Not To Brag, But...

***************************SPOILERS FOR DARK KNIGHT!***************************

After an hour and half long drive through rush hour traffic, this afternoon a group of four close friends and I received the ultimate payoff for enduring horn honking and middle-finger wagging; the chance to see "Dark Knight" on an IMAX screen. And while the drive down was set to the music of ABBA and the "Banana Phone Song", as we each stumbled out of the theatre, not a word was said except for, "Wow." This was my third time around seeing the latest and greatest of the superhero flicks, but being able to see every drop of sweat on The Joker's face and Tumbler tires the size of a mid-size building, I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully appreciate the film any other way again. I could spend quite a significant period of time here shooting my mouth off at the wonders of the IMAX screen; something I hadn't experienced since the disappointing"Superman Returns" some years ago, but I, as a moderate Batman comic fan, will give you my quick and brief thoughts as to my mildly educated prediction on what we may expect to see in the next installment.

First off, I would like to give my very minority-based opinion that in my deepest and most passionate dreams, there is no 3rd movie in this "Batman" series. Chris Nolan's Dark Knight has always been based in a very dismal and bracing reality, and for once, it may be refreshing to see a real-life ending here, without the victorious hero and true love's undying kiss. If we want the enduring and shining superhero, we can turn to Superman. Batman presents a unique opportunity for a conclusion where the villain lives on, and the warrior with the noblest and most moral of intentions is forced to flee. How much closer could you possibly get to reality itself? One of the most obvious and frequently asked of questions regarding the final minutes of "Dark Knight" relates to the mortality of Two-Face. Now, if this were a comic book, there would be no question that the fallen DA would rear his ugly eyeball in some future issue. On the page, no one is ever dead forever. At some point, an evil robot twin or deal with the devil will pop up and solve everything. However, in Chris Nolan's universe, Harvey Dent's character arc has safely concluded. We watched the White Knight tumble from the greatest of heights into the slime of crime and revenge. Yet, his legacy lives on. What more do we need to see? Well, if a frequent and observant viewer of some of Nolan's other work may tell you, "everything". Nolan has a penchant for repeating themes and ideas throughout his films; using repetition for foreshadowing and further development. Twice prior in "DK", we saw characters fall from a great height, such as the one Two-Face stumbled off, and live to tell the tale. Wouldn't it make sense if the same fate befell Dent?

If Two-Face has flipped his last coin, then in the next movie there is always the question of which villains will show up to the party. Rumors are flying around the internet about The Riddler and Johnny Depp possibly taking up the mantle. Now, I love the green question mark as much as the next BatHead, but I would really rather see a baddie who hasn't previously appeared onscreen. Watching Scarecrow work his mojo in the "Batman Begins" was a thrilling new experience, and refreshing to say the least. If I had my pick, I would greatly hope for either a Black Mask/Catwoman confrontation or to see the ever-creepy Mad Hatter. Black Mask is a suitably dark villain that could offer up a chance for a duel redemption from both Catwoman and Bruce Wayne. Plus, now that Rachel Dawes is out of the picture, there is always room for another woman in Batman's life. (And I'm not talking about Robin) I think the Selina Kyle that was seen in "Batman: Year One"- meaning the vengeful prostitute not the stuffed animal-loving assistant- would fill that opening nicely. Plus, there was the much talked about jest by Fox at the ability of Batman's new armor to protect against cats. Mad Hatter is (if possible) an even more twisted and corrupt figure than The Joker or Black Mask. His OCD could easily reflect upon our psychology-domineered modern society, but his trademark crime- pedophilia- may cross into territories too dangerous for a PG-13 franchise to explore. 

Finally, the question that has left everyone hanging (much like its subject), is whether or not  The Joker will live to bomb another day. Please no. Please please please please. No. Heath Ledger's beyond perfect interpretation of the crazed clown has already ingrained itself into our collective conscious as a culture. To cast another actor in the role would be blasphemy and a grave disrespect to Ledger's fans. Yes, they replaced Katie Holmes with the infinitely more talented Maggie Gyllenhall, but I don't need to tell you that Heath is no Katie Holmes. The Joker arrived in the movie out of a chaotic and random oblivion. It wouldn't be too far from his style to leave it the same way. 

Where Have All the Reruns Gone?

In the midst of these hot summer months, with inflated gas prices, staycations and humidity, you would think that this was the time of year when Americans would need new and fresh entertainment more than any other. While we have the typical flash-bang affair at the local multiplexes, as well as some little Batman movie people keep fussing over, the six or seven minute drive is remarkably inconvenient, when in the winter and fall months, all we need do is flip on the tube in our living rooms for some quality enjoyment. Sadly, in these summer months, when one presses the "on" switch they are confronted with a barrage of reality television. While there may be the occasional gem in the rough (I personally enjoyed "Hell's Kitchen"), on the whole, these shows can have you wishing that you were birthed into this world in the body of a more intelligent species. A cow perhaps. For surely their only great indecency is chewing with their mouths open, while NBC christians its warm weather series under the theme the  "All American Summer".  While I may call myself a patriotic person on the whole, if being "All American" includes crushing beer cans between size DDDDD breasts on national television ("America's Got Talent"), I'm packing up and moving to Australia. If beer breast crushing isn't "American" enough, one may simply tune into another night on NBC. For instance, on Wednesdays, we have the new series "Baby Borrowers" in which teens are 'lent' a child to care for and subsequently succumb to abstinence for the rest of their lives based on the horrifying experience. Finally we have "American Gladiator", since we can't press our similarities to Rome-on-the-brink-of-collapse enough, here's a show to draw even more similarities. You know, but instead of live lions, we have Rocketball. What happened to the days when the summer months were filled with reruns and failed pilots? I for one would rather tune in to watch Future Dwight save Stanley from the poison coffee for a tenth repeat viewing than see a giant pig attempt to create a masterpiece with watercolors on prime time. Vaudeville died out for a good reason- let's not try to bring it back, people. ABC is less shameless about their summer fare; instead focusing on prepping for the premieres of their more well respected shows with a "Lost" bookclub and activities of the like. In the meantime, they have chosen to occupy viewers with one of the worse television programs ever devised, "The Mole", and the pathetic and masochistic "Wipeout!". CBS doesn't even bother advertising its summer shows on its website, filling their page instead with "fall 2008 previews", and while usually in a case such as this, my curiosity would impel me to tune in and discover just what they are hiding, I think this time I can make a brain saving exception. Summer vacation be damned; someone just wake me up when "Heroes" starts up again. Until then, I'll be dog-day afternoon dreaming of the good ol' days when reruns were the most American thing around. 

The Top of the Stairs

The world needs more babysitters. Or maybe, the parents of the world need more discretion. In my repeated viewings of "Dark Knight" following the climactic midnight screening almost a week ago today, I've noticed a disturbing phenomenon of small children filling the theatre seats. While I do realize that the movie is 'just' PG-13, the material contained within it seems to me the stuff of every nightmare I've been visited by since age 3. A horror movie fan myself, being known for throwing the most lavish and terrifying Halloween parties this side of sanity, it is my own prognosis that as a whole, "Dark Knight" is simply more terrifying than any recent horror film in my memory. 

Much like a child who has recently discovered the 'truth' about Santa Clause, America seems to have become obsessed with the concept "seeing is believing". In the tragic remakes of classic slasher flicks that arrive in cineplexes today, we stare wide-eyed at the screen as every drop of the none-too sparse blood flies out of bodies in high definition. After walking out of Rob Zombie's 2007 version of "Halloween", my face was as white as one of Michael Meyer's corpses as a contemplated the staggeringly high body count; a friend later gave me an estimated number of one every two minutes. Looking forward to the upcoming reinterpretation of "Friday the 13th", though I've never been overly found of the original, I can only predict that Marcus Nispel's (who is he anyway?) version will be more intense, bloodier, more graphic, and ultimately, awful. 

Stephen King once wrote in "Danse Macabe" about the phenomenon "at the top of the stairs". I may have referenced it once before on this blog, but it revolves around the basic concept that while the walk by the main character up and over the creaky stairs with the beat of a pulsating heart in the background may turn hairs white in terror, but when they reach the ultimate landing at the top and the monster leaps out at them, what follows will inevitably never reach the expectations established only moments ago. What one may take from this idea, is that in horror novels and books,  atmosphere is the most powerful demon of all. While there are the very rare exceptions, one obvious example being "The Exorcist", (who can forget that backwards spider walk?!) the concept generally holds true. One of the most powerful experiences I've had in watching a horror movie was at a pre-screening of Neil Marshall's 2005 film, "The Descent". Being seemingly stuck in the darkened movie theatre watching a movie where the slow luring into blackness leads to madness by a group of female cavers, I experienced a profound sense of vertigo, usually reserved for repeated roller coaster rides and bumpy car trips. While the monsters themselves within "The Descent" were respectably terrifying, it was the moments they were not onscreen that caused the cold sweats I quickly broke into. While it's now showing its age amidst hordes of copycats and high budget imitators, "The Blair Witch Project" held the basis of its appeal on the "top of the stairs" concept. The final scene, though no 'witch' ever appears on camera, was enough to cause me more than a few nights of lost sleep. 

"Dark Knight" benefits greatly from its PG-13 rating in the terror department, for while the most gruesome and terrifying acts committed by The Joker are left to play out after the plot has moved on to another scene, our minds are left pondering the horrifying "what if", rather than sinking into the pathetic "gross out" factor of blood flying into our faces from all angles. We are left to wonder if the monster is still out there, and its havoc playing itself out, somewhere in the unseen darkness.

Off the Radar #2: Billy Crudup

Just hours ago, the majority of the world was introduced to what is easily the best superhero movie ever made; "Dark Knight". After emerging from the movie, it may be hard to think of anything but The Joker, Batman and Harvey Dent, but hopefully audiences will also remember one of the previews that, to the joy of the many superhero fans in the midnight audience, premiered before "Dark Knight" began. Based on the trailer for "Watchmen", it seems that Zac Snyder's (300) big screen adaption due out this March will be in keeping with the legacy of the source material as one of the greatest graphic novels yet written. I've written about "Watchmen" briefly before on this blog, but to give you a quick reminder, the plot unfolds in a world on the edge of Doomsday as the Cold War rages on, and nations become more and more powerful and careless in their responsibilities. In the midst of this war, another one brews as "masked vigilantes" (notice, not superheroes, as only one among them has actual powers), who one attempted to fight crime and evil are protested against by the very people they were trying to save. The most lengthy and visually stunning scene in the trailer comes at its beginning as we see the making of Dr. Manhattan, a scientist transformed into the government's ultimate weapon; a walking nuclear bomb capable of dismantling matter at his fancy. Oh yeah, and in this reality, he just happened to win the Vietnam War. If you or some reason haven't seen the compete preview yet, here is a link:

www.apple.com/trailers/wb/watchmen

Yes, that devastatingly handsome man who unfortunately gets shocked by the particle cannons is Mr. Crudup. It's not too much a misfortune though, as once he is transformed into Dr. Manhattan, he goes around wearing nothing but a radioactive glow the rest of the movie. It was Zac Snyder's intention in casting "Watchmen" to not use any prominent stars in Hollywood, for fear that they would overpower the material itself. While Mr. Crudup may not be a household name, his body of work is already extensive and varying. He seems to prefer playing creative types; artists and writers, and manages to consistently flesh them out to their very soul. His most commonly seen roles are those in "Big Fish"Will Bloom, Edward Bloom's son, and "Almost Famous" as Russell Hammond- the reckless guitarist who memorably takes an acid trip to the roof of a house and jumps into a swimming pool screaming "I am a golden god!!" However, it is in his less known roles that he excels the most. My high school theatre teacher swore by his work in "Stage Beauty", a movie whose glory was crippled by the release of the far inferior of "Shakespeare in Love"a few years earlier. Crudup plays Ned Kynaston, the greatest and last of the Shakespearian cross-dressing actors and manages to retain al dignity and beauty in a role that could easily be played for farce. 

Crudup, while already sporting a respectable film resume, has made an even more respected name for himself on Broadway. I personally have seen him onstage three times; and all three plays now occupy a spot atop my favorite dramatic literature list both for his own performance in them, as well as the strength of the productions as a whole. In 2005's  "The Pillowman", he was mesmerizing as the leading character Katurian K. Katurian, a short story writer being questioned by two police officers in a fascist state for the presumed murder of several local children. Guiding the entranced audience through four-page long monologues and gruesome tales, Crudup was the emotional anchor of the production; our own navigator through a world we would like to think is too horrible to be called our own. More recently, I witnessed his Tony-winning performance in 2006/2007's "Coast of Utopia" trilogy, in which he was featured in the first two parts. While the Stoppard material itself could have bored many who didn't have a familiarity and affection for classical Russian Literature (I can't speak to this, having written my high school thesis on Crudup's real-life character and Dostoevsky), Mr. Crudup, as the suffering literary critic, Vissarion Belinsky, was the humanity behind the constant revolutions being detailed in the show, the character that stole hearts and souls with his honesty and passion. Before the first of the trilogy, I had the enormous privilege of meeting Mr. Crudup outside the stage door on his way into the theatre, and, after carrying on a short conversation with him, found him to be a most agreeable and humble man. While I can only give him praise and tell you that he is one of many reasons to see "Watchmen" when it arrives in March, in my heart I am secretly hoping that it isn't too big a hit, so that Mr. Crudup may soon return to the stage and I may hope again personally witness his diverse and touching performances. 

Midnighting Part 2

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows:

On July 21, 2007, every light occupying a house where the words "magic", "spell" and "Avada Kedavra" had even briefly been mentioned, was burning into the wee hours of the morning, as well as the afternoon following as fans and casual readers from America to Japan lay sprawled across their beds devouring every syllable of the final installment in J.K Rowling's seven part series chronicling the adventures of a young wizard- but more importantly, a young man as he struggled with the forces of love and evil in the world around him. But, do I really need to even tell you that? The Harry Potter series has become part of the world cultural lexicon. In my own classrooms at school, discussions on Camus or ethics frequently carry analogies and references to events Harry Potter. The films draw record audiences to their own midnight releases, and millions of young kids who would otherwise never pick up a book go through the 700-page Potter novels in record time. 

I always felt that I was born in a special year; 1990 was not only the final year of the Cold War time period, but also the ideal time to be born to fully take advantage of the Harry Potter series. I was just seven years old when "Sorcerer's Stone" was released, eight when "Chamber of Secrets" arrived on shelves, and nine when "Prisoner of Azkaban" came out. While I was still younger than the Harry of the novels during that period, by the time the fourth and fifth books came out, I was slowly gaining on the Potter gang in my own years, and by number seven, experienced my own 17th birthday just days before I read about Harry's own. Selfishly, my friends and I always have thought that the Harry Potter trilogy was "our generation's" treasure, and that those more than a year removed from us in age were either too old or too young to fully appreciate the magic. However, when I went to Barnes and Noble at 12:01 am to pick up my copy of "Deathly Hallows", that opinion changed completely. Going off to college the next year, I was suddenly feeling... old. Responsibility was weighing down upon me, and in my secret heart of hearts, I was wishing that Peter Pan would somehow show up on my windowsill and whisk me away to Neverland. Even though I couldn't yet legally buy an alcoholic beverage, I was already wondering about how my generation and I would be remembered. As I looked around the bookstore, I got my answer. Everywhere there were children, their parents and even the occasional grandparent dressed in black Hogwarts gowns or the striped scarves of their favorite houses. Lightening bolt scars were applied to faces, and wands both plastic and wood were waved about, not without the faintest hope that maybe sparks might this time fly from its tip. Though of course the books themselves were entirely J.K Rowling's own wonder and creation, I couldn't help but feel some strange sense of pride that the gift of my generation was magic. While we can't lift feathers with a flick of our wrists, the fantasy novels, films and even fan fiction that have come out over the past decade are enough to make even the staunchest realist believe in prophecies, phoenixes, one rings and dragons. From some primal desire to depart from the chaos and depression in our own lives, we joined together and created new ones together. To see young children and ones still young at heart brought literal tears to my eyes at how powerful these universes could become. The evening of the book's release, a show I had been working as a dramaturg in opened, and our stage manager had to quite literally pry the copies from the hands of each actor in the company as they squeezed in a few more pages before they went onstage. When I finally arrived back home, I finished the last chapters in the comfort of my own bed, and as I read those final words; "The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well," I once again broke into uncontrollable sobs. To close the cover of this book meant closing the object which had defined my childhood and adolescent years- becoming an adult and facing the end. As I cuddled my teddy bear and cried hot tears into its fur, I slowly removed the wizard's hat I had been wearing both then, and the midnight before, and remembered the kids at Barnes and Noble who had found Harry on their own and been touched by his magic years after I had found it myself, and then of the children who in the many years to come would also come to be touched by that light. This wasn't an end. This literature was something eternal- a story- one which could be passed down for generations which have yet to be born. And as I sit white haired in my floating rocking chair sixty years from now, something in my heart tells me that I will still be able to brag that I was there that midnight- that midnight when Harry's last tale was born, and have others around me who also came to know of Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore stare wide eyed, gaping that the magic they still experience has lasted just this long. That's what midnighting is all about. The bragging rights. And the magic that will never die.

Midnighting

As we enter into this third week of the hottest summer month, there's only one thing on the world's mind- not the next trip to the beach, but "The Dark Knight". The movie has been awaited for years, even before the release of its forbearer, speculation was at hand as to when the next installment would arrive. When Batman flipped over a card to reveal the telltale Joker at Part One's conclusion, I vividly remember the audience gasping at the obvious cliffhanger, and the guts it would take director Christopher Nolan to overturn the legendary interpretation by Jack Nicholson in the 1989 incarnation of the superhero franchise. Since that road was first introduced as the intended direction, the hype surrounding the hero has only multiplied after the death of supporting actor Heath Ledger, a perfectly executed viral campaign, the rising career of its leading actor, and the remarkably high quality of  reboot "Batman Begins". Being the pop culture and comic book fanatic that I am, I purchased midnight tickets for this Thursday night almost a month ago today, and laugh and evil chuckle inside whenever I overhear a conversation in which the subject was unable to procure tickets, "like a whole week ahead of time". Filing into my local megaplex in the late hours of the evening is by no means a rare occurrence of mine. Falling a little short of the Z list, it's the closest thing that I have to experience to a movie premiere. Only, I consider it to be a lot more fun. Instead of ten foot dress trains and strangling tuxes, the featured wardrobe is nerd chic, with costumes of related characters both obscure and obvious, and ceaseless chatter about all things in the related universe. I can't accurately remember the amount of "midnighting" that I've done in my lifetime, but more memorable experiences have been at the "Harry Potter" films and book releases, the most recent "Indiana Jones", "Star Wars Episode I" (tragically), "Hellboy 2", "Iron Man", "Snakes on a Plane" and the iphone 3G. While I won't go into the details of all these events, I can write a little regarding the two which stand out for me the most, one for its sheer stupidity, and the other for being something of a life affirming experience.

"Snakes on a Plane"

I can't believe I'm even admitting that I midnighted this one. Truly, it pains me to relate this on a public medium, but on a July night not too long ago, I donned a pair of-get ready- snakeskin boots and a stuffed cobra and set out to view the film that, through its most famous line (all together now)" "That's it! I've had it with this motherf****** snakes on this motherf****** plane!" and its infallibly adorable internet acronym (SOAP). I wasn't really caught up in the entirety of its online hype, only reading about it in publications and hearing about it as something of a watercooler joke among friends. For lack of better things to do, I decided to midnight this odd little movie and see what all the fuss was about. While the movie itself was pathetically stupid, good only for the aforementioned moment and one particularly gruesome reptilian originated homicide in an airplane toilet, the audience had me banging my head at giving my best Herbert Morrison imitation of "Oh the humanity!". Yes, I'm likening the viewers of "Snakes on a Plane" to the Hindenburg. Once the lights went down, the entire theatre filled with hissing mixed with cries of "Whoo! SNAKES!" I'm not done yet. When "the" line was said, the audience actually gave a standing ovation. I only wish this were an exaggeration. Anyway, while I wasn't really expecting that much out of the product itself, it was intriguing enough to see just how powerfully internet hype could affect a movie. But I wasn't thinking about that at the time. I was more concerned with covering my face and hoping that no one from the civilized world recognized me that night. The giant stuffed cobra around my neck would probably be a dead giveaway as to my intentions. On the other hand, last summer, I experienced a midnighter which was a spiritual experience to confirm the purity and goodness of the human soul.

Continued tomorrow!

Off the Radar #1: Reefer Madness

I'd like to take this chance to introduce to you all a new weekly feature that will now begin appearing on this blog. I finally decided to make "Who's Afraid" a tri-weekly "publication", and now feel like some more continuity should be added to the scheme of things. Starting today, two out of the three entries will be as always- related to trends or occurrences in pop culture today, but the third will be much like this first installment- something I am calling "Off the Radar", in which I'll introduce something- a movie, book, show or celebrity that flies just a little too low to be openly noticed by the regular consumer. I hope you enjoy it! And without further ado....

Every October, one of my closest friends and I spend hours scouring the internet for any trace of a showing of "Rocky Horror Picture Show" within the entire state of Colorado. After five years of searching, we still haven't found a regular theatrical showing in any month of the year in our own state, as well as any of the ones directly bordering it. Somehow in the past twenty years, Dr. Frank-N-Furter seems to have packed up his lab once and for all and left popular culture for the planet of Transsexual. While many musicals have been hailed as its replacement (Snakes on a Plane comes to mind first), none seem to have really fulfilled on their promise. While it would please me greatly to herald to coming of a new Brad Majors, I can only tell you all that while "Reefer Madness" may never enjoy the widespread acclaim, or maybe, total lack of it, if you can persuade a group of friends with a flexible sense of humor to a in-house showing of it, you might once again be reminded of the glove-snapping, Time-Warping days of yore. 

After a 2005 premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, "Reefer Madness" was given an airing on Showtime, after which it picked up an Emmy for best music/lyrics and received nominations for choreography and makeup design. With a surprisingly strong roster of actors, including Alan Cumming (X-Men 2), Kristen Bell (Heroes, Forgetting Sarah Marshall) and Neve Campbell (Scream), Reefer Madness is a tongue in cheek, cautionary tale satirizing the 1937 film of the same name, which preached to parents the danger pot posed to their children. Oddly enough, the one great fault I found with the film was that the tongue wasn't quite planted firmly enough in the cheek, and I cared about the leading characters almost too much to take the joke completely. Nonetheless, the musical numbers were catchy and ridiculous- with titles that are almost as telling as the songs themselves, ranging from "Listen to Jesus, Jimmy" to "Jimmy Takes a Toke". The story begins with a government agent (Alan Cumming) explaining to a group of nervous, 1930's-era parents how the demon weed was taking over their communities, using the parable of "The Harper Affair" to illustrate his point. "The Harper Affair" follows little Jimmy and Mary Lane who finds themselves staring into the face of temptation- the lit joint. You don't have to be a marijuana fan to enjoy this film and the humor within it- having never touched the stuff myself, I still was able to appreciate the sensationalized hype that still today can seize a society in its grip. The film, though satire, doesn't fall into the fatal trap of using throwaway characters and hoping we might take heed of their plight, but seems to genuinely examine their arcs (however ridiculous), and is assisted by some top-notch performances on behalf of its lead actors. Kristen Bell as Mary Lane is particularly delightful to watch; as both a sunshine-y Sandra Dee-esuqe throwback and latter, as a naughty S&M fiend. While the formula of the movie as a whole may seem a little too close to comfort to "Rocky Horror", that's part of the appeal of the piece itself. Much like its predecessor, "Reefer Madness" takes one of the underbelly aspects of our society, marijuana, (or as those in the movie say, "Mary Jew Wanna", and laughs in the faces of those who are too afraid to look into it a little closer. It's not quite "out-there" as aliens from the galaxy of Transylvania creating a sex-monster, but in my opinion, that's for the best in our more realist, contemporary age. Take a watch for yourself and see. Maybe in a few more years, "Jimmy Takes a Toke" will have beat out "The Time Warp" as the geek-dance of choice. Maybe. But frankly, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to let it go.

A Rainbow of Culture: Part 2

While Christian Siriano and "hot tranny mess" might be many peoples' first words association with gay men, the popular classification has evolved significantly since the days of Jack's diva attacks on "Will and Grace". Even lesbians, a topic Hollywood has found somewhat harder to tackle, have gained widespread representation on shows like "The 'L' Word" and (my favorite) "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". A recent revelation in the Season 8 comic books of the series even revealed to us that The Slayer herself was open to a little bisexual lovemaking. Arguably one of the most influential gay figures today is gossip blogger, Perez Hilton. Both Latino (real name: Mario Lavanderia) and gay, 'P-Nasty' has shown time and time again his power across several realms of the entertainment sphere- most notably in fashion and music. By one promotion on his blog alone, a young artist can sour to the top of the itunes charts within mere minutes. Hopefully Perez will take enough of an interest in the new Sean Penn-headed biopic, "Milk" following the life of California politician, Harvey Milk, to help it fulfill its quote for most buzzed about movie of the Oscar season.

While widespread stereotypes still remain on the gay community, many out celebrities have taken advantage of one of the more prevalent associations; which is that gays love to have fun. Indeed, some of the most juicy commentary on our society today has been coming from LGBT stars. It makes the average straight guy feel like a gray crayon when he is suddenly confronted with a shimmering prism of the gay culture. While the community is still serious on its battle for civil rights and unions, they've brought sparkle and rhinestones into our country in the midst of the years in which they've been needed most. With national pride at the lowest its been in decades, it seems that many Americans could stand to take a page from the men and women who can still find time to fight for love, hope for the future and look absolutely fabulous while doing so.

A Rainbow of Culture: Part 1

It was just over two decades ago that five homosexual men were diagnosed with what was, at the time, a nameless, fatal illness. It wasn't long before this anonymous killer was granted a name- HIV- and societal stigma. Based upon the primary group who appeared to be contracting the disease, the gay male community, feelings of hate and disgust arose throughout the nation, and those within the stricken sect, ostracized. Throughout the Reagan and Bush presidencies, this neglect continued both in the government, and ignorant civilians. Members of the gay ad transgender communities fought on, and gradually, science also came to back their cause. In 2008, the hysteria surrounding HIV and AIDS has all but subsided stateside, though the battle continues overseas in impoverished third world countries. Without going into an in depth commentary regarding the past and future of gay rights, I'd like to take a small fraction of that issue; popular culture, and attempt to briefly touch the surface of it.

Saturday evening, I had the enormous privilege of attending the final stop of the 2nd annual True Colors tour at Red Rocks amphitheater in Morrison, CO. While my love of Cindy Lauper, the tour's headliner, stops after "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", one of my favorite party bands, The B-52's, were also along for the ride; and a few listenings of "Love Shack" and "Funplex" gave me enough reason to head online and buy tickets. The group behind "Rock Lobster" gave a spirited and fittingly insane showing, but the real stars of the night were in the audience. Upon the time of my ticket purchase, I had absolutely no idea what the "True Colors" tour consisted of, other than some crazy 80's flashbacks, but after some pre-concert research, I discovered that is was in fact a yearly LGTB pride festival traveling to cities across the country. Hosted by "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy"'s Carson Kressley, with special guest Rosie O' Donnell; after seeing the lineup, I was not surprised once I arrived at the venue (in my opinion, one of the most beautiful concert venues in the country), that my fellow audience members came bearing rainbow flags, pink monkey suits (?), pumps (only for the gays, of course) and some intense pride. While being actively involved in the theatre community has given me a wonderfully numerous amount of out-and-proud friends, in the while sitting in the rain and listening the opener Joan Armatrading, a thought began to form in my head. Why should the gays get all the good culture?! 

Many artists typically classified as a fad fueled mainly in the LGBT are presently transforming into the most domineering and tasteful forces in the entertainment community. While twenty years ago, the stereotypical gay culture conjured up pictures of drag queens and Barbara Streisand, nowadays, it's difficult to pin down just a few points of focus. Gay artists and straight performers backed by the gay community, while still maintaining their ties to the homosexual community, are hitting the Top 10 charts like never before. Madonna, Kylie Minogue and The Indigo Girls are no longer just reserved for pride parades and the Culture Club, but mainstream fads. Reality TV has acted as another platform, with personalities on shows such as "America's Next Top Model" (Fierce!), America Idol, So You Think You Can Dance? and The Real World. The rainbow of gay culture has grown more vibrant, diverse and beautiful than ever before....

to be continued tomorrow!

Is Anybody There?

While I do realize that a list of the Best 4th of July Movies is something almost every film website feels compelled to put up on this day every year, in this case, I feel that I still must offer my own endorsement of just four of the most patriotically perfect flicks that I feel Hollywood has mustered up.

#4: Glory

This movie holds a special place in my memory for being the first non-animated film (Lion King was the very first) to permanently traumatize me. My 6th grade history teacher, in covering the Civil War, felt that it was necessary to show a class of 11-year olds a scene in which a man has his head quite graphically blown to pieces. I vividly remember the audible gasp that arose from my fellow elementary school students to this day. While I do applaud my teacher for showing a high quality piece of cinema, I think that many of the intended viewers were too shell shocked or occupied with covering their eyes to fully enjoy the material. Several years later, I settled in for a repeat viewing, and was fully moved by the story of Shaw and his regiment of African-American soldiers. To see men, who under their government's laws, were not even given rights as human beings ready to die for their country is both haunting and inspiring. It carries a powerful message that in America, a man may give his life and love for a cause, but not the system which backs it. 

#3: 1776

I once read a statement that there are only two things in this world that are truly American: jazz, and the musical theatre. Taking the latter of the two, and some historical liberties (no pun intended), "1776" bypasses the stodgy old portraits we so often see of our founding fathers and pours a hearty mug of ale all over them. Instead, Franklin, Adams, Jefferson and the Continental Congress are given makeovers as bawdy alcoholics and lusty womanizers; they balance their composition of the Declaration of Independence with a little Afternoon Delight, and of course, singing. Nothing more American than that! While most of the movie takes a comedic tone to the proceedings, the three final songs of the film call to attention issues which many of us would never occur to think about passing through the minds of men who our country has effectively fashioned out to be gods. My favorite, "Molasses to Rum", sung by South Carolina representative Edward Rutledge, is an intense accusation of the Northern States' hypocrisy regarding the African slave trade, and that the New England seafarers- not the southern plantation owners, are the ones who "stuff them in the ships" and move them to an unfriendly new continent. "1776" not only reminds us of our more well-known accomplishments in the past, but also the issues which still today go unresolved.

#2: "Yankee Doodle Dandy"

The musical makes a second appearance on the list, but once again shows that it is more an American institution than apple pie. Even when our country has gone through its darkest and most controversial days, watching James Cagney in this George M. Cohan biopic can inspire even the most hesitant patriot to bust on the American flag. To see the life of a man who dedicates his life and spirit to his country through the forms of song and dance is awe-inspiring. While he never held a musket in battle or crawled through the trenches, the original "Yankee Doodle Boy", Cohan, is the greatest American of us all. Brash, witty and earnest, he is the tap-dancing, singing incarnation of the very spirit of our country. In the final scene, as he marches alongside a soldier in a WWII pride parade, harmonizing to one of his most famous numbers, "Over There", I dare anyone who has ever called themselves American to not shed a tear for the man who embodies the greatest in us all.

#1: "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington"

I beginning to realize just how depressing patriotism is, as I write that once more, during this movie, I bawled my bloody eyes out before the credits began to roll. Much like the message within "Yankee Doodle Dandy", "Mr. Smith" puts into action that one of the greatest principles of American government is that any man with a heart large enough can make a difference in the way our country is run. For a movie unfolding almost entirely in the senate chamber, a modern day viewer may expect constant party-centered jabs and nudges in comedic form, but "Mr. Smith" is entirely independent in its views, apart from being singularly American in form. While we may have escaped from the rampant political machines and bosses of the early 20th century, anyone can realize that the goings-on in our country aren't always as moral as we would like to believe. But while we may (quite often) disagree with what our government says or does, the most patriotic thing that we may do as Americans is exercise our right to dissent. To fight it. Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and Adams didn't form our country by politely disagreeing with the British empire- they told Parliament just where they could shove their taxes, and then proceeded to make America! "Mr. Smith" illustrates that concept better than any movie I've ever seen, and I think that in 2008, as many Americans look up towards the upcoming presidential appointment, and the blunders that have resulted from the last one, this movie is more relevant than ever- simply for it's basic premise- that America is never beyond saving. I'll leave you with it's final scene, brilliantly delivered by James Stewart:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=p1d19wV1GZQ&feature=related

No Time for Livin'- So Get Busy Dying!

On a brief first note- I'm back! I technically said I would blog yesterday when I landed back home, but I was in shameful hiding from an overall lack of pop culture dosage until this evening. Now, having seen both "Wanted" and "WALL-E", I feel back to my usual, cynical self and am ready to get this baby moving again!

It used to be something of a stamp of certification that in a classic Disney movie, the parents never lived. As I sit here, I am having extreme difficulty remembering a single animated flick in which both the mother and father of the hero/heroine made it through the entirety of the feature. If they didn't die over the course of the film itself, they just weren't there to begin with- whether from a previous conflict or just lack of narrative space. The only time I remember ma and pa hitting the credits was in "Hercules", and that's because good ol' Hera and Zeus were immortal. This loss of a caretaker was not however just simply passed over in a light manner. The absence of the main character's mother or father had a profound effect of their lives, and oftentimes was the focal point of inspiration for their actions throughout the plot line. Simba sends himself into exile over the death of Mufasa, Pocahontas carried her mother's free spirit and necklace wherever she went, and Bambi was forced to fend for himself after mommy gets shot by hunters. Coping with living without a parent, once upon a time, was the biggest obstacle that a child could face. They were forced to reform how they lived their life to coincide with the legacy their ancestor had left for them. The heroes of the movies would go in search of the spirt of life itself, and where- whether in the stars, the leaves or the ocean one went when they left it. After seeing two of the summer's biggest kid-flicks: "Kung Fu Panda" and "WALL-E", I noticed that, while Po's mother is MIA (noting that "Panda" is Dreamworks, not Disney), the issues at stake in the two movies are much larger than figuring out how to save one's own life. Both Po the Panda and "WALL-E" must discover ways to save everyone else's. 

I feel a bit like an old "babushka" when I make the observance that children today seem to have grown up faster than ever. My old-lady-like feelings continue when I see that parents now seem to have no issue in taking their charges to what I consider to be intense action films such as "Iron Man", and based on the already plentiful toys and merchandising, "Dark Knight". Kids of the new millennium are less easily phased than ones in the past- not as quickly moved to emotion or wonder. Like the pre-renaissance babies, they are more adult than youth. Stephen King once made the prophetic statement, "If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about leaning how to die." Based on children's' movies of the past year or two, King's prediction seems right on target. Since youth is shorter than ever, kids watching movies need not be taught how to fix their own lives- they are instead tasked with fixing the world. Global responsibility is the new keyword for morality. The selfish little princesses of the past are gone. Who cares about Snow White finding Prince Charming or Ariel becoming a human to kiss Prince Eric? We have to prevent global warming! Yes, I do acknowledge the climate crisis and the need to cut back and find alternative energy sources- but does a 6-year old need to as well? While "WALL-E" does have its touching moments of love... between two robots..., it is almost secondary to the greater cause at hand, which is to repopulate and un-pollute the earth. Po goes on a journey of self-discovery through Kung-Fu, but does so mainly for the benefit of his village, not for his own well-being. My jaw quite literally dropped at the climax's solution, where Po the fuzzy Panda warrior didn't simply punish the bad guy moderately, or bring him to jail, but flat out obliterated him. The friends I was seeing it with at the time remarked also on the oddly gruesome conclusion. Although I have completed childhood myself, I'd like to think that my time in its midst isn't too far off for me to just a bit of recollecting. From what I do remember, I can tell you that it was a complicated, and rough time. I can think back on laying in bed at night- not being able to sleep because I was so verklempt over what pondering happened when a person died. I literally couldn't close my eyes for bed. Maybe not every kid faces such a great personal debate, but in the first 12 or so years of life, there is a lot of figuring out to be done. It irks me greatly that an elementary school student is now supposed to take on the role of Atlas and carry the world around on their shoulders along with all their own personal burdens. For once, I'm asking for just a little selfishness here. Let the girls go out in search of their Princes, and the boys battling the dragons keeping them, and leave saving the  world for the adults. In my own eyes, true love should come first.

Coming Soon

Who's Afraid of Pop Culture returns June 29th!!

(See Note at conclusion of previous post)

Top 10 for the Over-90 Set

Tuesday night, the American Film Institute (AFI) once again illustrated its total lack of touch with popular culture and contemporary American reality. Every summer, the AFI comes up with a sappy television special that chronicles the "Ten Best" of a particular film genre or subsection; my personal favorite year was a listing of the top 100 movie quotes of all time. Of course, even this brilliant conception was ruined by the fact that those who select the annual winners haven't seen a movie since 1998. 

I realize that we are living in what some may call a "sad state" of American cinema, but stupidity aside, films continue to be one of the strongest cultural phenomena in our country, and the newer, funnier and more expensive- the better. I realize that "Gone With the Wind" is a so-called "classic", but I haven't met ten people in my life who have managed to sit through the entire thing. Thus, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" has about as much business at the top of the quotation list as "Citizen Kane" does heading the best 100 films of all time. If we're going by frequency of usage and recognition, I'd have to go with one of the lines from "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy". I don't know how many times I have walked through the hallways of my school and heard, "I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal", or "LOUD NOISES". I've even seen witty t-shirts bearing the pictorial equivalent of "I love lamp". While these selections may lack class, I don't think I've ever heard someone under thirty quote "Gone With the Wind" without a rapid ass-kicking shortly following. 

While some of the categories of the "Ten Top 10" were well executed in selection, many were populated with flicks bearing titles that are met with shoulder shrugs and questioning of their actual existence. I'm going to address the "gangster" category first, purely because it just so happens to be my favorite genre of film. I felt as if the picks here were intelligent choices. Many pre-date my, and in some cases, my parents' birth dates, but still are frequently watched by the current generation. "The Godfather", "Goodfellas" and "Godfather Part II" leading the lineup allows me particular bragging rights following a recent movie night at my house featuring screening of those exact three movies, as well as a lavish Italian buffet to complete the theme. I was however, irked by the absence of recent best picture winner "The Departed". 

As much as I was impressed by the accuracy of the gangster category, I was outraged by the selection of Westerns. Yes, yes we all know that the nuanced John Wayne classic "The Searchers" was revolutionary and socially relevant, but really, is that why people watch Westerns? Where was the Clint Eastwood love? Yes, Unforgiven took a spot in the lineup, but imdb's headlining Western, "The Good the Bad and the Ugly" didn't even place! In my humble opinion, watching Blondie take on Tuco and Angel Eyes in a gun-fight to end all others beats morning about the "Lost Frontier" any day. 

I won't go through every category, because frankly, I myself haven't even seen many of these films. I think the only choices under the "Courtroom Drama" section that I have ever heard mentioned or watched personally are "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "12 Angry Men". The "epics" list was full of sappy and overlong oldies, though I did smile at the inclusion of "Reds"- the most beautiful and politically relevant love story I've ever witnessed. Potential dates take note: I'd rather see Warren Beatty as John Reed run from anti-communist gunfire into Lousie Bryant's arms at a Soviet train-station that roll my eyes to the familiar and boring "romantic comedies" such as "Sleepless in Seattle". Oh wait, my mistake. AFI seems to think those sort of movies warrant their own list as well. Apparently though, I am more out of touch with this portion of cinema than I thought. Coming in at Number 1 is some old Charlie Chaplin flick called "City Lights". I don't watch many of these sorts of movies, but in my eyes, Charlie Chaplin has the sex appeal level of a squashed zucchini. 

The last section I'll give my input on is fantasy. I honestly don't think that the committee even bothered to watch the submissions here. "The Wizard of Oz" was a landmark in cinema, but even me, a musical-die-hard would rather see one of the epic battle scenes in "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" than the Cowardly Lion. Oh wait, "Return of the King" wasn't even on the short list! Instead, we have part one of the trilogy, "Fellowship of the Ring"; widely considered to be the weakest of the series.  I was also disappointed at seeing the pedophile fantasy "Big" coming in at number 10, rather than the film that the kids with class occupied themselves with; "Princess Bride".

The AFI specials frequently become the highlight of my summer television viewing, if only for the lack of better things to watch and the countdown to the first place winners that I always anticipate will bring heated debates and fiery words reigning down upon my house for weeks to come. Although it would be my own recommendation for the AFI committee before next year's voting, to include younger members on its selection board- ones who have a live pulse on the movie scene today, instead of checking for the heartbeat of one of the many dead corpses that continue to show up on the "Top 100" series year after year.

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Note: I will once again be departing on another road trip tomorrow morning, and will not be returning until next Sunday. Until then, take what you've learned on this blog and go out into the world unafraid to take your own opinions and perspectives on the culture around you. Don't forget to check back next Sunday!

-Jordan 

Cinephiles Beware! Welcome to the Drive-In.

The other night, I arrived home at 1:45 in the morning, having successfully completed what was the first of many summer night trips to the drive-in movie theatre. Living in Colorado does have its advantages, and while the drive-in is one of only about three establishments open past midnight, even with options, I would still venture out to the edge of town to partake in its wonders. 

Like eating out at a nice restaurant and riding the ferris wheel, going to the drive-in is not something to engage in alone. While it has long been a prime spot for couples to snuggle under the stars and a B-movie, the most enjoyable way to visit is with a large group of people. Breaking out the lawn chairs and spreading out the blankets in the back of a truck creates an optimal environment for diversion. Unlike those stodgy theatres, at the drive-in, talking throughout the flick is highly encouraged. Cinephiles everywhere must flee from these outdoor screens by the droves. The sound is fuzzy, the picture worse and little kids run about constantly. 

With the high prices at the concession stands of regular theatres and even higher ticket prices, large families go for the two-for-one bargain of the drive-in. Sometimes, the scene can be frightening as it unfolds before you. To those of you unfamiliar with cowboy culture, a recent spoting on my part involved three youngsters running around with pocket knives while their parents sat smoking cigarettes in the back of a pick up. This is not unusual. Weapon wielding tykes aside, the lax atmosphere makes for more enjoyable repeat viewings of films. Upon my third time visiting "The Incredible Hulk" since its release, last night I proceeded to act out my own personal interpretation of the final battle scene, which anyone who has seen the movie, will tell you is epic. My improvised "Hulk Smash" was truly a sight to behold. 

Unless you live in a unkempt trailer parked in some unsavory location, the whole of the situation I have described may sound a tad frightening, but I must make this plee, though I believe it may come about thirty years too late. Should you still be fortunate enough to live close to a drive-in movie theatre, visit it! Buy food at it! While the nostalgia aspect of their presence is beginning to hint at a come-back, drive-ins are equivalent to pandas on the endangered species list. While it may be simpler to just pop in a DVD, or one of those new-fangled "Blu-Rays", watching a big screen kiss between Edward Norton and Liv Tyler under the stars and full moon truly has no comparison. Maybe you'll even get to see me Hulk Smash.

Bitten By the Vampire

Wizards are so passe. With the (popular would be an understatement) Harry Potter series completed last summer, the hordes of young teen readers went out in search of another fantastical adventure to occupy themselves with something other than fan fiction between the Potter movies release dates. The soon-to-be trilogy of Eragon, chronicling the adventures of a young knight and his female dragon pal, drove many fans away following the poorly produced film version and the sloppy second installment. Instead, Rowling and Paolini followers have been flocking toward a new author, Stephenie Meyer, and her new saga of novels, "Twilight", "New Moon", Eclipse", and on August second, "Breaking Dawn". While vampire stories, since Bram Stoker's "Dracula", have relied on sexual relations as a key tool for horror and allurement, Meyer, an observant Mormon, has transitioned this lust to what seems to be a more effective (and appropriate) level of involvement. Rather than the creepy licks, bites and sucks that creatures of the night typically have been known to dole out, the vamps in Meyer's novels need hundreds of pages merely to build up to hand holding. I attempted to read "Twlight" about a year ago, and was so outraged at this taming of the beast, that I immediately returned it to my friend, who then proceeded to verbally abuse me for my opinions. As an avid follower of horror fiction, I wanted desperately to enjoy this new generation of evil, but to me, the romantic male hero of the series, Edward Cullen, a vampire who appallingly snacks on animal blood, was effectively a neutering of one of my favorite mystical creatures. 

Stephen King's "Danse Macabe", a literary work which one can safely call the "Bible" of horror films, books and mythology leading up until 1980, explains vampires in one of the most exact definitions that I have ever read:

"Beauty and the beast. You are in my power. Heh-heh-heh. It's that primal rape scene again. And the primal, perverse rapist is the Vampire, stealing not only sexual favors but life itself."

While "Dracula" set the foundation for the blood-sucking mythos, most of my personal experience and love of this particular monster comes from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". No, I'm not ashamed to say it loud and proud. I own every season of the show on DVD, and frequently work out to repeated viewings of my favorite episodes. If you even existed in the late 1990's, I'm sure that you were forced or volunteered to see the vamps strolling the streets of Sunnydale- carrying no small hints of bondage. While we did encounter the occasional sympathetic demon on the program- most famously, Angel and Spike, the rest of their race were frequently ugly (a mortal sin on "Buffy"), stupid and very very evil. To me, this is how the genre was meant to be done. At least, in regards to the first five seasons. After that the show became something of an exercise in idiocy. In their human forms, the vampires referred to wayward humans in sexual nicknames including, "toy", "puppy", "dog" and "dessert". I think there was more torture- at least implied- done by the baddies on "Buffy" than on/by Jack Bauer on "24". 

The vampire romance genre has been employed frequently by authors in genres ranging from horror to pornographic romance, and until now have always played their role as the sexual predator, one with whom the viewer/reader and heroine of the work is not entirely turned off by. While I always can appreciate and acknowledge a new interpretation, until the next rabidly sexual, totally evil vamp decides to rear his handsome head, I'll be occupying myself with the adventures of Buffy, Willow, and some serious slaying action, which in my book, beats hand holding any day. 

Remember

It seems as if over the past month, we have seen a saddening amount of celebrity passings- lives taken unfairly in their prime, with brilliant work left unfinished, and souls that have moved on after years full of accomplishment and honor. I'd like to take this entry to remind you of three of these men, and their notable accomplishments.

Stan Winston, age 62

Passed away June 15th of multiple myeloma:

Stan Winston pioneered some of the most astounding sfx and make-up seen in contemporary cinema. He imagined new worlds and technology- never drifting far from the human touch and recognition that made his work so beautiful. While his name isn't a household one, his work stands for itself. Winston had his first brush with fame in 1984 when he was chosen to design the robot army effects for "The Terminator". Director James Cameron later asked him to join another of his following productions; Aliens. Winston continued his work on T2: Judgement Day and was later drafted to bring the giant dinosaurs of "Jurassic Park" to life. "Jurassic Park" was the first PG-13 movie my parents allowed me to see, and I vividly recall the moment that T-Rex showed up blowing steam onto the car window. I didn't sleep for a week. Winston acted as a consultant on the recent hit "Iron Man" and was tapped already for working on Jurassic Park IV. Winston's other projects included "Edward Scissorhands", "Big Fish", and "Batman Returns". Personally, my favorite Winston work would be his animatronics in "AI: Artificial Intelligence". Winston had the power not only to create robots who destroyed the world, but also ones who were able to wrench your heart out and make you dive for the tissue box.

Bo Diddley, age 79

Passed away June 2nd of heart failure

Even if you've never heard a Bo Diddley melody, you've most certainly seen one of the guitars he popularized. "The Twang Machine", a rectangular Gretsch, was as unique and groovy as his  songs. He was a unifier; bringing together street musicianship and professional performance, folk songs and popular beats, and most notably, blues and rock and roll. His self-titled song, "Bo Diddley" has been played at more swing dancing lessons and rockabilly parties than I care to recall, and perfectly exemplifies his hard-edged style that makes even the most dedicated wall-flowers jump, or rather, boogie, onto the dance floor. "The Bo Diddley Beat" has been adapted by artists ranging from U2 to Bruce Springsteen. Diddley, while no longer able to craft new tunes, gave the music community an integration of styles that will keep on bopping for many years to come.

Tim Russert, age 58

Passed away June 13th of a heart attack

Journalists and their profession have been gaining more and more notoriety as the pace of the world at large and the skepticism of society have surged upward. There are very few contemporary reporters who have the trust of the people the way, for instance, Murrow possessed the nation's attention many years ago- Tim Russert was one of them. He was THE one. There is no need to remind you of this man's accomplishments- there have been various "In Memory" features presented over the past two days from those who had personal experience with him. It's clear from every person who has spoken on his behalf that he touched many, many lives. Broadcast journalists are rare to shed a tear- indeed I remember when watching the 9/11 reports my surprise that they were able to remain so stoic in a time of such emotion. So, when Andrea Mitchell welled up on the air when recalled Russert, (she was one of many) it's only painfully clear that this man's smile and passion weren't reserved for the camera, but for all who he encountered on his path. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHhDEGk8Sxa

Post-Tonys

I'm higher than 96th Street after watching the fabulous Lin-Manuel Miranda quite literally raised to the roof of Radio City by his fellow cast members after "In the Heights" deservingly won the Tony award for Best Musical. Amid criticism of its too-polished ending and grit-less portrayal of the Washington Heights neighborhood and a few days in the lives of those who lived within it, the Latin/Hip-Hop/Meringue/Classic Broadway show now has an even better chance of carrying its message of hope to audiences across the globe. 

This year's Tony broadcast was one of my favorites in years, with less emphasis on the drawn-out technical speeches and a greater spotlight on the performances within the shows themselves, the greatest winner of the evening was Broadway itself. Every showcase of the night.. . save one Grease was inspiring, and a testament to the power of the stage. The very rare standing ovation at the Tonys was granted to Patti LuPone's faster and more powerful than a speeding bullet rendition of "Everything's Coming Up Roses" from "Gypsy". After just digging up an old recording of The Merm performing the same number several Tonys ago, I think that the woman who allegedly could "hold a note longer than the Chase Manhattan Bank" has been throughly shown up by the brassy and glorious mouth of Mrs. Patti-"Shut up- I haven't done this in 29 years!" Lupone. 

Even "Cry Baby", a show that I know truly considers itself lucky to be nominated selected a number which focused on Rob Ashford's brilliant choreography and the show's masterful (and 6-pack blessed) male chorus. I felt as if Passing Strange could have chosen a stronger song to perform, rather than the repetitious second part of "Keys", but the cast's energy as directed by Stew was as fine an advertisement as any for the scrappy underdog of a show. Although "In the Heights" and "Passing Strange" were clearly the artistic highlights of the new musical season, in my secret heart of hearts, I was hoping for "Xanadu" to push through and win... anything. It was certainly one of the more entertaining nights I have ever spent in a theatre- of course, seeing Cheyenne Jackson stand onstage in a pair of short-shorts would rank pretty high up in its own right. 

Although by its second intermission, and third hour, I was thinking I should have packed a picnic dinner to "August: Osage County", it was fantastic to see an "American show" put on by "theatre actors" triumph so profoundly. Extra kudos to playwright Tracy Letts for inserting this not-so subliminal jab at movie performers gone stage right after Daniel Radcliff presented the award. Not that it's going to stop me from buying tickets to see "Equus" this fall. Oh wait, I already bought them! 

On a final note, my living room blanket is now sopping wet following the reunion of the original RENT cast for "Seasons of Love". I think I let out more tears than a PMS-ing girl at a chick flick, as Anthony Rapp gave his introduction. Of course, matters were not aided by the fact that I had already done my share of bawling after Lin-Manuel Miranda won for best score and proceeded to rap out his thanks. Every year, I spend The Oscars greedily hovering over my betting cards, The Grammys rocking out to lip synched tunes, and the Emmys wondering who half the people nominated are. But in mid-June, the tissue box is broken out at The Tonys; as I witness composers, performers, directors, and producers who have given their lives to that institution which I place over democracy and the US appeals system in my heart; the American Theatre. 

Some Quick Random Thoughts

Hey guys! Just so you know, I am taking off on a wildlife retreat in Wyoming and Montana for the next week, so I won't be updating the blog until Sunday when I shall be blogging about the Tonys. I'm just going to do a quick prediction list tonight of my predications of winners as I must finish stuffing my backpack. But first, may I just say what an amazing man that Paul Newman is?! If you've ever boughten a "Newman's Own" brand product- they range from popcorn to salad dressing, you may know that the proceeds from them go to charity. Well, the end sum was revealed today as Newman reportedly sent out $120 million in charity. Can you ever comprehend that much money? Take a note from this celebrities! Newman, currently struggling with lung cancer has truly shown himself to be a both a classic film star and quite the gentleman. Well played, sir.

Here are the Tony predictions: 

Best Play: August: Osage County

Best Musical: In the Heights

Best Book of a Musical: Passing Strange

Best Original Score: In the Heights

Best Revival of a Play: Macbeth

Best Revival of a Musical: South Pacific

Leading Actor in a Play: Patrick Stewart: Macbeth

Leading Actress in a Play: Amy Morton: August: Osage County

Leading Actor in a Musical: Paulo Szot: South Pacific

Leading Actress in a Musical: Patti Lupone: Gypsy

Featured Actor in a Play: Jim Norton: The Seafarer

Featured Actress in a Play: Roni Reed: August: Osage County

Best Featured Actor in a Musical: Boyd Gaines: Gypsy

Best Featured Actress in a Musical: Laura Benanti: Gypsy

Best Direction of a Play: Anna D. Shapiro: August: Osage County

Best Director of a Musical: Bartlett Sher: South Pacific

Best Choreography: Rob Ashford: Cry-Baby

Best Orchestrations: Stew and Hedi Rodewald: Passing Strange

Best Scenic Design of a Play: August: Osage County

Best Scenic Design of a Musical: In the Heights

Best Costume Design of a Play: Cyrano de Bergerac

Best Costume Design of a Musical: South Pacific

Best Lighting Design of a Play: August: Osage County

Best Lighting Design of a Musical: Sunday in the Park with George

Best Sound Design of a Play: Rock n' Roll

Best Sound Design of a Musical: In the Heights

See you all on Sunday!

Saved By the Good Word of the Disney Cooperation

One of my more vivid memories of childhood involves the first moment I stumbled upon the Britney Spears music video for "Baby One More Time". To my mom's dismay, I found the clip liberating and powerful. Susan B. Anthony was just some words in a textbook about women's rights, but here, as I turned on my television, was a girl who tapped her pencil through math class much as I did, who suddenly was able to break out of her confining world and into a free and sexy dance. While the story is somewhat... tarnished by the past year's escapes of the video's star, I still remember that emancipation as I saw that a young woman only needed an altered schoolgirl uniform to escape the restraints of society. Ten years ago, Britney's innocent sex appeal was lauded by fans all over the world, but a decade after "Baby One More Time" hit MTV, if a young singer should so much as rip off a button on her blouse, the world rumbles with rage.

With something of a lack of Jonathan Edwards', and the recent fall in the charts of "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God", the messages of purity and faith have fallen into more universally appealing hands; musicians. Specifically, two of the most popular currently selling to the tween set- Miley Cyrus (aka Hannah Montana) and The Jonas Brothers. While I'm not in any way condoning the booze binges of Britney or the crack-dens of Amy Winehouse, I must admit that the utter goodness of these artists is somewhat painful to behold. I'm not afraid to admit that I have boughten a Jonas Brothers CD, and it frequently shows up on my gym playlists, but for three devastatingly attractive young men to take a vow a purity until marriage, and even wear special rings to advertise this sanctity is horrifying. As for Miley Cyrus, the girl can't even pose for artistic photographs in the presence of her father without the sky falling down on her. This isn't a question of religion and God, but one more of letting our kids live out their own lives. We are constantly telling them to "be who they are" and not confine themselves to what others may think. But if showing a shirtless back is causes the next crucifixion, that seems like something of a contradictory message. I totally appreciate the strength it may take to hold to one's religious ideals, but there is a time when a young girl should take that Catholic school uniform and rip it off... or fashionably alter it... but if they see such grave consequences and societal outrage at a Vanity Fair cover, they might never feel like they have the liberty or power to do so. 

The Craziest Author Alive

Although since the summer before the year I went into seventh grade, I have been cherishing and exploring the expansive and often operatic works of Stephen King, the "Master of Horror" has never caused me to loose a night of sleep. I recommend his books to anyone interested in pursuing his particular genre of fiction, and friends who want to feel a shiver or two up their spine. I find his nonfiction musings in works such as "On Writing" and "Danse Macabe" insightful and engaging, and his "Dark Tower" series is a magnum opus truly worthy of one of the most published and loved contemporary authors. I believe all this, but still, I don't find his novels to be genuinely terrifying. No, the writer who has kept my nightlight on and teddy bear close more midnights than I should like to admit is Mark Z. Danielewski. 

I first heard of this man- who, judging by the content of his work, could only be considered legitimately insane or disturbed, when eavesdropping on a conversation between two of my friends. One was a guy who in my previous assumptions about him, was one who would be more likely to roll his eyes when watching a horror movie than cower under the blankets. Sarcastic and a tad introverted, he was one of the last people I would expect to admit to having recurring nightmares from a book. Naturally, I was intrigued, and also anxious to pick up a copy and promptly begin to tease him for being such a wimp in the face of what I thought would be stupidity. So, I went out to Barnes and Noble to buy "House of Leaves". Now, I do most of my reading in the hour before I go to bed, in order to unwind from the daily grind, so I settled in and cracked to spine on this new purchase. On the first page, I see an advisory: "This is not for you". I chuckle slightly at the wittiness of the inclusion. The first sentence of the novel begins, "I still have nightmares". And yes, now that around a month has passed since I concluded my first read of the novel, I still do. Without giving too much away, Daneilewski has crafted a complex series of narratives- told through something like a thesis, written by a blind man about a film which details the experiences of a family who moves into a house that is bigger on the inside than the outside- basically, it has a constantly shifting labyrinth instead of a finished basement. The dissertation is interspersed with footnotes to books, news articles and movies which have never existed, as well as notes which sometimes span several pages regarding the drug (or is it?) induced loss of sanity by a tattoo parlor employee. The book isn't written the way that normal literature is meant to be- but rather in a style that has created its own mode of expression- sometimes there is only a word or two per page, and other times, the words themselves take the formation of what is being described in them- a doorway, or a pitfall. The whole concept of the malevolence in the darkness had me breaking into a cold sweat when I turned the lights off the first night. Obviously, I never again picked up the book when after sundown. Oh? Did I mention that last year, this was assigned as a reading project for a school bookgroup? A high school bookgroup? The utter fright contained within the pages is enough to send the coldest of adults reeling, and when one factors in the frequent and somewhat graphic sex by the narrator, you're looking at a PTA nightmare. During the period that the novel was to be read by the class, I could easily see that the dark circles under many people's eyes were more pronounced than usual- and if that indication wasn't strong enough, one would only have to listen to the constant complaints of nightmares and sleeping difficulty. It's that bad.

Recently, I picked up Danielewski's most recent publication- "Only Revolutions", which some critics proclaimed a "road novel". I don't know what sort of warped universe they've fallen into, but last I checked, "On the Road" was a road novel- not a bi-narrative that requires flipping the book to the alternate cover every 8 pages and is written in an odd format of alternating dates of historical events and the diaries of two young adults which eventually converge at the Kennedy assassination. I've read my share of seriously warped and twisted books in my lifetime- but Danielewski is by far the most twisted author currently published. Excuse me- I must go and investigate when his next book is coming out. 

Why Can't They Be Friends?

Angelina Jolie against her father, Jon Voight. Candy versus Tori Spelling. Jennifer Lopez facing Gwyneth Paltrow. Celebrity feuds are as frequent and well publicized as divorces in Hollywoodland; and usually much more messy. Since Bette Davis and Joan Crawford allegedly battled on the set of "Mommie Dearist", the media has lapped up every minor and greatly confrontational spat that goes on between the stars of the screen. While I'm sure many of the men in the world wouldn't mind a mud-wrestling match between Paltrow and Lopez, a mud-slinging competition can turn from ridiculous to pathetic before you can say "tabloid cover". It would be quite wonderful indeed to imagine that all the beautiful and glamorous actors and directors of Beverly Hills and LA floated about as gods and goddesses of our pop culture, yet for every Entertainment Tonight story chronicling Bono's charity work, there is another for Rosie O' Donnell and Donald Trump having a battle of the bad hair. While many of these feuds are blown greatly out of proportion by entertainment media outlets, one wonders why many celebrities, such as Trump and O' Donnell would allow their war of words to go so public. It does no benefit to eithers career, unless you count Rosie as being awarded "Most Annoying Celebrity" at Hollywood.com. Other than the somewhat tragic daddy issues of Angelina Jolie and Jon Voight, the most emotional reaction that the engagers of these arguments can expect from watchers is an eye roll and shake of the head.  

Most recently, two of the more talented living directors, Spike Lee and Clint Eastwood have found themselves in a verbal confrontation that most would have expected to be below the two legends. Lee took Eastwood's statement to "Shut his face" regarding Lee's remarks about the racial makeup seriously in Eastwood's films seriously. Come on, Spike Lee! This is Clint Eastwood! Out and about Hollywood Republican and Badass, he's not one to be subtle. "Shut his face" could easily be interpreted as "Ok, whatever" when said by a more passive person. This is the man, who, when asked about gun control, responded, "If there's a gun around, I want to be controlling it," and later on a CNN interview clearly stated how his mind worked, "I tried being reasonable, I didn't like it." Lee does have something of a point about the lack of African-American soldiers in Eastwood's war films, but his remark of, "First of all, the man is not my father and we're not on a plantation either," has all the tact and class of Eastwood's previous remark. Many a film fan would expect and hope that two such prestigious directors as Lee and Eastwood would be able so resolve, or at least pass over their differences instead of bringing them to national attention. One can only hope for a reconciliation, so that these two men can resume what they do best- making movies. 

Mamma Mia Here We Go Again

Since Catherine Zeta Jones purred out the opening lines of "All That Jazz" in 2002 with the movie version of the classic show "Chicago", Hollywood has seen a 'second coming' of the movie musical. The genre, one of the most popular in cinema, from the second Academy Award best-picture winner, "Broadway Melody" in 1929 , was all but wiped away in the 1980's and 90's; with the final nail in the coffin- "Xanadu", which was so sublimely awful, in addition, it all but totally destroyed the careers of Gene Kelly and Olivia Newton John. The woes of Xanadu are almost wiped from memory, and this summer, Meryl Streep, one of the remaining legendary actresses of Hollywood, is taking the leap into an adaption of "Mamma Mia!", a "jukebox musical" using the songs of ABBA to back a somewhat-flimsy, but still enjoyable story-line.

Over the past six years, both the silver screen and the Broadway stages have elevated each other to new heights. As often as movie producers have dipped into the ever-warming waters of material on the Great White Way, composers and book-writers have relied upon the support and ideas of their California counterparts. In recent years, the Grandest Canyon has played host to musical versions of "Legally Blonde", "Hairspray" (which was likewise adapted back into a movie musical following the success of the stage version), "Mary Poppins", "The Little Mermaid, "Spamalot", "Cry Baby", "Young Frankenstein", and even... "Xanadu". Fortunately, the recent production played off the campiness of the material in an extremely effective manner, and is even now nominated for the "Best Musical" Tony presented June 15th. Movie musicals are frequently frowned upon by the Broadway bloggers and snootier members of the theatrical community for being unoriginal and catered to blockbuster-seeking tourists rather than more sophisticated Broadway audience members. There may be truth in this, as in examining the list above, only "Spamalot", "Hairspray" and "Xanadu" have been met with critical and audience praise, though "Mary Poppins" and "Little Mermaid" continue to play to full houses weekly. Though no one can deny that Mel Brooks' adaption of "The Producers" effectively 'saved' the American musical in 2001, and pulled it through the depression following 9/11. "Billy Elliot", with a score by Elton John, arriving later this year, is rumored to follow in "The Producers" footsteps as a massive moneymaking hit. 

For as much as Broadway chooses the more light-hearted and even soul-less selections out of Hollywood's catalogue, the most successful adaptions of recent movie musicals are some of the darkest seen in the Big Apple. "Sweeney Todd", released last winter with Johnny Depp starring, is one of the more commercially difficult Broadway ventures- typically a difficult sell to tourists due to its morbid and operatic plot-line. "Chicago"'s stage incarnation is even blacker and more cynical than its Oscar-winning movie version; with it's original production running just over two years, and losing the best musical race (honorably) to "A Chorus Line". Although this summer's "Mamma Mia", and last year's  hit, "Hairspray" are pure fluff and fun, upcoming projects look to follow the darker side of the genre. "Nine", chronicling a film-maker's struggle for connection and identity, (2009) will surely re-define the genre with a cast-list reading like a "Who's Who" for Hollywood, with stars including Daniel Day Lewis, Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard and Sophia Loren. "Follies", a Sondheim creation chronicling the lost loves and haunted memories of aging and tormented chorus dancers, (allegedly 2009, but I'm betting on an extension) was one of the most mysterious and lauded flops in Broadway history, with no major revival ever mounted due to the enormous costs required in design. The original production has become something of a myth in Broadway culture, as one of the most perfect and wrongly-done musicals of all time. The age of Hollywood's song and dance men and their toe-tapping routines has faded, and (for now at least), the silver screen has developed a more sophisticated and refined taste and definition of when song should be broken into. I, for one, am mesmerized. Just nobody mention the word "Xanadu", and we should be looking forward to many movie musicals to come.

Drank: Slow Your Roll

I seem to have gone on some sort of a movie-blogging binge over the past couple of days, so I figure that today seems ideal to discuss the "pop" in pop culture. Well, only if you're in the western US. Otherwise the pun is lost on your who refer to this soft drink as "soda" or something of the like. You know, Coke, Mountain Dew, Pepsi- any of those carbonated beverages loaded with what Americans crave most: caffeine. Apparently though, in our increasingly fast-paced society, these conventional drinks just don't provide the level of energy that is required, so now whenever on strolls into a gas station they are confronted with towering fridges filled with brands such as Red Bull and Rockstar. Well, a Houston based company has apparently taken notice of our country's over-caffination, and devised an alternative. Notice- "alternative" rather than "substitute". It's called Drank and it's clever slogan is "Slow Your Roll". Drank is the anti-energy drink. 

Some of who hail from the South may be familiar with Drank in its primary manifestation as a recreational drug in the hip hop community. It usually is concocted with the use of cough syrup- and the excess codeine within it. Consuming an excess amount of Drank or cough syrup can cause an overly sedated and euphoric feeling with what some describe as "altered states of consciousness." Having personally sat next to a young man who daily chugged cough syrup as if it were his morning orange juice in an english course, from an outsider's perspective, it seems to lead to cold sweat, a pale complexion, and frequent trips to the bathroom. In fact, the drink leads to cardiac and respiratory arrest, a condition experienced by the very man who popularized the concoction and later died from its effects. 

The Houston-based Drank company is not illegally packaging cough syrup under a soft drink label. They (for what it's worth) have instead devised a mix of replacement ingredients; three of which are Melatonin, Valerian Root, and rose hips. For those without a degree in herbology, let me fill you in. Melatonin is a hormone already found in the human body. It has recently been utilized by companies as a dietary supplement- but only in the US. Use of the ingredient is still illegal in the EU and New Zealand. Melatonin is also frequently administered to those suffering from ADHD as a sleep aide, a treatment for depression and seasonal affective disorder and a fertility enhancement for women. It's basically a naturally occurring tranquilizer- with the small side affect of causing wildly vivid dreams to those who consume it. Valerian Roots go back in usage to ancient Greece and Rome as a mild sedative. In reality, the roots are not overly potent, and there are few side effects associated with them. Rose hips are a popular natural remedy to arthritis and urinary bladder infections. They are packed with vitamin C and sometimes used to cure colds. Drank certainly uses purely natural ingredients which suggest that it does what it advertises quite well. Of course, one might question the misuse of potent natural substitutes for chemical concoctions in both legal and ethical terms. However, for the moment, Drank is a new alternative to those pesky "energy" drinks for the consumer who just has too little to do. 

School's Out For Movies

    After many recommendations and ardent insisting from many of my closer friends, I broke my boycott on Nicolas Cage movies that I had been carrying since he single-handedly took down a hardcore superhero (Ghostrider) and a classic horror movie (Wicker Man) in less than a two year time frame. I begrudgingly rented a copy of National Treasure 2 from my local Blockbuster, and Ladies and Gentlemen, I can now state that the Nicolas Cage ban is once again in place. A flimsy and cliched action movie plot does one thing to insult my intelligence as a movie-goer, but blatant historical inaccuracy by a character in trust is quite another. Especially when the subject of attack is a topic of my own studious devotion; presidential assassinations. Nicolas Cage goes around spouting out complete misconceptions about the event, and other American historical occurrences in general in his dry and talentless voice. To save you all any unwanted pain, I'll mention just one that particularly irked me. The expression, "His name is mud". You don't hear it that often anymore except from cute old grandmothers or flustered mothers, but it merits addressing anyway. According to Cage's character, Ben, the saying originated after Dr. Samuel Mudd was convicted in the Lincoln assassination plot, thereby wrecking the past and future of his entire clan; and thus whenever a family member did an act to tarnish their relative's good names, their name would also be Mud. Cute, but not accurate. The expression had been in widespread use for a decade or two prior to the Lincoln assassination. What's more, Mudd really wasn't all that bad of a guy. In fact, he was actually pardoned for his involvement in the Lincoln assassination after helping out his fellow prisoners in a yellow fever epidemic. In fact, there isn't any truly solid evidence that Mudd was involved in the conspiracy at all- though every historian does have their favored point of view. 

This little etymological slip is really just a snowflake on the ice-cube that float in Hollywood's thriving tea of historical carelessness. I just thought I would point it out seeing what an interesting character Mudd was behind a faulty saying. Usually, Hollywood chooses to "muddy up" less intriguing subjects, you know, like gladiator fighting in the obviously titled Russell Crowe film, of the greatest playwright of all time in "Shakespeare in Love". Of course, seeing these events in their actual context would be excruciatingly boring, it's just frustrating when a horny teenager comes blubbering up to one thinking that they know all about ancient Spartan warfare, when really all they've seen are some scantily clad men running about yelling loud noises. Really, people. All it takes is a little visit to wikipedia to confirm your facts. Or you know...Encyclopedia Britannica, or something like that... 

Super Heroes?

If anyone who reads this blog was going through adolescence, or even taking their first dip into the "maturity" in 1978, I envy you greatly. Well, maybe there's a little pity there as well since the Bee Gees were going through the height of their popularity while Keith Moon left the world for rock-god heaven that year, but I'm jealous of you for your films; one in particular- Superman. The movie that promised, "You'll believe a man can fly!" and featured Christopher Reeve in all his wire-strung glory- not that anyone was looking for them back then. Seeing Reeve rise above the clouds and exemplify justice, freedom, the American Way and all that we Earthlings could only hope for in our dreams must have been miraculous, and I so wish I could I been there to feel it. Back in 1978, and the years in World War II that saw the birth and golden age of comic books, Superheroes truly were super. They represented the shining example of what we should all strive to become- flawless and beautiful in their perfection. Their powers were merely a blessing which allowed them to better carry out their noble duties and serve the patriotic people of their country. In this summer of 2008, with four major superhero movies arriving in cinemas during these months of sun and surf, seeing a man fly is no longer breathtaking and liberating; in fact, in these contemporary days, it is something of a curse.

Modern society seems to hate the extraordinary. We've become more and more cynical as our world sinks into an energy and environmental crisis, and it seems more plausible to see a protagonist grappling with moral ambiguity and revenge issues than to see one who is motivated purely by goodwill. When sacrifice is brought up, we would rather focus on what is being given up than what is being gained. Our current crop of cinematic heroes reflects this trend in the utmost. Tony Stark drowns away his troubles with alcohol, and must do great wrong before he can be inspired to do right. Redemption here is another key issue. These superbeings atoning for their past shows to us that though we are allegedly living in the end of times, we also may redeem ourselves. Bruce Banner as The Hulk is another similarly troubled Super- tormented by his government and his condition as he flees across the globe. Finally, a new entry into the Superhero cannon this summer is Hancock as played by Will Smith. Here we are looking at an alcoholic homeless bum who only agrees to reform his ways to wave away a prison sentence. Classy. Yes, I am aware of the age-old rule, "There is no drama without conflict," but I for one wouldn't mind believing that not only can a man fly, but do so out of the goodness of his own free heart.

Hulu Hooping is Back in Style!

As the youtube revolution that has spanned the past three or four years continues to make stars out of anyone and everyone who possesses talents ranging from a talent in etymology to lip synching on demand. There is (occasionally) genuine talent to be found and knowledge to be shared (though straight and female, I am an ardent fan of hotforwords), yet finding those diamonds in the rough can be an arduous task of shifting through mountains of dreck and lunatics speaking in diatribes to their webcams. youtube has become the contemporary equivalent to knocking on doors at a talent agency, and this time, any schumck can take up the part. If amateur hour on the internet is your deal, youtube is like the virtual Apollo, but if you choose where to waste your time with a little more class and discretion, hulu.com is the place for you.

Hulu is a site which compiles the individual seasons and episodes that have previously been available on network sites such as abc.com and nbc.com; bringing an impressive arsenal of shows both modern (i.e House, The Office and Family Guy) and vintage (Fame, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Alfred Hitchcock Presents). All the videos are legitimate and professional; there is no need to worry about the constant deleting and difficult as on youtube. The shows are formatted in one high-resolution presentation with the small hinderance of about 4 commercials per hour. It's less than you would see on a network television airing, and it helps maintain the costless featuring of the material. While watching old TV programs might not be your fix, hulu also shows dozens of movies from across the decades. Some of these are classic and much lauded, such as Moonstruck, Some Like it Hot and The Big Lebowski, while others are somewhat...pathetic. I'm thinking of you, Hercules in New York. So much for wading through the dreck. 

Some may point out that the site is just another clever form for advertisers to spread their word in a tivo, spam-conscious society, but I for one can tolerate a couple of car commercials in exchange for some on-demand viewing. Hulu is one of those rare inventions that benefits both the money-challenged slacker as well as the power-hungry capitalist executive. Hopefully the site can overcome its somewhat dopey name and rise to the challenge of providing to the world more of what 99.9% of its population craves: free stuff. 

A Universal Loss

Today was a monumental day in the history of the movie industry. We have suffered a loss so profound and tragic that I still find it difficult to comprehend. As of today, the clocktower square set and the King Kong "House" on the Universal Backlot no longer exist. Today, we must remember the lives of these two landmarks and look back on all the wonderful times we had in one another's company. 

The clocktower that became famous after appearing in the classic eighties movie, Back to the Future seems to suffer continuous dangers and threats other than Doc Brown's ungraceful foot and freak lightening storms. The set, as it stood before dawn this morning, was not the exact structure upon which Christopher Lloyd saved the space time continuum, but rather a replica. The original building burned down in a backlot fire. No- this is not some paranormal altering of the temporal universe by Biff Tannen. In August of 1990, the entire square was devastated by the blaze, but miraculously, the clocktower itself survived. The area was reconstructed and has since been used in films and television series including Bruce Almighty, Gremlins and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You would think that such a popular and useful shooting location would be well-kept and preserved, but in September of 1997, another backlot fire destroyed the area almost completely. Both times, clocktower square was rebuilt for future films to utilize and tourists to gawk at as they passed it by. On a side note, whilst the cast and crew were not able to use the original set in the third installment of Back to the Future due to the 1990 fire, an alternate was constructed in Sonara, CA. After production was completed, the structures were left up at the request of the area head. However, in 1996, the Sonara clocktower was struck by lightning and burned down. 

The King Kong warehouse has a somewhat less colorful history, yet has become just as popular a sight for visitors to Universal Studios over the past two decades. The building was part of the Universal backlot tram tour (along with the clocktower); constructed specifically for the purpose of entertaining tourists in March of 1986. The tram bearing passengers would approach the building as guides commented on the scent of bananas in the air around them, and would subsequently be witnesses to Kong's wrath as he destroyed New York City around the vehicle. The animated monkey was at the time the world's largest animatronic figure standing thirty feet tall and weighing seven tons. Just a year after he was built, a 1987 fire destroyed many sets around the building, but Kong was fortunately spared. 

It is almost guaranteed that Universal will rapidly begin on reconstruction of the now infamous Clocktower Square. At the present time, reports indicate the the tower itself was spared the worst of the damage. As for Kong; the backlot entertainment undergoes frequent renovations based on current projects and trends. Universal may choose to resurrect the giant ape, but it would be my guess (and hope) that they will pioneer a new sight for some of the park's 25,000 daily visitors. Or maybe, another on-site fire house.