The second week of President Barack Obama's (yeaaaaah, it feels good, doesn't it?) tenure in Washington left a few less casualties than usual in Hollywoodland. Unless you count Steven Adler, but his exploits on Sober House were technically filmed a few months back.
It was mostly a week for celebration, as Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie unveiled their finest work yet, two nauseatingly adorable children, to the entire graduating class of a Japanese photography school.
But it was also five days of serious social commentary, courtesy of Ashlee Simpson and Kim Kardashian.
So without further drawn-out teasing of content that will ultimately be more succinctly stated than its lead-in, here are the top five things we learned this week:
5. Whether Tyler Perry's films offer something unique for an underserved demographic or actually pandering nonsense is debatable. But what's not up for argument is that someone should raise Jim Varney from the dead and give him some of Medea's royalties.
4. Jennifer Aniston likes to pretend getting naked on the cover of a magazine that sophisticated men jerk off to is somehow more noble than displaying airbrushed areolas for a publication less discreetly aimed at teenage boys and male divorcees. Then, again, what do you expect from a woman who's first major film role was in Leprechaun?
Looks like the only one hopping into the sack with House Bunny Anna Faris will be "actor" Chris Pratt, best known as the not-incredibly revolutionary Che on The O.C. Or, to a devoted legion of fans, as part of the "Miscellaneous Crew" on the 1995 Alfred Molina/Helen Slater box-office breaker The Steal.
And as it turns out, the Scary Movie starlet, considered by many to possess the slapstick potential of Lucille Ball (and by some, we mean the NCDSUV interns), has been engaged to the lucky schmuck since late last year. Which means it wasn't really that long-harbored a secret, given that it's not even February.
But regardless, good luck young lovers. And Mr. Pratt, please do tell your wife-to-be that those choppy blond bangs she was sporting on SNL are a major no-no, no matter how much her adorableness compensates for occasional faux paus.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
Yesterday, we did some private investigating and discovered Tom Selleck turned 64, and today we made good on our French connections and unearthed it to be the big day for a guy with great acting genes who's anything but a hack.
Here we go with another ridiculous Films From The Cable Afterlife. As usual, we scour the cable movie listings and turn up some diamonds, and lots of the rough. For best results, watch both. Your life may improve! 8. Mystery Of Monster Island (1981) Fox Movie Channel, Wednesday, February 3, 4am Unbelievable pile of crap by Juan Piquer Simon, one of the worst directors of the 20th century (he's also responsible for X-rated chainsaw slasher Pieces, MST3K fodder Pod People and K-Tel Films release The Supersonic Man). How a major studio found their way around distributing this one is anybody's guess (a series of blowjobs, perhaps), but you will never see Terence Stamp look more embarrassed. Watch if you dare.
7. DOUBLE FEATURE ALERT Pumpkin Karver (2006) The Movie Channel, Saturday, January 31, 12am Pumpkinhead (1988) IFC, Saturday, January 31, 1:35am The stars have aligned: two pumpkin-related horror movies back-to-back on the same night. Different networks, but still, work with me here. Friday Night Lights' Minka Kelly stars in the serial killer/Juggalo-style horror dumper Pumpkin Karver, while Lance Henriksen conjures up a demon to kill bikers in Stan Winston's minor classic Pumpkinhead. It's "Pumpkininny!"
6. Booty Call (1997) Cinemax (@MAX), Sunday, February 1, 8:05pm; Cinemax (WMAX), Monday, February 2, 6:50pm; Cinemax, Tuesday, February 3, 8:30pm Boisterous, offensive and couthless, Booty Call is actually one of the funnier comedies of the late '90s, and deserves another look. Jamie Foxx and Vivica A. Fox (playing characters named Bunz and Lysterine, respectively), join Tommy Davidson, a fake Indian guy, a dog that barks "Nigga Please!" in subtitles (and one Gedde Watanabe, willing to take any role no matter the stereotype, saying "Nigga Preese" in a Chinese restaurant), some hilarious orange pants, an incident with Saran Wrap as dental dam and some dude named Ug Lee. There's no one who won't be upset in its 79 minute runtime, but I don't think it'd work any other way. Watch it and pick your jaw up off the floor.
5. Ladies And Gentlemen The Fabulous Stains (1981) Turner Classic Movies, Saturday, January 31, 2am I hope that now this one has finally made it onto DVD, and not from some bootleg version that's been duped a thousand times from a Betamax that caught it on Showtime in the '80s, that we can see this legendary unreleased film for what it is: kind of a stinker. Still, there's never been anything like it before or since, and it's a fun time with a message. Teenagers Diane Lane and Laura Dern start a makeshift punk band that lands an opening spot for the fake real punk band The Looters, featuring Sex Pistols Steve Jones and Paul Cook, The Clash's Paul Simonon and fronted by actor Ray Winstone. They create a media circus and have it all collapse on them within days, but it's a good enough time, also starring Fee Waybill from The Tubes and a special (awesome) appearance from Black Randy and the Metrosquad. Join the professionals!
Damnit, Donny! Just when we were ready to crown you with the honor of NCDSUV's favorite Donny of all time over both Monsieurs Wahlberg and Brasco. But no, you had to go parading your filthy, filthy lies all over national television, leading us to report that you had signed on for the upcoming season of Dancing With The Stars. Only to retract your claim mere days later.
Presumably, ABC gave you a bad-boy beatdown over your hasty proclamation, even though you claimed it was an offer you weren't ready to accept at this particular juncture. But oh, how glorious it would have been to follow in your sister Marie's mambo-happy footsteps and appear on the inexplicably popular program. Not since Jose and Ozzie Canseco or, well, Mark and Donnie Wahlberg would their have been such an anticipated sibling thruline in recent pop-culture coincidence.
Puppy love our tuchus. You're in the NCDSUV doghouse now, buddy.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
Yesterday, we swore we weren't no joke to hip-hop legend Rakim, and today we whip out our Magnums for a steamy night of celebration with a mustachioed '80s sex god.
It is because I am filled with love and gratitude for David Cross that I must savage him like a wild beast tearing apart a carcass. Yes, call me a cruci-verbalist, because I've got some cross words for this actor/comedian. As Freud notes, we must kill the ones we love in order to overcome them. And the ever-watching paternal eye of Cross gazes out at me from the screen as I watch Mr. Show and Arrested Development. Or when I hear the Daniel Stern-like lilt of his voice as it whispers out to me from the Nick-At-Nite reruns of Oliver Beene, the greatest entry in Cross' oeuvre, a shining... wait. What the fuck. Oliver Beene?
OK. Cross has been in a stinker here and there: Alvin And The Chipmunks, School For Scoundrels, She's the Man, Men in Black II, Scary Movie II, Dr. Doolittle 2, Small Soldiers, etc. He's a working actor, and as I've detailed before, unless one is independently wealthy, one takes shit jobs to survive. The problem with Cross isn't so much that he acts in crap, but rather that he's so brutal in his criticism of other Craptors ™. No. That's a terrible portmanteau. It sounds like feces-contaminated dino DNA from Jurassic Park.
I haven't seen this much fervor over the glimpse of a newborn baby since Jesus emerged from a pile of divine afterbirth. But alas, the regally christened Knox and Vivienne, kin of ones Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, have surpassed the fascination with Suri Cruise and become a point of obsession for paparazzi and pop-culture obsessives.
And finally, the little tots were unleashed before the salivating lenses of crafty cameramen.
You can view the pics here. Some folks are saying they're adorable. I personally don't get suckered into the ideology of infant adorableness by default. You gotta work for my kiddie kudos. Or at least develop into a toddler without regressing into something akin to, well, the father himself toward the conclusion of Benjamin Button.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
On Friday, we slowly removed the proper-color candle from the bomb that had been detonated inside Richard Dean Anderson, akaMacGyver's, birthday cake. And today we go juuuuust a bit outside the box for our latest honoree.
In spite of overplayed, holiday-themed claims to the contrary, there is nothing wonderful about the wintertime. The weather outside is frightful and the snow is anything but fucking delightful. It just flat-out sucks. And now that Christmas and New Year's are well behind us, there is no silver lining left to get us through this long, bleak period . As we head into the icy heart of the season, we can turn to the movies for some solace and to indulge in a little heartwarming schadenfreude. Old Man Winter may be opening up a can of whoop-ass on you at the moment, but he drops an entire barrelful on the characters in the following snowbound nightmares. So use those frostbitten fingers and count your blessings.
9. Fargo Between the shitty climate and the shittier accents, if hell were to actually freeze over, it would probably look a lot like Brainerd, Minnesota. With nothing to do but work, eat at Arby's and scrape ice off their windshields, it's no wonder the folks in this inert burg are so prone to lethal violence. If you lived here, you'd be making a beeline for that wood chipper, too.
8. Misery Wintertime driving is brutal. From frozen engine blocks, to black ice, to the inevitable blizzard-induced, life-altering accidents, it's a treacherous endeavor regardless of how prepared you think you are. But who needs AAA when you've got the Annie Wilkes Roadside Assistance Program? She'll take you in, feed you, tend to your wounds... and give you new ones when you don't do exactly as she says. Heed those severe storm warnings and stay off the road, or you might end up taking a sledgehammer to the ankles like Sonny Corleone.
7. The Day After Tomorrow How much worse would your walk to work be if you had to deal with wind chill factors of 150 degrees below zero or worry about being chased by timber wolves? When the Ice Age hits New York City (and without a single celebrity voiced mastodon or saber-toothed tiger in sight), Dennis Quaid and a pre-Gyllenspoon Jake Gyllenhaal find out what it would feel like. If the idea of a greenhouse-induced, never-ending winter doesn't scare you into buying reusable bags and getting a Prius, then nothing will.
6. The Sopranos: "Pine Barrens" Although it was technically televised, each episode of The Sopranos always seemed more like a feature film (remember, "It's not TV, it's HBO"). "Pine Barrens" is one of the strongest and most cinematic installments, as Christopher Moltisanti and Paulie Walnuts battle the elements, a Russian assassin and each other while lost in the middle of the woods. Being stranded in frigid temperatures has a way of rendering everything else in the world meaningless. So in spite of their hit turning into a total disaster, they are cruelly reminded that getting out of the cold is more important than anything: money, duty, respect, even Tony's approval.
5. Snow Day Imagine for a moment that you're a balding, middle-aged, barely employed snow plow operator with bad teeth and a crow as your only friend. And on the rare, snowy occasion that you actually have a lot of work to do, your truck gets jacked and you're attacked by a horde of schoolchildren led by an odd little girl who communicates with action figures, a flatulent fat kid and a boy who makes snowballs out of jelly and urine. Sounds like a horror story, right? Well, for Chris Elliott, it is.
Well, ladies and gents, we can now move ahead toward a time of economic prosperity and racial harmony, because Barack Obama has been sworn into office. What's that? You're still unemployed and your boss keeps referring to you by prejudiced terminology? Oh, bummer. Guess one man can't change everything.
But even if you haven't been swept up in Obama-as-Messiah fever (ironic given his presidency signals an end to high government as guise for holier-than-thou demagoguery), we can all agree it was pretty sweet to see George W. Bush (and don't call him Prez) sent off on that helicopter one last time.
Not as sweet as seeing the likes of Mike Myers and Cameron Diaz get sliced and diced by the Razzies of course. So without any last-minute presidential pardoning, here are the top 5 things we learned this week.
5. Katy Perry may pretend she likes to kiss girls and is preciously cute when calling other people gay, but apparently she'll settle for nothing but the straight dish when tabloids report on her sex life, or lack thereof.
4. Britney Spears is somehow being raked over the coals for the suggestive phonetic pronunciation of her new single. Meanwhile, no one raised an ounce of cain over Van Halen's non-too-subliminal epithet placement within the titular acronym of their 1991 album. Guess parents were less afraid of Sammy Hagar gettin' their teenage tots in a heated lather.
Following in the grand tradition of great outsider-reformation works, from The Elephant Man to A History Of Violence to Who's The Boss?, London Boulevard (yes, loosely based on Sunset Boulevard) has cast Colin Farrell as an ex-con trying to make good by working as a handyman for presumably snooty thespian Keira Knightley.
Only in this one, instead of Knightley donning corsets and push-up bras for a period piece, she will actually be unable to copulate with Colin until the film's final act due to an onset of her time of the month.
Actually, that last fact is completely unsubstantiated.
Farrell, of course, just scored a Golden Globe for In Bruges. And with Boulevard, will continue his quest to make us think he's weirdly been around Hollywood much longer (and in more significant work) than the eight-year tenure he referred to with needless frequency during his Globes acceptance speech.
More Cable Afterlife, because you demanded it. You beat down my door. You followed me home. You took my seat on the subway. You cut in front of me in line. You better watch ... these movies. On cable, this Friday through next Thursday, like always. (All times in EST.) 8. Shanghai Surprise (1986) Encore Love, Monday, January 26, 10:30am As Sean Penn gears up to possibly win an Oscar for one of his best performances (as the titular Harvey Milk), it's high time to see him in one of his worst, and I'm not talking about I Am Sam. No, this is the spectacular flop he made with Madonna while the two were married. I dare you to finish it. P.S. It's heavily steam. I've said too much. Or have I?
7. Bullet (1995) IFC, Tuesday, January 27th, 12am As for said Oscars, Mickey Rourke's on the ascent with his role in The Wrestler. Check him out as he was careening to the bottom, out-acted by Tupac Shakur in this ruff-n-tuff action thriller, directed by Julien Temple
.
6. Luv (1967) Turner Classic Movies, Thursday, January 29th, 8:15am Jack Lemmon's about to jump off a bridge when he meets old friend Peter Falk, who pawns off his wife (Elaine May) on him so that he can be with his girlfriend. You can't pass on that cast, nor will you want to miss this rarely-screened Clive Donner effort from the peace-n-love era. Expect awkwardness, and a cameo by a young Harrison Ford as a longhair.
5. Funny Games (2008) Cinemax, Saturday, January 24th, 10pm It hasn't yet been determined if Michael Haneke's shot-for-shot remake of his own cinematic paradigm---the movie so brutal and heartless, it dares you not to watch and in effect judges you for how far along you've endured it---fulfilled whatever sort of Hollywood traction he may have been going for... because nobody's seen it, really. Here's your chance to.
OK, that's only slightly misleading. But not to the extent where you should be wishing the ills of a thousand sinners on my soul or contacting George Clooney's people (i.e. The Coen Brothers) to urge him toward libel-driven litigious action.
Anyway, the hunk-o-Oscar-nominee is, according to much Internet conjecture, making a guest-starring appearance on the final episode of ER, which is set to air April 2, and engender rabid interest from the 75 viewers have stuck consistently by the program's bedside since its inception in 1942.
Ah, it can't help but make one yearn for the innocent days of the early '90s, when cultural trends were dictated by artifacts as simple as The Clooney and The Aniston 'dos, as opposed to the arguable dont's of socialite vaginal flashings.
Sorry I took so long to respond to this morning's Oscar announcements. I was busy telling other people that they should pretend they were drying their hair to avoid pertinent obligations.
In any event, we've all soaked in the 2009 Oscar nominations by this point, letting it roll around our epidermis like a hot Aveeno bath. And while most people are bemoaning the exclusion of Dark Knight in the Best Picture competition, I, for one, am celebrating a hat trick of unexpected and spectacular choices in the individual acting categories (and yes, expressing serious misgivings about The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button's Best Picture nod.
Trudging through the subway, my eye often dances along the graffiti scrawled across those shit ads on the walls. Like a modern day Bayeux Tapestry filled with swears and crude penis drawings, the hasty scribbles of know-nothings are a glad distraction from the dull and endlessly empty horseshit being peddled to the captive audience. Like that new Renee Zellweger and Harry Conick Jr. joint which looks just... well, words fail. Or Steve Martin's latest family friendly tragedy: The Pink Panther 2.
Seeing said poster I idly contemplated mirroring Martin's creative trajectory by diving headfirst onto the tracks, but then who would feed my eight cats (Jerry Mungo meows now for a treat!)? The facts are these though: The man responsible for The Jerk and The Man With Two Brains, revolutionized stand-up in the '70s (along with Albert Brooks), and wrote Cruel Shoes now mainly flop sweats his way through detritus like Cheaper By The Dozen and Bringing Down The House. Maybe some implausible thimblerig from David Mamet here and there, but mostly not. Mostly the forgettable. Mostly melancholy.
Let's be honest. Much as we adore celeb ass-kiss fests like The Golden Globes for their red-carpet do's and dont's and self-involved on-stage theatrics, the only ceremony where the actual nominees and recipients capture our rapt attention are The Razzies, which celebrate the year's biggest stinkers. And like a giant Hollywood catheter, drain the piss out of La La Land.
And per usual, they're both on point with the obvious selections (like Mike Myers and The Love Guru spearheading the pack via seven Razzie nods), and remarkably, and hilariously, observant in highlighting some of the most talent-deficient "thespians" that still somehow incur our adoration (Mark Wahlberg, Kate Hudson, Cameron Diaz).
Of course, they left out one unconventional nod for Worst Movie of 2008, which would be the surreally overrated NCDSUV Sucks recipient, The Wrestler. Ah well, no use having sour raspberries.
With the immanent ascension of Barack Obama from anointed President-Elect to full-fledged messiah, our country can now certainly begin to take the first, few tentative steps towards not being The World's Asshole. (You know, that guy at the party that drinks too much and keeps playing grabass, but no one can really do anything about it because you know he's strapped?) However, like stale vomit stains on the couch and a mysterious stench coming from god-knows-where, painful remnants of the last eight years still exist in the form of one Jack Bauer, the so-called hero of Fox's zzzzzzzz-inspiring 24.
Ah, Keifer Sutherland. Ladies love him. And ladies love Jack Bauer. His smoldering eyes. His towheaded virility. The fact that he's a fucking torturer whose not only used to justify the worst excesses of George Bush and his administration of morally-bankrupt dicklickers, but is somehow a beloved role-model, is fucking criminally insane.
When we heard why Milk scene-stealer James Franco, who won our hearts years ago as bad-boy Daniel from Freaks & Geeks, was missing at the Golden Globes last week, we were agog. It seems Franco was busy studying poetry at Warren Wilson College in Swannanoa, North Carolina, where he is enrolled in the school's MFA For Writers. The image of Franco eschewing fancy Hollywood award ceremonies to brood over his coffee-stained notebook of post-confessional free-verse, or linger over a glass of sweet tea, clutching a dog-eared copy of Mark Doty's My Alexandria... um, it kinda made us swoon. But it also got us wondering: What other charmed boldfacers would we love to see insert themselves into the raging creative class?
7. Sarah Palin Remember the lady with the glasses who ran for that political office that one time? She seemed to have some trouble, er, collecting her thoughts, on occasion. "We believe that the best of America is not all in Washington, D.C." Palin once told a crowd at a fundraiser many moons ago. "We believe that the best of America is in these small towns that we get to visit, and in these wonderful little pockets of what I call the real America, being here with all of you hard working very patriotic, um, very, um, pro-America areas of this great nation." She's like the next Edward Albee, no?
6. Christopher Walken It's quite possible C-Walk would be even less popular describing his process in a workshop than the Palinator. Can you... imagine... listening... to... him... discussing... his... character's... inner... monologue... and... psychosis... this... slowly? And what if he wrote exactly like he speaks?
5. Sean Penn Somewhere, right now, Penn is seething with jealousy over Franco's secret taste for the literary arts. They can't both do it! Penn, of course, got his byline on the cover of The Nation last month for his oh-so-astute international reportage. So why not attempt to best his younger, immensely attractive co-star and tackle a creative writing MFA while he's at it? We'd adore listening to his justification for turns of phrase like, "He was God's pessimist."
And the feeling is mutual between Lopanthony and the public. Which is why get off on reading stories about the possible dissolution of their matrimony. I mean, what could there possibly be to loathe with searing disdain and jealousy about a relatively talent-free pair of Hollywood darlings who get paid oodles of cash to peddle their newborns around on magazine covers?
But much like Jenny From The Blizock revealed images of her twins via the sophisticated pages of People, she has gone through an equally ironclad journalistic outlet, InTouch, to ensure the public that "divorce is not an option."
And from a PR standpoint, probably not, as everyone knows La La Land has a three-strikes-and-yer-yesterday's-trash rule about three-time divorcees.
Incidentally, has anyone actually sat through El Cantante, she and Anthony's primary creative collaboration together? If you thought Mariah Carey's Glitter was as helpless a vanity biopic project as it gets, go try that foul-stenched turd on for size. I bet it will be even less complemetary to your day than Jennifer's wedding ring was to her Golden Globes dress.
January seems to be the month where cable TV networks, short on original series yet aware of an audience that's probably staying out of the cold, seem to air out their most interesting slates of movies and film programming. Films From The Cable Afterlife recommends a handful of these each week: some to watch, some to avoid. Here's some more suggestions for your pleasure, or lack thereof...
8. Prey (2007) Cinemax, Tuesday, January 20, 4:50am (and On Demand) People have remarked on the bad fortunes of The Weinstein Company ever since their acrimonious split with Disney (who walked away with their Miramax brand), but I say let 'em go. We haven't had this good of an exploitation studio since New World shuttered in the late '80s. Continuing with man vs. nature gore a la last week'sRogue, here's a safari horror flick in which Bridget Moynihan and Peter Weller, along with their children, are stranded in Africa and become Lunchables for a pride of hungry lions. Ivan Tors, we hardly knew ye.
7. Strange Hostel Of Naked Pleasures (1975) IFC, Saturday, January 17, 1:30am It's a Coffin Joe movie and it's outside the cycle of the three originals (At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul, etc.), but watch it anyway. It is loaded with the kind of brash, earthy shocks Mexico has staked its reputation on, and it likely will offend you. That title is no joke.
6. Assassination Tango (2002) Monday, January 19, 9:45pm; Tuesday, January 20, 4:20am My colleague Andrew Earles has been harping on this movie since its release, a bizarre, faux-seductive tale of hitman Robert Duvall (who also directed) stuck in South America, falling in love, and learning how to dance; a more ridiculous plot you couldn't ask for, and a more stilted, awkward performance by Duvall you won't find. Also starring the omnipresent Latin-American singer and actor Ruben Blades. This is a warning!
5. Bedazzled (1967) Cinemax (5STARMAX), Sunday, January 18, 2:40pm, 10:30pm; Cinemax (ActionMAX), Wednesday, January 21, 5am For the entire time I've been writing these weekly rundowns, I've been utterly frustrated at cable's propensity to air the forgettable remake of this soul-selling comic allegory instead of Stanley Donen's superior-in-every-way original. That wrong has been righted. You may have been stuck on an airplane or in a waiting room watching Brendan Fraser sell his soul to Liz Hurley, and yeah, that might have angered you. But you NEED to see the genuine article, starring Dudley Moore and Peter Cook, one of the funniest comedy teams ever to grace a stage. Everything about this movie is great. Go watch it now.
Ricardo was one of the smoothest screen presences around, an advocate for Mexican-born actors and had fought through some intense physical maladies for the last 15 years of his life, but stuck it through till the verge of 90. And we are merely glad to we got a chance to acknowledge his 88th and final birthday with proper NCDSUV homage before he died. He will be missed.
While I was online searching for pictures of Pokemons with human female breasts, I happened upon the trailer for an upcoming film named Miss March, which written, directed and starring members of The Whitest Kids U Know. To say it seemed generic is an understatement, but the fucker came packaged in a plain brown box with a Toucan Sam rip-off emblazoned on its front. SLAM! Dozens, bitch!
The utter thatness of that trailer's existence is, however, indicative of the sketch group as a whole. They are there. They exist. You can point in their direction and watching their show elicits peels of "Mmmm, ok." Generic. Generic isn't necessarily bad. It's just... placing your palms upward and shrugging your shoulders.
OK, am I the only one who read the gossip from Star magazine about Matthew Broderick supposedly sleeping around behind Sarah Jessica Parker's back and thought, "Really, but wasn't Ferris Bueller her Broadway beard?"
I mean, not to be crass, reductive, insensitive or anything else that may as well comprise the story tags for our archives, but the notion of SJP (incidentally the original acronym for Stone Temple Pilots when they first christened themselves Stone Jessica Pilots) seeking respite in a separate home because of her husband's philandering seems, at the very least, a bit backwards.
Then again, the Sex And The City starlet does kind of resemble a cross between Ruth Buzzi and post-Kabbalah-era Madonna, so I could kind of see why Matty boy would make a run for less pruneish pastures, regardless of their what they're packing between the thighs.
Nothing has curdled my stomach more in the last few days than grown-up screen brat Jason Hervey introducing the cast of VH1's Confessions Of A Teen Idol to a focus-group segment they were about to endure. Something about his little monologue reeked of the kind of self-satisfied, Napoleonic smugness that can only exude from one's paean pores after decades of portraying total douchebags both onscreen and behind the scenes of Hollywood.
Let's review: After peddling countless commercial goods in the early '80s with his bland precociousness, Hervey not coincidentally nailed the entitled man-child antics of a kid actor as Kevin Morton during the movie-within-a-movie climax of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Stunt casting, perhaps?
And then, of course, on The Wonder Years, Hervey was the human embodiment of the demonic older-brother caricature every terrified nerd carried with them throughout childhood. His contribution to the show seemed to be almost method in execution. But Hervey was no prodigious thespian. A la with Pee-Wee, it was evident that his authenticity as Wayne Arnold stemmed from a blurry line between reality and fiction. Art imitating douche.
Welcome to NCDSUV's splenetic, embittered new weekly feature, Overdressed & Underclassed, which with each installment will dissect a different aspect of celebrity fashion with the enthusiasm and exactitude of a taxidermist suffering from the second clinical phase of rabies (caution: We have reached the contagious stage).
Flicking on the television or going online no longer offers a brief moment of respite from your hectic day, so when I tuned into red carpet portion of the Golden Globes I was hoping for an indulgent, preferably 24-carat-gold gilded respite from reality. I wanted a scene of shameless, tacky, hedonistic, materialistic display along the lines of (for the men) diamond-and-ruby encrusted boleros and (for the ladies) hot-pink, satin 10-inch-high stiletto heels that clash with the red carpet and light up when they strut. Was I expecting too much? Of course not. This is Hollywood, where dreams come true. Here's the eight most delightfully gaudy debutantes and dudes from last night's ceremony.
8. Lisa Rinna Never one to insinuate if she can noisily promulgate, the TVGuide' network's red carpet host (and soon-to-be-second-time-Playboy model) treated us to more than her usual heaping handful o' cleave. This year, we got to three inches of pectoriloquy to ogle as she giggled inanely, fumbled over her script and beat the brows of whichever celeb had somehow happened to fall into her arthritic clutches. Lisa captures many of the qualities cherished by profligate lovers of all things skin-deep: a laser-like commitment to superficiality that involves the excessive use of botox, facial fillers and Pilates machines; a love of all things low-cut and high-cut, preferably at the same time; a copious sprinkling of shiny things on and about her person; and silver sequins.
7. Olivia Wilde Olivia infused the red carpet with every starry-eyed 7-year-old girl's vision of elegance. She floated along in a strapless, floor-length pale lilac-pink Reem Acra confection that looked like it had been produced in a quiet forest glen by Cinderella's tweeting avian pals, with nothing but pink cotton candy, organza and buttercream frosting with which to toil. A giant pair of diamond snowflake earrings, an innocently smiley countenance and gleaming, shiny hair completed the nostalgic glance down princess lane.
6. Jennifer Lopez If a designer's producing a dress cut down to the navel, bless her heart, Jenny From the Block's gotta have it. J. Lo, with her trademark deer-in-headlights idiot savant pop enthusiasm, slathered on the razzle dazzle our quickly graying country is thirsting for. From her belly baring, elegantly draped gold Greek goddess Marchesa dress (which brings to mind the more innocent days of 2000. when she wore the infamous ab-flashing Versace) to her tasteful but still ridunkulously massive diamond drop earrings, J. Lo is La La Land. Calgon, take me away!
5. Debra Messing Her hair, pulled back into what at first glance appeared to be a smooth and elegant ponytail, but then ZOWIE! explodes like a hirsute B52 into a bloodshot tumble weed, is notable enough. But Big Red, as always, kicks up it up a notch, in the form of diamond and emerald teardrop (if Cyclops shed tears, they'd be about this size) earrings that threaten to unbalance her equilibrium and turn her dramatic sweep down the carpet into a slip n' slide. And let's not forget the chartreuse eye shadow applied with a trowel onto her entire lid. Her dress was the mottled color of a particularly painful bruise with an interesting set of pelvis-accentuating ruffles, which is perhaps an exciting and innovative new way to catch the boys' eyes.
They say that after the Super Bowl, more people call in sick due to hangovers than any other day of the year. Well, clearly they're not nursing the pounding headache we incurred from three hours of Hollywood rubbing their hobnobby elitism in our faces and engaging in in-jokey speeches and self-congratulatory asides.
Ah yes, the Golden Globes. What an evening it was. There were so many moments worth acknowledging, some of them even marinated with poignant merit (Steven Spielberg's speech was actually pretty great) and others soaked in giant barrels of ugh (In Bruges seems great Colin Farrell, but dating Britney Spears and having a sex tape leaked sort of undermines the credibility of your speech about artistic integrity).
Anyway, before the remaining parasites throughout the blogosphere feed off the remaining drips of blood from last night's broadcast, here's the top five things NCDSUV learned from enduring the awards ceremony.
5. After Kate Winslet's heeeelarious, Hilary Swank/Chad Lowe-worthy failure to acknowledge fellow Best Actress nominee Anne Hathaway (who was shown pre-envelope-opening giddily praying her life would be validated with a win), NCDSUV breathed a sigh of relief as big as Hathaway's bug eyes, because it was evident we're not the only ones who realize she sucks.
4. Tracy Morgan is legitimately a bit nuts, but at least his lack of filter provided the only comedic speech that wasn't overly scripted or reliant on alienating elbow jabs to fellow celebrities.
Hey there, and how's your father? No, seriously, he wasn't doing so well the last time we made love and I'm genuinely curious if he's gotten over that horrible encounter with the Samoan princess.
Well, at least we've been able to competently take the temperature of Hollywoodland, and let me tell you, it is burning up. No pun intended in the case of still-rockin' and still-shirtless Travis Barker. And absolutely pun intended in terms of the rampant gonorrhea ravaging the Rock Of Love Bus.
But those were just a couple of the items exploding the zeitgeist since last weekend that have whetted our appetites for some good ol' pop-culture excess and voyeurism, and on that accord we triumphantly bring you the top five things NCDSUV learned this week:
5. Were we the only ones who read the news about Travis Barker getting back behind the drum kit, became momentarily inspired, then saw that he was still insistent on playing shirtless despite a burn-ravaged body and thought, "Man, he's still a skater douche, huh?"
4. Awww, Jennifer Love Hewitt and Patricia Arquette broke up with their boyyyyfweeeends. Someone call the waaaaaambulance. Now the remainder of Hollywood's single male population will have two more pairs of phenomenal, natural breasts to play comeptitive tourneys of backgammon over. Waaaaaa!
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
And while somebody peed all over yesterday's birthday candles in honor of R. Kelly, today we say "Damn boyfriend, you're almost 60?" to a glam-punk pioneer-cum-cabaret icon.
Films from the Cable Afterlife soldiers on for yet another week, highlighting special movies from special people. Laugh, cry, feel something, even if that feeling is embarrassment for having spent 90 minutes of your lives watching people get eaten by a tree. You heard right. Read on for the dirty details. (All listings in EST.)
8. The Guardian (1990) Cinemax (WMAX), Friday, January 9, 4pm; Monday January 12, 7:40am; Thursday, January 15, 2:45pm We're gonna bookend today's list with works from director William Friedkin, at his absolute lowest and his most recent heights. Might as well start from the bottom with this confusing, absurd horror tale about a nanny (Jenny Seagrove) who may just be some manner of wolf-like creature, as well as a druid. She's gonna sacrifice another baby, and hikers are going to get chewed up by a stump. One of the worst of the '90s, and it kicked off a string of forgettable, tawdry features from this one-time great. It would take years for him to get his groove back, but at least he turned it around on his own terms. Miguel Ferrer and Brad Hall co-star. Try not to kick a hole in your TV afterwards as you wonder how any network could bring itself to show this one three times in the space of a week.
7. Sisters (1973) IFC, Friday, January 9, 8pm; Saturday, January 10, 4:30am
Early, suspenseful Brian DePalma, back in his hungrier days. It's no Phantom Of The Paradise, but really, nothing is. Margot Kidder stars as a demure French girl with a horrible secret: Her formerly conjoined twin sister, hiding in the closet with a knife. Reporter Jennifer Salt is unlucky enough to witness the murder, and her investigation robs her of her personality. The scene in the mental institution where she squares off with a germophobe is positively unnerving, and overall this thing is far, far better than what the genre deserved.
6. Old Dracula (1974) Retroplex, Tuesday, January 13, 6:20pm David Niven takes a turn as the count, desperately trying to revive his wife Vampira after centuries in the coffin. The blood transfusion she receives turns her into a African-American. Dracula is bummed and she's out gettin' her thing on in the clubs of an avocado-green London. Can't make this up; couldn't even try. Clive Donner directs, from a particularly low point in his career. Look for Linda Hayden, the knockout Sabbath fan from Blood on Satan's Claw, presumably naked... again.
5. Terror On The 40th Floor (1974) Fox Movie Channel, Friday, January 16, 2am Legendary made-for-TV stinker, in the footsteps of The Towering Inferno. Office revelers John Forsyth, Don Meredith and Joseph Campanella are among the B-list talent stranded in a burning skyscraper at Christmas Eve. Will they survive? Will you?
Man. First she ditches The Cosby Show to get naked and covered in blood with future Wrestler Mickey Rourke for Angel Heart, then she marries banal, pseudo-hippie rocker douche Lenny Kravitz, and now Lisa Bonet and boyfriend Jason Momoa name their kid Nakoa-Wolf Manakauapo Namakaeha Momoa. But you know what they say: Momoa, Mo Problems.
Now, I mean not to poke thoughtless fun. There's spiritual intent behind the naming, and Lisa seems like a relatively substantive lady. But there's no way in hell this is getting exempt from the scrutiny we bestow upon any other celebrity baby christening, where the rule of thumb seems to be: There's a special energy that has blessed me with this universally appealing combination of talent and looks, and therefore that energy needs to be appropriately reflected and reinforced by making sure my kid's gonna get the shit beaten out of him every day until 12th grade.
Good thing all Momoa's residuals from Stargate: Atlantis should be able to cover at least part of Nakoa's medical bills.
Sometimes the jokes write themselves folks. And then require me to re-type them inside a Web admin program for public consumption. Anyhow, NCDSUV just wanted to give a big ol' congratulations to Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner for producing a healthy baby girl yesterday (because what other kind might such a stunning celeb couple unleash out of their love nest?).
In fact, we were so busy debating the particulars of Nicollette Sheridan and David Spade allegedly knockin' befuddling boots that we nearly neglected to commemorate this momentous event.
Unfortunately, Bennifer Part II have yet to formally name the sister to their other daughter, Violet, but let me take a wiiiiild guess here that they're going to christen her something complementary like Rose or Hazel. Because like they say, roses are red, violets are blue, and watch out Ms. Garner, because once your hubby's acting offers invariably stop rolling in, he's going to be financially relying on you.
Since the fine folks at TMZ have nothing better to do than spy on mismatched celebrities canoodling together, and since NCDSUV has everything better to do than play voyeur on their findings but opts for lethargy, we thought we'd put in our two cents about Nicollette Sheridan and David Spade. You see, apparently, the puzzling pair were spotted dining last night, after allegedly hooking up back in November, which of course came in the wake of Sheridan ditching adult-contempo super-stud Michael Bolton.
Now, do us a favor and read that again. Michael. Bolton. Being that mystified as to why she'd make the supposed step down from Mr. Sensitive to Mr. Sarcastic would be like feigning utter shock at Sheridan leaving a relationship with Kenny G for recent Awesome Celebrity Birthday honoree Kenny Loggins. Or in other words, it's a relatively lateral move.
Speaking of which, you seen this Desperate Housewife's lats lately? Daaaaamn! Someone's trying to make sure she comes out on the right side of the PR battle of her breakup.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
Not since two number one college sports teams were upset on the same evening has there been such a shockwave of unexpected coincidental downfall in our cultural waters. Yes, yes, both Jennifer Love Hewitt and Patricia Arquette publicly announced (because why do such things privately when there's absolutely no one knocking down your door suspecting controversy?) their separations from fiance Ross McCall and hubby Thomas Jane, respectively (you know, the guy who was supposed toi be a next big thing but then starred in The Punisher) in the last 24 hours.
No more details have surfaced per se, although I suppose all the heat from Love Hewitt's "I'm not fat I just have super-fine lady curves" scandal must have worn on poor McCall. Or maybe he got tired of her singing "Bare Naked" in the shower all the time.
As for Arquette and Jane (or as I like to call them Janequette), the real victim here of course is their 5-year-old daughter, Harlow, who we imagine will be placed in a special celeb-splitup orphanage home with the rest of the babies bred by famous people lacking foresight. We're pretty sure Kevin Federline is the headmaster there. Should be awesome.
Clint Eastwood seems like a nice enough dude, but as Sucks is the self-styled gatekeeper of cultural inadequacy, our remit compels us to lambaste turkeys like Gran Torino and Changeling for their melodramatic claptrapishness and mawkish unidimensionality. Films like this are the epitome of Hollywood's distrust in the viewing public. "Forcefeed the plebes tripe," and like a fecal Marie-Antoinette they scream, "Let them eat shit!" But yes, gatekeeper and turkey-master are needed to bust Eastwood's balls for being the vessel of Hollywood's hatred for the common person. Let the crushing begin.
Eastwood's slide from Ernest Hemingway toughguy bullshit to bathetic cornball isn't so steep, for in reality they're just facets of the same childlike image of America that the media loves to sloppily gangbang in front of us all like freak exhibitionists. He is the well-meaning breaker of bureaucratic-regulations, that Dirty Harry is; the guy that gets things done by going outside the rule of law like it were some inconvenient set of dictates more suited to cleaning up spilt jizz than keeping sociopaths from destroying our society.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
And while Friday's birthday candles went "Schwing!" for exotic Wayne's World hottie Tia Carrere, today we hesitantly say "Surprise!" to a slightly terrifying soccer thug-turned-unlikely Hollywood star.
Varied and conflicting reports surrounding the death of John Travolta's 16-year-old son, Jett, continue to circulate. Everyone seems to be secretly hoping that the actor's Scientology in some way affected his decisions regarding medication and proper care for Jett's Kawasaki disease, and the movie star's camp keeps refuting authorities' claims of the child being left unattended for a great length of time.
But whatever the case, we can all rest easy knowing that Tom Cruise put in a phone call to his friend/spiritual accomplice to offer condolences. Phew. Without that little sidebar I might have begun to wonder why I was otherwise going blind in an attempt to decode all the procedural mumbo jumbo around this story and have sought out harmless blog items on the Rock Of Love Bus premiere instead. That was a close one.
Back for 2009, here's some more Films From The Cable Afterlife, properly hung over for the New Year. It's a short week, so let's just get this over with and celebrate the end of a stinker, and hope for change as well as variety in our cultural diets. (All listings in EST.)
8. The Dead One (2007) TMC, Thursday, January 8, 4:30am It's not just your junk that's up for grabs when Wilmer Valderrama rolls up to your crew in this do-not-pass-DVD, go-directly-to-cable stinker. Fez puts on mariachi makeup by accident, then gets in an accident and sent to the Aztec god of death, to do HIS BIDDING. Oooooooooooh!
7. Skinwalkers (2007) TMC, Thursday, January 8, 6:10pm A product of a robust yet bloated market, Skinwalkers was yet another failure of a horror film, given theatrical release by Lionsgate. This one's about werewolves, and while the effects were decent, there's no buffing up the acting and the plot is nearly identical to that of Dane Cook's Employee Of The Month. Here' hoping the economic downturn keeps dog dirt like this out of production.
6. American Perfekt (1997) Showtime (SHO Beyond), Wednesday, January 7, 8:15pm A flip of a coin is all it takes for criminal psychiatrist Robert Forster to abandon all of his plans and go on a wild vacation with some psychotic women and a whole heap of trouble. Are Fairuza Balk, Amanda Plummer and Naked's David Thewlis interesting enough to get you to tune in? Flip a coin to find out!
5. Doomsday (2008) Cinemax, Monday, January 5, 10pm Last year, director Neil Marshall (The Descent) took a dump in the Thunderdome, and here it is, having baked in the sun for many months. Rhona Mitra leads a cast of Bob Hoskins and Malcolm McDowell in a post-apocalyptic run 'n' gun of Scotland.
Ah, the innocent days of 2008. When recession, war and high-profile celebrity deaths became the glue to bond us together like societal Siamese siblings. But now it's 2009, a whole new era, a whole new ballgame. And not just for Washington, who will call Barack Obama their overlord, or the New York Yankees, who will take the field with C.C. Sabathia and Mark Texeira and still manage to lose the pennant to smaller-budgeted organizations.
It is the final stand for celebrity land in a decade that has alternately enthralled and repulsed us. It is a time for Hollywood to make its mark on culture and the planet at large, and really give 'em the good stuff we all cream for in the tabloids.
And we got off to an intermittently intriguing start, thanks largely to the birth of what could have been the First Granddaughter-in-waiting, and a certain wayward actress' parent who may love his share of his daughter's spotlight more than the woman herself. So without any pregnant pauses, here's the top 5 things NCDSUV learned this week.
4. Paul McCartney may have had to navigate Heather Mills' body sexually despite her prosthetic leg, but at least he didn't have to stick around till midnight to ritualistically spray-tan the thing.
Whether
it's viewed as a rite of passage, a holy sacrament or simply a match
made in heaven, most individuals enter the institution of marriage with
the very best of intentions. But as any good attorney will tell you, at
least 50 percent of the time those same intentions pave the way to the all
too familiar hell of divorce. As usual, we can always turn to the
movies in order to shed a little light on the kinds of issues and
behavioral patterns some unlucky couples may have to face.
In Sam Mendes' current matrimonial nightmare, Revolutionary Road,
we get a glimpse of what life might have been like had Kate Winslet
made a little room for Leonardo DiCaprio on that piece of driftwood
instead of letting him sink like a stone. Joining a long list of
terrible twosomes who should never have gotten together, Hollywood's
latest testament to staying single brings to mind the eight distinct
archetypes that failed fictional couples normally fall into. If real
people heeded the examples of these fake folks more often, maybe the
odds of having a successful marriage would add up to more than a
crapshoot.
8. Mr. & Mrs. Suburban Nightmare: Lester and Carolyn, American Beauty
There's
something about the suburbs that frequently brings out the worst in
people. Maybe all that orderliness, uniformity and conformity gives
married folks too much time to gaze into their own dyspeptic navels and
eventually pick at each other's flaws and weaknesses like so many
scabs. When the weird kid next door with the thousand yard stare (who
happens to be fond of videotaping your underage daughter) is the most
normal person in your development, either it's time to talk or it's
time to move to the city. Pronto.
Honorable Mention To: Calvin and Beth, Ordinary People
7. Mr. & Mrs. "t's All His Fault: Jonathan and Bobbie, Carnal Knowledge
In
this day and age, couples counselors usually find a way to balance the
blame between both parties in order for them to share in the
responsibility of fixing their collective problems. But sometimes,
women just happen to shack up with the wrong guy. Naïve dim bulb Bobbie
(Ann-Margret) learns the hard way that Jack Nicholson's shallow,
self-centered, sex-obsessed Jonathan is anything but marriage material.
When she tearfully pleads that she wants him, he fires back, "I'm taken
by me!" Well, in spite of everything else, at least he's honest.
Honorable Mention To: Dan and Beth, Fatal Attraction
6. Mr. & Mrs. War of Words: George and Martha, Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?
Forget
what you've heard in the past, sticks and stones ain't got shit on the
caustic, lacerating words hurled by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton
in this venomous condemnation of loveless matrimony. Liquored up and
pissed off, these old pros wield the English language like a weapon and
tear into each other with a viciousness seldom seen outside of divorce
court. Like the young couple who watch their soul-crushing vituperation
from the sidelines, these sparring spouses really force us to ponder
just how long the "ever after" must be
after the happiness is completely gone.
Honorable Mention: Lloyd and Caroline, The Ref
5. Mr. & Mrs. Homicidal Tendencies: Steven and Emily, A Perfect Murder
Modern-day sage Chris Rock once said, "If
you haven't seriously thought about killing a motherfucker, you ain't
been in love." In this cold tale about a relationship on life support,
Michael Douglas' scheming executive plots to put Gwyneth Paltrow's adulterous
character out of her misery quicker than you can say, "Coldplay sucks!"
To actually premeditate your beloved's murder requires a level of
contemplation that few outside the movies are familiar with. In real
life, no matter how bad the relationship is, snuffing out your
significant other is not an option. Besides, whether or not you get
away with it, it will always come back to haunt you. Just ask O.J.
Honorable Mention: Tony and Margot, Dial M For Murder
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features, where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for their body of work.
On Wednesday, we beat on the brat with a baseball bat for a key member of The Warriors, and today we're ringing in the New Year by wishing a happy birthday to a polymath of the wild and woolly comic landscape, whose main claim to fame is a single Saturday Night Live character.
After absorbing the hype about Mickey Rourke's Herculean performance in Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler (supposedly a mixture of Godfather-period Brando, Rocky-era Sylvester Stallone and Jesus himself) and becoming intrigued by the campy-cum-heartbreaking premise of a has-been pro grappler trying to make good, I finally headed off to the big screen and witnessed Rourke's theater of pain.
And while reviews have brought expectations down to earth, citing the film (accurately) as an ultimately been-there-done-that re-telling of a tried-and-true fallen-warrior saga, nothing could have prepared me for the degree to which The Wrestler sucked. Not even the 35-page manual in my cupholder titled, Preparation Tactics For The Suckage Of The Wrestler.
As for the star of the main event, Rourke is the only aspect of the film that doesn't dwell in heavy-handedness. His performance is anything but showy, and doesn't need to be. Aronofsky lends the picture its poetics with his trademark style of uncomfortably gritty grotesquerie and tragic surrealism. But he and screenwriter Robert Siegel also turn The Wrestler into an exercise in manipulation that puts a stranglehold on your emotional and sensory thresholds. The outcome is predictable from the near get-go, but the filmmaking pair still mercilessly puts viewers through the formulaic paces of the movie's narrative arc.
We're first permitted a glimpse of hope during the mid-flick reconciliation with Robinson's daughter Stephanie (played with believably guarded gusto by Evan Rachel Wood) and near-consummation with stripper muse Cassidy (portrayed with a lack of naturalism distractingly antithetical to Rourke's immersion into Robinson's over-tanned-and-time-battered visage). And we're then subjected to our protagonist's rapid, perversely graceful descent into flatlined self-loathing and, eventually, a uniquely morbid kind of isolated martyrdom.
I'm not sure what's funnier. That Matt Dillon was really in such a hurry to get anywhere of significance, that it's such a slow news day that this item made the top of most entertainment headlines, or that one website tried to provide their post with extra weight by leading off with the line, "Vermont police arrested Oscar nominee Matt Dillon for speeding overnight."
You'd think they were trying to lend gravitas to the marketing campaign for an indie film. Anyway, looks like the brother of Entourage star Kevin Dillon (ouch!) went... Over The Edge, as he was caught going a tidy 106 mph. Although he wasn't drunk, and his mugshot actually makes him look better than usual.
Hopefully the pace of celebrity misdoings will pick up its pace in the upcoming 24 hours of partying, eh?
Welcome to NCDSUV's splenetic, embittered new weekly feature, Overdressed & Underclassed, which dissects different aspects of celebrity fashion with the enthusiasm and exactitude of a taxidermist suffering from the second clinical phase of rabies (caution: We have reached the contagious stage).
Fashion trends generally reflect the time in which they're created, ergo cash means flash, recession means regression. So what can we expect when a full-blown depression is being forecast? As I turn my jaundiced eye to 2009, I predict that the (hopefully) temporary stumble of Western Civilization will lead to a number of unsightly trendlets among the glitterati. My predictions for who will wear what, below.
8. Rumpled Luxe Most Likely Victims: Angelina Jolie, Madonna, Sean Penn Much like Kathy Fuld's rather feeble attempt to hide her weekly $10,000 shopping sprees at Hermes (you know Kathy, wife of the disgraced Lehman Brothers Goliath, Tricky Dick Fuld) in unmarked bags to protect the great unwashed masses from the awareness of her continuing spendthrift ways, there are going to be gaggles of stars known for their cultural and political "sensitivity" who will attempt to downplay their own profligate spending with the Rumpled Luxe look. Because a Prada dress that's ill-fitting, baggy, wrinkled and strapped together with a series of creased ribbons (and just happens to cost thousands) totally says, "I relate to unkempt homeless people and the struggling working class."
7. Statement Headpieces Most Likely Victims: Nicole Richie, Mischa Barton, Christian Siriano Broke but still want to look a la mode? That's where "statement" headpieces come in. And in keeping with the bipolar mood the wild fluctuations of the market have inspired in the general populace, the message this season's "statements" are sending are decidedly crazypants. Take Blumarine, for example. The unwieldy beige contraptions strapped to models' heads are tied in various fanciful designs. The giant upside down Christmas-bow that threatens to take out a model's eyeball, or at the very least, her line of vision, is my personal favorite. It perfectly evokes the topsy turvy/helter skelter spirit of our times and chooses to join in the chaos and embrace the screwball and the scary, instead of run in the other direction, screaming. Which will most likely be the common reaction if you attempt to replicate this look.
6. Sleepwear As Outerwear Most Likely Victims: Britney Spears, Matthew McConaughey, Courtney Love Luxe lads and ladies too depressed, unemployed, drunk and/or insolvent to change out of their jammies can rest assured that they'll still totally be in style. Dolce & Gabbana has conveniently devoted its 2009 line to various pajama-inspired ensembles that will take you from the deli... to the couch. The dresses resemble Hugh Hefner-style silk smoking jackets and trench coats, shorts, flowy pants and button-downs that scream "naptime!" abound -- casual lolligag belting options included. Perhaps the idea here is to allow the still gainfully employed to stand in solidarity with their jobless brethren by unabashedly approaching their oh-so-urgent PowerPoint presentations and TPS reports with the same vigor their cohorts approach their glazy-eyed afternoon slumps on the couch, clicker in one hand, giant vat of soda in the other, bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on lap strewn with trashy magazines. Let's get this economy started!
5. Bike Shorts Most Likely Victims: Lindsay Lohan, Rihanna, Nicky Hilton Leggings' tacky redneck cousins have arrived. Brace yourselves, because bike shorts are "in." Nothing says "we give up as a society" like oversized cotton T's paired with plain black leather belts that are neither thin, thick, tight or loosely slung and bike shorts... posing as haute couture. Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope that Americans en masse don't pick up this style. We've lived through enough with the redoubtable muffin top/hipster jean/peekaboo thong triangle of terror, and I'm not sure we could withstand the kind of shock and horror that would surely entail if mall rats, Soap Opera Digest subscribers and soccer moms all started sporting short, tight, shiny Lycra pants.
Always ones to make their own news by inciting celebrity tempers, or reporting on it when fellow paparazzi prod and needle the beautiful people, TMZ caught Jessica Alba's hubbie, Cash Warren, getting feisty with a cameraman the other night.
You see, the pap's car bumped into Warren's, so the emasculated spouse-of-someone-more-famous-than-him got out of his car to be all, "Hey dick, don't you see by the quality of my man-scarf that I mean serious business when it comes to fender benders?" But then when Warren tried to do the tried-and-true "muss up your equipment" girly-fight move, the photog scuffled back, and Warren wisely retreated to his SUV.
Granted, TMZ and their kin are a bit like a schoolyard bully who starts a fight just so he has something to tattle to the teacher about. But what is it with mega-hot female celebs (Alba, Christina Aguilera, et al) getting hitched to schlebby dudes with crappy beards? Or more to the point, if that's their pattern, than where's my high-profile sugar mamma?
Yes, friends, the cultural event of the season, nay century, is upon us, standing as a grand historical marker demarcating the end of our civilization's birth pains and ushering in of a glorious new utopia founded upon the principles of Dialectical Marleism. Yes, even in these early days of the 21st century, we can tell that all of history, like one of those wishing well thingees at the mall where the coins spiral inexorably to their philanthropic end, has been leading to this moment. The wars, the torture, the plagues, all so that HUMAN CULTURE could wanly ejaculate its wad in the form of a little film called Marley & Me, in order for it to warm our hearts just for a moment before we return to the mundane drudgery of existence.
That's all, folks! I'd be surprised if mass famine and holy wars fought in the name of Radical Marleism weren't incipient upon its final box office days and passing into the cinematic night. Sure, there's the DVD, but that'd be like owning a velvet portrait of Elvis Presley, rather than owning an oil one crafted by Thomas Kinkade, the illustrious Painter Of Light (TM, in all perpetuity, until the end days, under penalty of getting kicked in the dick).
And who is charting this dim course towards The New Dark Age? Why none but Owen Wilson, our Warrior King, our Chthonic Master, the Clown Prince Of Crime. No, wait, that last one's The Joker. Scratch it.
Being a working actor in Hollywood is constant moral dilemma, on par with Sophie's choice or Schindler's list or Wayne's world. You know you want to act in films and shows that are interesting, funny, weighty, real and so on, but the prospect of having to work a shitty job in order to feed your kids or pay your rent looms large. So you take the best of the worst to keep working.
Worse than mere hack work is the feeling that creeps into your skin when you think of the phenomenal jobs that preceded your current bit part on Numb3rs or Cold Case or Gum Scream or whatever. Like the hot girlfriend that you had to break up with because she was a crypto-fascist, yet still compare all subsequent partners to, that former film or show stands there like a ghost with a great rack and totalitarian ideals.
Thus, using HBO as our paradigm case, assessing the peaks and subsequent plateaus/valleys its original programming's roster of talent has endured, we offer unto you 10 wonderful, working actors whose pay-cable days are that nostalgic glint in their eye as they mumble through a guest spot on Without A Trace.
10. Harold Perrineau Starring HBO Turn: Augustus Hill on Oz Subsequent Shitty TV Role Of Note:Michael on Lost Why It's A Step Down:Lost itself isn't a terrible show, though it certainly has a large number of faults (paper thin characterization, meandering plots, gimmicky narrative devices, etc.). However, the fact that it must conform to network standards means it will never rise to the level of compelling, which Oz (forgiving some of its more ridiculous moments), usually was. This isn't a major step down, but it certainly is akin to having a sweet temp job and then making an ironic anti-Semitic joke and subsequently being fired, and then only being able to land a horrible data entry position.
9. Michael Imperioli Starring HBO Turn: Christopher on The Sopranos Subsequent Shitty TV Role Of Note: Ray on Life On Mars Why It's A Step Down: We can count the number of successful British remakes on one dick. Namely, The Office. And the only reason that survived is because it ingested the concept and made it its own, like a great voodoo priest eating the heart of his enemy to gain his powers. Assuming that has actually happened, and what was just written isn't culturally insensitive. Life On Mars is a sad simulacrum, and while Imperioli could have done much worse, going from David Chase to David Kelley is like using your company money to pay for that Greek shareholders retreat to needing the bailout money to pay for it. How humiliating.
8. Garry Shandling Starring HBO Turn: Larry on The Larry Sanders Show Subsequent Shitty Films Of Note:What Planet Are You From?, Over the Hedge Why It's A Step Down: As either Nietzsche or Professor X taught us, context is everything. So, let's put Shandling's slippery slope in perspective. Larry Sanders ended in 1998. Shandling's next film was the Dr. Doolittle re-make. The century's inaugural year gave us What Planet, and 2006 offered Hedge, one of Dreamworks' Pixar-not-quites. This is being selective, but given how groundbreaking Sanders was both as satire and character study, these other jobs feel like going from being a Las Vegas magician to giving out handjobs in a back alley in exchange for loose Starbursts.
7. Lance Reddick Starring HBO Turn: Colonel Daniels on The Wire Subsequent Shitty TV Roles Of Note: Agent Broyles on Fringe, Matthew on Lost Why It's A Step Down: As legions of obnoxious freaks will opine in your face whether you ask or not, The Wire is possibly one of the greatest shows to have ever been on TV. And just because the fuckers who scream this at you are ugly turds doesn't make them wrong. And what a complex it must manifest for the actors who starred in, created and re-created Bodymore, Murderland for five seasons, actors like Lance Reddick, who must now star in J.J. Abrams' latest sprawling mess, Fringe. Why, this is almost as bad as going from being the president of a world power to an indicted war criminal that only escapes prosecution with a series of timely pre-emptive pardons. Or something like that.
6. Garret Dillahunt Starring HBO Turns: Francis on Deadwood, Dr. Smith on John From Cincinnati Subsequent Shitty TV Role Of Note: Cromartie on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles Why It's A Step Down: A lot of people may not have enjoyed John From Cincinnati, but truly, with no hyperbole, it was poetically sublime. However, more people were barmy for Deadwood because (gasp!) they swore! Really? That's what made it great? Not David Milch's writing? Not the acting or the narrative structure? The fact that they said "cocksucker" a lot, that's why you love it? Regardless, going from those shows to a stiff-necked, drab crabclaw like that Terminator rehash is like being a poet laureate onee day and still being one the next but having your face chopped off in an errant knife-throwing incident that your insurance refuses to cover.
Here's the last Films From The Cable Afterlife of 2008. Looking back, there were some great movies shown that I hope I turned you onto, and hopefully some more that you found on your own. Overall, I gotta let it be known that cable as a medium for showing movies is starting to slip. Movie packages change hands and the more creative programmers out there fall to the wayside, buried in an avalanche of cheap-to-air space fillers, the kind of sub-direct-to-DVD garbage that's 10 times worse than the lousiest drive-in/grindhouse garbage it replaced.
Movies are also getting squeezed out of formerly great networks like Sundance and IFC in favor of original programming (thanks guys, I needed to be reminded to recycle) and the on-demand diaspora only pushes a tighter net of weak movies into a narrower frame. You'd think that the shrinking margins facing cable would cause these networks to step up, but the thrills that movie channels once provided are competing with all manner of media and piracy issues, and fighting a losing battle. Only Turner Classic Movies, and to a lesser extent Fox Movie Channel and IFC, are keeping it real, showing a tacit dedication to their implicit tasks at hand.
I challenge cable programmers to show a little more pride in their work come 2009, and that they rise to the expectations of their viewership, the lazy, unmotivated herd that deserves to have their realm shattered by unbelievable examples of cinema. This time we're going to look exclusively at IFC and Turner Classic Movies for an example of two networks who get it right. 8. Twentieth Century (1934) Turner Classic Movies, Thursday, January 1, 7:15am One of the rules of Cable Afterlife was "nothing before 1967, please" but you know what? WHO CARES. Howard Hawks' knock-down drag-out comedy deserves to be appreciated by a new generation. Fussy director John Barrymore and his even fussier protégé actress Carole Lombard, who he made a star for nothing in return, slug it out on a train ride. It's hilarious and bitchy and biting, and the best we can do today is crap like Bride Wars. Please, do yourself a favor and watch this.
7. Heaven's Gate (1981) Turner Classic Movies, Wednesday, December 31, 2am A few years back I found myself stranded in a condo with my family in Naples, Florida over Christmas vacation. It was raining, and I didn't have access to a rental car (not that there was anything to do anyway). In an ultimate act of masochism, I brought my GreenCine rentals with me, and decided to roll through the early oeuvre of Michael Cimino, from Magnum Force and Thunderbolt & Lightfoot to The Deer Hunter and this, the movie that bankrupted United Artists and sullied Cimino's career once and for all. TCM presents the long, restored version of this giant catastrophe, peppered with moments of unfettered brilliance and an extravagance that you don't see much in films anymore. It's hard to sympathize with anyone in this movie, the ultimate '70s downer and one so large it carried through to the '80s. Rich kid baron Kris Kristofferson shuns his Harvard graduating class and protects the interests of immigrants in this overblown retelling of the Johnson County War. Ugly, mean, bitter and melancholy, with great turns by Christopher Walken and Sam Waterston as the ultimate heel/coward. This year sucked anyway. Watch it run down the drain the right way.
6. Surf Movie Marathon Turner Classic Movies, Tuesday, December 30, 6:30am-8pm TCM is down to show surf movies without fail every few months, and it's always nice to get a massive dose of such irreverence thrown at you in such a manner as this; over 12 hours of beach action, slumber parties, Von Zipper chop-busting, very off-color race gags (an Asian guy named "Cholly"? Come on!), and killer musical appearances by garage and R&B bands of the '60s. Running top to bottom, we have the following:
• Pajama Party (some nonsense about an alien learning about girls, bound to be fun with Tommy Kirk and Annette Funicello on board) • Winter A Go-Go (teen turns abandoned ski lodge into music venue) • For Those Who Think Young (teens fight developers who threaten to shut down a beachside hangout; starring Paul Lynde, Nancy Sinatra, Bob Denver and Tina Louise) • It's A Bikini World (rad drag-racing beach/surf monster with Deborah Walley, Sid Haig, The Animals, The Gentrys and The Castaways) • Ride The Wild Surf (more surf-oriented than most, with Fabian and Shelley Fabares hitting the waves in Hawaii) • Don't Make Waves (Tony Curtis and the late Sharon Tate mix it up with The Byrds out by the shore) • Beach Party (the original; Frankie and Annette battle Von Zipper, with Dick Dale shredding on guitar) • Muscle Beach Party (the kids fight the bodybuilders, featuring music by Brian Wilson, Little Stevie Wonder, and Dick Dale, with extra insults by Don Rickles)
These movies are where pop culture exploded into music, and provided some of the fuel to fire up the '60s youth rebellion. Must-watch, even if you think you're beyond this type of cheese.
5. Never Die Alone (2004) IFC, Saturday, January 2, 12am Chilling, violent modern film noir, based on street-hustler-turned-Iceberg Slim-protégé Donald Goines' novel. DMX's finest role, and David Arquette is no slouch either. You probably missed this joint when it hit theaters, so catch up now and feel the burn.
Once upon a time, there was a land ruled by a King who liked to bang his intern in fucked up ways, like with cigars and shit. Despite his ridiculous sexcapades though, he left that Law Of The Land intact, and the only constitution that got tore up was the intern's carnal constitution. That didn't mean the King was a good dude, but it just meant he wasn't a unrepentant monster, who should be hanged for war crimes.
Now in this mythical land, there also lived a dwarf named Jeremy Piven whose sardonic schtick endeared him to all in shows like Cupid and Ellen, as well as cult classic films like PCU. Of course, by "cult classic," we mean, "movie that used to be run 300,000 times a second on Comedy Central." This of course, created the temporal nexus knows as the Piven Hole, a theoretical object that sucks Emmy awards into it regardless of whether they are deserved.
With Doubt's Philip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep chewing the fat and the scenery in their latest piece of Oscar bait, it seems that audiences never grow tired of stories featuring religious types falling from grace and getting down and dirty like the rest of us filthy mortals. Overzealous dogma, lapsed vows and broken covenants almost always make for intriguing material, especially when the characters involved are expected to be holier than thou. Throughout film history, these wolves in cleric's clothing have souls as dark as the uniforms they wear. Bless them Father for they have sinned... a lot.
7. Sister Bridget, The Magdalene Sisters Scores of free-spirited teenage girls were sent to do hard labor at the Magadalene Laundries simply for acting the way free-spirited teenage girls do (and without even the benefit of a follow-up appearance on Montel). With all the beatings, scoldings and general abuse being doled out by the Palpatine-esque Mother Superior and her minions, their convent/laundromat has more in common with your average women's prison than with any coin-op Fluff & Fold. If this monochromatic dictator ran the world, any woman dressed in less than a turtleneck would be burned at the stake.
6. Archbishop Gilday, The Godfather: Part III Although Sofia Coppola is still the most offensive presence in the Corleones' lackluster finale, the Archbishop's less than virtuous extracurricular activities (larceny, embezzlement, pope murder) make him a close second. The ecclesiastical egomaniac teaches the Don a thing or two about ruthlessness and shows that underneath his shiny silk vestments beats the heart of a cold-blooded gangster. Don't let the robes fool you. At the end of the day, it's just business.
5. Reverend Shaw Moore, Footloose A lot of people forget just how intense the pre-3rd Rock John Lithgow could be. Twenty-four years later, his intolerant rants against the "gospel of easy sexuality and relaxed morality" preached by that evil rock 'n' roll music and unholy books like Slaughterhouse-Five can still be heard in some form or another in much of what Sarah Palin calls the "real" America. A lot of small towns seem to share the fictional reverend's myopic point of view and would rather keep their little enclaves culture and Bacon-free. Oh well, maybe Zac Efron can change their minds in the remake.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features,
where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of
Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by
the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge
affinity for their body of work.
On Thursday, we wished happy 65th to a guy who spent much of youth 69-ing with young, tourniquet-equipped groupies, and today we gather together in an a cappella chorus of "I Need A Hero" for the star of both a cult '80s film and an equally culty '00s Showtime drama.
I can almost assure you the rumors suggesting Eddie Murphy will play The Riddler in the next Batman sequel will prove false. For one, his career has shown no indication of taking that kind of subversively resurrected upswing. Secondly, I can't fathom Christopher Nolan expecting his audience to see the sinister artist lurking beneath Murphy's long-standing facade of middling cash-in fare without there being at least a few finer works than Meet Dave and Norbit to buffer the intervening period.
And from a more general standpoint about the nature of conjecture, this is like paying attention to early fall reports about what baseball free agents will be relocating to which teams. Because of course, in reality, the end result of feverish business negotiations will prove drastically different than what some attention-grubbing source told some story-starved writers.
Should Murphy get the nod, however (especially over fellow rumored role-seekers Johnny Depp), the increasingly dark and minimalist franchise would suddenly appear to be flying in a suspiciously Batman And Robin-esque direction.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features, where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for their body of work.
On Wednesday, we wrung our hands nervously while wishing a happy 62nd (and many more!) to neurotic cult comic actor Eugene Levy. Today, we're just kinda standing here in slack-jawed awe at the continual survival of one of the best rhythm guitar players around and possessor of what must be the world's most pickled liver.
Steve Coogan is bothersome in the same way fellow Sucks honoree Demetri Martin is bothersome: There's something distasteful about his artistic choices, and when left to his own devices he produces shit like it was going out of style (thanks to government-imposed constipation). However, he has been part of a number of good, rather, great endeaovers and has generated enough goodwill that, well, that's the problem right there.
An artist can genuinely be engaging and act in well-wrought films but also produce shit-for-pay, but only if that person truly produces shit. Heaping, massive piles of dung. Great monuments of twaddle. Monoliths that stretch out to the heavens and rain claptrap upon our heads like manna from God's butt. But pass above that threshold to the point where your artistic choices are in question, well...
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features, where we acknowledge
another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if
it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the
blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for
their body of work.
Yesterday, we wished happy 47th to a man who showed his Lethal Weapon at a ripe young age, and today we cherish the 62nd year of an actor who helped define an era of comedy, and became an unfortunate archetype for the paycheck-cashing character actor.
OK, that was a mean and unnecessary headline. But the world is a cruel and unpredictable place, which is of course all the more reason to bring another child into its cradle of filth. Especially when you'll likely be dead by the time they're 40 and will spend much of their nascent years on faraway film sets.
So, yeah, Naomi Watts, at a ripe and delicious 40 years old, gave birth to her second kid with Liev Schreiber, this past weekend. It's their second together, but more importantly, the first that NCDSUV has belatedly reported on.
So cheers, and may your well-offspring have better fortune than to grow up resembling your ape-like co-star in King Kong. And yes, we're referring to Jack Black.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features, where we acknowledge another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for their body of work.
On Friday, we wished a Blossom-strewn happy birthday to brainiac/former sitcommer Mayim Bialik, and today we're marking a half-century of awesomeness and Vice for a man whose last name is synonymous with the word penis.
Oh Republicans: out of power, in the wilderness, adrift at sea, cast
away, lost. Where will you go? Who will you turn to? Our suggestion?
The cast of Lost. See, while the Democrats have managed to out-strategize,
out-fundraise and out-spend them, there's one area where Republicans
still hold an advantage, and that's turning bad actors into successful
politicians.
Even while the Dems
pull the celebrity endorsements, celebrity money and celebrity votes,
it's the Republicans who've proven that they can run a celebrity
candidate, and the worse the actor, the more successful the politician
he becomes.
Think about it. Clint Eastwood: talented actor, didn't make it past
Mayor Of Carmel. Ronald Reagan: co-starred with a chimp in Bedtime For Bonzo
and became President Of The United States. What's better is that,
unlike a winning on-the-ground organization or intellectual
infrastructure, the Democrats can't seem to co-opt this strategy. Even
Al Franken,
who not only starred in, but co-wrote, Stewart Saves His Family, is
barely squeaking by in the Minnesota Senate recount.
Whether it's the
good hair, straightforward diction, or child-like emotional simplicity, the fact is, Republican voters love to pull the lever
for really shitty performers. So while the mainstream media argues
over whether Sarah Palin or Bobby Jindal
are the next conservative standard bearers, we look back on the top bad-actors-turned-successful-Republican- politicians, and give you a sneak
peak at some current Hollywood stars the Grand Old Party should get
busy recruiting.
8. Alan Autry
You might remember Fresno Mayor Alan Autry as Captain Bubba Skinner
from the popular(ish) TV show In The Heat Of The Night, in which case
you might have too much time on your hands. Still, Autry shares a lot
in common with some of his more famous compatriots on this list; he's
beefy with weird hair and just a little bit of stupid around the eyes.
With In The Heat's cancellation, Autry was able to parlay his role as
a Southern cop learning racial tolerance in the new south to it's next
logical step: an outspoken opponent of gay rights in the State Of
California. Most Likely Hollywood Political Successor: Vin Diesel. He's got those stupid eyes.
7.George Lloyd Murphy George
Lloyd Murphy is the granddaddy of them all. When this 1930s B-movie
star won his California Senate seat he proved that the jump from
unremarkable actor to elected official wasn't quite as far as any
correct thinking individual would have hoped. In fact, Reagan once
called Murphy his John the Baptist, because Reagan thought he was
Jesus, even before he had Alzheimer's. Aside from paving the way for
Reagan and just about everyone else on this list, Murphy is famous for
having said in defense of the laws governing migrant workers that
Mexicans were genetically suited to farm labor;
because they were "built lower to the ground," which of course made it
"easier for them to stoop." Most Likely Hollywood Political Successor: Ronald Reagan. Duh.
6. Jesse "The Body" Ventura OK,
he's an Independent, and not technically a Republican, but he's an
Independent Libertarian which, if you ask Ron Paul, is the same thing.
Plus, he's got everything a Republican wrestler-turned actor-turned
politician could want, he likes to point his finger in people's chests
and yell, he's brawny, smokes cigars and was in the cast of The Predator(along with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sonny Landham
who unsuccessfully ran for Governor of Kentucky in 2002 and who isn't
on this list cause he was actually a worse politician than he was an
actor). He doesn't have good hair, but on the bright side, he also
wasn't a good actor, and when he shaves his head he looks kind of like
a penis, which makes him look virile, which voters love. Most Likely Hollywood Political Successor: I'm tempted to go with 2000 Republican Convention speaker The Rock,
cause you know they're both wrestlers and stuff, but I'm gonna go with
Jason Statham since he's also bald, has a propensity for poking people in the chest and an uncanny ability to
play the same character in every movie he's ever been in.
5. Shirley Temple Black
And now it's time for the ladies! Well, lady. But what a lady! She
lived the fairy tale. Child star grows up, marries a handsome man just
out of the army, divorces him, then goes on to marry an older plutocrat
and run unsuccessfully for Congress on a strongly pro-Vietnam platform.
She dared us all to dream. Still, despite the unsuccessful Congressional run, she had quite the political career as an official diplomat
under Richard Nixon, because although she didn't have the rugged good looks
and/or penis required to win an election as a Republican at the time,
she sure had crazy hair. Most Likely Hollywood Political Successor: The future Mrs. Dakota Fanning Murdoch.
As we gear up for the holidays, Hollywood has no intent on settling down its array of shenanigans. Particularly as it revs its self-promotional engine and rings in the start of awards season.
Yes, the big news this week (well, apart from that awful business surrounding Mark Ruffalo's brother, but let's not dwell on the morbid) involved Heath Ledger getting one last laugh after his tragic death, thanks to his work as The Joker in Dark Knight being recognized amidst the Golden Globe nominees.
But there was also the minor matter of Britney Spears' comeback, not to mention, Heather Chadwell getting the steel-toed stripper boot from Rock Of Love Charm School. So without further shenanigans of our own, here are the top five things we learned this week:
5. Apparently, there's a groundswell of second-generation punk fans just creaming their pants for the opportunity to revisit GG Allin's propensity for not wearing any.
4. Heather Chadwell, aka Heather from Charm School, may actually have less self-esteem than the people who read this site.
Lost your job, did you? Enjoy the few weeks left in your cable subscription before it gets shut off. Films from the Cable Afterlife is like a drink to help you forget, Dean Martin-style, yet another plunge into the moldy basement of movies on TV. Do you care that this column is pay cable-centric? Want to know more about the seedy underside of basic cable as well? Let us know by e-mailing nudecelebritydeathsuv@gmail.com or leaving comments below! In the meantime, here's some films you would do well to watch. (All times in EST.)
8. DOUBLE FEATURE ALERT: Beyond The Fog (1972) Turner Classic Movies, Saturday, December 13, 2:15am Horror House (1969) Turner Classic Movies, Saturday, December 13, 3:45am Busty British women (Jill Haworth appears in both features), blood and a vengeful female god wait for you on Snape Island, while "teenager" Frankie Avalon waits out a long, dark, stabby night with other "teenagers" in an old house. Here's prime UHF fantasy fodder, drilling sex and death into the heads of the burnouts who might have crammed into a fleabag theater on the Deuce to cop drugs, and to the sugar-addled kids who would catch on via Saturday afternoon Suspense Theater matinees on TV. And with a major network repealing standard primetime hours, let's hole to see more desperation programming like this to counter the real schlock: reality TV.
7. The Ruins (2008) Cinemax, Sunday, December 13, 10pm, assorted times during the week, and On Demand Unless you catch Holocaust/white people-learning-'bout-life weepie The Boy In The Striped Pajamas, you may not find a worse feature film this year than this adaptation of Scott B. Smith's gripping horror novel. Prose turns to feces, an ill-gotten gift festers under idiocy and poor direction for all to see. Witless Yankee co-eds on spring break in Mexico run off, wholly unprepared, for an endless hike into the jungle to visit some ancient ruins. While there, they're assaulted by the natives when they try to escape, and are entwined by blood-sucking, viral vines that pick them off one by one. Only the brave and dulled of spirit will be able to make it past the point where the vines start "talking."
6. Pact With The Devil (aka Dorian) (2001) TMC Xtra, Tuesday, December 16, 2:05am Hey, howzabout a straight-to-video, "modern" update of The Picture Of Dorian Gray? No? Too bad. Malcolm McDowell chews on the set as the demon that keeps the painting in play. Not for the weak or listless.
5. Areola 51 (2008) Showtime (Showcase), Tuesday, December 16, 2:15am Normally I don't revert to Skinemax as a valid choice. Nor have I watched this heartwarming tale of a woman abducted and serviced by "fem-aliens" (though you might). I just wanted to address the fact that there's a movie called Areola 51. Proceed with your life.
Yes, yes, it's that time of year again: The inconsequential nominations for the inconsequential awards show that precedes the increasingly irrelevant "real" awards show of the late winter. Or in other words, the nominations for the 2009 Golden Globes, which indiscriminately toss statues at a hodgepodge of entertainment mediums and allow people like Ben Stiller to sit with fingers viably crossed that they will be among the honorees.
If anything, the Globes serve to narrow down the widened field of conjecture to a slightly narrower, but no less subjective, crop of Oscar probables. And if you want to see the whole convoluted collection of attention-whores, go here. But if you're like Mary-Kate Olsen and just want the skinny, here it is: Heath Ledger was acknowledged in the Best Supporting Actor category, while The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, Doubt, Danny Boyle, Ron Howard,Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman comprise and epitomize the big names in luminary categories.
But what's really, well, curious, is the assortment of nutbars in Best Actor, Drama. Come 2008, I wouldn't exactly expect to find a guy who had sex with Lisa Bonet while covered in blood (Mickey Rourke), Spicoli (Sean Penn), the new kid from Growing Pains (Leonardo Dicaprio), the protagonist from teen-slasher flick Cutting Class and Skeletor from the He-Man movie (Frank Langella) all lopped together.
If that's not evidence of what a loopy plot of land Hollywood is, then I sure as heckfire (or even Doubtfire) don't know what is.
Just to update information that we, along with every other outlet in the world, were led to erroneously report, Mark Ruffalo's 39-year-old brother, Scott, was not shot in the head by 26-year-old Shaha Adham. Forensic evidence uncovered that the wound was self-inflicted, and reports now indicate Scott's passing was a likely result of wreckless gun behavior.
While I jokingly alluded to Plaxico Burress' recent firearm incident in yesterday's post, the news that Scott's death may have resulted from some variation on Russian Roulette-style risk-taking actually ties the two cryptically closer together. And reinforces that perhaps the Second Amendment could use a bit more revising 200 hundred-plus years into its indoctrination. But, ya know, just sayin...
We're sorry. We've been a bad pop-culture blog. It's been a good couple of months since we've annotated some of the month's finest missteps in cable-guide copywriting. But now that the fall TV season is over, and shows like Pushing Daisies will indeed be doing just that, we figured the time was right to compile the autumnal period's five finest, most fabulously botched Info-Bar blunders and misleading film descriptions. And boy, would this five-set make for one confusing week of primetime network programming.
5.Poetic Justice The Actual Story: Tupac Shakur and one of his pals take Janet Jackson and one of her girlfriends up California in his mail truck, and Pac and Janet get over their sitcom-y differences and find sweet, sweet, nasty love. Janet-style love, if you're nasty that is. Cable-Info Bar Synopsis: "Mail truck takes mismatched couple from L.A. to Oakland." What Their Description Would Have You Believe: That Justice is a Herbie The Love Bug-esque tween-oriented adaptation of a little seen kids cartoon in which a personified mail truck serves as both chauffeur and liaison of romance for its inhabitants. And then watches them fuck.
4. The Gauntlet The Actual Story: Playing perfectly along with type (according to a stock character he helped reshape the mold for), Eastwood is a down-and-out cop who rediscovers his law-abiding, badguy-bashing gusto after being assigned to protect a hooker from the mafia en route to her testimony in an important trial. Cable-Info Bar Synopsis: "Odds are against detective and prostitute." What Their Description Would Have You Believe: While they've made a formidable tag team in the past, Las Vegas bet makers are skeptical the previously undefeated pairing of Shockley and Mally can continue their title reign against the up-and-coming combination of Hawk and Animal, aka The Road Warriors (aka The Legion Of Doom).
Jay Leno, you bastard. We could sense your seething contempt for quality scripted entertainment by watching your show all these years, and by constantly revisiting Collision Course on cable. Not to mention doubling over with laughter from your soon-to-be-replacement, Conan O'Brien, and his endless parade of avant-garde skits and asides.
But alas, now your beloved peacock network has announced that your 2009 exit from The Tonight Show seat will serve as a soft transition into prime time, and more specifically a 10 p.m. talk show. Not a variety show. Not a sketch show that you gracefully host as a platform for talented young creative performers. Another dull, witless chatfest that will clog up the pores of NBC's latter-night, once-perennially fictionalized programming schedule.
We understand it's not your fault that primetime dramas' day has come and gone, and that NBC at least is trying to approach the situation with some integrity rather than hand another 60 minutes over to some faux-reality program about dogs competing with aliens and MILFs for 100,000 and a year subscription to National Geographic. But I shall curse you when I turn on my Sony picture screen on Thursday nights and see you (literally) jawing with some neandrethal sitcom sap rather than the bleeding, beautiful hands of Maura Tierney.
It wasn't incredibly well-publicized (after all, we were all very busy contributing to the calculated Britney Spears comeback), but in very sad news, Mark Ruffalo's 39-year-old brother Scott, who was a hairstylist, died from a gunshot wound to the head he sustained on December 1.
A chief suspect has been taken into custody in attempted murder charges for the shooting, and Mark, not surprisingly, has made no public comment.
You can't help but feel like you know a guy (or at least have some indication of his character by the roles he chooses and how he inhabits them) a bit better than if you just passed him on the street after you've seen him in intimate human dramas like You Can Count On Me and We Don't Live Here Anymore. (The latter of which I happened to watch and become incredibly moved by in the past few days.)
Good to see gun control's not out of hand or anything in this country. At least Plaxico Burress had the decency to only cause peril to himself.
In a dream I once had, I asked Craig Kilborn why he was so smug. "Kid," he began with an arrogant smirk and a cocksure glint in his eye, "When you've got a dick as big as I do, and balls the size of colossal limes, you can be as smug as fucking Ra, the Egyptian sungod, and nobody can say nuthin' contrariwise. Now stop askin' impertinent questions, and get me another mojito stat."
"But Mom," I replied frantically, "Why do you have a dick?" Then I woke up. My analyst said this all had something to do with my castration fear fighting it out with my penis envy for control of my psychic terrain, but I think it's mostly because my parents beat me when I was a kid.
However, this was my introduction to Craig, as a constituent of the subliminal dreamscape, 10 years before he was ever some shitty, sexist egomaniac on SportsCenter, 14 years before he was ever some shitty, sexist egomaniac on The Daily Show, and 16 years before he was ever some shitty, sexist egomaniac on The Late Show. There's a pattern here, though I can't place my finger on it. What is the same in all these instances? Hmmmmmm. There's something. Some... thing. Oh, right. He's an asshole regardless of the context. Like Newton's Absolute Space, except here, replace "space" with "dickhead."
In
spite of a robust Black Friday and a new president-elect in town, we
are in a recession. The media is afraid to officially declare it, but
as they say, if it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, then
it's probably a mallard looking for work.
If the gloomy financial
climate's got you down, forget what Jim Cramer, the Money Honey,or
anyone else on CNBC has to say. Everything you need to know about
making your way through this dry spell can be cribbed from the world of
film. At the very least, these 13 economically sound pictures will keep
your spirits in the black even if your assets are in the red.
13.Zack And Miri Make A Porno
Do what cums naturally and get paid for it.
Judging
by the population size of most third world countries, it's apparent
that there is one thing in life you can still do for free. So why not
document it and make some money while you're at it? It might cost you
your self-respect and your dignity, but you could always buy those back
later.
12.Tommy Boy
Going through life fat, drunk and stupid is a viable option... most of the time.
There
is nothing like a road trip to get your slacker ass in gear. If you
happen to be on a last chance, Hail Mary mission to save your late
father's company make sure that you take a little hope, a bit of
salesmanship and an inhumanly high threshold of pain with you. And
while you're at it, bring along a pessimistic, sarcastic sidekick to
keep you grounded and to sing back-up. Stir these elements together, and
"voila!" your recipe for success is complete.
11. The Money Pit
Avoid fixer-uppers at all costs.
The
housing crisis has everyone scared for a lot of different reasons, but
until you're electrocuted by your own doorbell or the bathtub falls
through the ceiling, you don't really have anything to fear. On top of
that, you do not have Shelley Long bitching continuously in your ear,
so quit whining.
10. Mr. Mom
Leave the house, homemaking is not for pussies.
Think
it's a jungle out there? Feel that stay-at-home moms have it easy? Do
screaming children, predatory neighbors and killer appliances sound
like fun? Didn't think so. Whenever your boss or the assholes at the
office give you a hard time, remember that it ain't all bonbons and
soap operas at home either.
9. Down And Out In Beverly Hills
Get adopted by a rich family.
Wealthy
kooks are a dime a dozen in the 90210 zip code, and when they aren't out
making petty wagers on peoples' lives, they're busy giving handouts to
bums and layabouts. If you ever find yourself without a pot to piss in
or a window to throw it out of, just track down a tony household with a
dog (like Tarzan, the homeless have an uncanny ability to bond with
animals) and become a guilty liberal's mascot for a while. It's a dirty
job, but it beats turning tricks for loose pocket change any day.
8. The Pursuit of Happyness
"If you want something, go get it. Period."
Who
is more qualified to make that statement than Will Smith, a man from
the suburbs who struggled valiantly from birth to the ripe old age of
twenty before he finally became an international superstar in the face
of practically insurmountable odds? Keep the Fresh Prince's words of
wisdom in mind the next time you're forced to crash in the men's room
for the night.
It's all wrapped up in the mumbo jumbo of parole possibilities and concurrent/consecutive sentences, but O.J. Simpson has been sentenced to at least 15 years with a few other open sentences and consecutive minors for armed robbery and kidnapping convictions in the double digits.
Judge Jackie Glass was harsh with Simpson before the sentencing, expressing frustration over Simpson's lack of remorse, while assuring he and co-defendant Clarence Stewart that neither of their prison terms would be guided by retribution for previous incidents.
That being said, Ronald Goldman's parents were in the courtroom. And as O.J. nearly broke down in tears and gave a piece of testimony prior to his attorney's closing comments, and rotated his eyes for cameras that captured the demise of his existence as he knows it during Glass' sentencing, I couldn't help but think (and no doubt was not alone): Fuck you, you questionably acquitted, probable murderer asshole, and have fun rotting in your shitty cell.
Films From The Cable Afterlife empties out the traps of uncut cable movies, and sorts out all the irregular or otherwise remarkable movies that got left behind by the crush of time and popular favor, that defined the medium of modern television and fed into its cultural whims with both flash and zen. Write your thesis on any of these chestnuts. (All listings in EST.) 8. CQ (2001) IFC, Friday, December 12, 12:30am How do you make the European swinging '60s unbearable? Ask Roman Coppola about this abomination, his first (and last) feature film, starring a wimpy Jeremy Davies stranding his long-time girlfriend for an Italian actress once he gets asked to drop the douchebag at film school and come to the studio to do it for real. So pointless, it's like a void; other movies become terrible in its proximity.
7. Stealth Fighter (1999) Cinemax (OuterMAX), Saturday, December 6, 11:05am; Cinemax (More MAX), Thursday, December 11, 12:05pm Director Jim Wynorski is a late-era Roger Corman protege, having polished up turds like Chopping Mall and The Return Of Swamp Thing since the mid '80s (and sitting in the chair for Skinemax crud like The Witches Of Breastwick and The DaVinci Coed). He's a huge fan of stock footage, and crams it into just about all of his movies, regardless of how well it matches with the rest of the film. Stealth Fighter features Ice-T pulling a Broken Arrow and stealing military aircraft. Costas Mandylor, Erika Eleniak, Ernie Hudson and Tom "Tiny" Lister co-star. A career ender, except for Ice-T, whose revenue streams in the jiggling buttocks of his wife, CoCo, are so strong that they may pull us out of this recession.
6. We Jam Econo: The Story Of The Minutemen (2005) Sundance Channel, Thursday, December 11, 6:35am For the first half of the '80s, San Pedro's Minutemen traveled the U.S., dodging loogies and bumming out the punks waiting to see Black Flag with tense, jazzy punk rock rooted in the struggles of the working class. Tough guys hate this band and rock the Red Hot Chili Peppers instead, but as for the rest of us, their story is a bittersweet chronicle of life on the outside, and dreams dashed away (singer/guitarist D. Boon died in an auto accident at the end of 1985, promptly ending the group). Plenty of famous folks are on hand to reminisce about the greatness of this band, and if you don't know, now ya know.
5. Harry And Son Showtime (SHO Family Zone), Sunday, December 7, 9:30pm I'll just point you to Cintra Wilson's masterful take on the career of teen actor Robby Benson and let recent Hilarious Cable Info-Bar entrantHarry And Son do the head-scratching for you. "About as sexy as a pair of white socks" indeed, but all the same, a fascinating and bizarre cultural phenom from the days of Styrofoam McDonald's containers.
Welcome to one of NCDSUV's favorite daily features, where we acknowledge
another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if
it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the
blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for
their body of work.
Yesterday, we made it through hump day with a lil' slice of Da Baddest Bitch, aka Miami MC Trina. Today, we're
whipping up a complicated layer cake for a money-grubbin' Hollywood
polymath.
Stilted Stiller: fulminating goofball and Baron of Mediocrity. To have sprung from the genetic froth of actual talent, namely Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller (yes, even King Of Queens had some amiable charm), should prove something to the legions of sociobiologists that flap their wings and words with so much airless poppycock. The E.O. Wilsonites, their fetid, craggy fingers scratching out tomes that turn our lives into chromosomal horse trades, upon encountering Stiller learn once and for all that the social is not the stuff of spunk.
But neither is it merely fun and games and structures and handshakes. For if our lives were passed down purely from our forerunners, then surely Stiller would have picked up a pointer or two. But one, one would have been a start at least. Perhaps timing or joke-craft would have been a practical primordial soup for a so-called humorist to erupt out of, instead of an Earthen fissure of ineptitude. Thus, it is no surprise that Stiller's greatest gains have been during the President Bush era, where incompetence is de rigueur and Inspector Clouseau-esque murder our semi-official foreign policy.
Back
in the halcyon days of yore, everyone from urbane, high-brow fashion
designers to rural, overall-wearin' Midwestern farmers sought out their
own personal fashion avatars from a stunning gallery of lady
aristocrats like Caroline Astor, Babe Paley, the Vanderbilts and CZ
Guest. While many were born into the gougères-munching, Don Pérignon-swilling,
twinkle-toed fancy ways of Park Avenue, they were well-educated,
upstanding dames who used their influence to build museums, launch
charities and generally reach out to (however condescendingly) the
grubby other half.
That's in violent contrast to the fashion avatars of our current
regressive, knuckle-dragging era: Celebuspawn of the Female Variety.
And it's not just oblivious Ohio State frosh. Impossibly sophisticated
designers also take inspirational cues from these teeny terrors, not to
mention pack their runways with 'em. The current crop of celebuspawn,
unlike the socialites who preceded them, do little, if nothing to
further the cause of anything but themselves. Which wouldn't be tragic,
if they didn't insist on shoving their various and sundry "fashion"
lines down our greedy little gullets. Or in some cases, being forced down our throats as walking fashion projects in and of themselves. Here, we take a look at their
most bloodcurdling ventures, and nepotism-fueled existences as trend-inspiring icons:
8. Angela and Vanessa Simmons
Phat
Farmer Russell Simmons has used the tacktastic Run's
House to excrete his two eldest daughters (with Baby Phater
Kimora Lee Simmons) into the lucrative MTV reality swamp, launcher of
countless fameballs and unnecessary, aesthetically offensive "fashion"
lines. Angela and Vanessa, who also model, enter beauty pageants and
appear in music videos, decided to rip a page out of Lauren Conrad's
fuzzy pink playbook and foist their hideous taste on the world with
what must be one of the most preposterous premises since grillz. Their
"fashion" line (once just sneakers, now clothing, shoes and, egad,
handbags) is inspired by edible dainties. The resulting line, Pastry,
is as appealing as a dust-ball-encrusted Dunkin' Donuts éclair wedged
under your Aunt Ida's bed between her heating pad and economy-size tube
of Bengay. Unless of course lipstick-kiss patterns, gold zippers, jeans
with butt-bows or plum boat shoes with turquoise shoe laces are your
thing, in which case you should totally check out www.pastrykicks.com for other classy looks, like the Pastry Blueberry Glam Chukka and the Pastry Neon Fruit Cinch Sack. Delish!
7. Frances Bean Cobain
Chanel.
The name evokes scents of jasmine, rose and sandalwood; visions of
ballerina slippers, LBDs and gorgeously wrought (if ridiculously
stuffy) suits and quilted chain-link handbags and a history of
glamazing (if vaguely anal-retentive) spokesmodels like Catherine
Denueve, Nicole Kidman and Audrey Tautou. Now add moon-faced,
jutty-jawed 15-year-old Frances Bean Cobain to the list. (One of these
things is not like the others.) While she certainly has creamy
porcelain skin going for her, she otherwise looks like your average pouty,
self-conscious mall chick. If she weren't Kurt Cobain and Courtney
Love's possibly (hopefully?) evil seedling, and therefore the source of
increasing fascination as she reaches her teen years, Karl Otto
Lagerfeld would be screaming "Nein!" and flailing ineffectually about
in his skintight Dior suit and aviator sunglasses, slapping assistants
with his fingerless black biker gloves outfitted with pinkie rings at
the very prospect of including such a well, commoner, in his next ad
campaign. Instead, he's probably chortling victoriously over the free
publicity it's already received. Because, really, who isn't curious
about everything the genetic hot mess that is Frances Bean Cobain
produces as she exits adolescence?
6. Rumer Willis
It
must kind of suck ass to be Rumer. From a purely demographic
standpoint, she should be dating her stepfather. But Ashton's boinking
Mom because she's hotter, sassier, sexier and is overflowing with that
je ne se qua poor little Jaws will never taste. Luckily for her,
nepotism in Hollywood is alive and well. Were she the spawn of say
Betty-Sue and Fred of Omaha, her beady-eyed potatohead would be
considered a fatal career-sinking liability, but as Demi Moore and Bruce
Willis' scion, she's being aggressively marketed as a, gulp, hottie.
She's been in gaggles of Demi's movies and magazine spreads, and lately
she's been branching out on her own, though not very auspiciously.
She's been cast as a lovable loser in The House
Bunny and modeled for Wal-Mart fave Ocean Pacific. But
someone's got a pal at People. In an inexplicable
development, she was voted one of 2008's 100 Most Beautiful People.
5. Nicole Richie
Nicole
has turned doing nothing, and not being particularly pleasant,
attractive or coherent while doing these nothings, and getting paid
for it into an art form. The best part about the Nicole story is how
incredibly embarrassing and cheesy her father Lionel Richie's music is.
I mean, seriously: "All Night Long"? Ew! But Nicole
has managed to harness all of his Grammy-Award-winning heft
for her purposes, while successfully jettisoning any and all lame
associations. From starring in The Simple Life with
Paris Hilton, to various drinking and drug-related arrests, to serving
an 82-minute jail sentence, to marrying Joel Madden and popping out her
own celubuspawn, to launching a line of accessories
and jewelry, Nicole has captivated, infuriated, repulsed, worried and
thrilled an hopelessly enthralled public. While her actual achievements
are still as thin as her wasp waist, at least she's the only lady on this list
with the soul of an entertainer.
A few weeks ago, NCDSUV began broadcasting a new feature known as Just Because, highlighting something inane, obscurely amazing or just plain jaw-dropping from the outlines of pop culture and viral content.
These differ from, say, insanely retarded local ads, or eccentric YouTube karaoke performers, which can be grouped into their own self-referencing regular spotlights. Nor do they need to be burdened by standards of timeliness or having been as-yet-unearthed.
They are the standalone wonders of the cybersphere that made us all get a computer in the first place, and occasionally need to be inserted into a day of normal online programming. Just because.
So while last week we shared the unspeakable pleasure of a unitard-sporting, sort-of breakdancing Jean Claude Van Damme circa a quarter-century ago, today we bring you five minutes of bratty animated bliss that's both preciously innocent in retrospect and graphically ahead of its time.
From Black Friday to the Thursday following, Films From The Cable Afterlife fleeces you for your time and effort as you sit on your couch, absorbing the lost stocking stuffers from video's filthy past, and all of the discomfort that comes with it. Roll up your sleeves, because this brain drain time suck isn't going to unclog itself.
8. Channel Of The Apes Fox Movie Channel, Thursday, November 27 thru Sunday, November 30 Good god. It's every Planet Of The Apes movie, along with all of the serialized episodes of the TV show. All they're missing is the animated series. Seriously though, this is a perfectly valid way to spend 96 hours, especially as you get to the less successful iterations of this sci-fi chestnut. If you can make it through Life, Liberty And Pursuit On The Planet Of The Apes, you have what it takes... to do what, I have no idea
.
7. Under Pressure (1997) HBO Signature, Monday, December 1, 1am; HBO2, Wednesday, December 3, 4:40am Look for the name Craig R. Baxley, a '70s stuntman-turned-director of action schlock, for a promise of wild times within. Miles away from leading Carl Weathers through Action Jackson and "The Boz" through Stone Cold, we have this fetid little steamer, with rogue fireman Charlie Sheen snapping in a Los Angeles heat wave and taking his next-door neighbors hostage. Also starring Mare Winningham and Cheers' John Ratzenberger, last seen horrifyingly animated in a commercial for Pitney-Bowes self-postage machines.
6. Hammer House Mystery: Mark Of The Devil (1984) Fox Movie Channel, Monday, December 1, 4:30pm Handsome actor Dirk Benedict (Faceman!) is slowly covered in demonic tattoos that foretell heinous murders and crimes. Did he commit 'em? Who cares! It's a rare chance to see such talent dying on the vine; made-for-TV shocks from the UK's greatest horror studio.
5. Tim (1979) FLIX, Monday, December 1, 2:30pm Mel Gibson, right after Mad Max, goes for the Dewey Award as a learning-disabled gardener who begins a tender (or is it?) relationship with a female client (Piper Laurie). Wait for the scenes where he's wigging out. The Other Sister's got nothing on this one.
Like the soup you found a bug in, or the hot girl you took home who
ended up having a vestigial tail, sometimes Hollywood serves up a
movie that's enjoyable in every way except for that one little thing. You
know, that one performance that, while everyone else was working with
Martin Scorsese, feels like it was directed by Ed Wood.
For some viewers, a
performance like this might even be a deal breaker. But for those of
us inclined to eat around the fly, ignore that pesky tail by sticking
to the missionary position, and overlook some bad acting, they've just served to offer a glimpse of how great these movies
might have been.. if only these actors hadn't been in them.
7. Jack Black, King Kong
Who better to play the hammy showman
whose hubris sets the disastrous events into motion than hammy showman Jack Black? How
about anyone other than Jack Black? First act, when he's just being an
asshole and lying to everyone: fine. Second act, when he starts to
require a tiny bit of emotional depth: eh. Final act, when he redeems
himself and recognizes the tragedy he has wrought: not good.
Fortunately, Black's screen time decreases proportionately with his ability to sell
the role, so by the end you barely remember he was in it.
Which he was. Unfortunately.
6. Katie Holmes, Batman Begins Christopher
Nolan's vision for a new Batman franchise brought the character to the screen in a way we'd never seen: dark, gritty,
violent, complex and dating that annoying girl from Pieces Of April.
It's not just that her acting doesn't stand up to Christian Bale's (a
lot of people's acting doesn't really stand up to Christian Bale's). The
problem is more that Cillian Murphy is torturing mental patients while Katie appears to be trying to decide between Bruce Wayne, Dawson and Pacey.
5. John Travolta, Hairspray There's
something inherently weird about making a movie based on a musical that
was based on a movie that had musical numbers in it to begin with. But the music, along with the near-overwhelming level of camp, actually made
this pretty fun to watch stoned with your gay college
friend. The only think I couldn't figure out is why the main
character's mom is an annoying CGI toad. Oh, that's actually John Travolta in a fat suit and drag? Bummer.
The
holiday season is officially upon us. The food, the festivities, the
relatives. Feeling nauseous yet? Does spending quality time with the
fam fill you with unspeakable levels of fear and loathing? Do you break
out in sweaty hives at the very idea of all that forced togetherness
and pre-fab merrymaking? If that's the case, take heart, because it
could always be worse. No matter what your situation is, these 13
belligerent broods will make yours look positively Rockwellian by
comparison. You will be grateful that you're drowning in your own gene
pool and not theirs.
13. Parents
What
if instead of serving Tom Turkey for Thanksgiving, your
mother decided to dish up Tom, your next door neighbor? Living a
vegan's worst nightmare, a little boy realizes very quickly that
sometimes it's best to keep the origins of "mystery meat" mysterious.
So the next time you're bitching about that umpteenth turkey sandwich,
just be glad that the protein you're consuming never had arms or a
credit card. Guess Chevy Chase and the Griswolds were lucky Randy Quaid ran out of
meat that time he had them over for dinner.
12. Friday The 13th
Let's
look at this from the Voorhees' perspective, shall we? If some snotty,
half-witted counselors let your sorry, deformed ass drown at summer
camp, wouldn't you want your mom to dedicate the rest of her life to
avenging your death? It's the least she could do. June Cleaver, Claire
Huxtable, Maggie Seaver and all those other so-called, "good" mothers
aren't worthy of shining Mrs. Voorhees' bloody shoes. So kudos to you,
Jason's mom. A family that slays together stays together.
11. Sleepwalkers
It's
one thing to have a close relationship with your maternal unit, but
it's an entirely different ball of wax once you start sleeping with
her. In Stephen King's tale of felonious feline incest, shape-shifting
Brian Krause spurns Twin Peaks hottie Madchen Amick for his own mother. Who ever said cats aren't affectionate creatures?
10. What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?
The
only situation more unfortunate than being the black sheep of the
family is being at the ebony ewe's mercy. As in most cases of violent
sibling rivalry, the envious former child star blames her older sister
for her life's problems. Considering how the majority of juvenile
actors turn out, Baby Jane doesn't actually seem all that maladjusted.
9. Serial Mom
What
would be the final straw that would convince you that your mommy was
crazy? Her obsessive enforcement of the "no white after Labor Day"
rule? The fact that she speaks in a rumbling baritone that gives James
Earl Jones a run for his money? Or would it be her habit of killing
people for no good reason? Kathleen Turner addresses all these
questions and more during her John Waters-inspired spree.
8. The Stepfather
In spite of what The Brady Bunch
would have us believe, most stepfamilies go through an awkward
adjustment phase at first. Of course, that initial period of discomfort
may last a little longer if your new daddy happens to be a homicidal
maniac with severe identity issues. As the bizarro Mike Brady, Lost's Terry O'Quinn is a living, breathing (and murdering) endorsement for single moms to remain blissfully unattached.
7. Rob Zombie's Halloween
Providing
viewers with a glimpse into Michael Myers' less than ideal upbringing,
the lead singer of White Zombie gives us a peek at the boy behind the
mask. From his slutty sister to his stripper mama's drunken, live-in
boyfriend, The Shape's familial background is straight out of the
serial killer's handbook. Then again, if those were your relatives you
might be tempted to slaughter them, too.
As even the least loyal NCDSUV content-craver is aware, we love us some daily features. And one of the more popular (at least amongst, well, us and the people who it commemorates) is the Awesome Celebrity Birthday Of The Day, which acknowledges another turn of the calendar for a member of Hollywood land, even if it's a celebrity who often goes overlooked by the rest of the blogosphere, and regardless of whether we have a huge affinity for their body of work.
And in ACBOTD's inaugural month, the candles have been smothered with saliva for everyone from Charles Martin Smith to Vanessa Angel. But even the continual erosion of their mortality isn't as awesome as the annual birthday bashes warranted for these five folks, and here's an advance cumpleanos feliz to all the upcoming b-day boys and girls this December.
5. Judy Tenuta (November 7) Age: 52 Why She's Sort Of Awesome: Because she sounds like Yoda after a bender and plays the accordion like it was her job. Oh, wait... Most Likely Celebrity Status 20 Birthdays From Now: If she's lucky, serenading Friar's Club Roasts for generational peers like ex-hubby Emo Phillips (could you have imagined that nerdy nutjob household?). But more likely is a solo dinner-theater residence at a seedy motel in Miami. All Apologies To: Jason London, Jeremy London, Christopher Knight, Morgan Spurlock
4. Tracy Scoggins (November 13) Age: 55 Why She's Sort Of Awesome: The tawny-haired Venus balances a love of book learnin' (at 3, she was the youngest American ever to apply for a library card) with an unstudied devotion to her craptastically executed craft. Luckily, even Scoggins' most inept, ponderous portrayals are generally canceled out by her other, more corporeal, assets. Girlfriend robotically sashayed her way through gaggles of cheesy drama series like Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years, Highlander: The Series and Dallas. She's best known for playing Captain Elizabeth Lochley on Babylon 5. <strong>Most Likely Celebrity Status 20 Birthdays From Now:</strong>At 75, let's hope she's safely bundled into a nice retirement home in Boca Raton, making the other women dream up Dynasty-worthy plots to cut her down to size and making a bunch of lonely old men very, very happy. All Apologies To: Jimmy Kimmel, Rachel Bilson, Chris Noth, Whoopi Goldberg
I know, I know: It's cold outside, you're dead broke and the holiday-shopping season six days away, and you forgot what it means to be funny after watching too many episodes of Frank TV.
Have no fear, however: The real-life foibles of celebrities are here. And thanks to everyone from Jean Claude Van Damme to Paris Hilton, the last several days have seen an abundant enough amount of Tinseltown tomfoolery to warm even the blackest of hardened hearts. So as always at this time (or maybe a bit earlier, depending on when our Sanka settles in), here's the top 5 things NCDSUV learned this week:
5. Where was Sean Stewart, son of Rod (doesn't have quite the same ring as Son Of Jor-El, does it?), when Rodney King was beaten mercilessly by LAPD in 1991? Oh, right, opening that week's unnecessary luxury gift as compensation for his dad touring the world and ensuring him a life of comfort and endless opportunity. So how exactly are their situations parallel enough to warrant co-participation in Celebrity Rehab?
4. Sinbad cut his fade-top 'do and stopped dressing like the retarded kid in your sixth grade math class. Talk about losing your sense of humor in your old age.
