Travesty: The Wasted Career of Alicia Keyes

It is said that the Strativarius violin is an irreplicable instrument. It isn't the craftsmanship that makes it superior, it is the nature of the wood from that era. A unique combination of the age of the trees and the nature of the climate produced a particular sound well suited to the violin that is unlikely to be replicated.

Something similar took place in music in the first half and a little beyond of this century with black women's voices. The lack of video and the invention of the phonograph allowed the voice to take center-stage. The music was jazz and blues, and the combination of new black ambition and mobility combined with the ache of the Depression-era, war-era, and segregation-era childhood stilled weighed heavy in the voices of the greats, Nina Simone, Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald, Odetta. It is a timber of true suffering perfectly matched to the music of the age from a larger framed female that created a musical style that today's singers cannot match.

Certainly Aretha Franklin, and later Whitney Houston have beautiful voices and not without sorrow. But it is not the same sorrow as that of the women above. It is a domesticized sorrow, tamed, and far more so in Whitney, commercialized. The same holds true today for Beonce and any number of talented singers. Lauryn Hill best epitomized what has become of black women and their suffering - it is a spiritual sorrow, not a material one. It is about religion in a secular age, about the loss of that true suffering, the hollowness of comfort. And it's also about a bit on anachronistic racism that doesn't speak to this generation. And hence, she's disappeared, to trying to be real to be commercialized, a deliberate anachronism to an audience quick to move to the next thing.

And then there's Alicia Keyes. Alicia Keyes is not a Strativarius. Alicia Keyes is a new instrument. That's how talented she is. Nobody knows how to play it, let alone include it into the music being put out. When you see her live, say on a music Awards show, you let her do her own thing w/ the other stars and everyone's mouth drops as soon as she opens hers. She puts everyone else to shame. She hits Mariah's notes with ease and flourish.

And yet her albums are fairly lame. She has a few great songs that she wrote for herself, but they are generally very simple melody-wise. Her production values, backbeats, everything is off. Does she get stuck w/ lousy producers because she's so good herself? Everything she does is better in its live version. That is generally pretty telling that the pros aren't doing their jobs.

Can we please fix this? You never know when a person's voice will change, when celebrity or alcohol or health will give way and snatch that talent away.

Can we please stop wasting this woman's career? Is she doing it to herself?

Flags of Our Fathers: A Cinematic Hate Crime

This film made me want to urinate on Steven Spielberg.

Disclaimer: I'm not referring to the book. Indeed, the trials and travails of those who went on the War Bond tour may have been just as depicted in the film, but I doubt it. No one has such poor taste, and time, as to carve a desert in the form of six soldiers putting up a flag, and then pouring strawberry sauce on it. It is the most blunt, despicable sort of symbolism imaginable, which leads us to:

THE 5 CARDINAL SINS OF PRETENSION
1) Preachy. Oh my. I guess Spielberg had already covered this ground in 2-3 movies, the ground that no one fights for an idea, that no fights are noble, that all soldiers are noble just for being there but they are only in it for each other. And there are no heroes. So he handed this one to Eastwood. And instead of telling a story about soldiers fighting a great battle, we have a seemingly interminable lecture on the marketing of the war. The movie begins with a lecture, almost every line is a lecture, every moment is a lecture, with every ludicrous twist of fate to match a lecture line, the movie moves from pedantry to pedantry with almost no humor, no character development, heck, it takes a good 2 hours just to get a handle on whose name is whose because the movie does such a bad job of getting you to know the characters before killing them off or having them do important plot points for reasons that aren't truly discernible. Oh, and just to fill the cup of pedantry to overflowing, they poured in almost endless racism against Native Americans, besmirched the memory of President Truman, reduced the Japanese to comically faceless villains, and added some good old-fashioned ugly American tourism, just to make sure it was clear that everything is wrong w/ American life. Simply put, the preachiest movie I've ever seen. I hated being a Californian and seeing all of this hatred spewed into film, especially a film that, for about 1/4, has at least the hints of a good film about the Marine Corps and its most treasured battle.

2) Political. I know it's tough to separate out the two. So just to make sure, the film begins and ends w/ ludicrous Olympics-Lifetime background story lighting and makes sure you get the point, especially in the opening lecture, that it's important that a blanket statement about a current war be made in a movie about Iwo Jima.

3) Psychosexual. Luckily we weren't forced to suffer the sex is art phenomenon. Apparently there weren't a lot of babes on Iwo Jima. In fact, the brief character building scene (that's right, there's only one for all the faceless heroes the movie supposedly honors) has a cute sex joke that seems completely out of place in an otherwise wooden film.

4) Too Long. Nellly WAYYYYY TOOO LOOONNNGGGGG. We endure repeated repetitive emphasis of pedantic points repeatedly repeated through tedious way too long sections on the war bond campaign. Did I mention the repetition? Good. Because the whole time you're just sitting there thinking "COULD I WATCH THE F-ING BATTLE!!!???" You know, like the part where they won the freaking thing? The part where the other guys stopped shooting and the beachhead was secured? That part didn't warrant...6 seconds? Ryan Phillipe got at least an hour of standing awkwardly still while words came out of his mouth in mostly literate format. The winning the battle part isn't worth 1/100th of Ryan Phillipe? Or a little more testimony to Japanese courage? That wasn't worth Phillipe reiterating his concerns for the 5th time? Honestly, Ryan Freaking Phillipe??? Why not just suit up Laura Flyn Boyle and Elijah Wood and see how they look as Marines and Navy Corpsmen.

5) Whiny Hero. I guess to make up for the lack of psychosexual nonsense they went so overboard with the whining that Fran Drescher would blush. Every single character in the movie, supposedly stoic soldiers who refused to talk about their experiences, spends much of the film crying and blubbering and voicing their self-doubt to any who will listen. Do people in Hollywood ever think anything they don't say? Are they so surprised by the existence of real emotions that they have to talk about them? Or are they so unaccustomed to the phenomenon, and incapable of, you know, pretending, that they just blurt them out instead? The answer? Ryan Phillipe. I swear, at least 3 times in the movie he smirked to himself like, "What the hell am I doing pretending to be a Marine for Clint Eastwood? It's just preposterous!" Why even have a casting department?

As if that weren't enough, they put the book/script author in the movie!!!! This has to be Cardinal Sin #6 (Cardinal Sin 5.5 being the use of an Arab choral voice and violin to convey exoticism and gravitas). Do not put yourself in the movie. We'll call this the Tarantino Rule. I don't care about your freaking catharsis and your relationship with your father. I don't want to be reminded that you decided to turn that catharsis into cash in book format. I don't want to see you or know you. I came for a movie about Iwo Jima, not you. Your life is not interesting. You are a writer and a chump. Go away.

Just a note - yes, dipstick, there are real heroes. They win Medals of Honor. Audie Murphy and Alvin York were not made up for our sake. They rocked on the battlefield. I'm sorry that you don't want to distinguish between great soldiers, good soldiers and not-so-good soldiers. Yes everyone who didn't run away gets credit. But, dude, the guy everyone says was the best marine of the bunch gets no airtime until they're like, "Oh yeah, that dude rocked. Let's show him getting killed."

You want to make a good movie about Iwo Jima. MAKE IT ABOUT IWO JIMA!!!! How hard is that? Don't make it about Iraq, or about commercialism, or about your emotional catharsis about not knowing your father, or about all your petty Hollywood self-absorption. Make it about the freaking battle idiot. That whole, "Oh, and about the flag, funny story..." is the kicker to the soldier's story of the battle. It's not the story. The movie never felt like it was about the 40's, that it had people from the 40's in it. It looked like a bunch of Gen-Y punks feeling decidedly awkward trying to pretend to be the dudes on Iwo Jima. It felt like they took some extra footage from Jarhead and put it in this movie. Apparently hardly anyone looks like a soldier in Hollywood.

This was as dumb as making a movie about Alexander the Great that focuses on the fact that he, like a lot of Greek dudes at the time, was bi. Not the whole, conquer the world, strangely whiny, but immensely talented, wreckless ambition thing. No, it was the sex life that was important. Nobody would be dumb enough to do that, right?

Thanks to this repeated catastrophic stupidity, as it consistently leaches money from solid film ideas, let's just sum up the advise to avoid the cardinal sins of stupidity: 1) tell the story as it happened, not as it applies to your petty current events agenda. 2) Don't put yourself in the movie. don't put writers in the movie. 3) Don't use blunt symbolism to pretend you're an artist. 4) FREAKING A, FIRST RULE OF FILM SCHOOL: SHOW ME DON'T TELL ME.

I swear Spielberg, quite dodging me. I will pee on you the next time I see you.

Barry Bonds or Kenny Rogers?

So, who is the worse cheater?

On the one dirty hand, obviously, steroids are controlled by the law and cause longterm health damage. So they are worse for the game's image and worse for their influence on the kids. They cause medical and legal issues that far outreach anything pinetar does to you.

On the other dirty hand, at least steroids are a form of self-improvement. You still have to work out like crazy, and you are trying to better your internal skills. Doctoring the ball involves no skill. It is an external cheat, a quick fix.

Plus, if you take steroids, everyone can see you are cheating. You're practically boasting. The whole point of the pinetar graft is to pretend you are honest.

I don't buy that "everyone does it" line. Everyone takes steroids too. Friends in major college sports tell me everyone on the baseball team is dirty, either serially or for a onetime boost.

No one talks about 'greenies', amphetamines that improve gametime performance. These are the worst in my opinion - you are absolutely breaking the law, you are damaging your health, of course you are cheating, but no one can see it, and it is a quick fix.

But no one does a story on those things. Didn't anyone wonder, "Hey, why did Rick Ankiel have a complete meltdown and disappear from baseball?"

The real issue here is that steroids are new, new as in within the past 2 decades. Aging pitchers have been doctoring balls forever. That doesn't give it a pass in my book.

So I would say that it is probably worse for the game and it's image for Bonds-style cheating over Rogers-style cheating. But as far as sportsmanship goes, I'd feel less wronged by giving up a bomb to Bonds than whiffing on an oblong ball from Rogers.

Men's Underwear Options: The Definitive Study

The purpose: Most men wear boxers. Boxers are aesthetically the most comfortable option. No one sees anything untoward. But are they really the ideal?

Definition of Terms: To avoid offending youths who might need this guide, we will using a euphemism chosen at random for certain parts of the body: the Letter-to-the Editor and the Business Reply Mail.

FACTS: We have 4 real underwear options once we're potty trained. We started with the tighty-whitey. We graduated to boxers in Junior High and High School. Somewhere along the line, someone added the boxer-briefs to the mix. And then there's that enigmatic commando option. There is the exotic option, the banana hammock, which deserves little consideration because a) it looks ridiculous, b) it's horribly uncomfortable, and c) no one wants to look like a European guy at the beach...UNDER THEIR CLOTHES NO LESS!!!

This study proposes to look at our options and make the proper suggestions.

1. Tighty-whiteys. There are good reasons why we start with these - they absorb excess dripping, they provide support, guiding The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail through that reckless phase when we don't realize their importance and we like to run into things. And indeed they remain the best option for athletics throughout life, keeping the Letter-to-the-Editor and the business reply mail safely in the mailbags. But we all realized their limitations - they make it hot and sweaty in there, and eventually smelly. They're like diapers, they hold the Letter-to-the-Editor's hand through the roughdrafts.

2. Boxers. These made us feel like men - yes, I am wearing shorts underneath my pants. They clean up, the weather is tolerable. I'm flipping, I'm flopping. I've got a Letter-to-the-Editor and it deserves notice. So does the Business Reply Mail. Heck, boxers are even fit for more frequent reuse than the old T-W...they don't get dirty as fast. Sports are a concern, yes. But we're ok.

Then slowly, damningly, the disadvantages set in. First there's the riding up, the rising in. The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail voice some dismay. But then the laundry process sets in and you are slowly drawn in to an inevitable cycle of discomfort. The boxers folks realize that their item doesn't need replacing like a razor or even like a normal piece of clothing - who cares if the colors fade if you can't see them. Sure boxers aren't like jeans...no one's going for the 'pre-worn look' but a faded boxer never scared anyone off.

The boxers' makers really only have one item working in their favor - fast-food. The inevitability of a man's laziness, unwillingness to cook, and naturally slowing metabolism mean that the rear's growth is all but a foregone conclusion. We eat like we're at the training table long after they take high school football from us. The boxer must widen accordingly.

This may come as news to you. When I bought my first pair, I asked my dad about sizes. He said, "Just get your waste size." I had a strange look on my face - wasn't there 1-3 things that needed a little more consideration? So he laughed, "What did you think the sizes went by?" Laugh as he may, my concern was warranted. How can my Letter-to-the-Editor not get a little more consideration? You see, some of us are Asian, and some of us are Italian. And apparently, all the boxers' makers are Asian women. Because you would have to buy boxers whose elastic barely stretches around your waist to enough room for your Letter-to-the-Editor. Sure, it seems alright before you put your pants on. But once the pants go on, the mail gets sorted, and it needs to pick a direction. And in that choice, you're right back in tighty-whities.

To make matters worse, they make the elastic shrink. I swear they use sweater fabric on boxers because they shring WAY faster than normal clothes. The idea is simple - as the Letter-to-the-Editor gets choked off at the opening sentences and the Business Reply Mail piles up, we'll go out and buy more boxers. They've transplanted the idea behind the lightbulb business to our beloved postal business!

The Boxer-Brief - the boxer-brief is really supposed to be the beginning stages of phasing out the tighty-whitey. That's the idea. But I have grave concerns about this new contender. Yes it is more aesthetically pleasing and politically correct than the tighty-whitey. It still gives out hints about the contents of the Letter-to-the-Editor for the audience's sake. The idea seems to be - guys will be more comfortable walking around in these things in the lockerroom, and the ladies will get what they need. But it's one of those ideas like New Coke or the Hair Plugs that sounds great in theory but goes woefully awry in practice.

You see, as a man, you have a choice. You can go tight for support for your letter-to-the-editor, but then you're forcing yourself into a pair of underpants that are DESIGN TO RISE UP. Or you can go loose, and you're basically getting a pair of boxers with an ungodly vendetta against your business reply mail.

Commando - At first glance, it sounds crazy. No underwear? What substances are you inflicting on your poor pants! What if someone pantses you or, heaven forbid, an unfortunate XYZ situation lets everyone read both your letter-to-the-editor and your business reply mail when they are in no condition for public consumption. Indeed, commando is a wholly unsuitable option through any age in which a pantsing is a possibility. There's the occasional situation in which you will be taking off your pants...say a physical...when you'll obviously want something to keep matters under control.

But reexamine the possibilities - you get all the room you could need, there's no rising up, no riding in. Kramer may have grossed you out, but was he a genius? Your humble correspondent can say that, in the interests of this study, he tried it, and his letter-to-the-editor and his business reply mail couldn't be happier. However, don't go jogging in this condition...ever. Women are only human and you can cause a traffic accident.

Until the boxers makers employ some men, and I mean straight men, not gay men forcing us towards bizarre dreams of a legion of banana-hammock wearers, I must reccomend a multifold strategy based primarily on the Commando and the tighty-whitey or boxer brief. The commando for work and relaxing, the briefs for sports. Then you can keep a few pairs of boxers on hand for when you go to the doctor.

The Reggie Bush Curse Begins

First off, perhaps it's better to call this the Football Jesus curse or in honor of the Big Easy, The Voodoo Football Jesus Curse.

The elements should be familiar to Red Sox and Sonics fans - drafting an overhyped oaf over Michael Jordan or passing Babe Ruth over to your rival.

It's clear now that a lone Katrina survivor who was relocated to Texas has hexed the Houston Texans for unspecified reasons. Perhaps sheer spite for Texas not catching much hurricane flack while New Orleans suffered.

The result: Reggie Bush goes to New Orleans. Next thing you know, steady running back starter for Houston Dominic Davis has knee bones grinding together. Out for a while? The year? Forever? I've only heard that description used for Terrell Davis and Curtis martin, both done for good. Watch out Houston RB's, your future is in jeopardy.

Ranking the Coen Bros. Films

Given that they're the most talented filmmakers of their generation, and they seem to be on sabbatical, it's time to rank their films. The Coens have 3 distinct traits, not always employed and not always employed well when employed: intelligence, humor, and style. Keep those in mind. Starting with the worst:

11. Barton Fink - A movie about writer's block. Predictably boring. This film is sorely lacking in humor and is only mildly stylized. That leaves us with an intelligent film, but an intelligent film about writer's block and a bitterness towards Hollywood that is generally lacking in the Coens usually boisterous, light ribbings.

10. The Ladykillers - A film with too disparate a hodgepodge to pull together. Certainly the characters are good but the film lacks consistency and seems to bounce around aimlessly. A disappointing effort apparently done for the sake of Hanks' interest and a need to make money.

9. O Brother Where Art Thou - Because the film is good and soundtrack changed music, if ever so briefly, it may be a surprise to find this film so low. That said, kitchy journey stories like the Odyssey are a cop out. The film has strong moments, is beautifully shot, and features strong performances. But it wears thin.

8. Blood Simple - The Coen's first film is lacking in style and humor, but is brutal and smart. Very effecting but only a glimpse of potential.

7. Intolerable Cruelty - Extremely uneven. At its best moments, it is fantastic. Unfortunately, it is clear that the Coens took the project on and made it good rather than creating it from the ground up. There are mismatched elements and a bum stretch towards the end, plus a surprisingly humorless turn from Cedric the Entertainer, makes it lose steam. Still a very underrated film featuring moments of astounding comedic brilliance and real heart.

6. Raising Arizona - The first true Coen film, in parts bizarre, funny, and smart. Cage is good, Tex is better, and all around it is a genuinely likeable film. An appropriate midpoint to hold hands with the #5 film, which is very similar, only better in every sense.

TIMEOUT: I would just like to mention To the White Sea. To the White Sea was an essentially dialogueless adaptation of a very brutal novel by the writer of Deliverance about an American airman trapped behind enemy lines. To be done in black-and-white, and hopefully with a better ending than the novel, it was an artpiece to surpass all there other art pieces. They got the interest of the generation's most underrated actor, skill-wise, Brad Pitt. This was going to be their best art film...but they couldn't budget it. If only we had phlianthropists who made films for the hell of it.

5. The Big Lebowski - The best of the basically plotless comedies, a worthy cult classic. Nothing need be said here except that I think moview with real narrative features to be inherently superior.

4. The Man Who Wasn't There - The best of their art films, a dark, very intelligent, very powerful film, superbly scored (as always), brilliantly written, directed, and acted. There are, again, flights of fancy a bit too silly...it would have been better to play this one a little straighter. But a very impressive effort, a travesty to have received no Oscar attention. Whose shoes did these guys spit on that no one wants to nominate them? Perhaps it's because they're too smart for Hollywood and don't make dull overtly-political tripe.

3. Fargo - A controversial choice. Many Coen fans find the more mainstream dramas of the mid-90's to be a travesty against true Coendome. Others would say that Fargo is without question their best effort. The truth is that Fargo is a good film but not a deep one. It lacks the artistic flares, the repeated symbolism that would push it to the top of the list. But it is a great movie.

2. The Hudsucker Proxy - A delightful film, funny, consistently themed, a rare topic, well-acted and tight as a drum. Only second to:

1. Miller's Crossing - The only time the Coens blended everything perfectly and added a touch of Godfather to the mix. Funny, quirky, and intelligent, the film is missing the missteps and goofiness and inconsistency that takes away from many of the other films. It adds a literary stroke of intelligence and a slow, well-measured descent from light comedy to an extremely mature conclusion.

ESPN embarrasses itself.

With baseball playoff races still only percolating and football a few weeks off, ESPN has hit one of its low points in desparately trying to stir up controversy.

Points A and B: Reggie Bush and Terrell Owens.s

First TO:
TO and Bill Parcells are favorites because they feed ESPN stories to soak up time. So you put both of them together on America's team and ESPN starts shivering in ecstasy. So TO tweaked a hammy, now ESPN has to ride this story "TO not working hard, already causing controversy", "Parcells disgruntled" despite the fact that there's no story. He tweaked a hammy. Plenty of guys take it easy in preseason with a bum hamstring. There is no controversy, except now ESPN has forced TO back on the practice field, whether he's ready or not.

WORSE: Bush
Bush is really good. So ESPN wants to hype him. First, he missed a day of training camp unsigned and ESPN was reporting he would sit out the season. He practiced the next day. Then ESPN covered his Monday night performance. They knew it was something very..., they just didn't know what. They couldn't get their story straight. The Sportscenter crew was creaming itself like every cut he made was the next coming of Barry Sanders' highlight reel. Then they cut to the sideline reporter's post game interview, and she was blitzing Bush with questions about getting "completely stuffed".

Stop. Stop. Stop. Cover the event, stop embarrassing yourselves. It's too lame to even demand creativity.

Traffic Flow Dynamics for Dummies
(That means you idiot!)

My brother has a theory on driving and politics - we're all sympathetic to Democrats when we use public transportation - we all suffer together, we're all in it together. Then we get in our cars and realize, "I'm living in a nation of assholes."

It's bad enough that the traffic lights aren't synchronized...we all have to deal with drunkards, senile people, immigrants who come from countries with different theories than the "shortest route is between two points" standard, ladies afraid of the highway, and people who are lost and think the way is found by going as slow as possible.

So here are a few tips for sane, thinking people to consider when driving down the street to keep the traffic flowing and the roadrage safely controlled by CDs or talk radio.

1. The fast lane is for going faster than the speed limit.
2. Get out of the traffic and into the exit/turn lane...THEN SLOW DOWN.
3. Never go the same speed as the lane next to you
4. Merge at freeway speed
5. Do not use the brake on the freeway unless there is a traffic jam...taking your foot off the accelerator will slow you down sufficiently
6. It is possible to drive while it is raining.
7. Your blinker signals your intentions.
8. If you are pulling up to a red light and do not plan to turn right, please vacate the right lane so that those who do intend to do so can use it.
9. Cell phones, sandwiches and the radio are to be fiddled with only for those capable of driving their car normally while using them. Don't turn into a senile Asian woman just because you're talking to your girlfriend.
10. For heaven sakes do not NOT NOT drive slower than the speed limit up to a green light and then speed through it when it turns yellow with other cars left at the red behind you. THIS IS WORSE KARMA THAN CLUBBING BABY SEALS.

An Inconvenient Truth: I paid money for a 2-hour campaign commercial.

I went to Al Gore's movie having been told it was very good. Parts of it are and bring up consequences I had not before contemplated. But the movie is a slideshow, and we know how much we loved those in college.

More importantly. this movie has 2 glaring flaws: Al Gore and Al Gore.

Glaring Flaw #1 Al Gore plays Michael Moore.

As we all know, Michael Moore introduced the "documentary" political campaign commercial as a self-marketing ploy to actually get money from people for telling them how to think rather than spending to have them ignore you when you tell them how to think. Al Gore has a long history of lacking creativity, or claiming he had a creative idea after someone else invented it(internet, the movie Love Story, he even admits in his movie that his passion for this issue is based upon his 'soaking in like a sponge' the message of his professors.)

And so, for his hagiography, err...documentary, Al Gore mimick's Moore's canon. We have the oh-so clever cartoon, the photo montages, the quotes from great men, the angry documentor confronting wrongdoers. But most of all, just like in Moore's film, the subject is not the subject, it is only a vehicle for the ego of the filmmaker. At least Moore is a goofy, hokey presence on camera; even though it is a sham, it is a good one and we are all posers at this point anyhow.

But Gore, Gore never knew he was in the first place. He is his ambition and his sense of superiority. There is nothing else. Al Gore is not a man, like John McCain, or even a character, like Bill Clinton. He is a hollow man. He is a Richard Nixon. The words "Al Gore" mean nothing unless there is something, something like "Vice President" or "Congressman" or "Filmmaker" beside it. Because there is no Al Gore. What little there is of Al Gore is what he believes about the environment. But even that must carry the train to what Al Gore cares about most - Al Gore. If only there were something to care about.

Which is Glaring Flaw #2: Al Gore plays Al Gore.
This movie is not a documentary. It is a CV for president and just as doctored as your average average Harvard student's application. It diverges wildly from it's environmental message to allow the quintessential Empty Suit to take another stab at reframing his life to make him likeable and respectable. I could not believe what I was seeing for the first 15 minutes of the film - it was nothing but Al Gore. When they ran out of angles to shoot Gore from, they actually put the back of his head on screen for several seconds with no voiceover...TWICE!!!

This version of Al Gore is apparently funny. Or at least a canned audience of concerned Ivy League backbenchers is willing to laugh at the punchlines. There'll be at least one toady at your local theater obsessed enough with his/her politics to go along. We find time for Gore to show his 2000 Presidential run and the fallout from the contested election. If you were one of the few women out there who was turned on by Gore's condescending-ex-husband-like showings at the Gore-Bush debates, consider this an orgy of pedantry.

But more importantly, Gore and the director make an effort more labored than Shatner's rendition of Rocket Man (http://www.youtube.com/watch?search=Shatner&v=aVlf04AwHCI) to tie in a new, earthier version of the Life Al-a-Gore. In the first family segment, Gore's poor, noble, farmer father raises him on a rural road where they farm cattle. Gore mysteriously goes on to the Ivy League and jumps right into politics where he tirelessly lectures bought off scientists on their duties, only later to be cheated out of the presidency.

We are, of course, reminded once that Gore lived most of his childhood in a DC Hotel. If you were unfamiliar, Gore's father was a Senator, and not just any Senator, but the Vanderbilt family's personal senator. Don't be surprised if Gloria Vanderbilt's child, CNN nepotism-hack Anderson Cooper has a lovejones for Gore come 2008. Cooper's book was just as wastefully self-centered as Gore's film.

We also have a laughable rendition of Gore's connection to big tobacco. You see, Al Gore's sister died of lung cancer. You remember that humble cattle farm the Gore's kept...well, I guess they also grew a bit of tobacco. But when Gore's sister died, the Senator from Vanderbilt, according to Al, stopped growing tobacco. It just wasn't right to make money off of their sister's death.

Except Gore was widely bashed in the late 90's, before the hush campaign to get him past Bush, for his continued connections to, and profits off of, big tobacco.

The bigger question is - what in the name of Sam the American Eagle is any of this doing in a documentary on Global Warming? A few oblique literary turns of phrase are somehow supposed to bridge the gap and justify to the viewer that he spent 8 bucks to watch a long commercial?

An inconvenient truth: Al Gore is running for something - even if he's given up on the presidency, and that's not at all clear, he's still running for Al Gore (Fill-in-the-blanks-here).

Closer: Why Your Favorite Movie is Lame

While reading Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man", late in the novel, Joyce reviews his own book, claiming true art is best when it arises no passion in it's reader and can be appreciated only for its artistry. This revelation bites heavily into the reader's enjoyment of the book - if you were ever moved by a part of the book, then you had read it wrong.

As a lesser writer, Closer's author, was forced into self-deprication to indulge his vanity and review his own work on screen, having his trampled flower bemoan how all art is supposed to be sad to be beautiful but the people are still sad, so it is not beautiful. And in one scene, everything that is right and wrong with Closer is on display - the set up is strong, the picture of herself crying taken by the woman who has caused these tears, shared with this woman's lover. But the delivery is wordy and trite, forced to hear the scene's punch through the author's whiny reflections rather than to see it and know it. In this, the author reveals his arrogance - that his words are better than the scene (they aren't) and that his audience is much dumber than he is (we aren't).

First the basics - the film is in fact quite obviously a play since it is driven by dialogue rather than action. It was clearly penned by a long-struggling author with a bit of flare and wit, but one completely self-absorbed.

The cast almost entirely reads of the artist's artist's conceits - the struggling author, the trampled woman of the night, the falsely sophisticated art docent. It is only Clive Owen's porn-obsessed doctor who breaks new ground, but in this case the character feels false and only squeaks by thanks to a strong performance by Owen. All of the characters are too witty for their own good, written to indulge the author's strongest skill rather than to fit the character itself. Though Owen is very good, his character isn't working class enough...every character becomes a psychiatrist as they wander their way through the reams of dialogue.

Julia Roberts seems to have either not been up for such wordiness, or to have successfully convinced the director to leave out her dialogue. Her role is effectively understated in comparison to the rest. Her effectiveness in the role is still bothersome - the queen of Hollywood is far too comfortable in the role of the film's weakest character, a tawdry and weak woman masquerading as a sophisticate. The power women of Hollywood past could never have played the role, for they chew up the screen and the characters around them. Roberts' skill actually diminishes her star.

The same goes for Jude Law, who once again looks the part of a dashing movie star, but plays the role of a weak and flighty cad. Since this is the role Law always plays, with the exception of woefully chosen turns in Spielberg movies, we can assume that Law will never be a true picture star, merely something for the girls to look at.

Finally there is Natalie Portman, cast against type because she's trying to reprove herself and wash the Star Wars out of her hair. Unfortunately, she hasn't been around long enough to prove herself a first time and we're left with a rather shallow performance that could have done with less dialogue and false wit.

The film occaisonally makes attempts at turning the setting into art, but never quite gets it right. There is almost no cinematographic artistry to bring the movie home as something beautiful, most probably because the director was too in love with the psychosexual dialogue to spend much time making a picture. This is an egregious error in a love-story/drama/independent work, but a love story especially, because our notions of love or so intimately tied with beauty.

The above referenced scene, with Portman looking at her own photo, is a clear example - are we left with a timeless image of the moment, something like Anita Ekberg's moment in the fountains from La Dolce Vita? No, what we remember is her flat delivery of an airless line about the nature of art. Other scenes are lifted from the film's intellectual forebears, most notably Law and Portman's final split being an almost exact replica of the superior Les Mepris (Contempt).

And finally, the movie is only as big as its characters and its drama. Unfortunately, these are all characters who we are assumed to have a too easy sympathy for. Since we never fall in love with them, and move so quickly into the betrayals, we do not care for them or about them. They are all, in their own way, weak and tawdry human beings for whom we develop no awe to displace this lack of sympathy. All that's left is what intellectual sustenance we may find, and though there is some, there is not enough to make the film great.

The Thrill of Cycling

The New Republic has a headline that reads "Why Performance Enhancing Drugs Don't Take Away from the Thrill of the Sport."

Do I need to read it to know that the answer is that there is no thrill in the sport to begin with?

BOY VANDERBILT HITS BACK:

"I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THE PAYOLLA, THEREFORE, NOTHING WRONG WAS DONE."

Anderson Cooper, the boy anchor promoted over similarly bland media mediocrities for his shiny silver hair, alternative lifestyle, and fabulously wealthy mother, has lashed out at critics (that is, people working for his own organization) of CNN/Time's payolla scheme to buy the exclusive Angelina interview.

In a nutshell, Time paid 4 million to Jolie's charity. Suddenly, they landed an exclusive from her and her agent called the Dandy Vandy for an exclusive interview. Disgusted CNN/Time employees leaked the news and suddenly we can all delight in a wonderfully juicy bout of hypocrisy.

Media-types like Anderson make a living off of leaks. But now leaks are very bad things. So bad that Anderson curses them with the dastardly "Killer Quotations". You see, the insiders who gave Drudge his scoop weren't really insiders. They were "insiders". I guess the only insiders that can't be trusted by CNN are CNN's own insiders!

Funnier still, Anderson can't deny the story, as firmly as he denigrates it as all lies and quotations. All he can say is that he doesn't know anything other than that money changed hands, the agent called his people, and you should watch his interview.

Politicians have supporters and fundraisers who employ dirty tactics all the time, perhaps with their knowledge, perhaps tacit approval, or perhaps completely independently. But would that stop Serious Newsperson Anderson Vanderbilt, excuse me, Cooper, from casting serious doubts on the morality of the politician in question? I can just see Anderson looking stolidly into the camera, perhaps from outside his own mother's estate, and shaking his head in disgust at the dirty deeds of some other Anderson.

Now that the rumor, slander, leaking, and payolla has to do with Anderson, he's as clean as a whistle because he didn't know it was taking place. In the style of his creek-of-consciousness autobiography, he was probably daydreaming during his hardhitting refugee piece wtih Miss Jolie about how the refugees' plight reminded him of the time his mother didn't have his Mercedes ready for his 16th birthday.

Just another reminder brought to you by Anderson Cooper - no one does anything legitimately.
Even if you're a Vanderbilt backed by Ted Turner, you still have to pay up.

Thank You For Smoking

One of the better comedies I've seen and even rarer - the comedy that's probably funnier the first time. A lot of funny movies, Anchorman, Rushmore, get funnier once you watch them a second time familiar with the characters. This one was just funny.

Sopranos Way Off the Mark

Boy has the Sopranos been uneven this year. Great first episode, a horrible episode about the meaning of life that sounded like the shittiest drunk philosophy conversation some pothead foisted on you your first year of college, followed by a fantastic episode that set up...this schlock.

Please, Sopranos writers, didn't you see my cardinal sins of pretension? Don't make Tony play way out of character just so you can lecture us about gay people. Two GLARING plot holes: 1) Frankie was into something similar and Tony was ready to out him over that. 2) Might not he be forced to act worrying that Vito would go into the Witness Protection program over being outed?

I've always found Vito tedious, he can be shot. I like Adrianna and Christopher - why kill an interesting character off and leave a boring one - just to feel good about gay people?

If that weren't the worst of it, much of the rest of the episode was about BS al-Qaeda lame plotline and Meadow opening her huge trap again. Please shoot Meadow immediately. Please stop all contemporary social issues commentary.

Shooting Tony, that was original. There's so many interesting plot lines available with these characters. Why are you wasting our time with this? I can only suspect that James Gandolfini is gay and would only come back if the show dealt with these topics. He did play a gay guy too in The Mexican. Or maybe the writers hang out in New York way too often.

Why Your Favorite Movie Sucks: Donnie Darko

Cult Classic? Neither.

Let's start with the positive. The bunny suit is cool. It's good to see Patrick Swayze get work. I feel bad for that generation that really suffered there for a while: Swayze, Travolta, Kurt Russell. Swayze's caught the worst of it.

I guess it's well thought out at least. And that leaf blower thing at the beginning is genius.

So, that's it. Let's get to the Cardinal Sins:

1) Preachy. The biggest problem with the film is that, rather than being about a messed up kid with paranoid schizophrenia the WHOLE time, it's only about that 1/2 the time. The other half is about how intolerant and impermissive schools are. That's why they ban a Graham Greene short story, because, you know, that's what schools do. Nevermind that the most banned book in America is Huck Finn, because in real life, schools ban books because they don't get satire.

The bigger problem is that the moral paragon teacher, the Robin Williams 'carpe diem' teacher, is Drew Barrymore. It's a little difficult to see Drew teaching Graham Greene, especially after her turn in documentary film making. For you see, Drew made a documentary film in which she went to DC to learn about politics and ends up blubbering in tears before the camera, "Why'd I choose politics? It's so confusing."

Worse, the supposedly 'gotcha' teenage moments aren't that good. Even Election was better in that respect. So was Napoleon Dynamite.

2) Political. The first line of the film is, "I'm voting for Dukakis." Throughout the movie, we get a very tired and hackneyed version of the ignorant Christian ruining the beautiful world of teenage despair, layered with an admittedly subtle if equally lame tip of the hat to Reagan being the ideological inspiration for all this. Which leads to the question, was this movie written recently, in which case it's merely boring, or did it take this long to get it onto film?

I think the lamest part is the self-help Christian, Swayze, turning out to have a kiddie porn dungeon. This is a lame take-off of the equally gag-worthy contrived hypocrisy of the neo-nazi gay guy in American Beauty.

Does this all ring true with people? Is this really what your life in high school was like? Are we really to revel in our neighbor's hypocrisies, as long as the neighbor's are ideological enemies? Is every one we know that deep of a hypocrite?

3) Psychosexual. It didn't have to be. But they just had to throw in the hypnosis scene where he starts feeling himself up because, you know, that's art. Honestly, it's true, sexual tension is a very teenage issue. But if you want to deal with that, there's better ways than a casual toss-in.

4) Too Long. Every movie that's more character study than plot is too long. I could have done with more of the girlfriend. I liked her. The love story should have been built up so that it meant more when she died.

5) Whiny Hero. Boy did he whine. Remind me again why we're supposed to feel sorry for bums like the main character?

To sum up what should have happened: good bunny, more love story should replace lame Drew Barrymore related preaching, leading to real main character drama about being pulled between this love affair with a damaged girl and the paranoid psychosis that leads to main character's delusions.

I'm like radio shack for scripts - you've got questions, I've got answers.

Anderson Cooper Nobly Watches People Do Good Things

Ok, so our whipping boy took an extra day to find something to say. I started the post with "OK" because that's what Anderson did - I believe he actually ran a study and a focus group to determine that the best way to make it seem like a blog is to start with "OK".

The title is "Trading Beer Bongs for Sledgehammers". So I guess we know what Anderson was up to in college. Of course, it doesn't hurt that his mater familia already has a UNIVERSITY named after it. I would guess that Vanderbilt was a pretty safe safety school for Coop.

Anderson is trying to feed off the Katrina cache and self-congradulation that the media gave itself after Katrina, deeply worried about the lack of a rebuilding plan and discussing how often he visits the area. The excuse for this sordid back-slapping session is that Anderson is watching college students who have paid their way for a spring break spent tearing down Katrina-destroyed homes.

Of course, kudos to the young folks. Here's just a little thought for Coop though: if you've spent so much time in Katrina and are so personally moved by it...have you helped tear down a single house yet? Or do you just stand in front of the camera and then head down to Bourbon Street to relive your college days? Or maybe you could dip into that unimaginably large family fortune and do a little rebuilding of your own?

But that would violate media ethics...you know, actually solving a problem instead of looking gravely into the camera and shaking your head at them.

Anderson Cooper Strikes Again
http://www.cnn.com/CNN/Programs/anderson.cooper.360/blog/
So apparently the Veiled Vanderbilt deigns post on his own CONTRACTUALLY OBLIGATED blog every Wednesday. I foresee Wednesday evenings growing exceedingly pleasant, and not just because of the all you can eat Indian buffet.

Since Anderson has nothing to say about the world, once again his post is dedicated to eulogizing something, this time it's Mike Wallace's career. I would have thought that such a eulogy would have been delivered when CBS news sank with Rather, or when Wallace died 15 years ago and was injected with Dick Clark serum. At least Bob Barker has a decent makeup job that makes him look human. Mike Wallace is a walking mass of plastic surgery. Honestly CBS, we can handle an 88-year old anchor. He can look like an old man. Or maybe it's just Wallace who is vain. That's a lot of vanity, or maybe just an unhealthy dose of vanity stretched VERY taught over a number of years on the downside of the hill.

Nevertheless, it's once again amusing to note that Cooper JUST MET WALLACE. Does Anderson actually care enough about anyone he's eulogizing to, you know, maintain a friendship with him?

I actually appreciate this post in the sense that if Anderson weren't so dense, it could be deep satire. Let's play out the possible hidden meaning of his posts:
"You Look Like A Kid" Translation: "Mike Wallace Called Me A Kid!"
When I heard Mike Wallace was stepping down, I thought, 'Goddamn is CBS desparate, they work the poor robot to the bone...errr gear. I've been suckling at the teat of MSM ever since I was an airhead kid and I remember him reading a lot of stuff to me back then too.

Then comes this, "To me, 60 minutes is still the best news magazine program on broadcast tv." Notice that cable TV doesn't count since, well, a certain someone has a news magazine program on cable TV. Oh, and then there's the whole, no real competition thing. And maybe Anderson just missed that time that 60 minutes MADE UP A STORY AND GOT CAUGHT!

Then there's "It's the only show I listen to on the radio if I'm in a car when it's on." Ignore the dangling modifiers, the circular logic. No, no, I'm sorry. Laugh at them.

Then he talks about how he flew down to Florida this weekend and sat between Mike and his wife Mary at a charity event, where he met Mike for the first time. I.E. I just met him on the way out the door.

Then Mike tells Andy he looks like a kid. And Andy responds by writing some pleasantries:
"When Mike told me he was going to be 88 years old this year, I did a double take. I couldn't believe it. He looks amazing, and has far more energy than I do."
Translation: When Mike told me I looked like a kid, I thought, you're 88 you geriatric garlic pickle. That rascal Orville Redenbacher probably hit a ball through your store window.

Then Anderson tells us how hard his life is. Apparently news is hard on his bady and brone, I mean body and brain. Poor guy. Apparently in the teleprompter reading business, you actually have to do the reading.

RE: Commenter. I don't see how my reading of the text was wrong. He says he met him only recently and goes straight into the Charity event. If anything, you prove the point that Anderson Cooper can't write. Occham's Razor says that the simplest explanation is most likely correct. Barring the evidence you've added, one ought to surmise what I did.

I think what's stranger is that you knew that Anderson Cooper interviewed Mike Wallace on depression in Feb '05. Who remembers things like that? How is that possible? Is Mike Wallace a reknowned world expert on depression? Is he personally depressed? Is Anderson? I have only the vaguest recollection of Feb '05 from my own life...how do you come by the interview schedule of Anderson Cooper so readily?

Just a thought - nearly every major periodical in America is struggling for cash. Some, like Wall Street Journal, are run in the red because their owner doesn't care if they lose money. Some, like the New York Times, don't have that luxury and are panicked.

But what would have happened if we hadn't banned smoking advertising in periodicals. Think about it - tax increases are far more punitive measures while the advertising is a second order punishment whose effect is more to discourage current smokers from trying new brands rather than scaring away potential customers. But just think...might many of those same periodicals still be surviving financially? Periodicals depend on advertising, not subscription dues, for their financial health - thus the wealth of free magazines any savvy consumer can obtain. Did any of these periodicals come out in favor of the advertising ban, thereby sealing their own financial doom?

I would think not. I expect that tobacco companies, just like most companies, would have realized by now that print advertising is a poor investment. But then again, I think most advertising is bad investment. Think about it - which is more likely to get you to try a new item priced at 5 dollars - a 5 million dollar ad campaign? or giving 1 million people coupons to try free stuff. It seems to me that most concept advertising survives only on the hope of defining one's market, on the laziness of retailers, who would rather not cash coupons with the corporation, and on the corporation's ultimate fear that it's product isn't very good, and that the more people who actually try it, the more quickly consumers will realize it's no good. After all, coke with lime in it is still in your local corner store's display case.

Anderson Cooper 360: Ghost Written, Market Tested, Mother Approved

I like the name of his blog because it accurately depicts what happens when you read it: you end up in the same place you started. Then there's the subtext: by not using his real name, i.e. being Gloria Vanderbilt's child of priviledge, he's forgoing any ties to an institution of higher learning in addition to pretending to have gotten to his perch in life through any effort of his own.

I believe a weekly fisking is in order. Let's start with this week.

Anderson leads us off with the tempting title "3 Little Words That Changed A War". You might be led to think that Anderson has found some order from a key Iraqi figure that changed the course of the event. So what are Anderson's 3 little words? Improvised Explosive Device.

Pointing out that IED's have affected the outcome of the war is sort of like recently upgrading from a rotary phone. Perhaps Anderson is just getting a hold of this new phrase, "All that and a bowl of cherries" as well, having recently disregarded "Tubular to the max" as a bit passe. I imagine Anderson sitting in a Volvo listening to a news cut on IEDs in between singing along with "I Saw The Sun" and "Here Comes the Hot-Stepper" and thinking, "Hey, this IED stuff is blog material."

Except the end of the article is signed by someone named Barbara Starr. That's right...the Anderson Cooper blog is GHOST WRITTEN!!!! What does a talking head actually do all day that he can't put together a banal blog? How do you find other writers to contribute the appropriately banal blather that fits the Anderson Cooper image? Do they have focus groups churn out sentences? Perhaps they hire an advertising firm? Or perhaps they go the traditional route - take mediocre journalism students, crush the will to live out of them with a few years working the AP/Reuters beat, and then hand them a modest salary for what's left of their souls.

So let's find the last time the talking hair actually had something to say for himself - March 7th, when he eulogized his mother's friend. It's tough to fisk a eulogy. It might seem heartless. But let's begin - Andersoon Cooper can't write. When you want to eulogize someone, that would seem to be the time that you drop the 4th grade level stacatto that passes for Time-Life writing and break out those tricky 9th grade concepts - alliteration, consonance, simile, figurative language. But of course none of that is taught if 9th grade english because dipsticks like Andersoon Cooper need their A's.

Here's the real problem - everything. A hefty section of the eulogy is devoted to kissing up to mother Gloria, how progressive she is, how glorious in all ways. There are no less than 5 separate paragraphs dedicated to pre-eulogizing his mother and how cool she is with black people. Then, we're told the dearly departed was a great photographer, only to find the pictures sitting next to the blog, taken by the dead man to be completely non-descript. We're given no reference point for why this man's art was any good. The only quaint story we hear is how he used to lie to little children. And to wrap this menagerie of incompetence up, Anderson admits that he didn't even know the man was ill.

We have our first Mother's Day blog, running year round, on a major national website.

Anderson Cooper 360: Ghost Written, Market Tested, Mother Approved.

OSCAR REVIEW

First of all, hooray for Jon Stewart. Couldn't have been better.

BEST PICTURE:
Predicted: Brokeback
Should: Crash
Actual: Crash

I guess we all learned that race still matters more than sexual preference. Except when the director's a minority. Lesson learned.

BEST ACTOR:
Predicted: PSH
Should: PSH
Actual: PSH
We all knew.

BEST ACTRESS:
Predicted: Theron
Should: Knightly
Actual: Witherspoon
I fell down on this one - I didn't realize Witherspoon was playing someone famous. Plus Theron already won.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
PREDICTED: Clooney
SHOULD: Dillon
Actual: Clooney
How you like me now. This was sort of like Clooney's Christopher moment in the Sopranos: he got his stripes, and now he has to buy everyone dinner and watch his girlfriend's panties get sniffed by the boss. I liked Clooney's speech, especially because it demonstrated his point. I think he's more sophisticated in his kool-aid sipping than the Babses and Sarandons. He mixes some red wine into the kool-aid

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:
Predicted: Michelle Williams
Should: Frances McDormand
Actual: Rachel Weisz
I really fell down on this one - I thought Rachel played a more sophisticated character, and I thought the issues were foreign. I didn't realize it was about drug companies and a noble idealist. Plus it safely avoids having her spend time chasing an academy award. Yes, I'm looking at you aging comedians.

2-5. But if I'd seen the movies I would have been able to make a fairer evaluation. I think I also deserve credit for making my picks a month early, before all the winners got leaked by the buzz machine. Or maybe I just don't the have the knack with the ladies.

PS Ezekiel Jones - calm the bleep down. What happened to the sense of humor?

Salad and Pizza

Last night, Paula Abdul referred to 2 contestants on the chopping block in what media types are calling "incoherent" fashion, quoting Simon as saying that the reason they were in danger of being cut was that "one ate pizza and the other ate salad."

I didn't get it at first, but then I realized - the pretty blonde one was looking a little chubby in her skin tight shirt and the mannish black girl was...well, you know.

1. That got said ON AIR
2. It's really funny
3. Paula Abdul said it because she was intoxicated and Simon had this look on his face like, "You're not supposed to repeat what I whisper to you during commercial break...but yes, I am that clever."

Don't Steal My Stuff

In case you missed it, Anne Culter just took my Oscar prediction idea, subtracted the humor and added her trademark mean-spiritedness:

http://www.humaneventsonline.com/article.php?id=12857&o=ANN001

Plus she didn't research the previous year!

I know it's tough to put out a column a week...oh, no, wait, I do that...and I have a day job and a social life! Maybe she's too busy talking to hear herself think?

Weirder still, apparently she drinks with Bill Maher. And apparently Bill Maher is drinking buddies with Hugh Hefner. That'd be more interesting than most nights out at least...you'd meet Anne Coulter at the bar and you'd think, 'I wonder if someone famous is doing her.' But before you can ask, Larry King comes over except it's not Larry King, it's just his hair sitting atop a short, snide little prick with a cable comedy show...no not Dennis Miller, the one with the average vocabulary - that's it Bill Maher. And then you think...nooooo way is he doing her. So then Hef comes over and you see him standing next to Bill Maher and suddenly the Beethoven haircut makes sense - Bill Maher is trying to be a snide priggish version of Hef. He's probably even wearing a bathrobe and sniffing a polo. So anyway, Hef comes over and you look at him and you look at Anne and you think...nooo wayyyyy...

But it has to be somebody right? So let's brainstorm the most amusing people to do Anne Coulter.

My list is:
Bill Maher
Hugh Hefner
Nick Lachey and/or Matt Leinart
The nerdy kid from Parker Lewis Can't Lose
Larry King

I'll take Business Ethics for 1000

CNN.com's front page story is the cover of Time magazine. That is, the stories are the same, but rather than use the same picture, which they both clearly have the rights to, CNN is actually advertising an affiliated magazine by making the top story a story another division wrote.

The whoring ABC/ESPN do for Disney has been bad enough, but CNN actually likes to carry on as if they had journalistic ethics. It's what keeps them going every week when the ratings come out - sure, we got killed by O'Reilly again, but at least we have our principles.

If I'm going to run a news outfit, and I have a choice of sins between partisan hackery and corporate whoring, am I wrong to think that partisan hackery is the morally superior choice?

No one complained when Katrina Vander Heuvel at The Nation made the same choice to save an American institution from bankruptcy.

Your Favorite Movie is Lame: Kill Bill Vol. 1

Since someone had the gall to suggest Kill Bill as One of the 10 Best Movies of a Certain Year, the gauntlet has been laid down. We won't bother too much with Vol. 2 which is so bad, it makes Andrew Dice Clay look like Monty Python. But they were supposed to be one bad movie rather than 2, so let's treat it like a bad movie with a long intermission. The intermission was good - in between watching these two awful movies I watched a little sports, got some Popeye's Chicken and a job, bought a car, did some Madlibs, went on a trip or two. This movie had probably the best intermission of any bad movie I've ever seen.

Before we apply the cardinal sins of pretension, let's begin with what's just plain bad:

- DIALOGUE!!! Despite the lauds for Tarantino's dialogue, all the supposedly tough guy (girl) lines fall flat. They're all delivered as if they're crushing blows...but they aren't.

- CASTING!!! The key to action picks is that the actors actually look like they can kick butt, or are casually violent, or whatever fits their character. Jet Li looks like he's spent a lot of time fighting and training. Jackie Chan looks like he has a lot of fun while fighting and training. That's why they play those roles.

Uma Thurman looks like a stick figure model who buys shoes on Sunset Blvd. She is well-trained and well-choreographed, but we just never believe she's that tough because, frankly, she isn't. Vivica Fox is ok for her part, which is just poorly written, so much so that it kind of verges on Opie offensive. Lucy Liu is the worst. She seems like she'd have trouble taking apart a fruit roll-up let alone the daring likes of Laura Flynn Boyle, Ally McBeal. But oh wait, no, she freaking runs the Japanese Yakuza! Much of her action sequences rely on long shot and dynamic cutting because she has no physical presence. And most of the part where she takes over the Yakuza is done in anime because she can't pull that off either. Why not just use CGI? Claymation? A manakin? The only character who really works is the Japanese school girl assassin, who despite her diminuitive size emanates casual violence.

Ok, so now what's really wrong with the movie: It's less than the sum of its parts. It's got cool action, a very long suffering hero, and it's full of Tarantino's broad array of film techniques. But non of these things are put to use properly - they're just thrown in to fit whatever seems cool.

The main character has no character. Her tone shifts radically and Thurman cannot pull it together - in some scenes she's angry, in some comical, in some she's honorable, in other's brutal. Whatever happens to be cool at the time. The movie has no consistent tone, which is a big error.

All of the cinematic references have no point. They're simply to prove that, yes, Quentin Tarantino knows more about movies than you do. The first 'movie about movies', Once Upon a Time in the West, used cinematic references which altered the outcome of well-known Western scenes in order to make a comment not only about the West, but about the genre of the Western. Tarantino seems to think that it's enough to be cool by putting in references to other movies.

Then there's the revenge theme. Again in the superior Once Upon a Time in the West, the mystery is why the main character wants revenge. That drives the watcher's curiousity. Kill Bill is driven by the mystery not of why she wants revenge, which is very clear, but why she was wronged in the first place. Of course, that question is completely not dealt with in Vol. 1 leaving the viewing experience almost completely hollow.

More importantly, it puts the honus of the movie not on the main character, who is no mystery, but her enemies, who are. And nothing is done to explain them in Vol.1. What makes Vol. 2 so lame is that the explanation for why all these girls betrayed her is...NOTHING! You know what would have been cooler than nothing? ANYTHING! This took me 3 seconds to come up with: Why not have the bad girls betray Uma as a part of their own revenge paths? We are given no reason why Liu went from seeking vengeance on one Yakuza boss to taking them over. Vivica Fox has no backstory. We could imagine a brilliant device whereby they themselves were somehow fulfilling their own revenge. Then Vol. 2 could have turned their burden from Vol. 1 upside down by delving into Darryl Hannah and Bill. Instead, this film simply doesn't stand alone because the burden of the film is unfulfilled. And in Vol. 2 it is catastrophically ignored. Instead we get the stupidest finishing move ever - so lame in its attempt to be cool by being lame that it is...lame.

Of course none of this matters because Tarantino has nothing to say and never will. He just wants to make cool stuff. So he makes a movie where he thinks up all the cool stuff he can and then throws them together. Some of it works, some of it doesn't. Owen Wilson is cool. James Bond is cool. Punk Rock is cool. Owen Wilson cast as James Bond playing the Punk Rock scene probably wouldn't be that cool. In fact, it would probably be pretty lame. So Tarantino sits down and says, "Ok, chicks are cool, chopsake is cool, samurai stuff is cool, yakuza is cool, anime is cool, tough talking black girls are cool, this music is cool" and he makes a movie. But Quentin Tarantino isn't cool, and so we have to sit there watching an uncool guy's coolness fantasy.

If Tarantino would make a movie about trying to be cool, then he might actually make something that speaks to the viewer since most of us who aren't Ted Tyler are trying desparately hard to be cool. Instead, Tarantino tries to make movies about revenge, which he clearly knows nothing about - apparently revenge is flippant, occasionally comical or ridiculous, and occasionally obsessed with style.

In the end, you will only like this movie if you dig Tarantino's style. I don't.

Now then, let's go to the Cardinal Sins:
1) Preachy - No
2) Political - No
3) Psychosexual - Yes
4) Too Long - Yes, in fact so much so that they had to make it 2 movies
5) Whiny Hero - No

So why is this movie so lame? More to the point, why is it still so pretentious? Well, for that, we have to give credit to Tarantino - he's invented his own category of lame. You see, rather than rely on traditional methods of pretention, putting one's message before entertainment value, Tarantino puts himself before all previous. And Tarantino isn't a political snob with weighty messages to oppress with, no. Tarantino is an art snob who thinks he knows what art is and so he has to lord it over us - look at me, aren't I artistic? Don't I defy your conventions by paying tribute to them and mocking them at the same time? Aren't I clever?

Maybe a little. But you need a stern cock-punch.

Why Do People Want to Emulate Barbra Streisand?

Every year, some potentially pudgy Californian announces on American Idol that she wants to emulate Barbra Streisand. Sometimes, she's talented. Sometimes she's not. But why on earth would anyone want to emulate Barbra Streisand? None of the male singers announce they want to be just like Michael Bolton.

Let's recap the thinking here - I want to be an obnoxious loudmouth who uses my ill-gotten celebrity, dubiously earned in the culturally vacuous late-70's/early-80's, to make sure everyone knows how ignorant I am. Is this really every young girl's dream?

If only Clinton hadn't done her, she would have disappeared a decade ago.

2006 OSCAR PREDICTIONS AND NOTES

We'll be using Ted's soon to be patented technique of counting key issues and weighing their relative importance regardless of the talent involved. Since I've not seen all the movies, I will nonetheless be issuing weighty pronouncements on which movies and performances are the best. Note that I don't give a damn about directors.

I'll then follow with my top 10 for the year and other awards including biggest snubs and most ridiculous nomination of the year.

* Means Will Win
! Means Should Win (Of those nominated)
& Means Did Not See

BEST PICTURE:
*&The Gay Cowboy Movie (Brokeback) (Social Issue+Western+MinorityDir+GayBonus AKA Brokeback Factor)
& The Gay Intellectual Movie (Capote) (Brokeback Factor+Intellectual)
! The Racial Montage Movie (Crash) (Social Issue+Token Black+Ensemble Cast)
&The Better George Clooney Lectures Us Subtly Movie (Good Night and Good Luck) (Social Issue+Black&White+Hollywood Royalty Directs)
The Steven Spielberg Movie (Munich) (Contemporary Issues-Foreign+Speilberg)

This year's contenders hit the key issues much harder than last year's making it a much more competitive field, even if all of these movies are veer towards lameness. I'd give Capote a better shot if it were in black&white. Crash won't win because it won the Golden Globe, which means it can't win again. That and it just doesn't have the social issues managerie that Brokeback does. Good Night might have had a shot if Clooney were Clint Eastwood. Speilberg's film gets it's obligatory nod as well - I'm tempted to add sex farce to it's attributes list. Do you think he'd show up if he didn't get nominated. If he hadn't put out Munich, would they have nominated that cess pool that was War of the Worlds, just out of fear. How bad does a serious Spielberg pic have to be for it to not get nominated, and I'm not talking one of those movies he farms out to the interns, like Jurassic Park 2.

Anyhow, the almost comical panoply of hot button factors for Brokeback makes it the pick. Unless Spike Lee were to direct a movie about midget Maoris in black&white, I don't see anyone beating it out ever. Unless their are issues I missed in the films I haven't seen, I can't see it not winning.

BEST ACTOR
*!&Philip Seymour Hoffman is Capote - Brokeback+Intellectual+Biopic+accent
&Terrence Howard is a black guy and drug dealer - Social Issues+Token Black Guy
&Heath Ledger is gay - Social Issues+Brokeback
&Joaquin Phoenix is Johnny Cash (Ray-blackness) - Black&White+E True Hollywood Story+accent
&George Clooney is a Crusading Journalist - Black&WHite+Biopic+Crusading Journalist

This is a more difficult choice. I think Ledger and Howard just don't have a chance because they don't have enough star power to overcome their hotbutton deficit. Hollywood stops for E! True Hollywood stories, so I'm scared of Phoenix, especially in b&w. And Clooney has collected a lot of factors in his favor. However, I'm going to go with PSH, mostly because I liked him in Almost Famous, and because I'd like to pretend that intellectual beats out crusading journalist, and I know the Brokeback factor beats out b&w.

BEST ACTRESS
&Dame Judi Dench is a classy English dame (apparenty this is acting?) - Sex Farce+accent
&Felicity Huffman is transsexual - Social Issues-Who?+Brokeback Factor
!&Keira Knightly is a Jane Austen character - Jane Austen+accent
*&Charlize Theron is a miner living in a man's world - Socials Issues+Accent+Playing Ugly
&Reece Witherspoon is an E!True Hollywood victim - Black&White+Accent

A weak crew, as is usually the case - movies are written by men. Or maybe women aren't strong characters. Who knows? It's one thing for Reece Witherspoon or whoever to claim an award for playing a real live person, it's another thing for Dame Judi Dench to claim an award for playing herself. Huffman is the darkhorse - how bad is her who? factor...if you replaced her name with any other on the list for that film, she'd win. Don't count her out - remember Hillary Swank and the chick from the Crying Game...or was that a man? So I hear Knightly was good in a good movie from a Jane Austen book, but since I'd rather Jane Austen be banished from the culture, I think the clear choice here is Theron. You've got women's lib, you've got oppressed iconoclast, you've got an accent, and you've got a beatiful woman playing ugly. It's a powerful combo.

SUPPORTING ACTOR
*George Clooney is a Noble Conspiracy Victim - Social Issues-Foreign+Playing Ugly
!Matt Dillon is a Racist But Somewhat Noble Cop - Social Issues+Complex-Comeon, Matt Dillon?
Paul Giamatti is a Gutsy Comedic Sidekick - Social Issues-Already Ugly
&Jake Gyllenhaal is the Other Gay Cowboy - Social Issues+Brokeback Factor
William Hurt is a Wry Gangster in a Non-Comedic Film - None

First off - William Hurt is my inexplicable choice of the year. It's one thing that he has no hot button issues. Then he has no great lines. In fact, his character is TERRIBLE. And he STINKS in it. He ruins the movie. The movie is this weighty, serious pulp novel and in swaggers William Hurt, swirling in his leather chair and cracking wry jokes to the audience. What the hell? Who thought that was a good idea? He doesn't even stand up!

Secondly, Clooney would be my solid second, and may win out. The question is whether he's hollywood royalty or not. More importantly, what happens when, someday, someone is nominated for two movies. Are they going to show him/her twice in the split screen. I think they should have a body double so that when he/she loses, one can look really happy and we can still have the satisfaction of the other one being crushed, bitter and jealous. Or maybe they could just have Bill Murray do that.

Giamatti was nice but come on, he doesn't touch the social issues with his character, and he's probably playing himself anyway. And they're the wrong social issues.

That leaves us with Dillon and Gyl...the other gay cowboy. Dillon's character is complex and compelling so all he had to do was not screw it up. In this he succeeds. So really, this award should go to the writer. That said, come on, it's Matt Dillon. Did anyone else see Wild Things and take the time to watch his performance. Outrageously bad. It's like giving an Oscar to Keanu. By process of elimination, it goes to the gay cowboy. I can't really see him up there winning, so I'll hedge my bets and say that Clooney is a strong choice here, but...you know what, I changed my mind. Clooney's going to win.

SUPPORTING ACTRESS
&Amy Adams is Someone I've Never Heard Of
&Catherine Keener is In A Gay Intellectual Movie - Intellectual+Brokeback Factor
!&Frances McDormand Decided to Take a Role This Year - Women's Lib+MerylStreep Factor
&Rachel Weisz is a Possibly Not So Innocent Noble Conspiracy Victim - Social Issues-Foreign
*&Michelle Williams is the Wife of a Gay Cowboy - Social Issues+Brokeback Factor

I originally thought McDormand would win, but she's too good. I'm going with the Brokeback sweep here. Incidentally, the one person I know who's seen her performance said that all the Brokeback guys in the audience laughed when her character finds out that her cowboy is gay. That's not cool.

THIS YEAR'S SNUBS:
OVERHYPED BLOCKBUSTER DIVISION - King Kong. I would have thought the Oscars would try to redeem this by giving it a nod or two. I guess Peter Jackson isn't Scorcese
TEPID FILM SET IN ASIA DIVISION - Memoirs of a Geisha.
SPIELBERG DIVISION - War of the Worlds
OVERHYPED BLOCKBUSTER SEQUEL DIVISION - Star Wars III. Come on, he even made Darth Vader George Bush...not even a little love for all that work?
GOOD EPIC DIVISION - Cinderella Man
BILL MURRAY DIVISION - Bill Murray taking stock as himself in Broken Flowers

MOVIES I WISHED I'D SAW:
The Whale and the Squid
Wallace and Grommit
Grizzly Man
Corpse Bride
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada

TED TYLER'S OFFICIAL BEST 10 FILMS I SAW THIS YEAR:
1. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
2. Match Point
3. Cinderella Man
4. Mr. and Mrs. Smith
5. Crash
6. Kung Fu Hustle
7. 40-Year Old Virgin
8. Broken Flowers
9. Be Cool
10. Get Rich or Die Tryin' (OK, so I didn't see it. But in a terrible year for movies, why the heck not?)

CNN just showed Bush lead off his speech with a dedication to MLK Jr's wife. Then they panned the crowd and showed shots of black people clapping. And I laughed.

Gearing Up For Oscars

I want to preface my 2005 comments by discussing at length 2004. Maybe this will help us predict which of the crappy movies nominated will win. * denotes victory

2004 was the year of the shabby sex farce in the sense that never before has the shabby sex farce been so broadly represented, even though the shabby sex farce really can't compete with social issues and Hollywood royalty. Anyway, congradulations for Closer Sideways Kinsey for participating. Ahem:

Best Film/Director:
- Scorcese's Flick
- Eastwood's Women's Lib/Social Issues Movie*
- E! Hollywood Story/Token Black (Ray)
- Shabby Sex Farce for Snobs (The Wine Movie)
- A Good Movie (Finding Neverland)

Notice here that 3 key issues outdid 2 - Hollywood royalty+women's lib+assisted suicide was too much for E Hollywood True Story+Minorities and Hollywood royalty+historical biopic.

Best Actor:
- Token Black+Set in 3rd world (Cheadle)
- Good performance in good movie (Depp)
- Actor in Scorcese biopic (DiCaprio)
- Eastwood directing self in how to growl (Eastwood)
- E! Hollywood True Story+Token Black Guy (Foxx)*

Important note here - yes Foxx was better than Cheadle. But note also that local beats international when another key element is present (token black guy).

Best Actress:
- Anette Bening
- Whodat in Saywhat?
- Saywho in Whatdat?
- Eastwood's women's lib character*
- True Love Triumphs; intellectual style (Winslet)

Whodat's are far more common for the ladies. Maybe it's the smaller window of being attractive or maybe it's because most Hollywood writers are men. Anyway, this was over before it began - Eastwood PLUS women's lib - no competition.

Supporting Actor:
- Scorsese Film
- Shabby Sex Farce for Snobs
- Token Black Guy
- Hollywood Royalty+Eastwood+Token Black Guy (Extra Points for Growling)*
- Shabby Sex Farce for Snobs

Another slam dunk. Black Hollywood Royalty Growling.

Supporting Actress:
- Scorsese PLAYING Hollywood royalty*
- Sex Farce for Snobs
- Sex Farce for Snobs
- Sex Farce for Snobs
- Token Black Woman+Set in 3rd world

Again, sex farces, don't get too uppity. It doesn't matter that Cate Blanchette STANK! She was playing Catherine Hepburn in a Scorsese movie. Again, take note minority whodats - domestic issues trump foreign ones.

So, let's recap.
- Hollywood royalty matters. And there are definitely different levels of royalty: Eastwood tops Scorsese in a knife fight.
- E! Hollywood story is important, but being black is more important
- Sex farces shouldn't get out of their britches. If you want to get an award for a movie about sex, it can't be funny. (Think Monster...hell, just look at the women's movies.)
- It's nice to be married to Warren Beatty.

Anyway, here's the real top 10-list from 2004. I'll be going to a few more 2005 movies, and then weighing in on this year's Oscars with bold predictions based solely on the conclusions reached above.

BEST OF 2004:
1. Finding Neverland
2. Anchorman
3. Spider Man 2
4. Shaun of the Dead
5. Ocean's Twelve
6. Napoleon Dynamite
7. The Passion of the Christ (What of it?)
8. National Treasure (What of it?)
9. Harry Potter 3
10. Troy (Narrowly beats out Team America)

Celebrities to Cock Punch List:

1) Bono
2) Freddy Prinze Jr.
3) Phil Jackson
4) John Mayer
5) Larry King

Ted Tyler: Excentric Billionaire

Amongst the things I would accomplish as an excentric billionaire:
1) Building of new Yankees' stadium in former WTC-site
2) Reconstruction of 7 wonders of the world
3) Making of The Company into HBO mini-series
4) Alicia Keyes/Lauryn Hill Nina Simone Tribute Album
5) Lavish screen version of Turandot with ending fitting the composer, directed by Baz Luhrman
6) Offensive Line for Miami Dolphins
7) Requisite Tributes to My Own Soaring Genius

Further additions to come at random

Wiggles Get Down

I just saw the following on i-Tunes:
NEW ALBUM! The Wiggles: Bring the...

And then you had to click to find out what it was. In case you didn't know, the Wiggles are 4 slightly effiminate Australians who sing kids songs on cheesy videos. They are hugely popular. They're sort of what would happen if you had the Teletubbies take off their costumes and sing "No More Monkies Jumping on the Bed". For the weird factor, the Wiggles replace the slightly hermaphrodite-like Teletubby with a character named Captain Feathersword.

So here's a contest - what would be the best title for a Wiggles album with that beginning? I say:
Wiggles: Bring the Funk

On a related note, I can't decide which is more disappointing - becoming numb to a song you used to love or becoming numb to a song you can't stand. You'd think it'd be the first, but I once found myself humming a Maroon 5 song I'd heard on the radio at least once every day for a month from the top40 station at work...and it came on again while I was humming it from the last time I heard it. It was a sobering moment.

The 5 Cardinal Sins of Pretension in MUNICH:

To kick off our "Why Good Movies Are Lame" feature, let's deal with Munich. Munich provides an archetype for how good movies get swaddled by pretension masquerading as art. It contains the 5 Cardinal Sins of Pretension:

1) Preachy: This is the great lodestone of every supposedly 'important' film of our time. Let's clear something up: having a weighty policy rant or ankle-deep philosophical musing from an otherwise interesting if one-dimensional character a) dilutes the character b) dilutes the plot and c) usually tells us something we could figure out just by watching the movie sans preaching. No one likes a lecture - simply attend one, or better yet, give one, and observe the audience around you. Hollywood writers are seldom as wise as they think they are, and the actors delivering the speeches are far from likely to do anything other than deadpan the speech. They're too dim or humorless to ape the tripe they're forced to deliver.

2) Political: Politics is not art. The lowest form of art is the political cartoon.

3) Psychosexual: The figures aren't in front of me, but the 60's happened nearly a half-century ago or so. The intellectual academy, always thinking it's ten years ahead when it's really 20 years behind, has now caught up and, thanks to an over-abundance of lackluster PhD students and a dirth of decent PhD topics, has thrown its force behind sex research as a viable intellectual avenue. Come off it. To quote my grandmother, "Why does every generation think they reinvented sex?" Art does not need to be avante garde to be good. And bizarre sex is no longer avante garde. So all we're left with is bizarre sex and a series of critics who pretend to be 'with it' by nodding approvingly that bizarre sex is a master stroke. And Munich is the worst of them all. I thought A History of Violence had the most bizarre and impromptu sex scene in reputable film history, but at least one could construe an artistic point from the scene, and it didn't rely on being too shocking, more just on being impromptu.

But Munich took the cake...twice!! It stole the cake from itself!

(Spoiler alert) I thought the pregnant sex scene at the beginning was the new champ. I mean, she's really got a bun half-baked in the oven. Well then, at the end, her husband has sex with her while thinking about Israeli hostages getting killed. His climax is supposedly the film's climax, and he lets out a giggle-inducing roar of triumph to tell us all that he's done, and so are the hostages. Is there an artistic reason for this? Perhaps it is 'exploring the psychosexual connection between male dominance and violence?' So let's explore. Was the purpose to show that sex with his wife would have released the revenge that spurred him rather than killing? (Make love not war) Or perhaps he killed so that he could have sex, which is really what life is all about. (Make war to make love). I certainly don't know the answer. None of these answers are insightful or moving because a) none of us thinks about hostage killings while otherwise engaged and b) none of those above listed insights are all that deep. So who knows? Certainly not Spielberg, because it doesn't have a meaning - the sex is inherently artistic. And toady critics will say, "well, it's a meditation on sex and violence" or some such claptrap, codewords for, "I don't know what it means, but I get that he's trying to be artistic, and it's bizarre sex, and Spielberg, so I approve."

Imagine being Eric Bana. Steve comes up to you one day and says, "In this scene, you have sex with your wife and grunt audibly while shaking your hair back when you finish." So being a pretentious actor you say, "Great, so what's my motivation?" And Steve says, "Well, you're trying to get these feelings of vengeance off your chest, and you're thinking about Israeli hostages getting shot." Does he try out different grunts and hair shakes before he gets the right one to fit the moment? What would Olivier do?

Worse, where else is there to go? Big screen bestiality while the human partner is thinking about a downhill skiing accident?

4) Too Long. This sin especially comes in the ending. The movie could have ended with a brusque no. Instead, we get, "I'm disillusioned, young man...I'm disillusioned, boss...I'm disillusioned, wife...I'm disillusioned, vague father figure...I'm disillusioned, audience...I'm having sex with you, wife, while thinking about hostage killings...I'm disillusioned, random consulate official...I'm still disillusioned, boss. Let's have dinner." On and on it goes. Did someone watch the 3rd Lord of the Rings and say, "Yes, 15 minutes of knowing looks and slow motion hugs is a brilliant way to end a movie!"

Some doctors did some study. It showed that in some particularly unpleasant medical procedure which required continual follow-up, patients frequently didn't come back because of the pain involved. They found that the patient averaged the worst pain during the procedure with the level of pain when it ended and that produced their opinion on how uncomfortable the procedure was. So the doctors figured out that if they just fiddled around for a while after doing the procedure, pretending to do something, the lack of pain at the end would balance out the discomfort of the procedure itself and patients would come back.

The lesson I'd take is that perhaps pleasure works the same way? Shouldn't we end movies well and quickly then?

Instead, it seems directors are figuring, "Well, our movie is really painful, but if we fiddle around for a while at the end, it won't hurt as much."

I imagine Spielberg was moved by the catastrophically wretched, yet abrupt, ending to War of the Worlds, and decided to respond to his critics with a tedious, let's-end-the-movie-3-times, style ending.

5) Whiny Hero. The first rule of screenwriting, or at least one of the first couple, is "SHOW ME DON'T TELL ME." That's why you have actors - to convey feelings. If a character feels something, like, "I'm having second thoughts about killing people and it's because I'm Jewish, not because I've become disillusioned with the Jewish project," then events and the actor's reaction should show us that happening. Perhaps the actor did do that, but editing is such these days that we never get to see anyone's face on screen for more than a few seconds. So instead, at various points, the characters tell us exactly that: that they're really Jewish, that they're conflicted because they're supposed to be defending Judaism, and that it's their being Jewish that makes them conflicted.

Movies are not psychologists' offices and neither is real life. Our hero doesn't need to pour his heart out at every opportunity. We, in the audience, have feelings and a successful work of art relies on either using those feelings as a natural guide or playing off them by showing characters who react differently than we do. Assassins may have feelings, but they don't go blubbering about them all the time on mission. It makes the hero seem effete, unconvincing, and whiny. It makes him less sympathetic. We think to ourselves, "If I was in that person's position, I wouldn't be carrying on like this. I'd do my job and feel bad about it on my own time." But Spielberg is so unsure of his craft, and he's not the only one, that he has to tell us how his characters are feeling. Maybe this is how Hollywood types think everyone behaves? Do they sit around at parties and have an identity-crisis circle jerk?

What would be infinitely superior would be a quiet, Michael Corleone type reaction. Michael is so convincing because we know exactly what he's feeling without him saying it, and though we cannot imagine being in the many situations he ends up in, we can understand very well why he does what he does. His plight is moving because he doesn't complain. We see his pain rather than being told it. Apparently stoicism went out of fashion sometime in the late 70's? Or maybe that was masculinity.

To sum up, intriguing action, a solid set up, and superb technical skills betrayed by trite ideas acknowledged as art by a herd of want-to-be intellectuals.

Hence the 5 Cardinal Sins of Pretension as applied to film:
1) Preachy
2) Political
3) Psychosexual
4) Too long
5) Whiny Hero

There is a cure.

The True Rapper Review

Worst to first, suprises in store. Incomplete, I know, but guys like Dre and Wyclef float between mediocre and the top 5.

A word on criteria: A rapper must have: a hard name, flow, good lyrics, a backbeat the kids can dance to, storied street cred (a sum of criminality+bling+tats), and finally must be jacked. Bonuses for getting killed young. Like Biggie said, "You're nobody till somebody kills you."

WORST EVER:
1. Black Eyed Peas. Milky Cocoa Puffs.
2. Vanilla Ice. The first words out of this man's mouth were, "Stop." If only he'd collaborated and listened. He almost won out - didn't he lose to Screech on Celebrity Boxing?
3. P-Diddy. Listen, yes he gets credit for good backbeats and he did a decent job as a much better rapper's flunky. But the man is ubiquitous on MTV. He's on every show. His mom even showed up on MTV. He went on Oprah. I think Kobe snatched his street cred.

MEDIOCRITIES:
1. Coolio. The perfection of rap mediocrity: lame 90's era name, one hit wonder, truly unremarkable in every fashion.
2. Ja Rule. It's MURDAAAAAAAAAAH.
3. Jay-Z. Dubbed Lil' Orphan Annie. And that's one of his better songs.
4. DMX. Not as mediocre as those named above, but definitely approaching it. The Street Cred Golden Rule: As Soon As You Make A Movie, Your Best Days Are Behind You.
5. 50 Cent. Though an unremarkable rapper, two things should be noted: 1) The man is a hardcore criminal. 2) Seriously jacked. I mean Mark McGwire jacked.

A NOTE ON FOUNDING FATHERS: Yes RunDMC, Public Enemy, 2Live Crew, and even MC Hammer deserve their due as the trailblazers. But standards have changed - go back and listen to their albums, it's like watching those sci-fi movies with claymation dinosaurs. To demonstrate the point:

STAYED AROUND WAAAAAAAAYYYYYY TOO LONG:
1. Will Smith. It was a tough competition but ultimately I gave the nod to Will Smith for a few reasons: 1) Big Willy Style. 2) Everything after Big Willy Style. 3) Special Mention for Wild Wild West. What was that Golden Rule again? Can we get a Jazzy Jeff re-union album to salvage something from this debacle?
2. LL Cool J. There's another reason why I couldn't put Ladies Love Cool James at the top of this list despite the ridiculous 80's era name: the man hit the andro. Will Smith may work out, but LL must live in at Golds. He's challenging 50 Cent. Maybe he's got alzheimers and he walks out of the gym and forgets he just worked out.

CRITICALLY FLAWED BUT OTHERWISE WORTHWHILE RAPPERS:
1. Bone Thugs and Harmony. First and foremost, best name in the biz. They definitely carved a niche with a peculiar style even if they never got the backbeats to hit it big. The problem - no matter how difficult it may be to mimick their style, who would want to? I can't even evaluate their lyrics because I cannot make out a syllable. Destined to provide deadtime in the songs of better rappers.
2. Shaggy. As the most popular Jamaican rapper out there, even if he copied the style from much poorer men, Shaggy benefits from great production bells and whistles. But he cannot shake the street cred problem - he seems to have less punch than Glass Joe. Rappers don't even bother dogging him anymore because it's kind of like picking on Richard Nixon. This despite the fact that the man served in Desert Storm. Is that bizarre or what?
3. Kanye West. OVERRATED!!!!!! The Wayne Brady of Rap. First, let's give him his due - he's more creative than most rappers, he's a good producer and he puts that into his albums, and his lyrics are generally solid with a few rough patches. But he is the ultimate suburban white kid's rapper. The sweaters, the whining about working at the Gap, the jumping on the Brokeback Bandwagon: it's all designed to appeal to marginally intellectual white humanities students who aren't sure they ought to be in college. He even sounds like a white kid trying to be black - listen to his albums, he literally struggles for flow. Discomfort is not a rapping style. And that second album was a HUGE drop off.
4. BustaRhymes. There's a lot to like here, it's true. A lot skill, solid street cred. But...can we respect him when he looks exactly like the WWE's Booker T?

THE RAPPER WHO BEST EPITOMIZES WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A RAPPER.
1. Old Dirty Bastard. Not one of the greats, but the man had a good time. He had flow, he had lyrics, although I would question, "God made dirt and dirt bust your a--". In addition to a great name, let's consider the aliases: Big Baby Jesus, Joe Bananas, Dirt McGirt (Dr. Seuss Hat Tip!) and Freeloading Rusty. When you get down to the barebones, a charter WuTang member, a repeated felon, including the first to violate a California law barring the wearing of bullet-proof vests in public...I mean, the man called a female prosecutor, "A Sperm Donator!" Oh, and he escaped from drug rehab. His original name was even tough: Russell Tyrone Jones. To top it all off, Mariah Carey picked him up from jail. No, actually to top it all off, he died prematurally when a double bag of cocaine mixed with some painkillers in his stomach while working on his comeback album. Operatic indeed. In the words of a friend, "Least suprising premature rapper death in history." This man's life is the Rap Opera movie we're all waiting for.

TOP 5 OF THE MODERN ERA
(We'll count down from worst to first)
5. 2Pac Shakur. 2Pac is the perfect rapper - too perfect. Numerous tats, perhaps second only to Deion in starting bandana craze. Back beat, flow, lyrics all noteworthy. Posthumous production record demonstrates the man's commitment to the music. But there's something missing - a spark of genius. Maybe it was too much LA, a black hole for the world's talent, but 2Pac was too perfect to inspire. I think it was the stage training - he wasn't raw enough or real enough. I get the sense that he's indirectly responsible for most of my mediocrities list.
4. SnoopDog. The smooth style, the influence on our speech patterns, yes, Snoop has to be considered for rapper Valhalla. An extra big-ups for coaching peewee football. Still, a few things hold him back. That same, Sam Perkins permanently high look and style that defines him lacks something of the toughness that the ultimate rapper has to have. He's the marijuana rapper in a crack business - the gateway for edgier stuff. And that movie career - someone shout out that Golden Rule of Rap.
3. Eminem. Eminem comes with a strong resume - peculiar enough to stand out, occasionally brilliant, excellent flow, impressive lyrics, and a strong stable of aliases. Did we mention he's white? The problem has been the back half of his career. I don't care what the charts say, The Eminem Show was the last good album. I feel that Golden Rule claiming another victim - he's feeding of image and marketing at this point. Musically, Encore was garbage, a career killer if it weren't for payola. Here's hoping he bounces back, but the rap gods are jealous, old testament gods. They don't stand for this movie business.
2. Notorious B.I.G. After a long debate...I went with my heart. The common wisdom is that Biggie was the greatest. It's tough to argue. Straight to the top and deservedly so, his two main albums are a formidable catalogue. Hard core, died young, fatness makes up for lack of buffness. He was even a great freestyler. It's all here. He's the true rapper don. He's got more game than the African savannah. What's holding me back? #1 He seems to have starred posthumously in Snatch plus a puff British accent. Which means maybe the back half of his lost career wouldn't have been as bright. But mostly, it's due to my #1's genius.
1. Method Man. Yes, I know: How High, Soul Plane, Method and Red. It's coming to an end. It's already ended. It ended when he worked with Limp Bizkit. That was like Sammie Smith having the gall to line up behind Dan Marino. It'd be like having Louie Armstrong play with Letterman's losery band. So he sold out long ago. I don't care. You know what else? I don't care that he never got the backbeats that the bigger names on this list got. Method Man has the rawest, smoothest flow out there with the lyrics to match. He doesn't have to go hard either. MakeUps2BreakUps deserves more than a passing Wyclef reference. And Method even talks that way when he's not rapping. He's like some kind of rap sage, spitting phrases at will. The man's a genius. Weep at the pettiness of what we do with genius - another bad sitcom. I assure you the Rap Gods already have.