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?
Guy Ritchie may have made out like a cockney-accented pulp-movie bandit during he and Madonna's divorce settlement. But she's heading back to the States with their two little tots, Rocco and David.
Or at least that's the word on the street. But it's been raining all morning and the sidewalk-chalk isn't really legible anymore, so who knows.
But presuming this information is accurate, one hopes Ritchie will be making occasional custody visits to ensure the safety of their tiny innocents. Because although it's a little known fact, Madge maintains her tightly wired figure and muscularity by draining the life's blood out of cute young boys in a scared Kabbalah ritual.
What do you think explains her relationship with Justin Timberlake?
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.
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!
The rumor runnin' round the old cherry-blossom tree today is that Jennifer Aniston turned down $4 million dollars, with built-in sales incentives to pose for Playboy. Because the Viagranator himself, Hugh Hefner, dug her semi-nude airbrush fest in GQ late last year.
Of course, the news that Hughey missed is that the former Mrs. Brad Pitt will apparently only undress under the naughty guise of faux-sophisticition. Hence the subtly positioned tie around her abusively spray-tanned frame.
And am I the only one who occasionally stares at tabloid covers of America's reigning sweetheart and wonders how we come to romanticize one-time desperate Hollywood scream queens so quickly?
(And as an aside, notice how blatantly that hyper-linked trailer for Leprechaun rips off the promotional campaign for cult classic Evil Dead.)
Even though Jessica Simpson is looking more like Selma Bouvier these days, siblings and other celebrities are coming out in droves to embrace all 52 inches of her suddenly expanded waistline. First, we had new-mom Ashlee delivering a less-than-groundbreaking state-of-tabloid-culture address on behalf of her big (no pun intended) sis.
Now, Kim Kardashian is stepping up to the plate, telling People that she thinks Jess looks fab-o-rama and "being super skinny just isn't attractive to me." And surely, not at all taking her publicist's advice that this story is ideal for her to comment on as a fellow full-figured lady, thus keeping her name in the papers as well.
Only difference, Kimbo slice, is you're Armenian, and blessed with a naturally curvacious anatomy that makes sense for your size and proportions. Jess is just a little itty bitto Anglo whose clearly been spending too much time at country cookouts during her current stint as a Nashville wannabe.
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).
Perhaps it's the prospect of facing the rest of a remarkably long, brutally cold winter and yet another tacktastic awards season; alternatively, a totally unexpected wave of good vibes is washing over me from the political changes in the air. Either way, instead of the nip of bitter grog I generally crave to counteract the effects celebrity fashion has on my parietal lobe, I'm in the mood for something more nourishing, gratifying and sustaining to get me through the inevitable nip slips, butt cleavage and exhausting razzle dazzle the Oscars and the Grammys will inevitably lay at my feet.
So in celebration of celebrities who could (and can) dress themselves, here's a round-up of the vampiest, sassiest, stylishist femme icons who have ever scaled the screen.
8. Mary Tyler Moore The style she brought to the role of working girl Mary Richards in the '70s, both on and offstage, helped make every career gal feel a little bit freer to balance her limitless ambition with her still-potent urge to primp. She made it okay, even sexy, to want to beat down the door to the boy's club at work with a polite smile without breaking a sweat in her sassy separates, vintage hats and quirky peacoats. No other female worker bee, no matter how beloved (not even Carrie Bradshaw or Peggy Olson) will ever give me the same kind of post-feminist, unconflicted case of warm fuzzies. That's right folks. She can turn the world on with her smile... take a nothin' day and make it all worthwhile! Sorry.
7. Katherine Hepburn Like most trailblazers, Kate The Great's singular road created quite a diversion for outraged onlookers from the roaring '20s onward. In a time when most women did a two-step simper, Katherine stridently strolled. When most women squeezed into oxygen-depriving undergarments under too-tight tailored dresses, she luxuriated in baggy, but impeccably tailored men's style pants, flowing shirts and combat-style boots. Even in her dotage, she tooled around on a bike, sat with her feet up and her legs splayed, wore little make-up and unpressed, drably colored clothes that lack any sort of definite shape... and still looked every inch the elegant, sexy, exquisite feminine beauty. She was the original Urbane Tomboy.
6. Brigitte Bardot Brigitte is that rare creature who can balance oooozing Hustler sex appeal with a degree of pre-Raphaelite restraint that renders it sensual, not slutty, even if she is crawling around on the floor in her undies or dancing on top of a bar in a dress that would make Paris Hilton blush. She single-handedly popularized the bikini, the beehive 'do, the bee-stung pout and general '60s-era sexy naif gear of all stripes. Unfortunately, her joie de vivre and stylishness is now less notable than her right-of-Rush Limbaugh political views.
5. Joan Crawford Unlike Katherine, Joan represented the pinnacle of idealized feminine fashion in the '20s and '30's, with wasp-waisted tailoring, exaggerated shoulder pads and breakneck-speed martini-fueled diamond-studded satin, vampy, gauzy glamour. A perpetual engine of reinvention, she sailed through 45 years onscreen portraying whatever America wanted to see in her: rebellious but innocent flapper; working girl/society girl with a heart of gold; psycho bitch; camp queen. Joan's innate ability to seamlessly morph personas paved the way for the tough, ever-changing broads we all have a soft spot who came after. But Joan never appeared to be as calculating or cynical about her image changaroos as, say, Madonna or Britney Spears do.
No one's suggesting Paris Hilton is as point-of-view-less as Ashlee Simpson, but honey-child, we've all seen you in your most intimate moments of public exposure, and it there's yet to be any indication that you play the part of a private valedictorian.
Anyway, much like Ashlee's suddenly paleolithic-sized sister, Jessica Simpson, the multimillionaire heiress swears she only plays dumb to enhance her public persona, telling website GMTV that, "I just say jokes but they think I'm serious which I think is funny and
I think I kind of play up the image sometimes because, whatever, it's
just entertainment."
Actually, sweetie-pants (and yes, I shall continue to refer to her under the assumed persona of a kindly middle-aged black woman), it's the perceived-to-be-realistic construction of your identity. And while your horde of lecherous managers and publicists may have kept that small detail from you in order to expand your brand and support their three snot-nosed little kids, it's truer than any one-liner you've uttered about confusing celebrity chefs with the British Prime Minister.
Proving that she's not as literally ill-equipped for public discourse as her sister, Pete Wentz' baby mama, Ashlee Simpson, has nonetheless displayed an impressively substance-less intellect regarding the ills of cultural prejudice and tabloid shaming.
After the blogosphere understandably recoiled with horrified curiosity at pics of Jessica Simpson resembling a middle-age metastasized version of her normal figure, lil' sis shot back with the groundbreaking rhetorical inquiry, "Since when did a woman's weight become newsworthy?"
Despite presumed muffled-cough interruptions from Jennifer Love Hewitt, Ann Wilson, Kirstie Alley and the late corpose of Luther Vandross, the recent mother (apparently having missed months of boilerplate commentary on weight-obsession in Hollywood while training a swat team of stay-at-home nannies) went on to add that it's "embarrassing and belittling to all women to read about a woman's weight
or figure as a headline on FOX News." And even expressed concern that the scorn surrounding her sister's fried-chicken chic would undermine the post-Obama "feeling of hope in
the air for our country."
Spoken like a truly out-of-touch celebrity with no conception of that fact that a vast majority of Americans are actually, contrary to herself and Jessica, struggling with issues much greater than cholestorol counting. Such as, oh, I don't know being unemployed and about 27 million dollars less comfortable than the Simpson brood.
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.
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.
Joining the ranks of shitty celebrity dads (hello, Michael Lohan), Alan Panettiere, father of Heroes starlet/subject of persistent nip-slip paparazzi stalking, Hayden Panettiere, pled no contest to battery.
And while it's tempting to insert mimicry of a certain Master Of Puppets-era Metallica song at this juncture, it becomes a lot less amusing upon learning that Alan's battery stemmed from a bout of domestic violence inflicted upon his wife back in August. The repercussions include two years of probation, fines and a year of domestic-violence counseling.
Ya know, it's starting to become more and more clear why youthful actors are the sort of kids inclined to spend their days escaping into the fantasies and imagination of less dysfunctional and, well, more heoric situations.
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.
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.
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."
As that gleaming behemoth Hollywood slouches towards irrelevance, the winds of change must begin to blow in from somewhere. And where better than the so-called blogosphere? Like the polit-o-blog revolution, the great pitches of tomorrow ain't going to flow from the bloated butthole of some Hollywood hack, but rather from the proletariat! So welcome to NCDSUV's newest feature, The Slow Pitch, which will interrupt your normally scheduled Sucks programming every Friday to play a little game of would-be screenwriter wish-fulfillment. Viva la revolución!
This week, I am going to make you freaks so much money that the concept of cost won't even make sense anymore. Now I know your ganglions are whispering inside, "How am I going to make that moolah materialize on your ledgers?" Two words: Bride Wars. Yeah, Anne Hathaway and, uh, the blonde. The one who used to be married to that living Giacometti statue from The Black Crowes. Kate Hudson. Yeah, her. With their latest film, those two opened a door to a void at the very center of humanity. A void that represents the negative end of the existence spectrum. And ladies and gentlemen, we are going to fuck that void in its black hole until it comes molten gold.
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.
Even amidst semi-legitimate websites and all-inclusive gossip blogs, one thing has remained resoundingly clear about the Internet: It was designed for the proliferation of booby pictures. OK, and maybe an occasional facial (NSFW) or finger fuck. But the "candid" celebrity shot and red-carpet nip slips that fill out headlines like implants in a waterbra have truly captured our cultural zeitgeist. Although the tried-and-true movie-still compilers, like Mr. Skin, still possess a necessary function for cyber-pervs the world over.
However, like a record-label A & R rep indiscriminately scouring MySpace for hot acts, the wider the net is cast, the more likely you're gonna catch a few stinkers you'd rather throw back in the ocean.
So for reasons no less superficial than these images' original publication, and if anything, to take the piss out of folks dangled on high as the beautiful ones, we present the 10 least arousing nude celebrity boobs (10, of course, as in five pairs of two). And in the interest of being an equal-opportunity sexist, we may even produce a sequel to this feature that reappropriates its, ehem, titular meaning and breaks down the most orgasm-killing male Hollywood mimbos. And suffice to say, virtually every link from here on out is NSFW, meaning we expect a hearty boost in page views between the hours of 6 p.m. and midnight.
10. & 9. Victoria Beckham, aka Posh Spice
It's hard to say which one of Posh's not-so-perky perforations deserves more of a honest, cups-off assessment, number nine or 10. Oh, heck, we'll call it a wash. But the bottom line is, for all her preening around in the newest haute coutoure, push-up-undergarment abuse and implicitly demeaning infrared glances at the rest of Earth's female populus, we wouldn't want to hop in the shower and soap up those plump-yet-shapeless post-pregnancy glands.
8. & 7. Teri Hatcher
Memo to Seinfeld's fact-checkers (and yes, we are contractually obligated to incorporate a Seinfeld reference in every other post): They might be real, but they're not exactly spectacular. When the would-be glamorous Desperate Housewives queen bitch bared all in cheapo flick The Cool Surface, someone should have ordered some hot maple syrup, because those babies are what those in the know refer to as pancake boobs.
Hopefully all those anticipatory Super Bowl partiers will be ready to step aside from their beer bongs and nachos during the pre-game festivities for a solemn moment of poignancy. Awkwardness will no doubt abound in America's living rooms, and girlfriends will assuredly be slapping their insensitive partners' into compassion when Jennifer Hudson takes the stage to sing the National Anthem before the big game on February 1.
This will, of course, be the singer/actress' first public appearance since the horrific slayings of her mother, brother and nephew in October. And what a doozy it is. However, much as I'd love to muster my usual cynicism and insinuate that Hudson manipulated the situation into a triumphant PR resurgence, I will propose the following two motives on her behalf: A. She's using the money toward legal fees to send the alleged killer to jail or for a foundation in her late relatives' names, or B. She's viewing this is as the utmost cleansing catharsis, perversely less excruciating than reemerging via a series of smaller appearances.
Either way, Hudson has one hell of an inner resolve. Maybe it's her whole Jesus-loving thing. Hmmmm. Perhaps I should give that a try.
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.
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 put a different spin (fittingly) on the usual intent of this column to derisively slam Rush Limbaugh, but today we get back to ironic business as usual and say "Get out!" to the queen of comedy's show about nothing.
Hey, listen. Once in a while this site has to live up to elements of its URL. Especially if it can secretly suck you in and divert your attention to awesome Golden Globe fashion wrap-ups like this one.
But OK, if you won't stop your clamoring for candidly nekkid images of your favorite reality television stars, I suppose we can suffice. Hell, it's not like a little thing called ethical standards have stopped us before. And who can say no to a little accidental, bikini-exposed side titty (NSFW), courtesy of Whitney Port, start of MTV's The Hills spinoff, The City? (See how that whole delayed rhyme thing worked there and made us feel less silly about using the word titty?)
First Audrina Patridge, now Whitney... Lauren Conrad better watch her ass, and boobs and vajayjay, because the stalkerazzi lenses no doubt have their sights set on the queen bee next.
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!
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.
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).
In the spirit of the reincarnation mojo that comes with each New Year, we decided to take the opportunity to (for a change) applaud some much-welcomed progress in the wardrobe department of some of our favorite Hollywoodland targets over in Hollywoodland.
8. Angelina Jolie Unlike most of the rest of the planet, I remain resolutely unimpressed with Angel Angie. Yes, she's adopted a bijillion babies and has accomplished truly superb things as a Goodwill Ambassador for the U.N. Refugee Agency. And that whole Academy Award thing is nothing to spit at. But everyone else (including Angie) is so busy showering praise on her frail little shoulders, there's hardly room for one more accolade from the peanut gallery. I'm saving my accolades for her closet. She somehow managed to go from fright-night horror (all big lips, vials of blood, vacant eyes, witchy black hair tied with an oversized leopard-patterned ribbon and hideous jean jackets) to polished mommy glamazon (all big lips, purposeful gazes, yummy mummy beautifully tailored, tasteful and flattering clothes and much better accessories, Brad Pitt being the penultimate of course).
7. Jessica Biel She has managed to evade two major H'wood facts of life: People who star in family friendly crapfests on the small screen (7th Heaven) will never make it to the big-budget big screen (The Illusionist, Blade: Trinity, etc.) and that women have to dress like prostitutes to be taken (ahem) seriously by major studios. Biel embraced her down-home, super-casual style a touch too fervently, however, and I'm relieved to see she's eschewed the shapeless girl-next-door bell-bottoms and the random, ill-fitting shiny tops obviously slapped on her by a desperate stylist in a last-ditch attempt at glam for the occasional elegantly slinky dress that bares her impressive booty.
6. Kirsten Dunst Sharing your first kiss onscreen at the tender age of 11 with a vampire and then being launched into a brutal, multiple movies a year schedule would warp anyone. And Kirsten, like most child stars, failed or was never given the opportunity to develop as an individual. Obvious and tragic symptoms aside, (stints in rehab, troubled relationships), the perfectly cute, and totally underrated, blond starlet drowned her sorrows in an unforgiving sea of chipped, noir nail-polish, poorly executed updos, Jessica McClintock-like formal wear and outfits that look as if they were produced by frazzled clerks during a hold-up of the Salvation Army. But girlfriend got her groove back from whence it was hiding, and while she'll probably never hit the dizzying heights of chic, she's finally come into her own with brushed and styled (hello!) golden tresses, offbeat takes on downtown prep and the proud display of legs that goes for miles and miles and miles and miles...
5. Nicole Richie Forget Madonna. Richie has reinvented reinvention. She went from a slightly pudgy (but consummately cute) Paris Hilton sidekick in The Simple Life to a cadaverous L.A. beach bum, club troll and inmate to trim, suburban wife and mother in less time than it takes some people to get through Madge's Sex book. But almost invariably, Nicole manages to effortlessly pull off aggressively casual West Coast refinement (face-eating sunglasses and hair don'ts notwithstanding) like no one else. The only thing threatening her reign over the Valley was her Skeletor stage, hopefully a problem rooted firmly in her past.
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.
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.
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.
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 New Year's Day, Don Novello, aka Father Guido Sarducci, led us in a comedic prayer for 2009, and today we say "Schwing!" to Wayne Campbell's one-time bass-straddling mega-babe.
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 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.
In the midst of people clamoring to shower their relatives with menial gifts, and the news of tragic holiday-season stories like the awful family shooting in Covina, California, Michael Lohan finally put our preeminent New Year's concern to rest: He and daughter Lindsay Lohan have called a truce.
On his woefully designed website, the pop-culture-princess' perpetually misbehaving papa doesn't say what was discussed what the truce had to say when it answered on the other line, but oh I'm sure they had much to catch up on. (Pardon the knock-knock-level humor. Too much Marx Brothers watching this Hanukkah.)
The Long Island Lolita breeder does, however, acknowledge (in MS-DOS worthy giganto-font) that as it relates to his relationship with the future Mrs. Sam Ronson, "There is a truce between Lindsay and I, so please stop adding any fuel to the fire. I respectfully ask that all sources, so called friends and mouthpieces refrain from any more comments or suggestions on her blog."
Or at least that's what some guy named "Admin" posted on his site. But regardless, breathe easy and may you finally light your Christmas trees in piece armed with this heartwarming update from a guy who makes Kevin Federline look like father of the decade.
While the rest of you lazy schlubs were spending the holiday week glugging down eggnog and making sexy eyes at that random third cousin whose bloodline connection feels tenuous at best, NCDSUV was still soaking in the pop culture rays.
Humorously enough, however, there was a conspicuous paucity of tabloid-friendly stories breaking over the last several days. This could lean one to hypothetsize that much of the entertainment world's daily headlines harbor hazy significance at best and are generated so the blogosphere merely has an excuse to catalyze conversation and ramp up page views.
But, of course, we're not that cynical. We are, however, newly educated on everything from Michael Jackson's supposedly deteriorating lung to Amy Winehouse's most certainly replenished bosom. Here are the top five things we learned for this final full week of 2008, in a very much specific order. 5. Despite our very keen eye for newly portly former sex symbols, Kathleen Turner's massive tumble into terrifyingly negative sex appeal slipped through a canyon-sized crack. She might portray a dog trainer in Marley & Me, but it appears her personal workout coach really screwed the pooch.
4. Just when we thought we were out.... Actually, it's Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt who are out... (wait for it, wait for it) of their minds! And in and out of matrimony, as they teased us with yet another wedding-related ratings booster on The Hills, only to hold off on an official ceremony as a presumed cocktease for their inevitable spinoff show. Hey, it's not like marriage has been a particularly sanctified concept in recent decades anyway, so these two nutballs may as well shit all over it to advance their careers.
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.
Yes, the commercials for Owen Wilson/Jennifer Aniston's holiday bank-buffer Marley & Me are almost offensively noxious. But you can get so distracted by the cuddly shenanigans between Wilson, Aniston and their precocious pooch (goddamn Owen, what happened to Bottle Rocket? No wonder you almost ended it) that you almost miss the rigid wildabeast who appears midway through the trailer, aka, the artist formerly known as raspy sex symbol Kathleen Turner.
It's a shame that we published our feature on most jarring mid-career celeb weight gains before Marley bobbed its way into theaters, and it's also doubtful the aging sultress packed on the pounds "for the part."
All I know is, with masterbatory muses of my youth like Turner and Colleen Camp getting older without maintaining any MILF-y mystique, and today's pop culture poontang represented in the hollow plastic shells of debutantes and CW starlets, it's a sad, sad time for horny young men in search of ripe, ravishing female icons.
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).
This week we address the worst fashion moments of the year. Fashion faux pas are like a particularly virulent breed of bronchitis; a disgusting, unpleasant fact of life that certain celebrities catch once and toss off without missing a well-heeled step, while others seem to be permanently felled by a chronic case that sends bystanders scurrying for cover for fear of contracting the dread disease. Here's our votes for an octagon of the '08's most offensive.
8. Agyness Deyn It's chronic. There are flashes of delicious, savory brilliance in Agyness' fashion fruit n' nut grab bag. And yet, Agyness' insistence on cultivating a bleached, neglected, teased and abused Cha-Cha-Cha-Chia-Pet-style 'do, coupled with her penchant for dressing like Billy Idol circa 1983, an unreasonable devotion to bandanas and questionably tailored pants (that look uncomfortably tight in the crotch area) outnumber her waltzes with aesthetic resplendence. She's more fashion idiot than savant.
7. Blake Lively Take a hot bath and consult your stylist in the morning. You're right, Blake: Fashion is all about fantasy. That's great, honey, because you embrace that concept. Especially when wearing short, sparkly postage stamps on the red carpet or fluttery white dresses and cowboy boots while flitting about Manhattan and flashing that toothy grin at the stalkerazzi. They love you, we love you, it's all good. But leave the more "conceptual" clothes to the darker, smarter, sassier indie crowd. No one wants to see you in a shiny, baggy pondscum-green, wrinkled jumpsuit and high heels. I know you were going for the insouciant sophisticate thing, but this makes you look like you belong in the pit at NASCAR, wiping the sweat from your fair brow and tinkering with a miter saw and mini-torch while muttering about "that durn Cletus. Tol' him ta plug that leak durn it anyway."
6. Sarah Jessica Parker It's (rather) chronic. Much like her alter-ego Carrie Bradshaw, Sarah definitely likes to take sartorial risks that would make less temerarious women blanch. And while she's more than likely to pass the Anna Wintour sniff test, Sarah's flops are unsurpassable. Like the time she decided to wear a green pillbox hat that resembles a large breast (nipple included!) and sprout a Brobdingnagian floral arrangement to the Sex And The City movie premiere (reminds me of the hideous bird Carrie strapped to her head to wear for her ill-fated fictional nuptials).
5. Anna Wintour Take a hot bath and consult your stylist in the morning. Willful idiosyncrasy, clothing as wearable sculpture and high-brow reflections of the current social/economic/cultural climate are all expected, even necessary, components of haute couture. And few people people's names are as synonymous with couture as Anna's. So heads understandably turned when Nuclear Wintour showed up to the Met Costume Gala (her gala, the fashion gala to end all fashion galas) in an actively odd Karl Lagerfeld dress that appeared designed to make the already serpentine editrix resemble a horned lizard dipped in mercury. While I don't agree with Time about it being the biggest fashion faux pas of the year, considering Wintour's pedigree, it's certainly up there.
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 blew out Flashdance(r)
Jennifer Beals' still sizzling birthday candles, and today we're reluctantly
strapping on our party hats for an elderly over-sharing enthusiast.
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.
Ah, the last week before the Christmas-time blitz of abusive commercialism and schmaltzy, ceremonial sentimentality. A time for celebrities to get one last headline blast before the world pretends to care about religion and family more than the dogma of tabloid culture for a few days.
Fortunately for us, there was no shortage of boob-flashing, divorce scuttlebutt and rehab-hyjinks. So without further prolonged pause, here are the top five things we here at NCDSUV (and we hope you as well) have learned this week:
4. Tara Reid, not to be outdone by her more youthful underlings Lindsay Lohan et al, finally went into rehab for undisclosed reasons. We're guessing it's because she's been chronically addicted to an illicit co-dependent substance, but what the heckfire do we know?
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.
Tired of buying your relatives the same old fruit cake and set of all-usage garden pliers? Frustrated you lost the bidding for Justin Timberlake's half-eaten French Toast all those years back? Well, good news folks.
Act now, and you can not only satisfy your celeb-salivating relative and contribute to charity, but you can accomplish both noble feats while fetishizing your unhealthy affection for and interest in people more famous and better looking than you.
After Scarlett Johansson (and why does her name have a double "s" anyway? Kind of obnoxious, no?) blew her cold-riddled nose into a tissue amidst a Jay Leno interview last night, she put the booger-bedazzled nasal napkin up on eBay, with the profits (bid hovering around $2,000 as of press time) going to charity.
So hurry, and certainly don't wait. ScarJo's virus-infected viscosity can be yours, and subsequently something you can share with the one you love. Because there's no wrong way to say "I think you're a worthless piece of shit."
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).
This week we address Bridesmaid Fug. Just when we thought it
was safe to peruse US Weekly again in
the checkout line at the Big K, safe from the wedding-related Hollywood terror of
2006 and beyond (Katie Holmes & Tom Cruise, Anna Nicole Smith & J. Howard Marhsall, Pam Anderson & Kid Rock,
Avril Lavigne & Deryck Whibley, Nicole Kidman & Keith Urban, etc.) the most wretched, the most
insidious and the most unavoidable component that crops up in every nuptial cocktail,
from Boise to Bel Air, is upon us.
For some utterly inconceivable reason, celebrity starlets have taken it upon
themselves to don bridesmaids' dresses to red carpet events. Was the trend
launched by a Machiavellian PR maven in a bid to surreptitiously lather us into
a matrimonial-obsessed frenzy right before the premiere of Bride Wars? (The stars of the movie, Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway,
bless their hearts, have not embraced the fad.)
Can ossified updos sprinkled with baby's breath and
Diamonique clips be far away? A SWAT Team has been sent to the Hollywood
& Highland
mall to investigate and is expected to report back any moment now...
*(P.S.: Links to the below red-carpet nightmares are located, mercifully, with the commentary for each entrant.)
8. Scarlett Johansson Scene Of The Crime: The Spirit promo in Paris. ScarJo generally likes to sheath herself in princessy, fussy garments while prancing down the carpet, and when it's good, it's very, very good. But when it's bad, it's horrid. Cue this horrifying vision in black and white. We have the bridesmaid-tastic, delicately frayed tulip edged bodice, the figure-truncating cummerbund, cutesy keyhole embroidery detailing and a homely burst of white tulle peeking out from under the tragic mid-calf no-go zone of hemlines. Her priggish black satin shoes with giant toe bows complete the look.
7. Alicia Witt Scene Of The Crime: The Australia premiere in New York. Pale redheads the world over generally quake in fear when "invited" to participate in their friend's big day. One of the many unwritten rules of bridesmaid dress is that its material must be spun in an unworldly, blindingly bright hue that will sear retinas and make fair, and God forbid, fire-tressed maids look like anemic Raggedy Anns. But Alicia actually opted to wear this specimen. Is it possible that, upon dressing and gazing at her countenance in a mirror, she actually said to herself: "Yes. This beaming purple sateen get-up with a bizarre strip of ruffles where my boobs should be, a baggy cummerbund and a knee-length skirt that may or may not conceal a family of hedgehogs in its flouncing, mysteriously billowing canopy-like space, will help me look impossibly chic when standing next to perma-perfectly coiffed fellow redhead paleface Nicole Kidman"?
6. Beyonce Scene Of The Crime: The Kennedy Center Honors in New York. Perhaps the generally faux-pas-proof Beyonce was channeling her alter ego, Sasha. Only that fierce lady or a bride with a laser-like focus on "having a really classy wedding" (you know, the one who insists on entering her reception hall in some sort of mechanized snow globe mid-smooch with her husband while the strains of Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me" are blared into traumatized guests' ear lobes) could be responsible for the multitude of sins slathered on Her Bodaciousness. A) The black lace top outfitted with not one, but two bows: one tulle number that resembles a Venus Flytrap and one satin ribbon that needs to meet an iron, STAT. B) The circulation-annihilating, floor-length satin black mermaid-style skirt. C) The 6-inch tall updo. D) The crazy "I'm trapped, SOS SOS" expression in Beyonce's eyes, trademark of all Bridezilla-victims.
5. Wendi Deng Scene Of The Crime: The Australia premiere in New York. This dress is a perfect example of too many chefs spoiling the soup, another pesky problem even the most opinionated bride faces when selecting the perfect(ly awful) bridesmaids dresses for her closest pals. Needy and vocal mothers, mothers-in-law, sisters and sisters-in- law are the most frequent saboteurs, and Deng's dress embodies the chaos that ensues when they all "just try to help!" Her bipolar outfit would be fine if the fun, bouncy black bottom half or the elegantly ruched, sleeveless satin top-half were allowed to rule the day. But together, and paired with granny-sheer tights, excessive bling and Payless-esque black pumps, it looks like the product of two mutually exclusive minds: the "I want you to be able to wear this dress again someday so just grab this LBD at J. Crew" school of thought and the "I want to pretend I'm the empress of the galaxy and you are my slaves for the day, suck up the damn the $600 price tag" mindset.
Was that headline gross? Eh, maybe? Kinda? Yeah. Well, now that we have your attention, it is our civic duty to report, like many other conscientious blogs, that Halle Berry had a bit of an on-set Janet Jackson moment (NSFW) while filming her latest, Frankie And Alice. And like Ms. Jackon's Super Bowl booby debacle, we had a very similar reaction: "Hmmm, that's not exactly as exotic a picture as I generally possessed in my imagination, or at least the one fueled by airbrushed magazine photos and the magic of digital movie trickery."
But unnecessary meanness and sexism aside, these images, and subsequent memories of Berry's breast-baring roles in Swordfish and Monster's Ball, couldn't help but bring to mind a more innocent time. You know, the days of Strictly Business and Boomerang, when the then bob-haired actress may as well have been a grown up Cosby kid with all the chaste charm she exuded. In fact, 'twas an era when Berry was representative of a certain class of thespienne that principally opposed superfluous on-screen skin.
However, one shitty James Bond flick, even more middling John Travolta action-thriller, super-creepy Billy Bob Thornton sex scene and mid-scene garment slip-up (and let's face it: that particular ensemble wasn't designed to avoid such revelations) later, and she's the new generation's Bo Derek.
That being said, better Berry's indecent exposure than more high-profile nudity from, say, Jason Segel.
As you all know by now (since none of you, like me, go out on Saturday nights), Amy Poehler has fled the womb of Saturday Night Live, having fed sufficiently off its placenta before having a child of her own and finding leading-lady big-screen success with Baby Mama.
Which means that her birth canal isn't the only gaping hole in need of closure. The question now remains: Who, if anyone, will be her direct replacement on the program? Sure, the economy's tight and the show can just redesignate existing roles like any other organization would do. But it seems the perfect opportunity to give one of the following ladies the chance of their comedic lifetime. Unless, of course, they're satisfied with fleeting celebrity-roast visibility and shows that are perpetually at risk for cancellation. (And no, we didn't include Sarah Silverman. The last thing SNL needs is to be smothered with her snide, know-it-all irony.) 5. Lisa Lampanelli OK, even though they bill themselves as being not ready for prime time, the play-it-safe staple might not quite be prepared for the big, brash force of epithet-spewing nature that is Lampanelli. Renowned for her bawdy standup and willingness to endure jokes about her love of big black jock on several of Comedy Central's celebrity roasts, Lampanelli's skillset would need some rounding out to fit into SNL as a performer. But as pure, gender-barrier-breaking funnny goes, there's few femmes out there who do it better.
4. Jessica St. Clair Sure, this adorably freckled Best Week Ever correspondent is having some success with Worst Week, and has made some memorable film appearances in the likes of For Your Consideration. So in that respect she might be otherwise engaged. But this perky improv-style up-and-comer possess just the right combination of sort-of attractiveness and inoffensive but convincingly charismatic wit that the Weekend Update chair begs for.
Given that today's content will wind down with a heavy dose of NCSDUV cynicism via its Sucks feature, it seemed appropriate to deliver uplifting news where you can get it.
And I think it's safe to say the whole nation breathed a sigh of sympathetic relief for America's Most Wanted host John Walsh today, after it was announced that the man who abducted and murdered his 6-year-old son Adam almost 30 years ago has been identified as Ottis Toole.
And you know what? In an era where Hollywood constantly advocates eye for an eye vigilantism, it's genuinely moving to see a man like Walsh vindicated, when he had every right to lose a screw and go offing some folks after ID'ng the decapitated head of his own child, but instead devoted his life to hunting down other criminals through legal diligence and mobilized public outreach.
Good for you John, and it's too bad Toole already died in prison 12 years ago. Because while it would be counterintuitive for me to suggest any delight in witnessing his own execution, I'm sure more than a few of us wouldn't have minded seeing him brought to justice the right way, just like all the other creeps and killers Walsh helped track down over the last two-plus decades.
And since we just reported on a woman in her 30s whose having a baby and making strides with her career, we figured we'd swing the pendulum of Hollywood fortune to the wrong side of the trainwreck tracks.
Ms. Tara Reid, at a spritely 33, has finally checked herself into a rehab (or dare we say Reid-Hab) facility called Promises, for an undisclosed issue. Riiiiight, cause her notorious drinking is about as well concealed as her fake left boob.
No, no, we keeed, we keeed. We're of course talking about Saturday Night Live, and Amy Poehler's official declaration that she will be leaving the show to, presumably, raise her awesomely named son Archie and pursue a pregnant film career.
Hopefully, whatever pieces of cinema she commands as lead actress will come closer to the manic goofiness of Wet Hot American Summer than the formulaic clusterfuck that was the immensely disappointing Baby Mama.
Huh-huh, her kid's name is Archie.
Oh, and make sure to stay tuned to NCDSUV in the coming days for a suggested list of possible Poehler replacements.
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.
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.
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 blew out the cake-top inferno for a woman who's Knot what she seems, and today we say happy 33rd to a woman who will likely be known more for brain than her Blossom-ing bosom.
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.
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 ate a Half-Baked cake in honor of comedic savant Harland Williams, and today we're going to just stare at a model of beautiful butter-cream fondant confection in solidarity with an ever-trim, frighteningly well-preserved, Knot-y sex symbol of yore.
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.
Today marks the launch of 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).
In this inaugural piece, we will explore the prevalent problem of personality disorders among the glitterati and their affect on our ability to surf the Web and flip through glossies without causing our eyes, nay, our very souls, to bleed. One in five adults has a personality disorder that can interfere with their ability to separate fact from fiction, zebras from zinnias and prettiness from pulchritude. And logic dictates that personality disorders would affect celebrities more than the rest of the species. Today, we're focusing on female offenders.
9. Madonna Diagnosis: Schizoid Personality Disorder Madge bears all of the unfortunate hallmarks of SPD: odd dress, beliefs and behavior; palpable discomfort with close relationships; inappropriate emotional responses; and "magical thinking," i.e. the belief that you can influence people and events with your thoughts alone. Her Madgesty's sartorial sins are really just drops in her shiny, black-latex crazypants bucket, but they are significant nonetheless. Since the dawn of the new millennium and (coincidentally?) middle age, the Material Girl lost her fashion touch. The heady days of drooling over a brash, grinning bleach-blond in cone bras, tacky-chic lace gloves, insanely poofy but totally cute taffeta skirts, (ironic) religious jewelry and an armful of black rubber bracelets are gone. Now we've got snaps of a snarling Ms. Ciccone flexing her pale, ropy limbs for the stalkerazzi in her skuzziest skull-emblazoned workout gear or sporting questionable couture. Worst of all, Marc Jacobs, generally brilliant but a total ditz when it comes to selecting his "muses," is perpetuating, under-writing and encouraging the fashion train wreck by signing Madonna as the new face of Louis Vuitton. The new, frozen, swollen, sullen, skin-tight skullface of Louis Vuitton.
8. Amy Winehouse Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder There are a few things you can depend on with Wino: glittering eyes that perpetually burn with the spark of chaos and fashion choices that clearly reflect her BPD; impulsive and risky behavior (see: the shameless cultivation of her omnipresent beehive and frequent decisions to don bras as tops and sport see-through tank tops sans necessary supportive undergarments); lack of stability (see: repeated sidewalk spills due to a deadly cocktail and total inability to commit to either crackwhore chic or baglady chic); and volatile relationships (see: an apparent total disregard for her apparel, as expressed through repeated cutting, shredding and tearing of wife beaters and Daisy Dukes).
7. Winona Ryder Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder Ryder was the '90s rolled up into one gloomy, pale, listless (yet still strangely perky and idealistic) package, but since then her star has been eclipsed by the go-go Hollywood hussies of the aughts. During her Icarus-like flameout into B-status, the erstwhile drab packer threw off the oversized flannel but maintained her distinctly APD approach to clothing herself. Winona's condition is characterized by a disregard for others, a persistent streak of lying and stealing, recurring difficulties with the law and repeated violations of the rights of others. Like her career, her targets of thievery have spiraled downward; this year, she was accused of stealing make-up from CVS. Winona was never officially charged.
6. The Olsen Twins Diagnosis: Avoidant Personality Disorder The direful dyad has always worn APD (feelings of inadequacy, extreme shyness in social situations, timidity, social isolation, hypersensitivity to criticism or rejection) on its hyper-tailored sleeves. The reclusive, creepy-close genetic photocopies have never really been accepted by young Hollywood's reigning nightlife cabal (Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Nicole RIchioe, et al), likely perpetuating the Olsens' already gossamer grip on sanity. Currently, their increasingly pinched, pixie-like faces can rarely be spied poking through their cascading blond tresses and under their titanic shades as they clutch each other and shuffle on their reedy little stems in Grey Gardens-esque "Little Edie" Bouvier Beale gear (giant fur coats atop leggings and high-rise platform heels, paired with giant designer bags in exotic skins and ludicrous scarves) from one awkward press event to the next. When Ashley and Mary-Kate muster enough courage to emerge from Cousin It mode and smile for the cameras, the results are invariable cringetastic, their pasty, angular faces resembling kabuki masks suddenly coming to life.
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).
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.
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.
Yes, you can file this under the annals of headlines that seem to be teasing a new regular feature but will merely operate as standalone, non sequitir posts.
But seriously, where the fuck was I when Wanda Sykes came out of the closet? How does news of this nature bypass an individual who makes a living by dumpster diving through other peoples' personal lives? Especially when they're such a Sykes enthusiast that they actually watched every episode of her failed FOX sitcom. On its initial airing.
Color me one with weird taste, but for yours truly humbled, this resonates a bit like the average hormonal hetero male finding out that Angelina Jolie at one point liked to date butchy Asian women. Oh, wait....
Well, in any event, if Krazee-Eyez Killa can't have Wanda, then I guess no one deserves here. Even if, despite being retardedly behind the ball of her coming out, they've spent countless hours lusting for her luscious curves and engoring comic persona.
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.
Despite only being 16 and spending most of her life lacking in normal socialization or formal education, Miley Cyrus is apparently fluent in American culture's contradictory puritanical attitudes when it comes to sexuality. Must be from fellating that 20-year-old man kabob of hers (and yes, I'm entirely comfortable making a living writing about teenage girls and their "man kabobs").
Was I the only one who read the snippets from her UK interview (in which she suggested her notorious Vanity Fairphoto shoot with Annie Leibovitz was better received overseas because "the States are really conservative, and that she might even relocate to London) and thought, "Ya know, you're right pop padawan. The worldliness and perspective you've attained from travelling the globe in private jet planes and spending seven-hour stints in different cities' hotel penthouses not only imbues you with the authority to comment on societal uptightness and hypocrisy, but has helped me lose weight without having to eat Subway for each of my day's three meals anymore"?
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.
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.
Welcome to NCDSUV's newest daily feature, 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 showed our Khan-do spirit by honoring Fantasy Island midget-wrangler Ricardo Montalban, and today we exhale our breath over the candles for someone who would probably rather inhale our phallus.
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.
