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...
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$ha is just weird. This girl is like middle-school weird. Not middle-school weird like, I wear my grandma's vintage clip-on earrings (that's Gaga territory), but middle-school weird like, I wear my grandma's teal nightgown with a bandanna and neon snap bracelets because I think it's boss. Or middle-school weird, like I put Fritos in my peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Yet, somehow I think it's working for her and I'm starting to really dig this freak flag-flying weirdo.
But, against all odds, this song has still managed to get this booty a'shakin'. I freely admit that my last trip to the gym was made 10 times more pleasurable by two things: Oprah's vocal ac-RO-baaaaa-tiCCCCs (Damn, girl, that's an art! And, who doesn't love watching Oprah on their day off while working an elliptical?) and Ke$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.