Remembering Michael, 1958-2009

When I bought tickets to the Michael Jackson concert in London, I was incredibly excited because I was going to be in the midst of a cultural icon, a world-wide legend, The Man and probably most important, The Myth. As we remember Michael Jackson on this day and in the future, I can't help but emphasize how the idea of memory is so crucial to our conception of star identity and ultimately how timelessness can be used a signifer of stardom.

In many ways, Jackson existed outside of time and within the cultural imagination of society. The Michael that has passed on today is not the Michael that we are mourning. We feel an incredible loss of the young and vibrant boy on the Ed Sullivan show singing and dancing with the Jackson Five, the innovative dance moves, Thriller, the essence of a global entertainer. We also remember the scandal...the whirlwind erratic behavior, the lawsuits, the courtrooms, a tragic star's Peter Pan syndrome.

In the midst of all of this, we are left with an unfinished picture of Jackson--his life gone, but his narrative still very much alive. There will be stories, many stories, written about the media talent, anecdotes shared, but we will never know his "truth." Fragments of his self will tried to be pieced together but Jackson will remain an enigma, a star whose celebrity and fame is so surreal that any authentic image of him will always seem to escape our grasp.

The Sweet Little Film that Could

I wanted to see Away We Go for two main reasons: 1.) I'm a sucker for movies about babies and/or pregnancy and 2.) I'm a sucker for the rom-com genre. And the film did not disappoint me on either front. Think of it as the adult version of Juno without the witty Diablo Cody dialogue. Director Sam Mendes leaves behind the kind of suburban dysfunction that makes you want to kill yourself (found in Revolutionary Road and American Beauty) to take on the more whimsical side of family and romance. In a surprisingly heartfelt and honest turn, Maya Rudolph shined as Verona, a woman who finds herself unexpectedly pregnant and on a (mis)adventure to find a place called home with her adorably dorky boyfriend, Burt (John Krasinski). The couple galavant around the country--and even to Canada--trying on different cities to find the right fit. Along the way, they connect with old friends and family that are just off kilter enough to make you want to hightail it to the next destination. A particularly entertaining vignette highlights Maggie Gyllenhaal as a hippie professor who has a strong aversion to strollers.

In some ways, the film's destination-framed narrative makes it seem a little stilted. Cuts to text on a black screen signaling a location change ("Away to Phoenix", "Away to Miami") get old pretty quickly. It also makes the ending incredibly anti-climatic. But what we're really supposed to get out of the film is a couple's love for each other despite future uncertainty and it has that in spades. Verona and Burt are not only believable characters, but Maya and John have great on-camera chemistry. Though the film reads through its marketing as a pretentious indie flick, it is only half that. The rest is a slightly slow-paced, enjoyable drama about life and love.

The Hangover or Why White Boys Rule

Credit: themovingpicture.net

Yesterday I went to the movies to see Disney Pixar's latest achievement, Up. It was a great film albeit a tad depressing--in only a Pixar project can a story about a lonely curmudgeon's search for life after the death of his wife, be woven into a delightful tale of fun and adventure complete with robotic talking dogs and a loud and colorful bird.

But I digress.

After the movie, my friends and I snuck into The Hangover. Directed by Todd Phillips of Old School and Road Trip fame, the film focuses on the same subject: reckless white boys doing...well nothing actually. It follows engaged Doug (Justin Bartha) who ventures to Las Vegas for the bachelor party of a lifetime with his pals Alpha-Male Phil (Bradley Cooper), geeky Stu (Ed Helms) and his fiance's stoner brother, Alan (Zach Galifianakis). However, when they accidentally take Rohypnol and wake up the next morning in their lavish Las Vegas pad, it is trashed complete with a crying baby, tiger, and a missing groom-to-be. The movie proceeds to use all of the conventions of a road trip/buddy film as the friends laughably attempt to retrace the steps of their eventful night to find Doug.

So that's the plot. And as far as plots go for gross-out guy comedies, it was engaging and I lost the right amount of brain cells while viewing. But as I sat there with my two black male friends in the darkened theater, I realized why I was simultaneously completely entertained yet disgusted with this film and others like it. I call it the effect of the Ethnography of the White Male: See White Boy jump. See White Boy run. See him completely screw up and spend lots of money because White Boy doesn't have a care in the world. See all of this to the soundtrack of Kanye, Usher, and other Hip Hop/RnB tunes. To be the token Angry Black Female, it irked me that the movie transposed urban culture onto the narrative of these overprivileged white boys. It also irked me that every supporting character on their hapless adventure was a minority (whether it be by race or gender) that was completely Other-ed against the frat boy smiles and antics of the white male leading characters. True to patriarchal form, nothing is ever their fault really...it is stupid black drug dealer who inadvertently gives them roofies. A stripper who accidentally marries one of our heroes. And a queered Asian guy that turns their life into a living hell because he wants his "purse" back. In the end, our lovable white boys save the day and equilibrium is restored into their lives.

Am I completely over-analyzing all of this? Of course. But that's what I do. And the degree to which everything was so blatant in this particular movie actually amazed me--so much that the movie was actually hilarious. I'm not going to recommend paying money to see it though. Wait for the DVD where there is sure to be an extra-extra special uncut version.  

Last night I saw the much-anticipated Watchmen with friends. The lines were super long and there was even a guy there dressed up as one of the masked (anti)heroes. Needless to say, anticipation to see the film adaptation of the beloved graphic novel was high. And the verdict?

I didn't get it. Now I'm prefacing this review by saying that I have not read the graphic novel and had no background knowledge about the movie except for the fact that Billy Crudup plays a naked blue guy. What I'm told is that the film follows its written counterpart soundly except for a couple of changes. Director Zack Snyder (of 300 fame) used the same type of aesthetics he is known for--elongated fight sequences coupled with slow-motion movements. Some of the scenes were unnecessary...in particular the sex scene needed much work and was laughable at best. But the movie seemed to drag on and at some points the action seemed stilted.

But let's back up to the actual narrative. Who are the elusive Watchmen? Well basically they are fractured superheroes who are caught up in the ambiguity of their individual moral compasses. Then there's the political issues...war, poverty, corrupt government, revolution--you get the point. I could textually analyze the film to pieces but I'm not that invested. The fact is, this was a complete fanboy movie, only meant to satisfy the desires of those (including the director) who have waited years for a film adaptation of this written work to debut. Judging by people I've talked to, it seems to have done the job.

A Book for Hannah Montana

So Miley Cyrus' much-anticipated autobiography, Miles to Go, comes out this month. Aside from the awful title pun, the book is said to delve into her first love and being bullied in middle school. Kind of like Ophelia Speaks for the Disney crowd. My question is, who is the audience for this book? How many Hannah Montana fans are going to go out and buy a book that completely disrupts the image that she has helped to construct of herself? A part of me really wants to read it (I got through Lynne Spears' memoir!). Then the other part of me sees pictures like this:


And then I want to shoot myself.

Tough Times for Chris Breezy

Oh Chris Brown...your charisma and boyish good looks won't get you out of this one. Brown was slapped with two felony charges today, felony assault and making a criminal threat. If convicted he could face up to four years in prison--and in teen girl fantasy world, that's like, a REALLY long time.

Suffice it to say, the young pop star had to cut his jet-skiing reunion with Rihanna in Miami short to appear in court today. Times is hard, yo! There have been many reports about what actually went down before the Grammy's and who knows what to believe. It's a pretty sad situation for everyone involved. I will say that when Usher of all people publicly reprimands your actions and the aftermath, you've pretty much fallen to scum status (though he later apologized for giving Chris such a hard time...boys will be boys!).

Now many have asked how Chris Breezy can ever come back from this blip on his superstar record. I have one word for you: OPRAH. If she can find child molesters, she can revitalize a tainted career or two. All Mr. Brown needs is an exclusive interview. Shed some tears. Bring his mother out and discuss the effects of domestic violence. And bonus points will be awarded if RiRi appears with him on the program. Manipulative? Yes. Will it work? Of course!

Guys Who Suck and the Women Who Date, Get Engaged, Dumped, and Publicly Humiliated by Them

Otherwise known as The Bachelor. Meet Jason Mesnick. He's a 32-year-old single father to an adorable 3-year-old boy named Ty who likes to play golf. Jason may seem like he has the charmed life but in reality, after two failed romances, his heart has been broken way too many times and thus is looking for love on a reality television show. The 13th season of The Bachelor ended on Monday and of course, (melo)drama ensued. I tried to keep track of the number of shots of Jason staring aimlessly out into the New Zealand sunset, but alas, lost count.

As a former employee/intern of The Mouse, I have to give ABC/the producers credit...they sure know how to extend a narrative. Did you think it was over once Jason dumped Molly and proposed to a joyful Melissa? Oh no. There was much more. The show reached new depths of messy reality splendor during the After the Final Rose special. Turns out, Jason made a mistake. He's actually--GASP--in love with Molly instead! And what better way to tell Melissa how he's feeling than on national television! I felt like I was watching that scene in Hope Floats only without good actors like Sandra Bullock. Here's how it basically went down:

Chris Harrison: Tonight on a very special After the Final Rose we have closed the set down from an audience out of respect for all persons involved in this situation.

(Chris says this as he proceeds to intently stare awkwardly at Jason break up with Melissa)

Jason: You know things have been different between us since the end of the show.

Melissa: .....

Jason: And I just feel like we're not right for each other.

Melissa: .....

Chris (For clarification purposes): So Jason what you're saying is that you want to break up with Melissa and try to build a relationship with Molly.

Jason: Yes.

Melissa: ......

(Chris finally excuses himself to "let them talk alone.")

So then like any woman would, Melissa gets angry and wants to know what happened and why Jason won't "fight" for her and their relationship to which Jason gives no semblance of a lucid response. She stalks off to the limo waiting for her and breaks down crying, convinced that something is "wrong" with her. Back in the studio, Molly and Jason reunite for supposedly the first time since he dumped her.

Jason: I made a mistake. I should have chosen you. Wanna go out for coffee sometime?

Molly (feigning awe at this sudden turn of events): Ummm...I guess that would be ok? Okay!

And everyone lets out a romantic sigh because ya know, Jason was following his heart. Or not. I tried to find some type of silver lining in my obsession with this show but then realized that I, like the 25 girls who thought they would find love on television, am a masochist. In what bizarre world do we live in (besides the one where the Crocodile Hunter gets killed by a stingray) where women continually humiliate themselves in the name of "love" for a man? Don't answer that. It happens to the best of us but it still baffles me. Now 24-year-old Molly will uproot her life and career to play husband and stepmom in a relationship that will most likely end very quickly and badly. Maybe I'm being a pessimist. But ask yourself why a good-looking real estate agent with a son would go on a show to find love when he could probably find it in the Starbucks around the corner and your answer might be 1.)He's a fame-whore 2.)He's an idiot or 3.) He's an idiot fame-whore.

I'm going with #3. Melissa--even though the show and Jason screwed you over, your freedom was the best prize you could've received. Congratulations!