well, maybe the fall is slightly better since by now I've seen most of the major awards contenders), so I figured I could write little reviews, thoughts, share favorite articles and comment on the awards season in general. Let's see how this progresses...