Posts
Over here in the UK, Saturday Night Live is usually only discussed when one of their alumni makes a movie. I think I can vaguely recall a time when the show was broadcast over here, but that was a long time ago, so basically to us it’s just “that thing all those funny people did before they were famous”. Which is why it was bit confusing when Tina Fey got top-billing on the posters for Mean Girls. Maybe the serious comedy buffs were aware of her before that, but she was a (delightful) bolt out of the blue for me. I think Mean Girls still holds up as a very smart and funny comedy, with plenty of quotable lines and memorable scenes (even the fake “PSA” trailers are funny), but it also marks the rather tragic tipping point where Lindsay Lohan went from adorable to abominable.
At the time, we couldn’t receive the channel which was broadcasting the first season of 30 Rock, so for months I would have to endure flicking through my TV guide and seeing Fey’s smiling face taunting me from the page. Finally, the box set arrived at our local Blockbuster, and I was able to find out what all the fuss was about! If I could choose the kind of sitcom I wrote for, even if it had to be a group effort, then 30 Rock would definitely be a dream gig. First of all, there’s a strong, smart and sexy female lead, which is always handy for a wannabe-feminist like myself. Second of all, there are random male geek characters, who also happen to be comedy writers, which is great from a “write what you know” standpoint. Thirdly, the show has an interesting “reality level”... it can be quite crazy at times, especially with the Paul Reubens episode, and the multiple characters played by Rachel Dratch, but it still manages to keep one foot planted on terra firma. That’s mostly thanks to Fey herself, I think, grounding the show with her warm and unpretentious performance as Liz Lemon... her “bi-curious” shoes probably help too. I watched the box set at least twice through before the seven day deadline was up and I had to reluctantly return them.
Sadly, I haven’t been able to catch up with the second (or third?) season yet, so I had to sate my Fey-thirst by renting Baby Mama instead. I’ve read fairly lukewarm reviews for the film, and it’s true that the plot doesn’t hold up to a great deal of close scrutiny, but I was laughing loudly the whole way through, and that’s a good sign when you’re watching a comedy, right? Amy Poehler makes a great foil for Fey, and waltzes off with most of the best lines and “bits”... I especially enjoyed the fake pocket-checking charade she went through, while half-heartedly offering to chip in for the gas money... and her random invective, while being wheeled into the hospital... I guess her character was kind of cartoony, but I dig that, and it played nicely against Fey’s more subtle and subdued comedy stylings. While her characters may never deliver the intensity or insanity that usually hooks me in, they definitely have their own appeal... and I guess that comes down to the “dream date” factor. They’re whip-crack smart, successful, creative, professional, warm, funny and endearingly dorky. Totally unattainable, of course, for me at least... but fun to date vicariously through the TV screen. Sigh...
Meanwhile, I can’t help wishing that we got more “extras” in this country... the R2 releases of both 30 Rock and Baby Mama omit all the commentary tracks and “making of” gubbins. I know it’s a lame thing to whine about, but Fey contributed a very charming and self-deprecating commentary to Mean Girls, and I’d like to hear more from her.
Sadly, I did not discover Sandra Bernhard’s work in chronological order, or in qualitative order either. My first exposure must have been through the sitcom Roseanne, where her tall, slim frame made her stand out rather dramatically alongside the plumper lead character... with that voice... and those eyes... and those lips... oy! I can’t really remember how I felt about her as an actress back in the day, but I know I was pleased to see her again when a friend lent me his video tape of Hudson Hawk. After that came (by far) her best film to date, Martin Scorsese’s King of Comedy*, and then finally the tapes and CDs of her incredible stand-up/cabaret act. During my time at uni, I spent many a happy evening downing chocolate milk, scoffing cookies, and listening to Excuses for Bad Behaviour. Good times. While I now primarily think of Bernhard as a stand-up, or a singer... since so many of her TV and movie appearances are too obscure to root out in this country... I still have a soft spot for her performance in Bruce Willis’s misbegotten, blockbuster-budgeted “B-movie”.
Over at the AV Club site, Hudson Hawk rated not only a “My Year of Flops” entry, but also a “Commentary Tracks of the Damned” dissection. In the former, Rabin describes it thusly: "The Bruce Williest of all Bruce Willis movies... nothing more or less than a giddy little vanity project for [Willis], who gets to sing, romance a sexy nun, save the world and wear a porkpie hat and shades that lets audiences know that he's a rocking, blue-collar kind of dude." In the latter, it is accused of committing such cinematic sins as: “Burying a lightly comic, intermittently enjoyable caper story beneath blockbuster excess, random vulgarity, and graphic violence”, and “Letting producer-star Bruce Willis indulge his lifelong wish to play a super-slick, boyish safe-cracker, the kind of asshole who thinks he's opposed to assholes.” And I’m not arguing with any of that. For me, even as a teen, the bits where Bruce Willis and Danny Aiello get together to trade smug banter were always the least interesting, and over the years they’ve just become unbearably irritating. It’s also true that the movie seems to have a serious tonal discordance, splicing a wacky, cartoonish crime caper together with a hard-hitting, foul-mouthed action movie. According to the director’s commentary, this discordance was intentional, and all part of “the fun”. I do believe that it was done on purpose, but I don’t believe that it was a very good idea. He says the film was “ahead of its time” too, but its been a good eighteen years now since it was released, and the problems are just as glaringly obvious today as they must have been when it first tanked at the box office.
Still, with the director and writer of Heathers on board, there are occasional flashes of dark wit on show, and I’m always partial to a little live-action cartoonery. Which is why, I suppose, I am most drawn to the insanely over-amped performances that Richard E. Grant and Bernhard put in as the Mayflowers, a mega-rich, megalomaniacal married couple intent on nothing short of WORLD DOMINATION!!! And yes, that does have to be in all capitals... and you have to imagine Grant raising his arms to the ceiling and bellowing it out with childish glee. In an earlier draft I found online, Minerva had a lot more lines, and I would have loved to hear her deliver the reams of villainous dialogue, in her dry drawl... but as it stands, it’s probably better for Bernhard’s reputation that she put in a smaller, forgivable cameo. There are too many good jokes and neat visual twists in Hudson Hawk for me to deny my admiration entirely... and as I find myself writing comedic-action-adventure scripts of my own, I’m no doubt being unconsciously influenced by it... but that doesn’t mean I’d place it anywhere near my Top Fifty films of all time (if I were ever to take the time to compile such a list). The Mayflowers, however, are almost certainly on my Top Ten list of fave movie villains... along with the Tremor Brothers from Smokin’ Aces... and Debbie Jellinsky from Addams Family Values.
In his scathingly funny diaries from the period, as published in the collection With Nails, Grant depicts Bernhard as rather a soft-hearted and sentimental soul, albeit one prone to unfortunately ranty outbursts. Since he spent so much time trapped in Budapest with the woman, waiting out various production snafus, I’m inclined to accept his insight... and even though it’s none of my business, and has no bearing on my life whatsoever, it’s somehow comforting to know that there might be a sweet and self-deprecating, flesh-and-blood human being hiding behind the stone-cold sarcasm and casual offence that she dishes out on stage.
* Also Scorsese's best film, if you ask me, but I know I'm in a minority on that one.
I was a bit of a latecomer to the Arular party, partly because my ears didn't entirely understand what they were hearing and partly because I belligerently refused to believe the hype. There's always a natural turnoff factor when all the music mags tell you that something is cool... because it's pretty much their job to build people up and knock them down... but even a broken clock is right twice a day, and sometimes these critics do actually know what they're talking about it. Thankfully, I've now come to recognise M.I.A. as one of the most exciting and innovative artists this country has ever produced. Also one of the cutest. Check out the "Galang" video and you'll see that on top of all that, she's a pretty nifty mover too.
In light of the warm welcome Kala received in America, and the subsequent appearance of "Paper Planes" in the much beloved and Oscar-nominated Slumdog Millionaire, its ironic to note that the album almost didn't happen at all, because Arulpragasam was denied access to the country (and the apartment where her demos and tape recorders were kept) because of problems with her visa. It must be very reassuring to live in a country where your native neighbours can legally stockpile shotguns, but pesky foreigners are prevented from getting their hands on potentially tuneful musical equipment.
I'm very lame when it comes to writing about music that I like, so forgive the lack of hyperbole... I just love her sense of humour, and the jagged aural edges, and the consistent culture-shocks that come from listening to the souvenirs of her global wanderings. Her music always reminds me that I'm part of a much larger, more complicated world than most mainstream pop-culture would ever allude to. Some people think "Multiculturalism" is a dirty word, but I disagree... especially when Multiculturalism rocks this hard.
As part of my research for a script, I’ve been working my way through Francine Prose’s book The Lives of the Muses: Nine Women & The Artists They Inspired, and yesterday I was introduced to Elizabeth “Lee” Miller. I can’t say I’d heard of her before, but now I am really quite enamoured. To steal some of Prose’s prose (sorry): “Lee Miller not only succeeded as an art photographer and studio portraitist, but used her trained Surrealist’s eye in her work as a courageous World War II photojournalist, reporting on the Normandy invasion, the brutal Alsace campaign, and the liberation of Buchenwald.” (p 230) What’s particularly remarkable about her coverage of the conflict is that, for the most part she was in the employ of Vogue, meaning that she had to overcome some rather bizarre incongruities in her working brief... such as the need to pepper her report on the liberation of Paris with references to how the local beauty salons had fared under occupation! Still, she showed far more moxie in the field than many of her counterparts, even risking arrest by the Americans for violating the terms of her accreditation... and as Prose asserts: “Lee’s empathy for the suffering around her, throughout the war, was heartfelt and profound; she never romanticized or understated its horrors.” (p 251) Her photographs confronted Vogue readers with visions of mankind at its ugliest, folded in amongst the beauty tips. That, in itself, is an admirable accomplishment... and kudos to her editors for finding a home for her work in their publication.
The journey from New York fashion model, to wealthy wife-of-leisure, to hard-nosed, hard drinking war correspondent is really quite inspiring, in an “I would never have the balls to do anything like that” sort of way. It’s always intriguing to see someone find their true calling and purpose in life... it’s just a shame that Miller found hers “in the violence and horror of genocide and battle”, and that the quality of her work apparently declined after victory was declared. Still, she was sharp enough to succinctly sum up our current political crises, when she complained in a letter about “a new and disillusioning world. Peace with a world of crooks who have no honour, no integrity and no shame is not what anyone fought for.” (p 259) Regardless of the rather less-than-glorious grind of her later years, Lee left a great legacy of “brilliant and lamentably undervalued photographs, underrated in part because her beauty and her legend competed with, and detracted from, the seriousness of her accomplishments.” (p 230) Perhaps now, scattered across the internet, and viewed without the distorting lens of contemporary gossip, those accomplishments can be discovered and properly appreciated by fresh eyes.
Big S received an award at The 13th Annual Webby Awards for “I’m F-cking Matt Damon” and her work on “The Great Schlep.” Here is the video of her 5-word acceptance speech (check it out, it's v. educational!):
Last night I watched the first part of the new Shirley Henderson comedy May Contain Nuts. To get her underachieving daughter into a fancy new school, Henderson decides to substitute for her at the vital entrance exam. Realising that the 30-something woman will never pass for a “pretty” eleven year-old girl, no matter how tiny and wee she may be, her husband hits upon the notion that if they make her sufficiently hideous, then no-one will look twice and everything will be fine! And how, you may ask, is this ugly-over achieved? Well, they grease down her hair, cover her face with spots, then slap some glasses and braces on her. Eureka! Because, as we all know, glasses and braces are the stigmata (or “ugmata”, if you will) of the “unattractive and unpopular” in mainstream media. Jan Brady and Betty Suarez are classic examples, but glasses and braces also feature prominently when Emily Perkins appears in girly teen comedies such as Another Cinderella Story and She’s The Man. In the latter, they even go so far as to lumber her with headgear and asthma, in a desperate attempt to stop her stealing the spotlight from the starlet lead... but she still manages to look super pretty once she gets all gussied up for the ever-so-slightly-sapphic “double date” scene.
I guess I’m a little biased on the glasses front, but I never understood the supposed ugliness of braces either. A girl I went to university with had braces, and it certainly didn't stop me getting a serious crush on her... and it didn't stop William H. Macy in Magnolia either! Earrings are considered a perfectly acceptable part of The Beauty Process, even though they’re basically just studs/rings of metal forced through the skin... but wearing metal on the teeth is somehow freakish and wrong? That’s illogical, Captain. I’m not a big fan of piercings of any kind, because they just make me think of needles and blood and such... and at least glasses and braces serve a practical function. But I guess that’s where geeks like me always go wrong, respecting practicality over arbitrary social conventions, as regards fashion and beauty. Sigh.
"Are you fist worthy?" Not the sort of question one should ask of strangers (unless one happens to be in that particular sort of nightclub at the time), but it is a tag-line for the Series 2 DVD of Double the Fist! I was giddy with excitement when I first saw the trailer for this Australian action-comedy show... but does it deliver on the trailer's promise? Hell yeah. The absurdity calms down a little once the main story arc kicks in, and they wind towards The Big Battle, but even then it's still a fantastically OTT and ever-so-slightly-gory ride. The experience is almost indescribable... but dammit, Jim, I'm a writer and I have to try! Imagine the Power Rangers growing up into crazy white trash yobbos, intent on crushing "weakness" in all its forms with a magickal martial art known simply as "Fist". As the team's leader grows increasingly insane and megalomaniacal, his motley crew must fulfil every mission he sets them, no matter how bizarre. I don't want to ruin all the jokes and plots, because part of the fun is in how everything unfolds like a cheese-dream, but over the course of the eight episodes they do battle with such despicable villains as mimes, mediaeval re-enactors, giant crabs, baby-eating mayors, cheap furniture manufacturers and The English. Booo!
One of my favourite "WTF!?" moments from an early episodes sees a character who is at his lowest ebb receive a visit from the ghost of a Tamagotchi pet he let die as a child. The phantom inspires him, Obi-Wan Kenboi style, to rise to the challenge using his previously untapped reservoir of "Responsibility"... which manifests itself in the form of antlers growing out of the top of his head. Of course! Most of the humour is fairly broad, with plenty of blood-soaked slapstick (several main characters die gruesome deaths, only to be resurrected Kenny-style for the next episode), mixed in with film parodies/homages, and gleeful mocking of the show's uber-macho "heroes". Much like the equally awesome Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, it's a chance for unfit sci-fi/fantasy nerds to run around pretending to be action studs, while playing with the conventions of the genres that they love. In Darkplace, however, the shoddy SFX were part of the joke, as they sought to pay tribute to a bygone era of TV sci-fi shows, such as Sapphire & Steel. Double the Fist tries its best to mimic the fancy CGI set-pieces of current movies, and serious genre shows, but often falls short in a none-the-less loveable way. As the writers/directors/stars say on one of the episode commentaries, if you want to see twenty million dollars on the screen, send them twenty million dollars. Maybe the money isn't there, but there's more than enough invention and humour and energy and ambition to make you forget the rough edges. To those of us raised on Home & Away and Neighbours (or even The Sullivans, echhh!), it seems odd that a show this wild could come out of Australia... but then, it's worth remembering that The Matrix was filmed in Sydney, while Xena and Hercules were filmed over the water in New Zealand, where a chap named Peter Jackson also started out, baking alien masks in his Mum's oven. The Fist creators happily admit to borrowing shots from Lord of the Rings, so hopefully they won't mind me comparing their show to his earlier (funner) flicks, like Bad Taste. There's less gross-out splatter here, but lines like "I'm a Derek... and Dereks don't run," or "I kick arse for The Lord!", capture the same irreverent spirit evident in both productions.
One of the main draws for me was Hollie Andrew, who plays a recurring character called Tara. She doesn't get as many scenes as the boys do, and despite being a super-powered robot assassin most of her fights are of the rehearse-today-shoot-tomorrow variety, but she does get to have some fun here and there. What's refreshing about the show, seeing as how it was written and directed by men as a vehicle for their own testosterone-fuelled alter egos, is that they don't push the exploitation angle with Tara. In fact, any time a male character tries to exert sexual power over a female character, he ends up bitterly regretting it. The only boobs on show in this series are of the hairy male variety.
Accents aside, this show could happily sit on the "cult comedy" shelf between Darkplace and The Mighty Boosh, so hopefully one of our channels over here will buy it, and the cult will grow. If it weren't for Andrew's role, I might never have known it existed, so I'm very happy to be ahead of the curve on this one. Much like The Sarah Silverman Program, it's great to be able to dive into a new show without any real preconceptions about where it will take you. All hail The Fist!
It’s quite bracing to watch Wedding Belles, shortly after catching up with the first series of Mistresses. Both focus on the ups and downs of a group of four female friends, but the latter is a glossy, glamorous romp compared to the gritty, crack-chic of the former. No surprise that it was co-written by Irvine Welsh, the filthy brain box behind Trainspotting... one of the most successful and popular British films in recent memory, and one of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read. Belles brought him back into the orbit of Michelle Gomez, who had previously appeared in an adaptation of The Acid House, and Shirley Henderson, who appeared in Trainspotting as Spud's girlf (“Shopping!” “Football!”). If I had any say in the matter, both of these women would be designated as national treasures, but I’m not sure the Scottish would appreciate me trying to co-opt their talent.
Gomez has absolutely exquisite bone-structure... but thankfully she hasn’t allowed her beauty to hamper her career as an extremely funny physical comedienne. She first came to my attention as the scene-stealing Sue White, in surreal medical dramedy Green Wing... which led me back to the previously overlooked Book Group, and then on to the criminally underrated Beeb sitcom Feel the Force. She’s the sort of performer who can make me laugh just by stepping over some crime-scene tape... and when she motions as if to head-butt random old ladies in a church, or line-dances around her bedroom in a bustier, I can’t help crushing on her. She is fierce... so no surprise she was cast as Kate in the most recent RSC production of The Taming of the Shrew... but she also has the skill to sell the quieter beats in Wedding Belles, which make it such a heartbreaking and hilarious ride. She can play it big, or she can play it small, and most importantly of all, she can slip seamlessly between the two.
Henderson has also been a “shrew” in her time, having starred in the BBC’s ShakespeaRe-Told update of the same story. For some reason it’s always funny to see short people raging against much taller people, and watching Henderson tear up the scenery and bully poor David Mitchell was a particular delight. She is perhaps best known to international audiences, rather bizarrely, as Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potter films... I say “bizarrely” because Henderson was well into her 30s when she was cast as the ghostly schoolgirl. Apparently she dug the “eternal youth” idea, because I’ve seen trailers for a new TV show (May Contain Nuts) in which she tries to pass herself off as her own eleven year old daughter (!?), to sit an important exam. Her second most recognisable role would probably be Jude, in the Bridget Jones films, which are great comfort-viewing... but in Belles she gives a fantastically spiky performance, and seems to relish every opportunity to spit out one of my favourite curses: “Get tae f-ck!” And an honourable mention should also go to Mabel Aitken, who appears as a nurse in Belles. She had a much larger role in Annie “Book Group” Griffin’s Coming Soon, alongside David Walliams, but since then has only been spotted in supporting roles. :( Overall, I can’t understand why this film was never given a full theatrical release, but there’s no shame in going straight-to-TV I suppose. I’ve watched my old VHS copy a good few times, but I’m glad I have it on DVD now, for the deleted scenes and extra interviews. A number of reviews suggested that the main characters were simply Renton and his pals in drag, but that’s clearly nonsense. Even if they are a bit rowdy at times, there’s far more compassion and understanding shared between the leads here... suggesting that they actually, y’know, like each other as people, rather than simply share a drug habit. There is talk in the extras about a series spinning off from the film, and I can certainly see that having legs, in the Mistresses mould... although you’d probably have trouble getting that stella cast back together again for long enough to knock out six or more episodes.
When I first rented Ginger Snaps, many years ago, I was unlucky enough to get a disc that was scratched to buggery. I was drawn in by the characters, but once the story kicked in, weird coloured blocks began to dance across my screen, the player threw up its tiny digital hands, and the final showdown was little more than a frustrating flicker of stop-eject-play confusion. Gah! Ever since then I’ve been wary of buying any second-hand copies locally, for fear that I’ll end up with the same accursed disc... but annoyingly the flick, and its sequels, have long since gone “out of print”, so buying a new copy was out of the question. Regardless of my less than auspicious introduction to the series, at the back of my mind there was always the nagging desire to spend more time with the Fitzgerald sisters. Finally that desire has been sated, thanks to eBay and my recently purchased trilogy boxset!
Interestingly, the first film’s disc is the most “well worn” of the set, while the third is near mint. Although I’d agree that the original is by far the best and the smartest of the trilogy, with its brilliant lycanthropy-as-a-metaphor-for-puberty theme, and “suburban-gothic” backdrop... but the sequels are still a lot of fun... and you have to give the various writers credit for making each film so distinct and self-contained, while staying “true” to the sisters’ mythology. Rather like the Aliens quadrilogy (and unlike several other horror franchises), you never feel like you’re watching the same story over again, even though the central characters remain fairly consistent. I thought they handled Brigitte’s deterioration very well in Unleashed, and ended her story on a very bizarre, if slightly unlikely, high. Where to go from there? Well, taking us back in time to meet their identical 19th Century counterparts could have been a terrible misstep, but somehow it works... probably because they play it relatively straight, as a period horror piece in the classic “small band of survivors holding the fort, but not very well” vein.
Generally speaking sequels are looked down upon as evidence of a lack of intelligence and creativity, but personally I’d love to see the series continue. Perkins and Isabelle make a great double-act, and I’m still itching to see more of their work... plus I’d really like to see the sisters redeem themselves somehow. There’s the rather Moorcockian suggestion in Back that the sisters are doomed to relive their fates over and over again, and that the choices they make effect the overall cosmic standing of Good vs. Evil. They are like Eternal Champions... sort of... except that they haven’t quite grasped the “Champion” part yet. It would be interesting to find out what other previous incarnations got up to... or even follow the adventures of their future incarnations! Hmmm...
Last year Regina Spektor cast a spell on me. I was in a local second-hand CD store, tightly clasping a copy of Luke Haines' Oliver Twist Manifesto in my sweaty little paw, when the "now playing" CD switched, and the shop was filled with the sound of a mournful piano and a female voice going "Dun-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-dun". Intrigued, I stopped to listen, and pretty soon she was hammering her keyboard and chanting "Oedipus, Oedipus, Oedipus!!!" It was stunning. It was a revelation... almost a religious moment! It's always something of a shock to be reminded just how fun can be had with a single human voice and minimal instrumentation. The appeal is directly related to the charm and energy of the performance, and the captivating wit behind the wordplay. I imagine it must be quite an experience to witness the magic up-close and personal. Anyway, I rushed to the counter and demanded to know: "Who is this?" The album in question was titled Mary Ann meets the Gravediggers and Other Short Stories by Regina Spektor, and it was purchased as soon as he could eject the disc from his stereo... all warm and toasty from the tray. Apparently it was a UK-only release, to help us limeys play catch up, while whetting our appetite for more, and it certainly worked on me! If the music weren't enough of a hook, the bonus DVD soon had me smitten.
Back to the present: Miss Spektor has a new album coming out in June, and the first single (Laughing With...) has already been released. Now, I'm no marketing guru, but I'm not sure it was quite such a good idea to lead with a song that dwells on terminal illness, disease and hunger... because, frankly, it's a bit of a downer. It's a lovely song, and there's a payoff punchline at the end, but it doesn't exactly leap out at you as a classic summertime anthem. Thankfully she's sticking with the winning, stripped-back formula that characterises her best work though. There are a lot of great songs on her previous album, Begin to Hope, but sometimes I felt her essence was being swamped by the production... if that makes any sense. Since that first exposure a year ago, I've encountered a number of imitators... but they've all lacked her lyrical flare, and simply couldn't hold a candle to the one true Queen of Anti-Folk when she's firing on all cylinders. Bless her.
