Choices (or, Breakfast on Brokeback Mountain)

I know I had to stop reading all the reviews for Brokeback Mountain because it was just so much praise I didn't want to have high expectations and then be disappointed.

Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed by any means. While not perfect, the movie is basically as good as everyone makes it out to be. It tells the tale of two cowboys, Ennis (Heath Ledger) and Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal), who fall in love but can't admit it to themselves or anyone else (they knew men who were killed because of rumored homosexual tendencies). They go on to marry, have children, and see each other for "fishing trips" once or twice a year.

Over the course of twenty years, you witness two poor, hard-working, virile, lonely guys become desperate, angry, repressed, lonely men who make the only choices their/our culture offers. And you witness how those choices, or lack thereof, slowly rip apart from the inside out these two exemplars of masculinity and everyone around them.

It was strange to watch this after having just seen Breakfast On Pluto, a new film on the other end of the spectrum from Brokeback. Cillian Murphy (28 Days Later, Batman Begins, Red Eye) stars as Irish transvestite Patrick/"Kitten" who moves to London to find the mother who abandoned him as a baby. Directed by Neil Jordan (The Crying Game, Interview With a Vampire), the film is a rollicking, sometimes playful, sometimes disturbing account of one man's gender-bending adventures from wearing dresses as a nine-year-old to joining a punk band to being accused of a terrorist bombing attack to performing at a peep show.

Watching Kitten's travails through 1970's war-stricken Ireland and London - always looking fabulous in colorful thrift store coats and glittering blouses, always so determined to apply a sunny, optimistic attitude to every situation to the point of dillusion - I was struck with how much more successful this tranvesite is at navigating through his threatening world of oppressive Catholicism and homophobic media and militia than the cowboys of Brokeback are at making their way through a world dominated by masculinity and rigid gender rules.

Granted, Kitten falls down a lot (not literally...girl knows how to work the heels) - she gets beaten up and arrested, dumped by her rock star boyfriend, exploited by her magician boyfriend, and almost killed by a client while hustling the streets - but somehow, through it all, she uses her vivid imagination and almost obsessive need for optimism to finally settle down. When asked about her disciplined cheeriness, Kitten admits that if she acknowledged her real feelings she "might cry and never stop." It reminds me of the Doves song, "Catch the Song," in which they sing, "Catch the sun/before it's gone." Even though her world isn't very sunny, Kitten is going to catch as much of it as she can. You can't help but root for her - she's totally determined to be who she is, no matter who doesn't like it.

Conversely, watching the slower, quieter, heartbreaking Brokeback Mountain, I didn't think of any pop song metaphors. I didn't chuckle to myself at the thought of some light-hearted moment. I didn't walk away with a sense that the protagonists were going to succeed despite their obstacles. I could barely speak, because what I walked away with was anger.

It made me angry to watch these two otherwise decent men screw up their lives and the lives of the women who loved them.

It made me angry that they were barely even making these choices but doing what they were basically forced to do to survive in an unforgiving environment.

It made me angry that they weren't given the ability to know what they were feeling, and even angier to know that deep down inside they knew exactly what they were feeling but couldn't put it into words because that meant abandonment, shame and even death.

It made me angry that we watched this movie over Christmas break in a theater filled with loud cell phones and giggling teenagers who laughed at all the wrong places and swooned over Jake Gyllenhaal as if the movie were a two-hour Tiger Beat ad.

And it made me angry to know that despite all the PR claiming this movie will "change minds" that, despite how great the movie really is, if you made a bunch of extremely conservative, homophobic assholes watch it, the final scene would fade to black and they would say out loud, "Well, they got what they deserve," because even though we'd like to think that we're so different than the narrow-minded mentality of the conservative, rural 1960's, most of this country isn't so different at all, even as we near 2006.

Define This

My friend, Stacey, lent me The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan, and in his chapter exploring the desirable beauty of the tulip, he comes up with one of the best definitions of art I've ever read:

"Great art is born when Apollonian form and Dionysian ectasy are held in balance, when our dreams of order and abandon come together."

The Worst Movie of 2005

I haven't seen every movie of 2005 and need to catch up before I compile my own year-end top-ten list. But I know, no matter how many more movies I see, none of them will be as bad as the one that takes the cake as worst of the year:

The Aristocrats.

For those of you not familiar, The Aristocrats is a documentary made by Penn Jillete (the one who actually talks in the comedy act Penn & Teller) and Paul Provenza. They interview over 100 comedians to put their spin on one of the oldest, dirtiest jokes. The basic set-up for the joke is this:

A family walks into a talent agent's office and claim they have a great show. The talent agent says he doesn't book family acts, but tells them to show him what they can do anyway.

This is where the comedian telling the joke gets to improvise. They can make the family's act whatever they want, and it usually involves sex, feces, incest, violence, all sorts of bodily fluids and basically whatever is the grossest thing the comedian can think of.

When the family is done, the talent agent sits in stunned silence, then says, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call yourselves?"

The father replies, "The Aristocrats!"

So the actual punchline isn't really the punchline at all. It's the build-up to the punchline that's the funny part.

I was so excited to see this movie. There wasn't a single bad review from anyone*. Not one single critic had a major problem with the movie. Some admitted that not every comic nailed it, but most reviews were basically licking the movie's ass, some even claiming it's the funniest movie they'd ever seen. So maybe the film got a little too hyped up and thus, my standards may have been too high.

So I saw the film with a friend and we sat there in a silent movie theater, chuckling maybe twice (which is two times more than everyone else in the audience). When the lights came up, we looked at each other and had the same expression on our faces: "Um, is that it?"

They get some of the biggest, funniest comedians of our time - George Carlin, Robin Williams, Jon Stewart, Phyllis Diller, Chris Rock, Eric Idle - over 100 comedians in all. But then most admit that they're not going to even try to tell the joke because they know the filmmakers are interviewing dozens of other funny comics and they don't want to even try to compete, so most of them just explain why the joke is funny (which is never a good idea), or where they first heard it, or the history of the joke. Only George Carlin actually succeeds in being interesting as he navigates us through the joke's history from Vaudeville to now. So they advertise that this is over 100 comedians telling the filthiest joke ever, and less than half of them even attempt to tell it.

And then, out of those comics who actually bother, most half-ass it, because, again, they don't want to really try hard and then look bad if the're being shown right after someone else who was funnier. I can name five comedians who were funny: Sarah Silverman, Drew Carey, Andy Richter, Whoopi Goldberg and Gilbert Godfried. Five comics who managed to be funny out of 100. And when Gilbert Godfried is one of those five, you know the movie has a problem. (Although, the version told by the boys of South Park was also funny, but seeing as that's not an actual comedian, it doesn't get added to my list. To see Cartman tell his version, click here).

Contrary to popular opinion, Bob Saget was NOT funny. Since he's best-known for being a non-funny dweeb on Full House and America's Funniest Home Videos, he apparently gets a free pass to the "Funniest Rendition" title simply because we're hearing Bob Saget use the word "fuck." But, Bob Saget saying the word "fuck" over and over again is not, in and of itself, funny. And it's especially not funny when he stops himself EVERY FIVE SECONDS to say, "Whoa, I can't believe I'm saying this. What am I doing? This is so crazy. What am I doing? Whoa." Just shut up and get through the joke already.

Halfway through the movie, an older comic (whose name escapes me) actually tells a non-raunchy yet pretty funny version of the joke. His twist? He changes the punchline to "The Sophisticates," which actually is funnier. Here's the bad editing: it's not until twenty minutes later, after we've seen countless other comedians talk about the joke, does Penn begin to ask his subjects what they think of the new punchline, "The Sophisticates." And basically every comic thinks about it for a second, nods, and agrees that that is funnier. What? You just got a bunch of comics to admit that the very punchline that the movie is named after is not even the funniest option? Good lord.

Reading the reviews, you would think that film critics never went to grade school or high school, because that's all the humor this film consists of. A bunch of people sitting around, going "This guy fucked that girl who peed on that guy.." and thinking it's comedy. I went to high school with 15-year-old boys who basically joked about the same stuff every day. I don't want to sit in a dark theater for two hours and hear more of the same.

I know most people who see this might think, "Well, he doesn't have a sense of humor." I do have a sense of humor, that's how I know when something is not funny. And all The Aristocrats is doing is patting itself on the back for being funny instead of, you know, actually being funny. It's a waste of time, a huge disappointment, and a waste of a good idea that could have actually been a really great movie.

*Blogger Update: I have since learned I'm not the only that feels this way. If you check out this round-up of Worst Top 10 Lists, you'll see The Aristocrats there at least twice. And Roger Ebert said, "'The Aristocrats' might have made a nice short subject. At 87 minutes, it's like the boozy salesman who corners you with the Pinocchio torture."

Is It Just Me...

...or is it unsettling to see the following headline: "'West Wing' Actor John Spencer Dies at 58 - Yahoo! News"?

It's not just the information itself - death is always unsettling, especially at the relatively young age of 58 - but the way it's immediately followed by "Yahoo!" is just plain wrong. Because, even with the hyphen, it still takes a second to realize the actual headline has ended and you're now just reading the news source.

Or maybe it's just me.

You can read the article here.

Stick To Acting, Your New Baby, and Your Dawson's Creek Alumni Wife, Please

In last week's Entertainment Weekly, they featured an interview with Heath Ledger regarding his new film, Brokeback Mountain. As anyone who's not living in a cave knows, the film is about two cowboys who fall in love.

They talk about how difficult the love scene was between his co-star, Jake Gyllenhaal, and him. After director Ang Lee made them repeat it thirteen times, Heath states, "Neither of us wanted to do it again any time soon." You're straight. Got it, Heath.

Then he pulls this bon-mot out of his newly sore ass: "But in the end, it was just like kissing a person."

Um...ya think? Are you sure there, Heath? Are you sure it wasn't more like kissing a dog? Or Cousin It? Or a duck-billed platypus?

Maybe the reason it felt just like kissing a person was because you were kissing a person. What a douche-baggy thing to say.

Sigh.

Despite all this, however, I am still very excited to see this movie, which comes out tomorrow. And Mr. Ledger is supposed to be excellent in it, so hopefully his stupid remarks won't taint the experience too much.

Sweet, Yet Again

So my post about the latest Barbara Walters special was chosen by Blogcritics.org as the Pick of the Week. Here's what their editor had to say: "In his irreverent look at the ho-hum Barbara Walters Special: The Ten Most Fascinating People of 2005, Don Baiocchi hits the nail on the head with every keystroke. Thank you, Don!"

No, thank you.

You can read the post with pictures here or at the Blogcritics website here.

Project Runway Sashays Into My Heart

Tonight, December 7, 2005, the second season of Project Runway debuted. Now, I am truly happy.

In case any of you don't know, the show's first season became a ratings hit for the Bravo network (which was airing Manhunt and Queer Eye at the time and was/is the gayest network ever. Take that, Logo). Executive produced and hosted by Heidi Klum (now Klum Seal after marrying...Seal), the show pitted twelve designers against each other, giving them outrageous challenges each week. The first week they had twelve hours to make sexy evening gowns made exclusively with materials found at a grocery store (a corn husk dress won, but the lawn chair-and-placemat dress was a close second). Another week they had five hours to make swimsuits that could also be worn to a cocktail party (because, as we all have done ourselves, so many people climb out of a pool, jump in their car, and head on over to a swanky cocktail party). One designer was eliminated each week, and the final three got to show a collection at New York Fashion Week. Funny man Jay McCarroll was finally chosen as the winner.

Now it's back and literally bigger than before. The first hour they had sixteen designers, which is way too many for even the most devoted viewer to keep track of. Luckily, two of them were cut at the end of the first, ho-hum challenge (they had a week before arriving in New York to design a dress that reflected them as a designer...yawn). Arrogant Santino ("I have a hard time making something that's mediocre") was crowned the winner with his green baby-doll dress pictured on the right, although my favorite was Nick's cinnamon suit pictured below.



As the fourteen remaining designers assembled at a party, they were told that the second challenge was to create an entire outfit with only the clothes they were wearing. Well, you can just imagine the horror. Asking a designer to cut up their favorite leather jacket is like asking Courtney Love to give up insanity. This time cute little Chloe won with a simple (I would say too simple) clean blue and black dress with pockets (a nice touch).

While the robotic Klum gets to be host (thankfully she only appears at the beginning and end of each episode), she also judges the creations with designer Michael Kors (fair yet sometimes bitchy with great one-liners: "It's a little too Garanimals for me") and the fashion director at Elle magazine, Nina Garcia (much harsher yet will also lavish praise when deserved). Each week they usually have a guest judge as well, like tonight's "legendary" Diane Von Furstenburg.

Although it's still early to really know the contestants, we already had one nervous breakdown courtesy of Andre, who started bawling and yelling at the ceiling when asked to defend his shredded denim dress (apparently it represented something symbolic to him...although no one could understand what the hell he was talking about). And vapid L.A. designer Daniel Franco is back after having been the first contestant eliminated from season one. But Mr. "Follow Your Bliss" is said to have had one of the strongest showings at season two's auditions, so therefore his presence isn't some kind of gimmick.

With teasers of the upcoming season complete with tears, fighting and some crazy-ass dresses, hopefully the editors will remember that, no matter what crazy/bitchy/funny things the designers say or do, it's focusing on the creative process that sets this show apart from the Survivors and Fear Factors. The viewers don't cheer for or against people - with last season's villainous Wendy Pepper as the exception - they cheer for or against the dresses. Rating works of art or laughing at gaudy pieces of crap is the truly fun part.

I don't read fashion magazines or follow the latest trends or even watch reality TV shows, but Project Runway has me hooked. I don't have the new Project Runway magazine and I might not go so far as to post on Bravo's message board - I swear I don't do that - but I will be tuning in every Wednesday night with scorecard in hand.

Holy F%@K

This isn't pop culture or food or Chicago or me but when I saw this at Pop Candy., I had to share. I don't know if it's crazy or genius...maybe both.

I just have one question and one comment:

Question: What the hell is that song? And why not a Christmas song? (OK, that was two)

Comment: So glad I'm not their neighbor.

Check it out the three-minute video here.

Rent? More Like Buy! As In, A Ticket! As In, To This Movie! As In...OK, I'll Stop Now.

After its Broadway debut in 1996, Rent won the Pulitzer Prize and the Tony for Best Musical. I saw the national touring company when it came to Chicago, and although I found it to be flawed (some of those lyrics...good lord), it was still so much more loud and fun and crazy and raunchy and sexy and touching than any other musical I'd seen. Now, nine years later, it makes it to the big screen.

The story takes place in 1989 and follows two New York roommates, documentary filmmaker Mark (Anthony Rapp) and rock singer Roger (Adam Pascal), as they try to avoid eviction by their landlord/former friend, Benny (Taye Diggs). Roger starts a thing with the stripper living below them, Mimi (Rosario Dawson). There's also Angel (Wilson Jermaine Heredia), the sweetest drag queen ever, who hooks up with Mark and Roger's friend, Tom (Jesse L. Martin), an NYU professor.

And let's not forget about the lesbians. Mark's ex-girlfriend, performance artist Maureen (Idina Menzel), is now dating Joanne (Tracie Thoms), a lawyer.

Aside from Dawson and Thoms, all the original Broadway actors have returned, which is kind of weird considering most of these characters are supposed to be in their twenties and now the actors are well into their thirties. It's one thing to see some recent film grad be all "fuck the system, man!" But when thirty-ish Mark says it, and then we see his awful documentaries that wish they were as good as a film student's, it's just kind of sad. Seriously, is he trying to make a poor man's "Real World"? Because that's what his movies look like.


Some of the other details are funny, too. Roger and Mark are so poor that their electricity is cut, so they use oh, say, about a hundred pillar candles to light their apartment. And how does Roger afford the gallons of mousse necessary for his awful, feathered, Kato Kaelin-meets-Jon Bon Jovi hair? Also, when we first meet Tom, he's beaten up in an alley by some thugs. Angel, drumming on a plastic bucket for money on the street, hears him moaning and goes to help. Yeah, because in 1989 New York, I'm sure if someone heard strange noises in a dark alley they'd immediately go investigate and then help whatever stranger they found. The dude is just asking to be the victim in some horror movie.

Anyway, the whole thing is directed by Chris Columbus, the director of such films as Home Alone and the first two Harry Potter movies. He obviously doesn't doesn't know what to do with his actors when they start singing. They're either just stand there and singing or moving around so much it's frenetic and irrelevant to the song. For example, since Maureen is supposed to be a charismatic, life-of-the-party type gal, Colummbus has her climb on top of a table during her rousing duet with Joanne, "Take Me or Leave Me." And then she just stands there. And sings. And it's not that crazy or life-of-the-party-ish. It's just a girl singing on a table.

Part of the problem may be the actors themselves. Maybe some of them thought they'd have to tone down their performances for the screen, but that was a mistake. This is supposed to be a rockin' musical (as much as a musical can be rockin'), but apparently no one knows how to rock. While Menzel has moments of proving why she was originally cast as the ultimate party girl, sometimes her face just doesn't match her studio-recorded voice she's lip-syncing to. You can hear the raw power in her voice, but you don't always see the corresponding tension or emotion on her face.

And Roger. Oy, don't get me started on this guy. First of all, the character just sits around all day, wanting to write music but instead just stares out the window and sulks. That's boring and not very dramatic for such a drama queen. Second, Pascal has all the charsima of a doorknob. I have no doubt that his voice can fill an auditorium, but with a camera up close he's blank. There's just nothing going on there. His hair is the most interesting thing about him and his hair is awful.


Luckily, there are some highlights. Dawson easily slips into the shoes of Daphne Rubin-Vega, Broadway's original Mimi (who was pregnant during filming). While her voice doesn't match Rubin-Vega's sultry, smoky sexiness (yea for alliteration!), she more than carries the screen alone as she slithers across her club's stage during "Out Tonight."


And can we have a round of applause for Martin and Heredia? Both are so awesome and so sweet, you can't help but root for them. As they skip down the street singing "I'll Cover You," even the most conservative, homophobic asshole would get swept up in their giddy romance. Martin commits to his character with such force in each scene that it's fascinating to watch him create an entire background and reality for Tom that's not there in the script. Although I'm partially biased because he sings my favorite song in the show/movie ("Sante Fe," a song both melancholy and hopeful - Martin really brings the house down with it), I was just blown away by his physicality and emotional depth.

The movie also does a surprising job of knowing what songs to cut and what to keep. Although I would have loved to see a filmed version of "Contact," a raunchy, kinky, funny song about all the couples hooking up, it really is an awkward transition into the sad, gospel-tinged reprise of "I'll Cover You" as performed at a funeral. The movie creates a much more sensible passage of time.

To top it all off, there's a hilarious, out-of-nowhere cameo by Sarah Silverman. How random and cool is that?

Overall, I'm ambivalent. Some things I liked. Some things I didn't. Roger Ebert, giving it a "hesitant thumbs up," predicted that the movie will be most satisfying to those who have already seen the stage version and can project all their positive associations onto the film. I'm not sure about that. I think it might be those very "Rentheads" who might be the most disappointed.

I have to admit, though, that for all the many flaws, Jonathan Larson did write some truly uplifting, moving songs (such as the opening of the movie, "Seasons of Love"). And even though the movie ends with yet another horrible documentary by Mark, as long as the cast is together, singing yet another anthemic "no day but today" chorus, I left the theater feeling pretty good. Should that affect how I felt about the whole movie? I'm not sure, so I think I ended up at the same place Ebert was at: a "hesitant" recommendation.

The 10 Most Mildly Interesting People of 2005

Some quick thoughts on the most recent Barbara Walters special, The Ten Most Fascinating People of 2005.

1) Kanye West - I loved, loved, loved your point how white people using bad grammar in the presence of a black person is more offensive than a white person saying "n----r." If I hear one more white person change their grammar and syntax just to appear cool I'm gonna be poppin' a cap in their ass. Or something.

However, I'm so sick and tired of celebrities using the lame cop-out "It was a joke" when the media call them on their bullshit. When J. Lo made that stupid music video glamorizing her life with Ben Affleck? "It was a joke." When Eminem is called out for his misogynistic, homophobic lyrics? "It's a joke." And, according to Kanye (regarding being quoted in general, not about any specific statement he made):


"I'll say something and think it's funny. They take it out of context and make me look cocky." Cut to footage of Kanye all in white with huge white wings emerging from a crowd of people with their arms up as if praising him. Yeah, Kanye, it's the media that makes you look cocky. You haven't done anything to perpetrate that image yourself at all. Sure.

2) Lance Armstrong- First thing Barbara points out is that he has a heart much bigger than average, a resting heart rate much lower than average, and is in the top 2% of humans when it comes to taking in oxygen. So basically, Lance = Freak.

And then they brought out his fiance, Sheryl Crow, who, with her plain brown suit, looked more real estate agent than rock star.

3) Jaime Foxx - Babs already interviewed him when he won the Oscar earlier this year, then more recently on The View when he was promoting Jarhead. He was just on Oprah today, too. Does this guy really have that much to talk about at this point?

Also, they showed a clip of his music video from his upcoming album. In it, he's working the cigars and furs while singing to some skanky ho's. So, basically, his next career move is going from Academy Award-winning actor to generic, R. Kelly-wannabe R&B singer. Cool.

4) Dakota Fanning - You're "precocious." I get it. But, girl, you better be counting your blessings because you could have been one bad career move from being one of those creepy Welch's Grape Juice kids.


5) Beth Holloway Twitty - Hers is a terrible story that will seemingly never be solved. I'm not sure if this qualifies her as "fascinating," but my heart goes out to her.

6) Teri Hatcher - You're cool, you're hot, I've been a fan of yours since Soapdish, but could you please not cry every five seconds?


7) Tom Cruise - Really, what more is there to say about dear Tom? Although Babs was really earning her reputation as soft-question queen tonight. Her first query to Tom? "What about Mission: Impossible attracts you again and again and again?" Wow, take it easy, Babs. What do you want to do, drive him so mad he jumps on his chair?

8) Tom Mesereau - Ugh, I'm so sick of anything regarding the Michael Jackson trial that I'm not going to bother with MJ's attorney. Anyway, the most interesting thing about him is that he keeps his hair longer than most lawyers. Fascinating, indeed.

9) Condoleeza Rice - She graduated college at 19, loves shoes, and has visited 43 countries this year alone. She's the most powerful woman in the U.S., and some consider her the most powerful woman in the world. There's a lot more to this woman, which makes me question why she wasn't the Most Fascinating Person of 2005. Instead, Babs picks...

10) Camilla Parker Bowles - Um, OK. She did marry Prince Charles. That's head-scratchingly weird more than fascinating. Oh, Camilla, Linda Evans from TV's Dynasty called...she wants her hair back.


Well, that's it. "Fascinating"? Hardly. But that's what makes writing about it so much fun.

Walk the Line

December has a ton of new movies coming out, many on the same weekends: The Chronicles of Narnia, Memoirs of a Geisha, Brokeback Mountain, Munich, The Producers and many more. But as we head into the overstuffed Oscar season, some of the more note-worthy films are already out. I've already mentioned The Squid and the Whale and Capote, and one more to add to the list of recommendations is Walk the Line.

Although this film has received a lot of attention already, I just thought I'd quickly add my two cents. The first thing that sticks out in my mind with this film is just how awesome Joaquin Phoenix is. I've admired his work for some time, from To Die For to Gladiator, but nothing prepared me for this performance. I was originally a little confused as to why he was cast. Not only does he not exactly resemble Johnny Cash (although I can't think of an actor who does), he has a very distinctive look of his own, with his heavy eyes and sharp bone structure. But, at the risk of employing an over-used word, he really is amazing. There's a lot of adjectives to describe what he brings to the picture - smoldering, damaged, desperate, ambitious, funny, fucked-up - sometimes all in one scene.


But halfway through the film is when he really surprises. Stumbling on stage in a drunken, drugged-out stupor, he blazes through his act, heaving his guitar and staring down the audience and band members with wide, crazy eyes before kicking and smashing his equipment and finally passing out. It's almost scary how intense and uncontrollable he is.

Matching him with brassiness instead of intensity, Reese Witherspoon plays June Carter, the country music veteran who second-guesses her talent. I've always been a fan of Witherspoon's, especially after seeing Election. And while the movie is itself a piece of fluff, she displayed really impressive comic timing in Legally Blonde. Although I wouldn't elevate her performance in Walk the Line to the amazing, flawless piece of art that some reviews seem to be doing, she more than holds her own.

Plus, they both do their own singing, and while I found Witherspoon to swing between just okay and pretty great, Phoenix really impresses with a near-perfect (notice I said "near," all you Cash purists out there) impression of Cash's basement-dwelling bass.

The film, however, doesn't quite live up to the greatness of Phoenix's performance and the chemistry he shares with Witherspoon. While perfectly fine for what it's trying to do, it feels very reminiscent of Ray and other musical biopics: traumatic childhood experience, problems with women, alcohol and drugs, the wife suffering on the side, the early rise, the fall, the redemption, etc. Plus, the redemption towards the end seems really rushed and the very end is abrupt and anti-climatic, not deserving of the man the film revolves around.



Walk the Line thankfully only covers the first half of his life so, instead of skipping along from event to event to cram everything in, it gets to dig deeper and develop the characters and stories it focuses on. And it's really cool to see those stories, like Cash and Carter's tour with Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis. Can you imagine seeing all of those acts in one night?

So, before the holiday season becomes truly crazy, I'd recommend seeing this movie. It's definitely worth seeing on the big screen. The way the camera swoops in and around the musicians as they perform, catching every little wink, smirk and eye-roll between Carter and Cash as they perform together, you feel like you're right there with them. You almost feel special for being allowed so close, witnessing greatness from only inches away.

Sweet

Hooray! My blog post about Everyday Italian was the Pick of the Week at Blogcritics.org, a website that compiles blog posts about politics, culture, art, movies, books, music and television. You can check out the entry in my October archives or at the Blogcritics site here.

Look Who's Stalking

I think it's really weird that John Travolta has his own website.

It's not a fan site. It's not created by some dork in his basement who's seen "Pulp Fiction" 500 times.

It's John himself putting together his own site.

I don't really know where to begin with this, but let's give a try:

Why did he do this? Was he not satisfied with his IMDB page? Was he disappointed by his fans' sites? Was he under the impression that there was a void in the World Wide Web, where millions of fans were searching for "official" information about him and not finding it?

I did some (minimal) research, and no other major movie star has their own wesbite, from Tom Cruise and Denzel Washinginton to Reese Witherspoon and Cameron Diaz.

It has news of his current and upcoming projects (including an autobiography - Paris Hilton and Joan Didion better watch their backs), listings by decade of all his movies, a biography, an address to write him, and a page to leave comments and questions.

The simple, straightforward-ness of the site is as off-putting as anything else. You can breeze though it in minutes unless, of course, you actually want to read the descriptions for all of his movies. And the fact that they provide a snail-mail address is so old-fashioned it's almost endearing...operative word being "almost."

I just can't wrap my head around this one. It's one thing when a separate source like the Internet Movie Database lists your entire resume, but why go to so much effort to remind people that you starred in a lot of crap? And John Travolta has starred in a lot of crap, people. I was aware of all the 80's and 90's stinkers, but who knew he was weird, obscure movies in the 70's? I thought his cinematic career started with Carrie and The Boy in the Plastic Bubble, both modern-day classics in their respective genres (thriller/horror and cheesy afterschool-special/disease-of-the-week TV movie). But, apprently, Mr. Travolta starred in a lot of forgettable 70's flicks.

And there's just so much more crap throughout the decades. Does he realize he can actually say "no" to an offer?

No movie star has a flawless resume (Tom Cruise has Legend and Losin' It, Julia Roberts has I Love Trouble and Mary Reilly), but to go out of your way to highlight each head-scratching choice - with descriptions, no less. As if, somehow, by reading the plot of Swordfish we'll understand his decision to sign up for it. And does he really want to focus any more attention on Battlefield Earth?

To top it all off, it links to the website of his wife, Kelly Preston, where she's described as "one of the most sought-after actors in Hollywood." I love this statement for two reasons: a) Sought after? By who? Her last good movie was "Jerry Maguire" in 1996; b) I'm always slightly amused when actresses refer to themselves as "actors," as if we'll automatically take them more seriously.

What were John's intentions behind this website? We may never know (and probably "we" don't really care). I just thought it was weird. And weird stuff is always fun to talk about.

Deep Thoughts from America's Next Top Model, part 3

Bre: "Even though there's a lot of beautiful girls, a lot of beautiful girls don't use deodorant."



Tru dat, yo.

Check out other deep thoughts here!

The Death of the Metrosexual

It was bound to happen sooner or later, and based on numerous articles, including The Guardian and the Chicago Tribune's Red Eye, it looks like "metrosexual" may be coming to the end of its 15 minutes (or four years, but who's counting?).

And it's about time. "Metrosexual" may fall somewhere between heterosexual and homosexual, but why is it on the same spectrum to begin with? To merge one's grooming sensibilities with their sexuality is unnecessary. Is male sexuality so poorly defined that any "new" behavior exhibited by men can actually alter our perception of their sexual preference?

News flash - ask any owner of upscale, high-end spas or salons that caters to a male clientele and they'll assure you that men have been participating in these sorts of activities for years. Look back on the 90's and the pre-metrosexuals were there. The 80's had more than their share of pretty, preening, pin-up boys. The 70's had their own version, too, they just maybe had a moustache and even tighter pants than their modern-day counterparts (but no "manscaping" - chest hair was big back then). The 60's? Well...hippies are smelly by definition, so nevermind.


Lots of people credit Queer Eye for the Straight Guy for intensifying male interest in grooming. After the grungy 90's, male style had been in a transition period. The Fab Five came prancing into our living rooms and made it OK for men to pluck their eyebrows, wear fitted clothing (for the love of God, when will they stop making pleated pants and tapered jeans?), and even exfoliate. After all, the men could reassure themselves that even though they were taking cues from gay men, it was all done to help them get laid, right? Because, really, that's what this is all about: men trying to find that elusive combination of manly ruggedness and sophisticated civility that will help them score with the ladies. Women dictate their tastes and men just try to keep up.

So what's really changed? Some men are clueless about fashion and their own physical image, other men take it to the extreme and spend more time in front of the mirror than their girlfriends. Most men (gay or straight) fall somewhere in between.

A little while ago there was an article in The Guardian about how "ubersexuals" are replacing "metrosexuals." Apparently, "ubersexual" men care about grooming as well, but don't get carried away with it. They smoke cigars, have more male friends than female friends, and lust after and respect women at the same time. Examples included George Clooney, Bill Clinton and...shudder...Donald Trump.

Then there was yet another article stating the following:

"The New Lad is old news, the Metrosexual should pack up his expensive eye cream and the Ubersexual can stop his pathetic dreaming about classic manliness. Modern man is actually a no-nonsense, well-balanced Heteropolitan, according to a new study.

Neither lager-loving sexists obsessed with football nor excessively moisturised, pink-shirted effeminates, Heteropolitans enjoy both the pub and the grooming parlour, and are surprisingly committed to relationships and family life."

Heteropolitan? Are you kidding me? Can't we just give all these names a rest? Why are we so eager to define and label men? Are "pretty boy" and "jock" and "nerd" and all the classics not good enough? We don't come up with all sorts of weird takes on the word "heterosexual" for all the different kinds of women who like to sleep with men. What it is about male sexuality that seems so slippery and elusive that we must stamp it with these strange, unsatisfying titles?

I'm done trying to analyze it. I don't think "Heteropolitan" is going to catch on anyway, so maybe - hopefully - it will all be behind us soon. Good riddance.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go apply pomade to my hair while I drink a beer, watch football, and peruse the latest Express for Men catalog.

Um, Seriously?

OK, so I know these lists are meant to spark water-cooler converation (does anyone even talk around the water-coolers at work anymore? Does any office even have water-coolers anymore?), and this list isn't absolutely terrible, still, some of these choices are beyond odd.

I'm talking about Premiere magazine's Top 50 Movie Stars of All Time. So Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe at No. 1 and No. 2, respectively, make sense. Sure. But Tom Cruise is 3? And he and Julia Roberts are both ahead of Katherine Hepburn and Marlon Brando, neither of whom are even in the top 10? What? And while I'm glad Johnny Depp made the list (even though it seems a bit early in his career to really make the top 50), the bottom rung feel like they just threw in modern-day stars to either make nice with publicists or, again, to spark converation: Nicole Kidman, Russell Crowe, etc. And how did Elizabeth Taylor not make it any higher than 40?

An interesting point: Entertainment Weekly complained that there were no African-American actresses on the list at all. But the only suggestion they had was Whoopi Goldberg who, while an Oscar winner, is probably not worthy of this list. Neither is Halle Berry...yet (although, if she keeps picking winners like Catwoman and Gothika, she could be on a list like this any day now!). Sadly, there really aren't any major black actresses to make this list. Angela Bassett? Surely has the talent, but doesn't always pick the right projects. Hattie McDaniel? She's the first black woman to win an Oscar (for Gone With the Wind), but she was never really a star. Tyra Banks? While her turn in Jason X was stellar, apparently it's just not enough for this elitist, nose-in-the-air magazine.

Tyra Banks Is Mean

So usually at the end of every episode of "America's Next Top Model" they cut one girl, right? Well, on tonight's episode Tyra calls forth the two girls who had the worst pictures of the group as they normally do every week, and she begins her monologue about why they're not progressing, blah blah blah. But then she says that the judges couldn't decide which one of the worst two girls should be cut, so, as Tyra put it, they both had to pack their bags.

The girls begin crying. All the other girls are devastated and shocked.

Only then does Tyra say, "Because we're all going to London!"

It was a joke. Neither of them were cut and they'd have to pack their bags just like the other four girls to go to London.

The two girls who thought they were leaving literally looked at Tyra like, "I can't believe you just did that to me, you cruel, cruel woman."

And who can blame them? I'd be pissed, too.

Your Behavior is Very Naughty

While I do enjoy Commander In Chief and am still trying to figure out how to get paid to watch the Food Network, I have one particular guilty pleasure every friday night.

Supernanny.

I happened upon this show about two months ago and I've watched almost every week since (but I missed last week - damn!).

Let me try to explain my fascination with this show by backing up a little bit. It seems in the last few years I've been in numerous situations with friends and family where we are simply stunned by children's behavior in public. Running around in restaurants, yelling at the top of their lungs in grocery stores, and all while the parents barely seem to notice. And our collective reaction is always the same: "Our parents would never let us get away with that when we were kids."

Enter Supernanny. Here is a show where a bright young woman actually tells parents what they're doing wrong and what they should be doing instead. As monstrous as the children on the show can be (you know producers are searching for the most extreme cases possible), Supernanny - or, Jo Frost, as she actually does have a real name - places most of the attention and problem-solving where it belongs. WIth the parents.

But there's something else going on, something subversive...even dirty, if you will. While the show, the U.S. version of the British edition also starring Frost, makes obvious references to Mary Poppins (the title sequence shows a silouette of Frost holding an umbrella while surrounded by kids), I think they're also aiming for another reference in a very subtle, skillful way.

Frost is a grounded, practical, fun, strict yet warm person with the families. But the commercials, print ads and promo shots seem to emphasize the paradoxical image of her strict, school-marm shtick (stern glasses, finger-wagging) with her short skirts (for a nanny, anyway) and ample, jacket-busting bosom.

Quite frankly, she looks and sometimes acts like a nanny by day and a dominatrix by night.

To see what I mean, check out the above pic provided by ABC as a promo shot. Tell me she doesn't look like she's about to give a spanking.

And that's why I love the show. Not because I have any dominatrix/spanking yearnings, but because I think Frost is actually aware of this dual image and occassionally, slyly plays around with it without losing one iota of credibility as a professional nanny. According to the ABC website, she even made "Your behavior is very naughty" a "national catchphrase."

After all, two of her Top Ten Rules (included in her book, of course) include "discipline" and "restraint." I couldn't make this up if I wanted to. It's all right there: Supernanny...who loves to spank.

Great TV, man. Great TV.

Mr. Pickles Wants YOU to Procrastinate

At the DIY Trunk Show held in Wicker Park, Chicago this weekend, local artists gathered to display their homemade goods. Everything from chain-mail jewelry to smiley-faced, moustache-shaped pillows to bowls made out of melted vinyl records were stacked and sold. Low on cash, I snatched up a red leather Robocuff bracelet and a few other goodies. I thought I'd list a few to give all you office drones (says the jobless schmuck) more reasons to procrastinate.

1) One of the stand-outs included Forgotten Toybox, Debb Galcik's collection of paper goods (like these artsy journals). She also created what may have been the most professional-looking items at the show - these stunning copper journals (which were complemented by miniature versions made into necklaces).

2) Jeff Faye takes metal pipes, wooden doors, and other found objects and turns them into funky lamps that could easily fit into a variety of living rooms. I especially like his blender lamps.

3) Amid all the mismatched-scarf-and-puffy-vest indie kids, one woman won't forget the children. Atomic Mama lets you choose what fabric to use, and then turns them into bibs, reversible kimono shirts and more for children. If you want your toddler to be the coolest kid in the sandbox, make sure he's wearing a skull 'n crossbones kimono.

4) Finally, my absolute favorite and the subject of this post's title, everyone's new best friend...Mr. Pickles!!!This bespectacled cucumber travels the world with Hamburger Brown, Rotten Apple and Mr. Friend. Want to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" reenacted by pickles (and one very hungry Frankenstein)? Click here. Want to know what animals are indigenous to Miami? Click here. Want to hear a touching song about a hamburger who falls in love with a slug? Click here. Join Mr. Pickles as he skis, camps, and goes on a "Love Boat" cruise. It's delicious fun that will keep you entertained for hours (trust me).

That's all for now, kids. Have fun and remember, if you can dig it out of a trash can and turn it into a pair of earrings, that's art.

Two to Check Out

This past Saturday, Navy Pier hosted the SOFA Exhibit, or Sculptural Objects & Functional Art. Amid the vast sea of funky flatware and chickenwire dresses, one particular artist really stood out. Ted Gall creates some of the most unique and beautiful pieces I've seen in a long time, ranging from fun and whimsical to dark and gothic. His pieces that he simply calls Heads are composed of numerous metallic layers that the viewer can peel away. It starts with, say, the face of a pig, which then folds open on hinges to reveal the face of a man, which then flips up to reveal a tiny scene of men overlooking a farm of pigs. The sculptures aren't very big and the amount of detail is extraordinary. Even a tiny girl walking with her father carries a teddy bear, or scenes right out of "The Wizard of Oz" are recreated with figures smaller than your thumbnail.

He also creates larger pieces, some life-sized or even bigger, all with wax and metals. At SOFA, one piece was an ashen puppeteer who is horrified to find that his puppet dangling below him has cut himself loose. The next piece was the marionette walking freely, his strings trailing behind him as if blowing in the wind. The sense of story, movement and environment was fantastic. You can get a sense of this with his piece called "Dancer."

Another artist website to visit is Rick Talley's photography. I just recently met him when I stayed in Kuaui, Hawaii. My friend Becky and I had a leak in our hotel bathroom ceiling, and before we knew it there was practically a waterfall above our toilet. Rick was the hotel's engineer and took care of it for us, but was so friendly that we all got to talking and it turns out that Rick regularly explores the island and takes pictures. I'll hopefully be able to post my own pics from my vacation soon, but Rick does a pretty good job of capturing the island's essence himself. He also taught us about "moonbows," which are rainbows created by rain and moonlight. I've never even heard of them, and Rick's got pictures! He said he'll be updating his site with more moonbow shots, but what he's already featuring gives you an idea of what this beautiful, peaceful island is like.

Who Wants to See That?

If you haven't seen Capote, you're missing out on a good movie and a great performance by Phillip Seymor Hoffman as the eccentric writer researching what will become his famous best-seller, In Cold Blood.

But, when I saw the movie this past weekend, it was proceeded by a preview for Brokeback Mountain, the new Ang Lee film based on Annie Proulx's short story about two cowboys who fall in love. As the preview segues from a story about two young cowboys trying to find jobs to their new, secretive relationship, a man sitting behind me openly mocked the plot. "Who wants to see that?" was said loud enough for everyone around him to hear. Even more ridiculous was when the preview ended and the theater was in total darkness, he proclaims, "Well, that won't last a week."

Who is this moron? First of all, the movie is based on Proulx's story that helped The New Yorker win the National Magazine Award for Fiction. Proulx has also won a Pulizter Prize, so the source material is obviously pretty strong. Second, the film has already been sweeping through the film festivals with massive praise. The hype on this film hasn't quite reached the mainstream yet, so maybe he's not aware of the good will supporting the movie. But he did know, based on the preview, that the movie was directed by Ang Lee, who has given us such diverse quality films as Sense & Sensibility, The Ice Storm and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. While he did slip with the big-screen version of The Incredible Hulk, he's still worthy of our trust to pick quality projects.

Even more importantly, my companion, Eric, pointed out that this guy is making these homophobic remarks at a screening of Capote, a movie about a well-known homosexual. He's so gay he makes Liberace look like Colin Farrell.

Not that being gay is the focus whatsoever of the movie; it's just portrayed as yet another layer to a fascinating, complicated man. But this moron in the theater was surrounded by many gay couples, and you'd think if sexual preference didn't deter him from seeing a film based on Truman Capote, he wouldn't be so upset by Brokeback Mountain, either.

I understand that Chicago is a midwestern city and therefore maybe not quite as progressive as, say, Manhattan (and there are some bigoted jerks in Manhattan, too), but I guess I assumed that most people living in a large urban area are more tolerant and accepting of other people's differences. I know Chicago is very segregated considering how diverse its population is, and I am aware of the occassional asshole who shows his bigotry in public (usually a twenty-something male insecure in his masculinity or middle-aged/older male who's still holding on to outdated generational values).

Still, I couldn't help but be riled by this guy's comments. I could've turned around to say something, but how do you respond to "Well, that won't last a week"? There was only a few seconds before the next preview started, so I couldn't exactly twist around and spew out, "Actually, sir, the movie is getting rave reviews by just about every critic who's seen it, many of whom predict it will win the Best Picture Oscar. And with its pedigreed cast and crew, it will likely appeal beyond a gay audience to anyone who seeks out quality cinema. Instead of merely lasting a week, it will probably be around for months, if not years. So get used to it."

This post is much longer than I expected it to be, and there's still more I could say, but I think the event speaks for itself. Luckily, a few minutes after this genius expressed his ill-informed opinion, the film I paid good money to see began, and for the next two hours I was lost in a story about a writer, who just happens to be gay, who contributed a body of work that has lasted much longer than a week.

New & Shiny

Well, I'm back from Hawaii and decided my blog needs a new look. Plus, my old template was apparently an old template and couldn't support some of the things I wanted to do. I'm not quite used to this new look, however, as all the text seems really small, but overall I'm pleased.

Anyone leaving a comment will also notice that I added the "word verification" security feature. I was getting too much spam in my comments section so I had to add that to keep the spammers out, although I did leave a spam comment in my "Aloha, Suckers" post because it's hilarious - it's for a blog that's all about making lattes, and who among us doesn't need more help making lattes? If the "word verification" gives anyone a problem, let me know.

I'll try to post pics from my adventures on Kuaui soon, and get back to blogging in general.

I hope everyone took advantage of my suggestions while I was gone. Any feedback on the poems, websites, and stories?

Deep Thoughts from America's Next Top Model, part 2

Elyse: "I eat when I'm hungry and I stop when I'm full."

Me, too! I could totally be on this show.

Check out other deep thoughts here!

Aloha, Suckers

As of this Saturday I'll be on my way to Hawaii!! Sweet. I'll be attempting to maybe check in and post a few things even when I'm gone, but in my absence I'm leaving a few tips on what to do until I return:

1) Cry.

2) Curl up in the fetal position in the shower and cry.

3) Curl up in the fetal position in the shower and cry and then get out and dry yourself and get dressed (optional) and then check my blog so you can:

4) Read this poem by Sharon Olds, a well-known poet and favorite of my roommate, Joris. Slate features a new poem every week and they're consistently good.

5) Visit Chicago-based publishing company Featherproof Books' website. They even have free mini-books that you can download, print, fold together and read. It's perfect for the bus, train or boring family dinner. I'd start with Elizabeth Crane's Donovan's Closet, but that's just me.

6) Check out one of my newest links, A Movie A Day. It seems like the cool new thing to do is give yourself a project to cram in a bunch of stuff during a certain amount of time and then write a blog about it (a la Julie & Julia by Julie Powell based on her blog). This guy watches one movie every day and then writes well-informed reviews about it.

7) Read the other of my newest links, BookSlut. This is already a pretty well-known website but they do get great interviews with interesting authors and I'd thought that since this is a blog about everything pop culture, I should include this.

8) For anyone that loves food, there's a ton of good food blogs out there. My sister turned me on to The Comfort Zone. She makes great stuff, takes great pictures of it, and then tells you how they came to look so good without rambling on over every single detail. She's also based out of Australia so you know she's cool because Australians are cool.

9) Read this column by Mindy Raf. Lauren got me hooked on the NY comedienne's blog, and she writes great columns for College Humor as well as other websites, too. This particular one is about all the stupid things guys have said to her on dates (you really won't believe some of them), but be sure to check out her other columns, too. Also, visit her blog to check out her letters to annoying New Yorkers, Forever 21, and other popular institutions.

That's it for now. I figure a Top 10 would be too predictable, so I'm leaving you with 9. I hope this amuses you all while I'm gone. Hopefully when I return I'll have pics to share with everyone.

Woo-hoo! I'm off to Hawaii!

Yawn or Grrr

Can I just say how bored I am with music lately?

There hasn't been much to be excited about, whether on the radio, on TV, or elsewhere. Even some of my favorite artists have disappointed me with recent lackluster CD's (Joseph Arthur and Doves, I'm looking in your direction). I don't know what it is, but for some reason I am very indifferent towards the music scene in general right now. Let's take a look at a few items of note:

Sheryl Crow - When did you become a boring adult contemporary artist? Oh, that's right, with that awful cover of "The First Cut is the Deepest" (fine song, bad version).

Fiona Apple - OK, you're finally back, but why do I not care? Oh, that's because everyone is talking about the process of making the album and no one seems to care about the, you know, music.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Good band, could use more publicity, so you release a CD called "Howl" that's just mellow, zone-out duds? Your best, most popular songs are anthemic rockers like "We're All In Love" and "Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll?" Way to play to your strengths, guys.

Kanye West - Loved "Gold Digger"...the first 10,000 times I heard it.

Moby - Get over yourself. Your best songs don't involve you singing, yet your latest CD, "Hotel," features your voice almost exclusively. You're a DJ, not a singer.

Nas - Where did you go? I loved "Bridging the Gap" so much I bought it from iTunes. But how could you release a massive CD like "Street's Disciple" and then barely market it? Did your label not support it?

(Side note: I like how I'm asking all these artists questions as if they're going to answer me. As if tomorrow my phone will ring and Fiona Apple will be like, "Don? It's Fiona. I so know what you mean. Why can't people just focus on the music. Sometimes I think you're the only person that gets me.")

Speaking of where-did-you-go artists, where's Nelly Furtado? Air? Zero 7?

There have been some recent bright spots. The new CD's from The Dandy Warhols and The White Stripes are pretty good, if not great. Plus, this summer I got to see Ben Lee, Ben Folds and Rufus Wainright all perform together and they're all still doing good work. And I'm looking forward to picking up the new Franz Ferdinand. And anyone who lives in Illinois but hasn't heard Sufjan Stevens' "Illinoise" is missing out.

But that's about it. Earlier I said I was "indifferent" about the music scene, but I think I'm actually kind of angry about the lack of new, exciting work out there.

I don't know anymore. Does anyone else feel this way?

The Lost City of Atlantis Is In Viggo's Chin

I'm a big fan of Viggo Mortenson. He was great in the "Lord of the Ring" movies and he did a great job with a difficult, complicated character in the new "A History of Violence." He was even great in that horrible Gus Van Sant remake of "Psycho." He's also a photographer, poet, painter and a father. The man, quite simply, is cool. But while I was watching "A History of Violence," I noticed something about him that I never noticed before.

In certain lighting...

At certain angles...

From the right viewpoint...

Viggo Mortenson has the biggest chin dimple in the history of mankind.

Don't get me wrong, he's a great-looking guy. But if people ever want to know where Jimmy Hoffa was buried, I suggest they start with Viggo's chin. You could lose anything down there. It's like a black hole framed by perfect cheekbones. It easily out-chin-dimples both Kirk and Michael Douglas' chin dimples and theirs are massive. Hell, you could fit both Kirk and Michael Douglas into Viggo's chin dimple.

I've never really understood the chin dimple. It's like God fixed a button to the middle of a man's chin. And it only appears on men, right? Have you ever seen a woman with a chin dimple? I sure haven't.

Chin dimples freak me out. What's their point? Why are they there? What evolutionary purpose do they serve? Do they make a man more attractive? And doesn't it seem that only men who are considered attractive have them?

A well-defined jaw on a man is attractive, sure, but a chin dimple caves in so much that the immediately surrounding flesh juts out into a skin donut that looks positively menacing. In "A History of Violence," Viggo plays a small town guy who is mysteriously graceful at killing two thugs who are about to kill his diner's customers. He smashes a pot of hot coffee into one of the thug's faces, and now I wonder: why not just butt him with your chin? If it doesn't kill him upon impact, the bad guy would just fall into Viggo's chin and be lost forever, which is just as effective.

The movie is pretty good (some scenes are great, others don't quite work), and it did stick with me long after it was over. But now that I'm done pondering the values of the film, all I'm left with is Viggo - laying down on a staircase after a fascinating, complex sexual encounter with his wife - as he stares up at the ceiling and the light perfectly outlines his chin-dimple. And then, in the next scene, you barely notice it.

Which now, as I write this, strikes me as a perfect metaphor for Viggo's character: a man's dominant personality traits become crystal clear under certain circumstances but are not as noticeable when he's trying to be normal.

So that's the conclusion that I've reached:

Viggo Mortenson's chin-dimple is the perfect metaphor for the Darwinian violent tendencies in man. Let's see some graduate student write a thesis on that.

You Are Not a Superstar

OK, the title is a little harsh, but let me explain. Walking through Lincoln Park today to do some errands and noticed a billboard for Crunch gym that featured an obnoxious woman dressed entirely in pink with two bodyguards standing on either side of her. Above her reads: "Crunch Gym: Everyone is a Superstar!"

No, they're not. I hate this ad. First of all, it has nothing to do with, you know, exercise. Secondly, how is Crunch gym really going to treat me like a superstar? Send me a limo everytime I want to go to the gym? Give me free gift bags with iPods and gold-encrusted chewing gum? Make me a famous, house-hold name and write me a check for fifty million dollars?

Because, that, my friends, is a superstar. Not just someone well-known, like Paul Giamatti, but a house-hold name that is immediately recognized. Tom Cruise. Julia Roberts. Mick Jagger. Oprah. Hell, even Julia Child counts because you say her name and everyone - no matter how little they know about food, no matter if their daily meals consist of bread and water or McDonald's - knows at least that Julia Child was a cook.

Everyone else? Not so much. And this is what sickens me. The last thing some entitled Lincoln Park Trixie needs is yet another advertisement reinforcing how entitled she should feel. It's the same thing as all those "The Fabulous Life of...(insert celebrity name here)" TV shows that air constantly on VH1 and E!. They feature celebrities basically accumulating a ton of expensive stuff and by showcasing this lifestyle (no matter how fictionalized it is) they're making it somewhat accessible to the clueless/rich. People watching are like "I want that! Why should Reese Witherspoon get that and not me? Gimme, gimme gimme!"

I'll tell you why. Because Reese Witherspoon has literally been working in movies since she was, like, 12.

That's why I love Waiter Rant so much (see my links). Because, as a waiter, he has to deal with tons of entitled New York yuppies who scream "do you know know who I am?" when they can't get a table without a reservation on a Saturday night. And, of course, they're usually no one and Waiter will point this out to us (if not to the guy himself). Because some hotshot accountant is still just that...an accountant. No matter how big someone is in their specific field, no one outside that field has any reason to care how important they think they are.

Sorry, I'll stop rambling. My point: everyone is NOT a superstar (and going to the gym won't make you one). Very few people have earned the right to jump to the front of the line. If Brad Pitt budges me, that's cool (unless we were in line for a Krispy Kreme - then I'd have to kick some ass). But if some fake blonde with stilettos thinks she should be able to cut in front of me because shopping at Escada made her late for the movie, then she's out of luck.

Deep Thoughts from America's Next Top Model

Kelle: "I was in denial about my snout."

Totally.

Check out other deep thoughts here!

Out With the Old, In With the New...Plus, A Request From the Blogger

So I just finished A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. Yes, it's the new Oprah Book Club choice and no, I've never read one of her choices before (at least, not because it was the Oprah Book Club choice). I'll write more on it later, because Mr. Frey has yet to actually appear on the show and I'm waiting until he does before I write about the whole book/TV show/website multi-consumption experience.

In the meantime, I have started Battle Royale by Koushun Takami. Read the following plot description and tell me if this doesn't sound like the coolest thing ever:

"Koushun Takami's notorious high-octane thriller is based on an irresistible premise: a class of junior high school students is taken to a deserted island where, as part of a ruthless authoritarian program, they are provided arms and forced to kill one another until only one survivor is left standing. Criticized as violent exploitation when first published in Japan - where it then proceeded to become a runaway bestseller - Battle Royale is a Lord of the Flies for the 21st century, a potent allegory of what it means to be young and (barely) alive in a dog-eat-dog world. Made into a controversial hit movie of the same name, Battle Royale is already a contemporary Japenese pulp classic, now available for the first time in the English language."

OK, are you putting everything down and running out to buy it yet? Granted, I'm sure this doesn't appeal to everyone, but to me it seems like it could be fascinating and trashy and fun, which I could desperately use after the incredibly disturbing A Million Little Pieces.

And while we're at it, why doesn't everyone out there let me know what they're reading? C'mon! Leave a comment and let me know what else I should be reading.

MirrorMask & Tony Takitani: 2 Movies You Should Really See...Right After You Check Out Jessica Alba In a Bikini

OK, heads up, people. We’re entering fall movie season. While this is usually the time of year where the studios finally start releasing good movies in hopes they’ll be remembered come Oscar season, we haven’t quite gotten there, yet. Granted, “A History of Violence” is getting some of the best reviews of the year, and most people seem to like (but not love) “Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride,” we still have to deal with crap like “Into the Blue” (who decided that Jessica Alba was able to carry entire movies by herself?).

And while new movies like “Capote” and the new Wallace & Gromit film are receiving all the hype, there’s still a few summer leftovers needing some attention.

The first is ”MirrorMask,” now playing in a few select cities (luckily, Chicago, where I live, is one of them). It is written by Neil Gaiman, who just topped the New York Times fiction best-seller list with ”Anansi Boys.” A well-known writer to fantasy/sci-fi fans, Gaiman may find himself in Ray Bradbury-like territory: being pigeon-holed into specific genres with stories that might be able to transcend their boundaries into mass appeal. Bradbury didn’t write just science fiction, that’s just the medium he used to write elegant metaphors of the human condition. Some might be able to say the same thing about Gaiman. Whether Gaiman is able to ascend to Bradbury-like success is another story.

Anyway (whew, talk about digressing…), “MirrorMask,” directed by Dave McKean, while a solid effort, is easy to recommend because of the fact that it is unlike anything you have ever seen before on a movie screen. Think "Alice in Wonderland" meets goth punk on acid.

A rebellious 15-year-old girl, Helena (Stephanie Leonidas) wants to run away from her circus family so she can have a life of her own. She finds herself in a strangely familiar nightmare, trapped in a world seemingly created from her own drawings that cover her bedroom wall. The world is full of flying fish, rainbow-winged cats, suspender-clad porcupines, and other, even more abstract creatures. Almost everyone, including Helena’s goofy sidekick Valentine (Jason Barry), is wearing a mask. It’s Helena’s search for the title object to save the Queen of Light that becomes the metaphor of a young girl trying to reconnect with her dying mother.

As striking as the visuals are, it’s unfortunate that more attention wasn’t paid to the human characters. Helena is at first a completely realistically-written young teenager. But when she finds herself in this strange new world, she barely reacts to it. I mean, I’d be freaking out if I was talking to a creature with a shoe for a head, but she doesn’t think twice about it. And Valentine seems to be from another movie altogether. His contrived “goofy sidekick” routine is as flat and one-dimensional as the mask he wears.

Despite these few flaws, if you really want to treat yourself to a different kind of movie experience, I would definitely recommend this movie.

On the other side of the spectrum is ”Tony Takitani.” This seems to be playing in even less cities than “MirrorMask” and was only in Chicago for a week. It’s based on a short story by Haruki Murakami that appeared in The New Yorker in 2002. Like Gaiman, Murakami is a one-man writing machine, having also written numerous novels like The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. His stories are also being adapted for the stage in “After the Quake,” coming to The Steppenwolf Theater this month.

The brief, 75-minute movie tells the tale of Tony (Issey Ogata), an artist who grows up lonely but rich and marries a woman who’s obsessed with buying as many beautiful clothes as she can afford (her collection of shoes alone could put the sisters from “In Her Shoes” to shame). The tale takes a depressing turn that becomes all the more interesting due to how the characters react to it. It becomes a touching study of how lost love invades our memories and our future.

This is not a movie for everyone. It’s short, sad, and beautiful in its own way (a way completely opposite from the beauty in “MirrorMask”). It’s so visually sparse that one becomes fascinated with the details, like an odd camera angle over a car or lingering close-ups of actors’ faces.

I have to admit, the simple score (it sounds as if someone is abstractly plunking away on the higher end of a piano) and soothing voice-over narrative made me just a wee bit sleepy, but it was to my own detriment, as I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this haunting, utterly original film.

But now that we got those artsy films out of the way, I’m off to a double feature of “Into the Blue” and “Transporter 2.” Who’s with me?

Obsessing Over Food I Never Eat, with Giada De Laurentiis

I have to admit to my new TV crush on Giada De Laurentiis. Her show on the Food Network, "Everyday Italian," has me strangely hypnotized.

While everyone seems to be talking about fellow Food TV hosts Emeril Lagasse and Paula Deen (who’s featured in the new Cameron Crowe movie, “Elizabethtown”), Giada just entered the New York Times best-selling non-fiction list in the Top 10 with her first cookbook. That’s pretty big and pretty rare.

It’s not that the show does anything really spectacular, but there’s something about the soft lighting, the faux-rustic Italian pottery, close-ups of sleek stainless steel cookware, and the chill lounge music that kicks in whenever our host starts cranking out mini-polenta bites. Giada is always fitted into some tiny t-shirt that shows off her toned arms and ample…um…bosom. Wait, who says “bosom” anymore unless they were born in 1950? Boobs, ok? She shows off her boobs. A lot. But tastefully so.

What I’m trying to say is that the whole package exudes a certain sexiness, at least as sexy as cooking shows can be. While Rachel Ray, also a successful Food TV host, is cackling about how awesome her food smells, Giada is luring you in to the point where you can practically smell her chicken stew right through your TV screen. Sure, she’s a bit too perky sometimes (no one should smile that big when they add sea salt to a dish), but she’s having fun without being overly precious about it.

And the food is simple, too. It’s not Mario Batali using obscure, high-end ingredients like goose liver. And it’s not Ms. Ray running around like a spaz, throwing frozen tater tots into her oven so she can put together a “30-Minute Meal” (that being said, I actually am a fan of Rachel Ray, but watching her scramble to finish on time can be mentally exhausting). Giada makes simple, elegant stuff, ranging from Caprese Salad to Espresso Brownies that keep me coming back for more.

To top it off, she just designed a shoe for Stuart Weitzman that’s being auctioned for charity. She's giving to charity, people! Okay, so the entire line-up of Food TV hosts each designed one, but Giada's is the prettiest. But, once again, Ms. Deen’s is getting the highest bid. I know there are other Giada fans out there…hence the best-selling book…but where are they?

I guess it’s safe to assume that other Giada fans are not 25-year-old guys, however, and therefore wouldn’t traffic in the same places that I would, so maybe that’s why I don’t know them. Or maybe being a Giada fan isn’t an easily-identifiable personality trait, like being a Cubs fan or Lincoln Park Trixie.

But I know you’re out there, Giada fans. Please contact me. Let’s band together. Actually, let’s not. This blog entry is dorky enough without using it to start a Giada fan club.

Of course, if I actually had the chance to meet Giada, it would probably go something like this:

Me: Um, hi, Giada.
Her: That’s not how you say my name.
Me: Uh, sorry. How do you say your name?
Her: It’s Giada. You know. Giada. Giada.
Me: Right. That’s what I said. Giada.
Her: Nevermind.
(Pause)
Me: I love you.
Her: Ow, let go of my arm.

Or something like that. ANYWAY…

Now that I’ve made my crush known, could someone please go to my Amazon Wish List and buy me her book? Then I’ll actually try making the recipes.

Roll Call

OK, class. Let's review the links I've deemed worthy of my blog space, shall we?

1) Lauren's International Adventures, or "Life of a Franco-American in the UK" - She's the only person I know personally who has lived in three different countries on two continents. I grew up with her in Chicago, she then moved to Paris, and now she lives in Nottingham. You can follow her on her fabulous escapades as she shops, drinks, works out, cooks for her french boyfriend, tries to find that perfect green sweater, and reads Harry Potter.

2) Toothpaste for Dinner - A weird, quirky comic strip that's sometimes about something, sometimes about nothing, and sometimes about the color beige (which is neither something nor nothing). I found out about it after Slate decided to feature a slide show where they deconstruct the genius of this minimalist comic strip.

3) Waiter Rant - Lauren, blog goddess that she is, turned my attention to this witty, intelligent yet mysterious NY waiter. Not only is he a great writer, but his archives of ridiculous customers and prank-prone co-workers are addictive. Literary crack, if you will.

4) Suzanne Takes On the World - Another longtime friend, Suzanne just recently moved back to Chicago after spending a year teaching in France. Her blog swings from the eating habits of the french to the lacking movie etiquette of our fellow americans. If you go there right now, you can read a touching story about trying to connect with co-workers through the obstacle of language.

5) Stacey Outshines Pottery Barn - Call me George W. Bush, because I like to promote my friends. This is Stacey's website that features her ceramic artistry. Having already been comissioned by NY restaurants, Stacey mixes whimsy with substance to create some truly original pieces. Her Animammals collection is especially amusing.

6) Elizabeth Crane, writer extraodinairre - Let me say this: If you haven't read When the Messenger is Hot or All This Heavenly Glory, you're missing out. Big time. Hers is a truly original voice and here she gifts us with a blog, sharing her unique observations about Danny Bonaduce, Apple Martin, and Celine Dion. How can you resist?

I'm sure I'll find more to add, but for now, dear readers, you precious few, these are the gifts I bestow unto you. Unwrap them, savor them like a fine wine, and use the ribbon for your ponytail.

Todd Oldham: Everyone's New Best Friend

What a strange week it was. When trying to describe HGTV’s new show to people, I feel like I’m describing a “Saturday Night Live” parody: Todd Oldham is making ottomans with Joan Jett. If that sentence doesn’t throw you, the visual image of Ms. Jett trying to assemble furniture while still looking rock-star-fabulous will.

Let’s back up. HGTV, or, rather, the Home and Garden Television network, is attempting to skew towards a younger audience. While it hasn’t produced a water-cooler hit like TLC’s “Trading Spaces,” its audience has continually grown since its inception in 1994. It now reaches around 88 million households. It’s website, HGTV.com, attracts millions of unique visitors every month and is one of the most visited home and garden sites on the web. Unfortunately, the middle-aged women who make up the core of their viewers are not an advertiser’s dream demographic of 25-34-year-olds.

Enter Todd Oldham, designer, photographer and all-around hip guy. Oldham is a likely choice for HGTV as he has credibility as a designer and the cool demeanor of your friend’s artsy older brother. It doesn’t hurt that he has appeared on MTV intermittently since 1993, first on “House of Style” and, more recently, as host of special editions of its hit show, “Crib Crashers.” And his lines for Target and La-Z-Boy further enhance his accessible, easy-going style.

Which brings us to his new, five-part series, "Todd Oldham's Handmade Modern," where Mr. Oldham teaches us how to turn plain white bedsheets and glass vases into works of art (conveniently, there's also an accompanying book). And to make it all the more accessible, instead of degrees of difficulty, each project is rated in terms of easiness. Creating a Vase Lift is pretty easy, but the Illuminated Wood Tile Headboard is slightly less so. But to really lure in the young-ins, however, Todd invites his celebrity guests to join him. Because, as well all know by now, everything is more enjoyable when a celebrity can join in.

This is where the surreal elements kick in. While the premiere show featured a wonderfully low-key, charming Susan Sarandon (on not letting her kids see her movies but still visit the movie sets, she remarked “For the longest time, my daughter thought I worked in a trailer”), the second show brought us…Elizabeth Berkeley? Is Todd really sure he wants to flaunt his friendship with none other than Ms. “Showgirls” herself? Maybe he knew what wonderfully nutty programming this would create. It gave him a chance to display surprising humor, whether intentional (holding up a piece of string, he charmingly teases Ms. Berkeley: “I know you’ve had a couple of costumes this big”), or not (Todd: “Coming up, Elizabeth unravels a few of life’s lessons.” Elizabeth: “We all get knocked down at different times.” Todd: “Totally.”).

There’s just something really funny to me about the whole scenario. Everyone has to balance so much at one time. The celebrity is trying to appear both completely down-to-earth and normal while still having perfectly coiffed hair and heavily applied make-up (except for the final guest, Jeffrey Tambor, of course). They want to come off like our next-door neighbor yet their very appearance as the “Celebrity Guest Friend” confirms that they’re definitely not. Meanwhile, Todd has to talk to his guests about what celebrity-esque activities they’re up to (television shows, movies, etc.), converse with them like they’re just hanging out on a Sunday afternoon, and still get the Tiny Tableaux Tables done in a limited amount of time. The way celebrity and host has to change hats within each sentence of conversation is fascinating and awkward (which can be blamed more on the show’s format than on Mr. Oldham himself).

As the show then trotted out Ms. Jett, Mr. Tambor and – my personal favorite – the hilarious Amy Sedaris, to keep us interested, mini-“essays” popped up to teach us about the history of specific art movements and innovators like Russell Wright. With the essays, guest segments, plus five or six projects per episode, the show really packed a lot into its 30-minute time frame. After watching Mr. Oldham gracefully maneuver his way through each phase, you’re left wishing HGTV would give him his own regular series, instead of just this one-time, five-part special.

But, to fill my time, I guess I could actually attempt some of the projects he demonstrated on the show. I mean, if Elizabeth Berkeley can whip out some String Art, surely I can, too, right?

Um, sure. Right after I watch some more HGTV.

Martha Stewart: You Know You Love Her. (It's OK, You Can Tell Me.)

A new television show can be like a new restaurant. As fun as it is to be at the big premiere, sometimes it’s better to wait a while as it settles in and finds its rhythm. I thought this might be the case with Martha Stewart’s new daytime show, “Martha” (hmm, she’s down to her first name…Oprah better watch her back).

What’s surprising about Martha is that, even with all her experience, she is not a natural in front of the camera. Her first show, Martha Stewart Living, premiered in 1993, and, by 1997, she also had shows on the Food Network and the Home and Garden channel. What always struck me as odd about these shows was how uncomfortable she seemed. Her speech was stilted, her physicality awkward (even now, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands when there isn’t a decoupaged tea cozy in them) and, most importantly, she appeared to hate talking to, you know, people – a major handicap for daytime television.

So imagine my surprise when I turn on my TV and find Martha entering her enormous studio stage with 90’s teenage duo Kris Kross’ rap anthem “Jump” blaring over her white, female, middle-aged audience. Then, without warning, she leaps between two teenage girls holding jump ropes and proceeds to double-dutch. The show’s been on for barely over a week and here is Ms. Ice-Cold-Business-Queen genuinely enjoying herself. What the hell happened to her over there at Camp Cupcake?

At first glance, it was hard to tell what direction this show would go in. During the premiere week, she made numerous references about her time in prison and even joked about her newly detached ankle monitor. I was impressed with her ability to laugh at her own situation (the whole scandal was ridiculous to begin with). But then again, there she was, on the premiere show, teaching Marcia Cross of “Desperate Housewives” how to fold t-shirts. Yawn. However, later in the week, as they now show in every single commercial, even P. Diddy – or, sorry, is it just Diddy now? – stopped by to teach her how to rap (even better: watching him water her plants in the studio greenhouse). Who is this new Martha Stewart? Is she finally learning how to combine her strict, school-marm side with her next-door-neighbor-in-a-comfy-sweater side?

I found my answer in the aforementioned episode, where she coolly maneuvered between her playful entrance and a challenging yet lightweight interview with strikingly ADD-afflicted guests, Ben Vereen and Liza Minnelli. If they had had their way, their five-minute cooking segment would’ve turned into a half-hour song-and-dance advertisement for their upcoming Broadway hurricane charity show. So, luckily for us, Martha knew exactly when to keep her guests, and her show, on track. That segment, however, revealed the inconsistent results of forcing celebrities into uncomfortable how-to demonstrations. If Martha is going to have such legendary icons as Mr. Vereen and Ms. Minnelli on her show, why waste their time making them stand around while she boils crawfish?

My questions about Martha’s new, looser personality were slightly sated when I noticed who was producing her show: Mark Burnett, the man behind “Survivor” and both versions of “The Apprentice.” Maybe he hired the right people to bring it out of her. I can picture him and his crack PR team telling her, “No, seriously, Martha, trust us. Jumping rope to a dated rap song will make you look really fun. Here’s the catch: you have to smile.” Perhaps that’s not fair – maybe she really has changed, just like everyone has speculated.

Whatever it is – Burnett’s magic touch, Martha’s newfound amiability - it hasn’t worked for her other show (if ratings are to tell us anything). While the business setting of her “Apprentice” might appear to play to her strengths, the low ratings for the show’s debut might imply that people don’t want to see the business side of Martha without the domestic side to balance it out. Watching her criticize and fire people might make her reputation as an unrelatable, machine-like billionaire all too real. Or perhaps it just meant that people wanted to see the second-season premiere of “Lost” instead.

Either way, the real deal is her daytime show. You never know what’s going to happen. One day she might be teaching 50 Cent how to crochet, the next she might be breakdancing.