Archive for February, 2008

PEN15 Predicktions

Published by Rob on February 21, 2008 in Films and Oscar Fever. 0 Comments

Like every other blog, website, magazine and newspaper on earth right about now, it’s time to unleash the PEN15 Club Oscar predictions and preferences, while indulging in the time-honored tradition of whining about who wasn’t nominated. “Snub,” we cry. “Snub!”

Why should you read these? Because I’m not insulting your intelligence by drawing futile comparisons between the nominees and the Presidential candidates (”if Julie Christie is Hillary Clinton, then Ellen Page is Obama!”). You’re welcome.

I’m too lazy to cut and paste the nominees, so for reference, go here.

    Best Picture

Will Win: As pundits internet-wide attempt to MacGyver Juno and Michael Clayton upset scenarios into existence, the fact is that No Country for Old Men has swept the guild awards, is the second-highest grossing nominee, is a career-best for a respected filmmaking team, and has a Best Editing nomination. It wins in a walk.

Should Win: There Will Be Blood has the kind of sick genius that usually doesn’t even make the final five, so I’m eager for it to go the distance.

Where the Hell is…: Zodiac

    Best Director

Will: Coens won the DGA and will win this.

Should: Anderson, who’s never made a less-than-great movie in five tries.

Where the Hell is…: Todd Haynes, I’m Not There

    Best Actor

Will: Day-Lewis. Insert milkshake-drinking pun here.

Should: Day-Lewis, though Jones’ towering work as a military dad whose values are shaken to the core cut through the Paul Haggis treacle of Elah.

Where the Hell is…: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

    Best Actress

Will: Christie will extend the Sexy British Ladies of a Certain Age streak to two years.

Should: Linney, who’s ridiculously overdue, for nailing the kind of role that usually goes to men like Hoffman or Paul Giamatti.

Where the Hell is…: Nicole Kidman, Margot at the Wedding; Molly Shannon, Year of the Dog

    Best Supporting Actor

Will: Bardem, like his character, appears unstoppable, although he’s shown a tendency toward loopy acceptance speeches so far this awards season.

Should: Holbrook, for making us cry like a baby during the last 20 minutes or so of Into the Wild.

Where the Hell is…: Robert Downey Jr., Zodiac

    Supporting Actress

Will: As usual, the toughest category. I think those “Blanchett scenes only” I’m Not There DVDs the Weinsteins sent out, though blasphemous, will nail it for Cate. I can’t fathom Ruby Dee winning for her five-minute, window-dressing role. Career achievement awards are nice, but Dee’s career has mostly been onstage and on television.

Should: I’m cool with anyone but Dee, but I’m partial to Amy Ryan for immortalizing that dying Boston stereotype, Dorchester-dwelling Irish Catholic white trash.

Where the Hell is…: Leslie Mann, Knocked Up

    Original Screenplay

Will: I have a feeling that everyone’s sick of Diablo Cody and the award will go, instead, to Clayton’s Tony Gilroy.

Should: Clayton is the most elegantly scripted piece of Hollywood entertainment in years.

Where the Hell is…: Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, Superbad

    Adapted Screenplay

Will: The Coens, unless people get sick of voting for them in every category and throw a bone to Anderson instead.

Should: Polley, for fleshing out a sketch of a novella with total grace.

Where the Hell is…: Ben Affleck and Aaron Stockard, Gone Baby Gone. There, I said it.

You’re welcome for the office pool victory. See you on the other side of my Monday morning hangover!

Blows and Eros

Published by Rob on February 19, 2008 in Bitches and TV. 5 Comments

I have seen the face of Satan, and her name is Patti Stanger, Bravo’s so-called Millionaire Matchmaker.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Patti’s show is the one that Bravo’s been running ads for exhaustively over the last couple of months. In them, Patti, who has a face like a Gene Simmons drag king, wearing a bloodclot-red pantsuit, awkwardly shoots arrows Cupid-style and sprinkles rose petals over nothing.

This is not a bad bit of metonymy for the show, in which Patti scams dumb, rich L.A. sad sacks out of thousands of dollars to set them up with terrible matches, then blames their failure to connect on their own personality flaws.

Patti berates her clients, calling a 28-year-old entrepreneur “cheap” because he lives in a modest Pasadena condo. She scoffs when a client suggests, “Maybe I can wait to find someone who likes me for me.”

Her business is run like a telemarketing sweatshop, where she barks orders at her staff (whom she calls her “daughters”) as they cold call potential clients, then melts down when one asks for a raise. She forces a handsome, 5′9″ millionaire to stand behind a two-way mirror and listen to a couple of bubbleheads balk at the idea of dating such a “short” guy.

As for her own personal life, Patti claims to have had a boyfriend for 3 years. He may have appeared in one of the episodes I haven’t seen, but my guess is he lives next door to Corky St. Clair’s wife Bonnie from Waiting for Guffman.

My favorite thing about The Millionaire Matchmaker is that I have yet to see an episode where one of Patti’s matches leads to even a third date. The basic arc of every episode is 1) Patti’s client expresses his desire for a completely incompatible match, 2) Patti argues client’s instincts yet sets him upwith someone who fits his specifications, 3) the setup fails spectacularly, 4) Patti yells at client, 5) show ends.

Like Bravo’s equally, addictively vexing Real Housewives, the show is frustrating/fascinating because it refuses to take a judgmental stance on its subject. Instead, it seems to invite the audience to either enjoy it at face value or, as in my case, recoil in horror at the realization that this is how rich people spend their money.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever watch again, but I think I want to be Patti Stanger next Halloween.

Jordan rides the Obama train…

Published by Jordan on February 4, 2008 in Politics. 7 Comments

I’m Jordan, and I endorse Barack Obama as the Democratic candidate for the United States of America.As a member of the last generation of Americans who realizes that there hasn’t yet been a black President, I’m excited by the prospect of Obama being the first. He’s even much more handsome and white-acting than all of those black Presidents on the TV! And if being alifetime watcher of Fox’s Bones has taught me anything, life definitely imitates art. An Obama nomination is practically inevitable.

I must admit I am enchanted by Hillary’s strategically-weathered facade. As a young, gay professional, women like Hillary are my bread and butter - the one that could totally bust balls all day at work, and then somehow beat you to the bar, finishing her second G&T beforeyou can even get the bartender’s attention. She’d probably talk shit about her ex-girlfriends, refer to Condi in the masculine, and totally have something funny to say about the day’s Hot Topics on The View. I’m usually smitten with broads like that within seconds.

In the real world, men like Obama, conversely, make me nervous - tall, attractive, confident, well-dressed, straight, and super interested in your well-being. Call me a skeptic, but I’m skeptical. He probably doesn’t drink, either, which generally means he’d never laugh at my jokes and would probably be offended within 10 minutes of meeting me. He strikes me as the kind of guy that would generally want to show me affection, but would do so by trying to do one of those straight-guy-high-five-turned-hand-shake combos that scare the living shit out of me.

But here’s the thing: I want that guy to be President. One of the things that draws me most to Hillary is that she shares my level of thoughtful cynicism, but that’s also the one thing I don’t want our next President to have. Not an ounce of it. I want him or her to see the empty page that starts the next chapter of American politics and fill it up with whatever great ideas his or her well-intentioned heart dreams up.

I feel like Hillary would trace lines on the page and begin to write out a very liberal, very intelligent to-do list, laboring over every word as though all of American history’s past and future were critiquing her handwriting.

With the same page, I imagine Obama would start by turning the book sideways. Or even upside-down. Then, maybe he’d trace his hand, make it into a turkey, and then write an adorably smart haiku about turkeys underneath. Then, he’d turn the page and invite Vice President John Edwards to join him in a game of hang man. Because why not?

There’s plenty of time for The Same Old Stuff, but there’s rarely an opportunity to start off so fresh, inspired, and enlivened.

Oh, and he’s handsome as hell and could probably give Cheney a run for his money in the shorts department, if you know what I mean. That’s worth something, right?

…while Rob still likes it Clinton-style

Published by Rob on February 4, 2008 in Politics. 6 Comments

The cool kids want you to feel guilty about supporting Clinton (I’ll call her Hillary when you start referring to McCain as “John”), but I challenge anyone to sell me on Barack Obama without using the words “hope,” “change,” “unity,” “Kennedy” or “poetry.” Or without dusting off the old “She voted in favor of the war” gambit, which is a tough pill to swallow, but ultimately less important five years later than some would like us to think.

La Clinton isn’t sexy or idealistic. Thank God. (Besides, what candidate could be as sexy as, sigh, John Edwards?) Every time somebody criticizes her for being calculating and entitled, I’m like, “Fuck yeah. Right on.” Anyone who thinks Obama is going to swoop in, overhaul a lazy, ineffectual Congress, and “unify” our great fractured nation by remaining true to his ideals is in for a world of disappointment. Here in Massachusetts, Gov. Deval Patrick ran a similar campaign and found himself hamstrung by a contrarian legislature once he took office.

Clinton, on the other hand, seems like an easier lay. She knows that compromising in order to get 75% of your goal is better than holding out for 100% and ending up with 0. Yes, she’s “divisive” and “polarizing.” Guess what – come General Election time, so are both candidates. Every time.

The fun thing about this race is that, since both Clinton and Obama have similar levels of experience (at least in terms of actual elected public office) and stances on the issues (neither is more than politely gay-friendly, and we have no way of knowing, really, if either can avert the coming economic meltdown or salvage the Iraq-tastrophe), it genuinely is a war of personality. And to my eyes, Clinton wins that race hands down.

Obama may inspire ex-hippie snail trails at rallies, but Clinton deserves an Oscar for just about every debate performance she’s given. This is where the haters who call her chilly and overly rehearsed need to eat their hats. She’s a great quipper. When faced with that awful, sexist likability question, followed by a churlish Edwards/Obama gang-up during the January 5 debate, Clinton’s response was so riveting I half-expected her to break a dish and scream like Sissy Spacek in In the Bedroom. Her laser-beam takedowns of Wolf Blitzer’s WWE tactics during the January 31 debate (“Nice try, Wolf”) were a hoot. If she loses the nomination, I kind of want her to guest star as Barney’s mom on How I Met Your Mother.

I have no doubt that Barack Obama is a smart, moral guy with good ideas about how to turn our country around. But at heart, I’m still, as Jack Donaghy would say, a “godless, glassy-eyed Clintonista.” I’m pretty sure that after one of the Axis of Evil nukes us into oblivion, all that’s left standing will be the three C’s: Cher, cockroaches and the Clintons.