When the Fat Actress Sings

Alright, well in Mountain time, I have about 9 minutes to write this blog, so I shall make it short and not so sweet. Here's a question: What's with all the actors starting singing careers? It used to be that crooners would move to the big screen ala Sinatra, but now everyone from Joaquin Pheonix to Scarlet Johansen is going solo. Can the actors please act and the singers please sing? Just cause you played a legendary rocker in a movie doesn't mean that you are on in real life, honey. Maybe I'm just jealous. It's taken 4 years of voice lessons for me to even think about reaching a high A.  And when Natalie Portman comes along with a law degree from Harvard, an absurdly attractive appearance, and acting chops, it sort of makes me question why the rest of us girls exist. Come on, Hollywood! Let's produce some underachievers! Oh wait- That would be Lindsay and Britney. Nevermind- maybe talent is useful after all.

The Ladies With Labels

Opening not with the traditional rattle of the xylophone and static of the HBO logo, the film adaption of Sex and the City vibrates the theatre with the pulsating beats of Fergie's new song "Labels and Love". The cascading scale that we have come to love is buried within its back beats somewhere, but isn't easily discernible above the electric noise that permeates the tune. Much like that sliding progression, over the past few years, the four ladies who viewers have seen in more outfits than stars in the sky had been lost somewhere in the boroughs of Hollywood. Amidst paycheck scandals, budget woes and alleged "catfights" on set, fans of the series have been as lost and neglected as an imitation brand in Carrie Bradshaw's closet. However, after just returning from the first showing of the day, I can joyfully report that the Fabulous Four have securely brought their charm and designer brands to the big screen with all the joy a girl could wish for in a fairy tale ending.

Without going into an in depth review of the flick, I'll just state that the celluloid hasn't fallen to far from the TV dial, and any casual viewer or ardent devotee to the source material, should feel as wonderful as when staring at a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. I am writing now to address a theme that seemed to permeate the movie that didn't always show itself openly in the series; no it's not the belts that found their way onto almost every outfit in the movie- but to a woman it may be just as constraining; age. The word was as common in the film as "change" has been in this most recent presidential campaign. For years, girls and women have used Sex and the City as something of a guide on how to live the glamourous metropolitan life. The big-screen adaption of this fable seemed to be teaching us how to die. Or, at the very least, surrender gracefully. Talk of condoms was replaced by gossip of Botox, the need for forgiveness replaced the need of optimism and freedom, and instead of dreaming the big-city dream, we were treated with something they called "honesty". As Samantha blew out her 50th birthday candles, I couldn't help but ponder how Harrison Ford, as Indiana Jones, continues to swing from his whip with nary a crack about his white hair, while the promiscuous Samantha is forced to cover her sexual urges with chocolate, and single-girl Carrie harness her individuality with marriage. It depressed me somewhat to see a show as forward in its outlook woman fall in line with the Hollywood standard that when a dainty wrinkle begins to show on a lady's face, she needs either a diamond ring or to retire from the club and bar life with dignity.   

    As the conflicts which arose began to resolve themselves and the credit music began to role, we were treated to some of Carrie's tell-tale wisdom about the wonders of friendship and tolerance; something not unwelcome in its simple happiness. Yet something onscreen echoed faintly of a Disney movie- beginning with love and ending with marriage- the "controling" of the woman. Let me bring back one of my favorite Carrie-narrations:

   "Maybe I didn't break Big. Maybe the problem was, he couldn't break me. Maybe some women weren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free, until they find someone just as wild to run with." I enjoyed visiting the ladies of NYC once again in the theatre today, and felt giddy checking out their wardrobes and wondering how I could manifest a $50 imitation of them, but I'd rather not think of Carrie Bradshaw as one of the many women walking around with a golden band on her finger. For me, she will always be that wild idol in single-dom in her white tutu- untamed and free.

LOST, But Still Not Found

The season 4 finale of LOST just hit credits, and my head is still reeling. But really, this is no surprise. It happens almost every time I switch on the television Thursday nights. No pills or hallucinogens are needed for this writer to feel as if the brain was departing the head. Only an hour long dose of Jack, Kate and The Numbers. Television as a medium is one that has always been looked down upon by the various other entertainment communities- somehow the lack of direct payment mixed with the detachment of viewing in one's own home leads to an assumption that when the remote hits the power button, the experience is rendered null and senseless. LOST has broken every one of these boundaries. 

Years ago, The Sopranos proved that TV could be an edgy and provocative art-form; even garnering a showing (the first of its kind) in the Museum of Modern Art. LOST has shown that television can be an experience. To turn on to ABC at the show's commencement and off at its conclusion with no thought between each episode is an impossibility to any dedicated viewer. There are the typical water cooler discussions, yes, but entire meeting circles have been formed in communities for the sole purpose of exploring LOST theories and possibilities. The creators of the show have perfected a viral marketing campaign that has illustrated just how powerful the medium can be; ranging from billboards, to fake television commercials, and fictional company websites. A full-length fiction novel, Bad Twin, was even published some time ago, and has become a revealing source for deciphering the show. 

For those of you uninitiated in the LOST universe, this is one of the few times that I would not lend you a DVD or invite you over for a viewing of a preferred show. You would be as confused as the castaways were when they first encountered The Others. Over the past 4 seasons, so much mythology and popular culture has been packed into the script, it is nearly impossible to cram episodes together without wikipedia opened up on the computer to search for the nearly constant references both Biblical and Hollywood. LOST tests its viewers. One must not only be able to comprehend what is occurring on the show itself, but also within their own culture. 

With a set episode limit and ending date, LOST has become tighter and more impactful than ever before. It is a true show for the digital age; one that brings people together not only at the coffee table, but through its numerous fan sites and blogs regarding theories and characters. I for one am a firm believer in the mirror/dark matter theory; a possibility that seems almost affirmed after tonight's finale. But who knows? Most predicted Ben would find himself in the fabled coffin, but we were the ones who were buried alive. And oddly enough, it feels extraordinary. 

Will America Watch The Watchmen?

Clocking in at three hours, with a director's cut of 4 and a half already planned for DVD, is Zack Snyder's (300) upcoming adaption of The Watchmen; a comic book adaption based on a limited series by Alan Moore, of "V for Vendetta" notoriety. Films passing the mark of 2 hours and 45 minutes are tough enough to market to audiences and pack into booked multiplexes, so a 180 minute adaption of a politically-minded team of superheroes in the midst of The Cold War seems like something of an ego trip from a director who drew in millions of viewers by flaunting Gerald Butler's enhanced abs onscreen. 

Watchmen doesn't arrive in theatres until March of 2009, but it is already the hottest property in geek-cinema. For those of you who haven't picked up a copy of the original book, the plot revolves around a team of contemporary heroes (only one of whom has powers), who have disbanded in the wake of a bills outlawing "vigilantes" like themselves. As one of the legion, Rorschach, slowly uncovers a government conspiracy, he attempts to reunite his team members for a last stand. The whole concept may sound noble (and a tad cliche), yet the methods these "heroes" use to meet their ends are questionable- including cop-killing, rape and civilian execution. 

Watchmen has the potential to be influential on an epic scale; forever impacting the cultural relevance of action and superhero movies. However, between it's marathon running time and easily objectionable content, Snyder may have a somewhat tougher sell on his hands then he did with Spartans in togas. 

Do-Over!

I'd like to discuss a new sort of phenomenon that has taken hold of this particular summer blockbuster season; the Do-Over. Between this May and August, we have, and will be, treated to a re-do of "The Hulk" with Eddie Norton, an already legendary reinterpretation of the iconic Batman character The Joker by the late Heath Ledger, and even a subjunctive dramatic representation of a story vaguely reminiscent of the situation in Florida a couple of presidential elections ago in "Swing Vote".

While this is a refreshing change from the constant sequels which typically plague the summer season, it is almost frightening how quickly the American people are now able to forget and begin anew- or even more precise- to reconcile. We have had films made regarding the attack on the Twin Towers without even having reaching the 10-year mark.

Are we, as a collective society, losing our memory, or even blending our stories together? These new movies act as almost memorials dedicated to things fictional and historical; we have no need for stone columns anymore. We have celluloid. These new reboots of The Hulk and The Joker aren't reminding us of their predecessors; they are erasing them. Even within these films, history has begun to back-peddle; proposing new and fictional ways of solving situations which have lowered out country's international prestige. Got a terrorist problem? Bring the troops home and send Iron Man instead. Summer popcorn suddenly tastes somewhat bitter.

I'll leave you with a quotation from the downtown-rocker, Stew:

"Life is a mistake only art can correct."

Is cinema correcting our collective mistakes as a society? Maybe. But for the next three months of sun and surf, it's much easier to step inside the theatre and erase our cares and woe with some candy and high budget special effects.

A Legend- But Can You Remind Me Again?

Legendary director Sydney Pollack passed away today of cancer. You've probably heard his name, but I'll remind you again who he was. He directed "Out of Africa" and "Tootsie"- you know, the one where Dustin Hoffman cross-dresses? I know, that may span quite a few movies. The movie I most associate with him is "The Interpreter"- the mildly pretentious one with Nicole Kidman as the UN interpreter that came out a few years ago? I saw it on an airplane. Some of you may recognize him from those pre-movie ads by AT&T to turn of your cellphone- he was the star of them before Scorcese took over. He did some acting as well- as the boss-guy in "Michael Clayton" and apparently in "Made of Honor". Here's a bit where he played Hoffman's agent in "Tootsie":

http://youtube.com/watch?v=BnHqiipc6g

The Terror is Over

Have you ever found yourself in the midst of a conversation in which the words being said seemed as if they could have come from a different dimension- one in which people such as "Lindsay", "Brad" and "Perez" were mentioned with a reverence one might reserve for Gods...or the Devil? Well, at the request of several friends who have frequently remarked that I seem to be continuously stuck said dimension, comes this blog. 

I'll admit it right away. I am a pop culture fanatic. From Brangelina's baby to the latest buzz on The Avengers movie, I devour it all. So I figure that it would be of service to some to create a blog in which I share the little things each day which send me into one of those not so rare tizzies of delight. I'm not writing from the point of view of a Hollywood maven or someone who's life is so far removed from reality that they couldn't possibly have anything in common with you. I am writing for the uninitiated. The one who sees movies the weekend they are released with the rest of the world- not 2 weeks ahead of time. I'll happily admit it; I am Common. (Not the rapper, mind you.)

In this blog, I'll attempt to tell you all about what I find of interest each day in the world of popular culture. Whatever that happens to be. Maybe it's  a secret scene at the end of the credits of a movie. Maybe its a musing on celebrity rehab. It's all for you- so that when someone asks, "Who's afraid of pop culture?" you can smile and shake your head in the negative as you ponder what Angelina will name her twins... something like that.

~Jordan