I think it is safe to say we all recognize it's awards season. It's that special time of year when Sunday nights seem less depressing, Entertainment Tonight claims a more importnat role in our daily regimen and conversations morph from water cooler mundane ennuie to Hollywood goings on. That special something infiltrates the air and unfilled weekend hours all of a sudden provide untapped potential. Awards-nominated movies await.
We've passed all the minor league shows so far from the SAGs to the Golden Globes and PCA's --and I've felt moderately to confidently comfortable in my nominated-movie viewership. Les Miserables was a glorious soprano-to-tenor-laden must see, Zero Dark Thirty an epic history-meets-fiction drama, and Argo...well, what else is there to say really other than we all love you, Ben Affleck. The other nominated titles surely warrant viewings from some (read Lincoln) but occupy a deprioritized rung on my personal pop culture ladder. I always enjoy a good last minute "oh no, I need to get to the movie theater ASAP and see a triple today, the (insert awards show) are tomorrow" run. Always have and always will. Today, however, I took a bit of a different turn.
Yeah so, as we all know, Blizzard Nemo found her way to the east coast yesterday, including Manhattan, and even though city life here in NYC remained unsurprisingly unaffected, I felt it my personal and cultural duty to abide by the drastic-weather-induced rules: don lofty boots, imbibe, and watch movies. (I did half-heartedly possess a desire to see Bloomingdales at half occupancy, however I successfully managed to repress this desire). My 8a - 1p morning of drinking way too much coffee, gyming, and staring out at the snow without leaving my way-too-far-east apartment was motivation enough to obey cultural standards.
That in hand, off to moviefone.com I went. There were only two acceptable options: the last unviewed nominated film, Silver Linings Playbook, or the one that truly appealed to my psychologically-inclined analytical self: Side Effects. Jude Law + Rooney Mara + CZJ + psychological drama...the answer was clear. Off I went to Side Effects. It is here that I wish to commence my subjective cinematic analysis.
It has been far too long that I have been so startlingly refreshed by a widespread non-awards-show-touted film as I was by Side Effects. Steven Soderbergh's (and advance warning for any spoilers) psychological, at times fucked-up thriller, is brilliantly able to combine a modern day financial-scandal-infused societal portrayal with a psychiatric study so genuine that even the MD's in the audience likely will not flinch. (Well, maybe at times but few and far between). The film commences with Emily (the starkly bold Rooney Mara), an attractive married Manhattan twenty-something, who we are deceivingly led to believe will be our protagonist throughout the nearly 110 minutes. Her husband, Magic Mike's breakout star Channing Tatum, is a wall-street-gone-bad former inmate who, we learn early on, does not have the starring role trailers lead us to think. Enough said there, I will try to refrain as much as possible from full spoilers. Ms. Mara's Emily, like the rest of twenty-first century urban America, is seemingly anxious slash mildly depressed and when her new anti-depressant Ablixa (prescribed by Jude Law's Dr. Banks) causes her to "sleep-walking-and-unknowingly" stab her husband, she immediately grabs our empathy. Jude Law's life and psychiatrist MD career are jeopardized in a heartbeat, pinning him at the center of the murder case. How could he prescribe such a detrimental, violence-inducing drug to an "innocent" young urbanite? Cue Catherine Zeta Jones. Jones portrays Emily's former psychiatrist (and secondary but no-less-important role which will remain unnamed so as not to hinder film earnings from blog-reading peers), Dr. Victoria Seibert, who occupies an intriguing, what we know will be instrumental role. Her character plays perhaps third fiddle to Law, a surprise for CZJ, throughout the film, and it is not until the last half hour that we truly grasp the importance of her role to the film's plot. I will leave the subsequent details of that piece and the film's ultimate conclusion unwritten.
Suffice to say, Soderbergh's mind-bending, at times disturbing, psychological thriller is a masterful work of cinematic genius. It successfully straddles the line between intelligent character study and every-man thriller. Soderbergh provides us with a (although at times perhaps slightly unrealistic) profound look at the consequences of a nouveau-riche dishonest life as well as a suspenseful, lust-filled mystery that changes course just when we think we've solved it. It is a rare occasion when I feel truly confident in recommending a non-awards-show-you-must-see-this-out-of-obligation film to all, and Soderbergh has finally allowed me to do just that. Side Effects earns an A in my cinematic grade book, and here's to hoping more films follow in its witty, smart, scarily intense suit.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
An Apple is Still an Apple
As a self-proclaimed techie, I've been taking notice recently of a fair share of "Apple: the new uncool"- esque articles. Just this morning I came across a post on a tech site that will go unnamed entitled "Your Grandpa's iPhone". While I tend to believe consumer reports and internally position CNET as the technology guru, I am sorry but I'm just not buying this anti-Apple hype.
I would be remiss to deny the fact that the absence of Steve Jobs is both tangible and apparent. It is. I tend to feel that the world at large no longer gleans that all-encompassing sense of innovative brilliance from today's Apple as they did from Jobs' Apple. While iPhones and iPads under the reign of Tim Cook appear the same on the surface as they did when released during Jobs' era, I think consumers have lost that feeling of magical optimism of years passed. The tech sphere was a different place when Steve Jobs inhabitted it. No matter how advanced the current generation of iPhones was, consumers knew that the subsequent generation would be just that much more awesome, that much thinner and lighter, and would provide that surprise "it" factor no one saw coming.
The above being said, much of the population does still own iPhones. They are still partial to iOS over Android's constantly evolving, name-changing Jellybean/Ice Cream Sandwich operating systems. (I'm sorry but are childhood favorite desserts really the best Android could do on that?) Apple, from my perspective, still offers the sleekest, cleanest, and yes, most user-friendly smartphone platform in the market, and clearly a large proportion of the smartphone consumer base concurs. While no longer a twenty-something myself, which took me quite a while to embrace, I do still consider myself on the semi-cutting edge of technological advances. I consistently visit CNET, Engadget and countless user Apple forums on a weekly, if not daily, basis. I am typically abreast of upcoming product innovations or releases before they occur and, if I had to answer a focus group multiple-choice question, would place myself in the "People come to me for tech advice" bucket. The knowledge aforementioned in hand combined with the advantage of living in a top United States urban DMA, I do not understand nor believe the hullabaloo over Apple's "downward-spiraling" market share.
No less than 50% of fellow Manhattan dwellers I observe on a daily basis are touting around an iPhone 4 or 5...and I pay attention. Facts are facts. While I do take note of the occasional much-too-large -to-be-practical Galaxy Note, these are pretty few and far between. The headphones stemming from most hoods I've seen this winter tout the signature Apple on-wire remote, and I am not convinced all these headphone-wearing folks purchased them separately from an Android. Where the smartphone market lands in coming years of course remains to be seen and I will be attentively watching. But for now, I think I will mentally abandon the constantly cropping-up "Android as leader" gospel. Now please excuse me while I power off and upgrade to iOS 6.
I would be remiss to deny the fact that the absence of Steve Jobs is both tangible and apparent. It is. I tend to feel that the world at large no longer gleans that all-encompassing sense of innovative brilliance from today's Apple as they did from Jobs' Apple. While iPhones and iPads under the reign of Tim Cook appear the same on the surface as they did when released during Jobs' era, I think consumers have lost that feeling of magical optimism of years passed. The tech sphere was a different place when Steve Jobs inhabitted it. No matter how advanced the current generation of iPhones was, consumers knew that the subsequent generation would be just that much more awesome, that much thinner and lighter, and would provide that surprise "it" factor no one saw coming.
The above being said, much of the population does still own iPhones. They are still partial to iOS over Android's constantly evolving, name-changing Jellybean/Ice Cream Sandwich operating systems. (I'm sorry but are childhood favorite desserts really the best Android could do on that?) Apple, from my perspective, still offers the sleekest, cleanest, and yes, most user-friendly smartphone platform in the market, and clearly a large proportion of the smartphone consumer base concurs. While no longer a twenty-something myself, which took me quite a while to embrace, I do still consider myself on the semi-cutting edge of technological advances. I consistently visit CNET, Engadget and countless user Apple forums on a weekly, if not daily, basis. I am typically abreast of upcoming product innovations or releases before they occur and, if I had to answer a focus group multiple-choice question, would place myself in the "People come to me for tech advice" bucket. The knowledge aforementioned in hand combined with the advantage of living in a top United States urban DMA, I do not understand nor believe the hullabaloo over Apple's "downward-spiraling" market share.
No less than 50% of fellow Manhattan dwellers I observe on a daily basis are touting around an iPhone 4 or 5...and I pay attention. Facts are facts. While I do take note of the occasional much-too-large -to-be-practical Galaxy Note, these are pretty few and far between. The headphones stemming from most hoods I've seen this winter tout the signature Apple on-wire remote, and I am not convinced all these headphone-wearing folks purchased them separately from an Android. Where the smartphone market lands in coming years of course remains to be seen and I will be attentively watching. But for now, I think I will mentally abandon the constantly cropping-up "Android as leader" gospel. Now please excuse me while I power off and upgrade to iOS 6.
Stupor Sunday
Here we are again on my favorite day of the year -- the day when all of America celebrates the sport of football. Girls and guys alike congregate on couches throughout the country to watch the most highly rated guy-on-guy tackle match of the year. Yes that's right, it's Super Bowl Sunday. And in case you were uncertain as to my tonality in the former 2 sentences, correct, that was indeed sarcasm.
Why the negativity you may be wondering? How could I not adore the biggest sporting day of the year, the day when companies spend three million dollars for thirty seconds of on-screen branding (If you did the calculation, you are correct, that's roughly $100,000 per second. And that's a conservative estimate). Well, it's actually quite simple -- I absolutely detest the sport of football. I always have. This comes as a confusing surprise to many people in my life, due to several reasons (so I'm told). Well yes, I did attend The University of Michigan, a quintessential Big 10 college experience, rife with solid sports teams, talented athletes and the famed "Big House" football stadium. Each of those four years, my parents annually bought me season tickets to attend Wolverines football and each year, I promptly scalped those tickets to any non U of M football lovers who desired them. A college girl's gotta make money somehow right? But I digress. I did attend roughly one (or at least half of one) game per season with friends, at that stage still slightly optimistic that I would one day just "get" football like the rest of the breathing world. My guy friends tried explaining the sport to me, sell me on its athleticism and exciting factor. Mmmm yeah, that never worked. At least I can get beer and a tan here, I used to tell myself. And then at some point, even those self-dictates stopped working...and I gave up.
Since then, I've non-ashamedly embraced my hatred of the sport of football and actually seemingly quite amuse those around me with my negative waxings on the matter. I've been known to utter many a phrase a la "these guys are fat", "it's just a freezing wrestling match" or "I could definitely run faster than that". I recognize how inane and uninformed these (in my opinion) amusing comments must seem to my football-loving peers, however I just cannot seem to put myself in their shoes. I cannot grasp the allure of the slow-moving, ugly-uniformed, violent sport.
But alas, I know that not many share my opinons and as I've mentioned, here I am once again. I'm relishing these last few moments in the absence of a Super Bowl takeover on my Facebook newsfeed, the lingering hours when people will still actively engage in non-football, non-screaming-decibal conversation. I have agreed to attend a Superbowl (or as my childhood friend has wittily dubbed it with her married name, Sattinbowl) gathering later this evening in the spirit of being an American-culture-abiding, social citizen and I'm actually looking forward to it. It, of course, being the guacamole, wine, and it goes without saying, commercials and half-time show. I will do all in my power to not be in a food-coma-ed, Chardonnay-ed up stupor by then so as to be able to absorb the important elements of the game (namely, as stated, the :30 spots and half-time show) while still able to mask my boredom during the intervals between commercial pods.
I hope everyone out there has a swell Sunday sitting, screaming, and sneering and jeering (oops that was a basketball reference, thanks Clyde Frazier) at the wrestlers, I mean athletes, at 6:30p tonight. If you, too, develop football ennuie, be sure to check back here for some sure-to-be snarky musings and more importantly, commercial commentary. Ta ta for now and see you on the cyber sideline.
Why the negativity you may be wondering? How could I not adore the biggest sporting day of the year, the day when companies spend three million dollars for thirty seconds of on-screen branding (If you did the calculation, you are correct, that's roughly $100,000 per second. And that's a conservative estimate). Well, it's actually quite simple -- I absolutely detest the sport of football. I always have. This comes as a confusing surprise to many people in my life, due to several reasons (so I'm told). Well yes, I did attend The University of Michigan, a quintessential Big 10 college experience, rife with solid sports teams, talented athletes and the famed "Big House" football stadium. Each of those four years, my parents annually bought me season tickets to attend Wolverines football and each year, I promptly scalped those tickets to any non U of M football lovers who desired them. A college girl's gotta make money somehow right? But I digress. I did attend roughly one (or at least half of one) game per season with friends, at that stage still slightly optimistic that I would one day just "get" football like the rest of the breathing world. My guy friends tried explaining the sport to me, sell me on its athleticism and exciting factor. Mmmm yeah, that never worked. At least I can get beer and a tan here, I used to tell myself. And then at some point, even those self-dictates stopped working...and I gave up.
Since then, I've non-ashamedly embraced my hatred of the sport of football and actually seemingly quite amuse those around me with my negative waxings on the matter. I've been known to utter many a phrase a la "these guys are fat", "it's just a freezing wrestling match" or "I could definitely run faster than that". I recognize how inane and uninformed these (in my opinion) amusing comments must seem to my football-loving peers, however I just cannot seem to put myself in their shoes. I cannot grasp the allure of the slow-moving, ugly-uniformed, violent sport.
But alas, I know that not many share my opinons and as I've mentioned, here I am once again. I'm relishing these last few moments in the absence of a Super Bowl takeover on my Facebook newsfeed, the lingering hours when people will still actively engage in non-football, non-screaming-decibal conversation. I have agreed to attend a Superbowl (or as my childhood friend has wittily dubbed it with her married name, Sattinbowl) gathering later this evening in the spirit of being an American-culture-abiding, social citizen and I'm actually looking forward to it. It, of course, being the guacamole, wine, and it goes without saying, commercials and half-time show. I will do all in my power to not be in a food-coma-ed, Chardonnay-ed up stupor by then so as to be able to absorb the important elements of the game (namely, as stated, the :30 spots and half-time show) while still able to mask my boredom during the intervals between commercial pods.
I hope everyone out there has a swell Sunday sitting, screaming, and sneering and jeering (oops that was a basketball reference, thanks Clyde Frazier) at the wrestlers, I mean athletes, at 6:30p tonight. If you, too, develop football ennuie, be sure to check back here for some sure-to-be snarky musings and more importantly, commercial commentary. Ta ta for now and see you on the cyber sideline.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Read My Lips: So What?
The always-classy, beautiful, mind-bogglingly talented Beyonce performed a breath-taking rendition of the national anthem at Obama's inauguration. She was dignified, tasteful and flawless to watch and I don't think the American public could reasonably have asked for more from a performer on the momentous occasion. I will abide by my own rule that politics have no place on this blog but I will say that she did the President and country much honor with a tasteful and elegant offering.
You'd have to be living under a rock to not know by now that (gasp) this magnificent performance was lip-synced. I mean my gosh, has there not been one other news-worthy story for Entertainment Tonight, Extra and Access Hollywood to cover within a seven-day span? I am not a die-hard entertainment news show viewer, however I do enjoy a good dose of broadcast pop culture every now and again to keep myself afloat of important Hollywood goings-on. Well over the course of the last week, my roughly four seven-o-clock ET viewings have taught me nothing more than I already knew a few minutes after the inauguration ended. "BEYONCE LIP-SYNCED!" And here is what I have to say to that...who really cares?
Beyonce has clearly demonstrated time after time, performance after performance, that she is a talented and true songstress. We've watched her grow up from a cookie cutter girl-band teenager to a full-fledged Mariah Carey-esque diva. Her voice is without question one of the best in today's music industry. With that being said, I am at a minor loss as to why the country is so up-in-arms over her one time not-as-live-as-it-could-be presidential performance. I mean honestly, she was tasked with performing the most nationally recognizable song in front of the President of the United States, the entire White House staff and not to mention, the entire breathing nation. So she pre-recorded the song the day prior and "lipped" over it this one highly critical time...so what?! I think she is entitled to a little self-assurance for her biggest televised performance to date. There is no need for this unnecessary pop-culture-spread hullabaloo, Beyonce is not Milli Vanilli V2, and she is the same amazingly talented singer she was before the inauguration "fiasco" took place. I would genuinely like to see any of these quick-to-judge reporters, American Idol wanna-bes or critics do half as well as she did. So let's all just cut Beyonce a little slack here, people. Deal with it, she is classier, better dressed, and more talented than any of us can ever hope to be ... and that's no lip service.
You'd have to be living under a rock to not know by now that (gasp) this magnificent performance was lip-synced. I mean my gosh, has there not been one other news-worthy story for Entertainment Tonight, Extra and Access Hollywood to cover within a seven-day span? I am not a die-hard entertainment news show viewer, however I do enjoy a good dose of broadcast pop culture every now and again to keep myself afloat of important Hollywood goings-on. Well over the course of the last week, my roughly four seven-o-clock ET viewings have taught me nothing more than I already knew a few minutes after the inauguration ended. "BEYONCE LIP-SYNCED!" And here is what I have to say to that...who really cares?
Beyonce has clearly demonstrated time after time, performance after performance, that she is a talented and true songstress. We've watched her grow up from a cookie cutter girl-band teenager to a full-fledged Mariah Carey-esque diva. Her voice is without question one of the best in today's music industry. With that being said, I am at a minor loss as to why the country is so up-in-arms over her one time not-as-live-as-it-could-be presidential performance. I mean honestly, she was tasked with performing the most nationally recognizable song in front of the President of the United States, the entire White House staff and not to mention, the entire breathing nation. So she pre-recorded the song the day prior and "lipped" over it this one highly critical time...so what?! I think she is entitled to a little self-assurance for her biggest televised performance to date. There is no need for this unnecessary pop-culture-spread hullabaloo, Beyonce is not Milli Vanilli V2, and she is the same amazingly talented singer she was before the inauguration "fiasco" took place. I would genuinely like to see any of these quick-to-judge reporters, American Idol wanna-bes or critics do half as well as she did. So let's all just cut Beyonce a little slack here, people. Deal with it, she is classier, better dressed, and more talented than any of us can ever hope to be ... and that's no lip service.
Weather or Not
I think it's safe to say that at this point, the healthy majority of folks living in the twenty-first century own a smartphone. As always, of course, I must caveat that I am speaking predominantly from an urban standpoint. From both my media-planning stance and also simply from living in the world, I have ascertained (at the risk of being overly obvious) that the first activity most people engage in upon waking up is checking the native weather app on their smartphone. It just makes sense -- wake up, anticipate coming day, plan one's outfit agenda-and-weather-accordingly. Now having set the stage on consumer weather-checking behavior, I feel I can comfortably move on. So to momentarily back track. Wake up - check. Coffee - check. Monitor weather - check. Next up - Facebook. Now to bring this to a personal level.
Inevitably, no matter what the season, what the temperature or humidity index, I would say my Facebook newsfeed is roughly 25% consumed by weather-related posts on a daily basis. Being that it is currently winter (yes, I know, a cold one here in New York City), these diverse posts range from screen-shotted weather apps to the ever-popular "I'm coooold" complaints to the most obvious of them all, "Snow!!!!!!" one-liners. I am in no position to sit in my moral throne judging those who overshare on Facebook or other social networks since I am fairly certain others would dub me with that very label, however I do feel warranted in assigning the lightest of judgments on these over-obvious posters. I, as do most of us, enjoy a witty Facebook peer post, however I am confident in saying none of these enjoyable posts have nor ever will involve weather as a subject matter.
Yesterday morning I woke up this particular gem "Not even twenty degrees outside!" Noooo-fucking-way, I hadn't checked the weather for myself in the two hours since arising this morning to see that it was nineteen degrees, hadn't yet hurriedly run to the gym fast enough so my legs wouldn't freeze or seen my own smoky breath. No way, I would NEVER have known it was cold out had you not written that utterly unnecessary, uninformative update. Thank you so very much for that tidbit. (Insert wish for sarcasm font).
In summary, fellow Facebook comrades, I think you can safely make the assumption that everyone in your network of friends has already checked the weather by the time you are about to write that what-you-think-is-funny weather post for the rest of us to eye-roll at. So please, spare your thumbs the activity and your peers from what we already know. It't winter, it's cold, and that's just life.
Inevitably, no matter what the season, what the temperature or humidity index, I would say my Facebook newsfeed is roughly 25% consumed by weather-related posts on a daily basis. Being that it is currently winter (yes, I know, a cold one here in New York City), these diverse posts range from screen-shotted weather apps to the ever-popular "I'm coooold" complaints to the most obvious of them all, "Snow!!!!!!" one-liners. I am in no position to sit in my moral throne judging those who overshare on Facebook or other social networks since I am fairly certain others would dub me with that very label, however I do feel warranted in assigning the lightest of judgments on these over-obvious posters. I, as do most of us, enjoy a witty Facebook peer post, however I am confident in saying none of these enjoyable posts have nor ever will involve weather as a subject matter.
Yesterday morning I woke up this particular gem "Not even twenty degrees outside!" Noooo-fucking-way, I hadn't checked the weather for myself in the two hours since arising this morning to see that it was nineteen degrees, hadn't yet hurriedly run to the gym fast enough so my legs wouldn't freeze or seen my own smoky breath. No way, I would NEVER have known it was cold out had you not written that utterly unnecessary, uninformative update. Thank you so very much for that tidbit. (Insert wish for sarcasm font).
In summary, fellow Facebook comrades, I think you can safely make the assumption that everyone in your network of friends has already checked the weather by the time you are about to write that what-you-think-is-funny weather post for the rest of us to eye-roll at. So please, spare your thumbs the activity and your peers from what we already know. It't winter, it's cold, and that's just life.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Distaste Previewed
As I do as awards season annually approaches, I enter obsessive-I-must-see-every-nominated-movie mode. I absolutely cannot bear to watch the Golden Globes, PCAs, or (heaven forbid), the Oscars, as a not-completely-informed citizen. Awards season, like the December holiday time, is a special moment of the year, and I feel it is my duty to, as a consumer contributing to these shows' ratings, be able to make informed guesses as to the projected outcomes of each win.
Since the majority of my usual day-to-day life, even weekend-inclusive, is consumed by necessary duties such as that minor task otherwise known as my career, never-ending personal errands, and then the occasional social commitment, the notion of going to sit in a movie theater for 3 hours at a stretch typically does not enter my realm. During awards season, however, I try as best I can to overcome this and prioritize the task of movie viewership in my life.
This year, as in years passed, I have paid visit to the movie theater three times within the past three weeks, the last time being for "Zero Dark Thirty". The movie, in my regard, was extremely well done, the acting top-notch and the storyline founded on a well-chosen piece of history essential for all to see. Since Zero Dark Thirty is not, in actuality, the subject matter here, I wish to move on.
It is my expectation that when I, as a paying citizen, make the choice to see a movie, the previews for said movie will be apropos (or at least somehow relatable) to the feature I have chosen. For illustrative purposes I will be overt for a moment -- should I choose to see a drama such as, namely, Zero Dark Thirty, I would expect its respective previews to be for upcoming dramatic films. Should I make the choice to view a comedy, I expect the preview selection to be within the comedic genre as well. As of late, I have found this not to be the case at all but in fact, quite the opposite.
Let me date back to my most recent experience of Zero Dark Thirty. Well before taking my (quite comfortable) seat in the theater that day, I was well aware of the subject matter of the film. Historical non-fictional drama...one of my favorites. So when the lights finally dimmed to commence the previews, I was actually quite looking forward to what I expected to see. I mentally prepped myself to assess which of the upcoming three-minute drama clips intrigued me enough to internally decide I would see it upon release. Not only did none of the previewed clips meet that expectation...none of them bore even the slightest relevance to the feature title.
While in drama-anticipatory mode, I sat idly by watching Melissa McCarthy disgrace the screen consecutively for two different upcoming films. These respective movie titles may very well have been the same, although they were indeed different, since her projected character was absolutely identical in both. Please excuse my judgement in the following statement but there she was again, the same annoying broad we saw in Bridesmaids: the "it-doesn't-matter-that-you're-fat-because-you're-supposed-to-be-funny" girl next door. Since this is indeed my own blog, I feel somehow allowed to say that I despise Melissa slash Molly. I find her to be a disgrace to both the small and big screens and that she is no more than another much-less-amusing overweight Roseanne. (Insert fact here that Roseanne can do no wrong in my opinion and I do quite enjoy and respect her acting unlike Melissa). I try to be open-minded, try to find good qualities in all, however I struggle to find anything resembling redeeming in Melissa McCarthy. Her characters both annoy and disgust me, I find no humor in her fart jokes, and I simply cannot abide the fact that she is even famous at all.
Having gotten that rant under way, if Melissa/Molly must exist in the prestigious land known as Hollywood, her presence on the screen should be limited to those "I-am-not-intelligent-enough-to-understand-this-is-not-real-humor" genre movie previews. Make no mistake I personally would never, not today and not ever, pay good money to see her in action and I do not wish to see her tacky self on screen when I make the intelligent decision to see a valuable movie such as Zero Dark Thirty. If I wished to view tasteless toilet humor, I would, but being that I do not, please, Hollywood Press, spare me from this disgusting nonsense. The world is tasteless enough without being forced to further witness it on the big screen, so I bet of you, film industry, grant me the privilege of forming my own qualitative cinematic priorities.
Since the majority of my usual day-to-day life, even weekend-inclusive, is consumed by necessary duties such as that minor task otherwise known as my career, never-ending personal errands, and then the occasional social commitment, the notion of going to sit in a movie theater for 3 hours at a stretch typically does not enter my realm. During awards season, however, I try as best I can to overcome this and prioritize the task of movie viewership in my life.
This year, as in years passed, I have paid visit to the movie theater three times within the past three weeks, the last time being for "Zero Dark Thirty". The movie, in my regard, was extremely well done, the acting top-notch and the storyline founded on a well-chosen piece of history essential for all to see. Since Zero Dark Thirty is not, in actuality, the subject matter here, I wish to move on.
It is my expectation that when I, as a paying citizen, make the choice to see a movie, the previews for said movie will be apropos (or at least somehow relatable) to the feature I have chosen. For illustrative purposes I will be overt for a moment -- should I choose to see a drama such as, namely, Zero Dark Thirty, I would expect its respective previews to be for upcoming dramatic films. Should I make the choice to view a comedy, I expect the preview selection to be within the comedic genre as well. As of late, I have found this not to be the case at all but in fact, quite the opposite.
Let me date back to my most recent experience of Zero Dark Thirty. Well before taking my (quite comfortable) seat in the theater that day, I was well aware of the subject matter of the film. Historical non-fictional drama...one of my favorites. So when the lights finally dimmed to commence the previews, I was actually quite looking forward to what I expected to see. I mentally prepped myself to assess which of the upcoming three-minute drama clips intrigued me enough to internally decide I would see it upon release. Not only did none of the previewed clips meet that expectation...none of them bore even the slightest relevance to the feature title.
While in drama-anticipatory mode, I sat idly by watching Melissa McCarthy disgrace the screen consecutively for two different upcoming films. These respective movie titles may very well have been the same, although they were indeed different, since her projected character was absolutely identical in both. Please excuse my judgement in the following statement but there she was again, the same annoying broad we saw in Bridesmaids: the "it-doesn't-matter-that-you're-fat-because-you're-supposed-to-be-funny" girl next door. Since this is indeed my own blog, I feel somehow allowed to say that I despise Melissa slash Molly. I find her to be a disgrace to both the small and big screens and that she is no more than another much-less-amusing overweight Roseanne. (Insert fact here that Roseanne can do no wrong in my opinion and I do quite enjoy and respect her acting unlike Melissa). I try to be open-minded, try to find good qualities in all, however I struggle to find anything resembling redeeming in Melissa McCarthy. Her characters both annoy and disgust me, I find no humor in her fart jokes, and I simply cannot abide the fact that she is even famous at all.
Having gotten that rant under way, if Melissa/Molly must exist in the prestigious land known as Hollywood, her presence on the screen should be limited to those "I-am-not-intelligent-enough-to-understand-this-is-not-real-humor" genre movie previews. Make no mistake I personally would never, not today and not ever, pay good money to see her in action and I do not wish to see her tacky self on screen when I make the intelligent decision to see a valuable movie such as Zero Dark Thirty. If I wished to view tasteless toilet humor, I would, but being that I do not, please, Hollywood Press, spare me from this disgusting nonsense. The world is tasteless enough without being forced to further witness it on the big screen, so I bet of you, film industry, grant me the privilege of forming my own qualitative cinematic priorities.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Lance At A (Pretty Unflattering) Glance
Oprah Winfrey took on Lance Armstrong in all his supposed candor in a two part Interview last night and the night prior. There is no question that if any reporter was going to get him to open up about his (now old news) "most scandalously pulled off" doping scheme it was Miss Winfrey. Unnecessary to state but nonetheless relevant in this context, she is the reigning queen of posing the most penetrating, personal, difficult questions in a manner that seemingly makes those on the chair across from her unafraid to answer. So after hearing via every possible news outlet that she would be doing the long awaited broadcast, my hopes were high. What exactly I hoped for from the interview I'm not 100% certain I can accurately capture in words, however it was certainly not what I saw over the past two nights.
Having never been a real Lance fan nor hater one way or the other, I was neither hoping for yet another public humiliation nor a "new Lance" to come forth. And, as it turns out, neither of these scenarios took place. What I, perhaps presumptuously, assumed would occur would have been the public getting to see, feel and believe a real human sense of remorse from a man who lied to himself, his family, the sports industry and the public for years. While at times during the 2.5 hours it seemed like he was going to convey true apologetic remorse, these times were few and far between. During the majority of the chair to chair confession of sorts, I got the unmistakable sense that at the core of the situation, yes Lance was sorry...sorry he got caught.
Not surprisingly, Miss Winfrey's questions spanned a broad range of topics warranting diverse genres of answers. She commenced the interview with the series or yes or no questions to which the the public has wanted to hear truthful answers from Lance directly since 2005 when his doping controversy first reared its head courtesy of his former teammate. He answered this painstaking series of "Did you ever use illegal banned substances while competing in the Tour de France? Have you ever had blood transfusions leading up to a race?" with honest yeses to each and every incriminating question. But although this would have been a dramatic confession, the answers were already known and I therefore grant him no credit for his "honesty" in that vein. Perhaps had he voluntarily come out with the truth and done this interview four years ago, I would grant him a few ounces more of credit but no. Not now. From the yes/no questions, Oprah proceeded the inquisition, posing questions ranging from the process of injecting EPO, its secret disposal, the repertoire of scheduling doping sessions so as to not fail drug tests all the way to the other emotional end of the spectrum: his emotions towards the public outage and how he has broached the issue with his five young children. Watching Lance discuss the process of doping, it almost seemed to me at times that in a way, he missed it. Missed the whole competitive process of gearing up, training, "putting air in his tires" otherwise known to the public as using banned drugs, and self-proclaimed by him as the most important thing in the world, winning. I sensed a tangible longing in his eyes and tone of voice when speaking of his Tours de wherever and my sense was substantiated when Lance candidly answered that yes, he would like to compete again and that he lived for the sport of cycling.
I would be a heartless person if I sat here saying there weren't moments when I believed Armstrong's sorrowful emotions, for instance when speaking about his son. He spoke of an experience in which his thirteen year old son naively defended his father to his undoubtedly cruel teenage peers, asserting that his father was innocent and did nothing wrong. I don't believe Lance's trembling lip and much too long pauses before answering were fabricated -- upon seeing the effect his irresponsible careless actions had on his children, he was presumably visibly sorry.
Since I cannot depict in writing the answer and emotional takeaway of each question posed to him by Miss Winfrey, from an overall evaluation stance, Lance did himself no favors with this interview. When the final question came to light (predicted by me early on) "Do you feel remorse?", he appeared, to me, as nothing more than a little boy upset for having gotten sent to his room. There is no question that Lance now wishes he could turn back the clock on his untruthful, continuously illegal actions over the past decade. What there is question about is his preference on having ever gotten caught or not. And I believe that preference to be no. "Do you think you would have gotten caught had you not made your come back in 2009?" Oprah posed. "It is impossible to say one way or the other but the chances are much less likely" was his answer. And this answer, to me, says it all. Were he able to turn back time, he would have maintained his 2007 retirement, given up his oh-so-shameful third place in the 2009 Tour, kept his seven Tour de France titles, and never gotten caught for doping.
In his words, he has "a long way still to go" in learning and accepting his now unqualified-to-compete fate. And although I would not call his 150 minute confession a great one, I hope that over the course of the next several years and many therapy sessions, he is able to more fully grasp the wrongdoing he exhibited and take real responsibility for it. Here's to hoping, Lance, you will be able to reclaim your morals, earn back a trace of trust, and once again, Live Strong.
For full coverage of the interview please refer here:
http://www.oprah.com/own_tv/onc/lance-armstrong-one.html
Having never been a real Lance fan nor hater one way or the other, I was neither hoping for yet another public humiliation nor a "new Lance" to come forth. And, as it turns out, neither of these scenarios took place. What I, perhaps presumptuously, assumed would occur would have been the public getting to see, feel and believe a real human sense of remorse from a man who lied to himself, his family, the sports industry and the public for years. While at times during the 2.5 hours it seemed like he was going to convey true apologetic remorse, these times were few and far between. During the majority of the chair to chair confession of sorts, I got the unmistakable sense that at the core of the situation, yes Lance was sorry...sorry he got caught.
Not surprisingly, Miss Winfrey's questions spanned a broad range of topics warranting diverse genres of answers. She commenced the interview with the series or yes or no questions to which the the public has wanted to hear truthful answers from Lance directly since 2005 when his doping controversy first reared its head courtesy of his former teammate. He answered this painstaking series of "Did you ever use illegal banned substances while competing in the Tour de France? Have you ever had blood transfusions leading up to a race?" with honest yeses to each and every incriminating question. But although this would have been a dramatic confession, the answers were already known and I therefore grant him no credit for his "honesty" in that vein. Perhaps had he voluntarily come out with the truth and done this interview four years ago, I would grant him a few ounces more of credit but no. Not now. From the yes/no questions, Oprah proceeded the inquisition, posing questions ranging from the process of injecting EPO, its secret disposal, the repertoire of scheduling doping sessions so as to not fail drug tests all the way to the other emotional end of the spectrum: his emotions towards the public outage and how he has broached the issue with his five young children. Watching Lance discuss the process of doping, it almost seemed to me at times that in a way, he missed it. Missed the whole competitive process of gearing up, training, "putting air in his tires" otherwise known to the public as using banned drugs, and self-proclaimed by him as the most important thing in the world, winning. I sensed a tangible longing in his eyes and tone of voice when speaking of his Tours de wherever and my sense was substantiated when Lance candidly answered that yes, he would like to compete again and that he lived for the sport of cycling.
I would be a heartless person if I sat here saying there weren't moments when I believed Armstrong's sorrowful emotions, for instance when speaking about his son. He spoke of an experience in which his thirteen year old son naively defended his father to his undoubtedly cruel teenage peers, asserting that his father was innocent and did nothing wrong. I don't believe Lance's trembling lip and much too long pauses before answering were fabricated -- upon seeing the effect his irresponsible careless actions had on his children, he was presumably visibly sorry.
Since I cannot depict in writing the answer and emotional takeaway of each question posed to him by Miss Winfrey, from an overall evaluation stance, Lance did himself no favors with this interview. When the final question came to light (predicted by me early on) "Do you feel remorse?", he appeared, to me, as nothing more than a little boy upset for having gotten sent to his room. There is no question that Lance now wishes he could turn back the clock on his untruthful, continuously illegal actions over the past decade. What there is question about is his preference on having ever gotten caught or not. And I believe that preference to be no. "Do you think you would have gotten caught had you not made your come back in 2009?" Oprah posed. "It is impossible to say one way or the other but the chances are much less likely" was his answer. And this answer, to me, says it all. Were he able to turn back time, he would have maintained his 2007 retirement, given up his oh-so-shameful third place in the 2009 Tour, kept his seven Tour de France titles, and never gotten caught for doping.
In his words, he has "a long way still to go" in learning and accepting his now unqualified-to-compete fate. And although I would not call his 150 minute confession a great one, I hope that over the course of the next several years and many therapy sessions, he is able to more fully grasp the wrongdoing he exhibited and take real responsibility for it. Here's to hoping, Lance, you will be able to reclaim your morals, earn back a trace of trust, and once again, Live Strong.
For full coverage of the interview please refer here:
http://www.oprah.com/own_tv/onc/lance-armstrong-one.html
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Evolution of Professional Fashion
I am a self-proclaimed media chick. October 2013 will mark my 10 year anniversary of working in the fun-filled land of media planning. I have spent the better part of a decade sitting in cubes, pods, and thankfully (but not ungraciously) now a window office debating the merits and falls of TV network ratings, target consumer psychographic qualifiers and decimal points of GRP levels on microscopic flowcharts. I have sat courtside at many a Knick game while making $30K a year, dined at five star locales in the trendiest of neighborhoods while internally arguing with myself if that $10 salad was really worth it. And all the while doing so, I have donned quite the vast range of ensembles to the office (office read ad agency). While I of course recognize that my personal choices in work attire have evolved from 2003 to present, the culturally (versus personally) relevant tidbit of note here is the broader evolution of fashion in the professional setting.
Okay so yes, I work in media, clearly not finance, not law, and not education. Having said that, I do still consider myself a consummate professional (as unbiased as I can be of course) in my daily ins and outs. Sure, sometimes I sit at my desk rewriting the same "concise while thorough" bullet point for 2 hours but I do also manage, like, a lot of money in ad placements. I'm important ya know? But I digress. So yeah, media is, I guess, slightly less staid than other professions but not totally.
Today I had a client meeting. These weren't just, you know, unimportant "I call myself 'the client' but really I don't make any important decisions" clients -- I mean these were mucky mucks, the decision makers. Ten years ago, I probably would have picked out my outfit for such a momentous event the evening prior, no doubt choosing my Rosh Hashana temple outfit, tights and heels for the occasion. Mmm yeah, so not so much what occurred this morning an hour prior to my meeting. Now misread me not, the importance I place on my career is twentyfold what it was a decade ago, however the fashion choices I make have drastically evolved since then. Allow me to elaborate.
Today I had a client meeting. These weren't just, you know, unimportant "I call myself 'the client' but really I don't make any important decisions" clients -- I mean these were mucky mucks, the decision makers. Ten years ago, I probably would have picked out my outfit for such a momentous event the evening prior, no doubt choosing my Rosh Hashana temple outfit, tights and heels for the occasion. Mmm yeah, so not so much what occurred this morning an hour prior to my meeting. Now misread me not, the importance I place on my career is twentyfold what it was a decade ago, however the fashion choices I make have drastically evolved since then. Allow me to elaborate.
It's 7:30 am, my very-important-cross-town meeting is slated to commence at 9:00 am sharp, my hair is dripping after my 3 mile in-the-dark run, and I am nowhere close to being dressed. Skirts and tights are nowhere in my realm of mentality...and not because that genre of outfit would take too much effort to sport. Quite the opposite my media friends. The instinctive thought that goes through my mind is "shit, where are my 'fanciest' jeans"? At the risk of sounding arrogant, I happen to enjoy the way I come across in jeans and a blazer but this is really not my intended point. Forty, thirty, even twenty years ago, the simple notion of donning "even your fanciest jeans" to a client meeting was not laughable...it was out of the realm of reality. A client meeting warranted a monochromatic business suit (and as a woman, a skirt-oriented business suit at that). But moving on, I did manage to find my fancy jeans, one of my most prized blazers, and a cute cami on time to bolt out the door and waltz in early at 8:55am, beating the majority of my clients to the meeting. "Oh Rachel, what a great outfit!" "You look so professional today!" Smiling to myself, I said thank you to these compliments, took my seat and put on my business/media hat for the day.
Everything, importantly fashion choices in both business and pleasure, evolves over time. And fortunately so. I cannot imagine being forced to wear skirt suits day in and day out and my collection of jeans is one of my most prized entities. I am a lucky lady -- I work in a job I enjoy in clothes I love to wear. This post is simply intended to convey my intrigue at how time can morph cultural standards. I wouldn't give up media for anything yesterday or today...or my professional jeans.
What's Up With That, Jodie?
The Golden Globes deserved an A- this year overall in my opinion. From start to finish, the show delivered non-awkward, organically flowing entertainment. Needless to state, Tina and Amy were, as expected, divine, and enjoyable to watch in every capacity. Their humor spans age, gender, and all of that and worked flawlessly for the bubbly-infused awards show.
My opinion on that matter stated, I'd like to address the meat of the title of this post. As background, I would generally (as unbiased as possible) label myself as an open-minded, non-judgmental humanoid. Nice Jewish girl that I am, I married a (in the words of Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were) nice Gentile boy. I don't frown upon people stepping outside of their expected cultural boxes, I respect openness even at the risk of seeming weird, and I certainly encourage coming out of the closet if one is gay. Not being gay myself, I cannot feign to come close to understanding what that experience must be like, however I do suspect that I would prefer not to live secretly in any way, shape or form. There is simply no need for secrecy in regards to a matter as mundane in 2013 as homosexuality. And Jodie, my dear, I commend you for "coming out" or whatever you would call that blubbering mess you put forth after receiving your Cecil B. Demille award.
I must say, I am pretty quick-witted and can usually ascertain the deep meaning of a speech, article, or movie before much it comes to a close. Mmmm, not so much the case this time, Jodie. In the midst of listening to your "you won't be seeing me on stage anymore" to "if you had been living a life in public since the time you were 3 you'd value privacy" to "my mother can die now", I truly don't think I have ever been so lost for the net takeaway of a speech...ever. Are you retiring? You're single? Are you leaving Earth tomorrow? Or wait...are you (no one gasp here since everyone already knew)...gay?! Gee, Jodie, for such a respectable "woman of 50", I think you could have just a little more clearly stated "I'm gay and I'm proud". In my opinion, this would have been the more respectable route to take, not only for yourself but for the gay community at large. I have watched your speech now three times and I still struggle to understand why, if your goal was to share your sexuality with the world, you made absolutely no mention of it. It's 2013 here, Jodie. Ellen is gay. Rosie ie gay. Doogie Howser and Anderson Cooper, the stone silver fox, for G-d's sake, are gay. Coming out of the closet is nothing new and you would not have been the first, second or twentieth to do it.
Don't misread me here, Jodie, I commend you for (finally) being open with the world, your fans, and your undoubtedly tipsy Golden Globes comrades, however I do think your approach could have used a little fine-tuning. The deed is over now, so sit back, relax and enjoy your now publicized private life. And next time you waltz the red carpet, please do bring a date.
Oh...Is The Flu Going Around?
Okay, honestly, I do have a flair for drama. I love a good "all-hands-on-deck-the-world-is-ending" news story that gets everyone from here to eternity riled up and running for the nearest airport to flee. It somehow makes me feel connected to the human spirit to know that we are all going down at the same time and nothing anyone does will save us. (Cue dramatic Zero Dark Thirty-esque music). Read, since I am a Manhattan-centric arrogant brat, New-Yorkers-Bond-Over-Hurricane-Sandy.
Now that I've gotten that dramatic intro under way, I can comfortably make the point I came here to make. I think by now, it's safe to say that we all know people are, like, getting the flu. Yeah, some people in my office are coughing and all and others are proudly displaying their self-proclaimed "immune-system-repairing" remedies on their desks as if on display in the MOMA. Okay, yes, I get it...people are under the weather.
This morning while running on the treadmill (undoubtedly coated in a layer of toxic flu germs), I watched The Today Show cut to an emergency segment "The Growing Epidemic" detailing the emergency situation at hand. "Everyone take precaution. Touch nothing and no one," they voiced over while a map flashed across the screen with that threatening red "flu" coating spreading across the states whilst I tranquilly clocked miles on the treadmill. Hmmm. Maybe I should get a mask so I'm not breathing in this very public air? Virtual internal slap across the face...get a grip Rachel! I am sorry but this is the FLU we are talking about, people, not the bubonic plague. Not Ebola...(I don't think?).
Not to don my hypocrite hat for the third post in a month, however even though I do enjoy a good drama-inducing news story every now and again (as previously mentioned), let's just all take a step back here people. It's 2013. And it's the flu. Stock up on Robitussin and Emergen-C (I heart Pfizer), skip the gym for a few days, and become one with your DVR. If we did it when we were six, we can certainly do so now. Being sick absolutely sucks and there is no way around it, but this nonsense has got to stop. No more maps with spreading red virus stats, please, and enough with the threatening surgical masks on the subway, folks. It's winter and you, like all humans, just might get sick. Deal with it.
Now that I've gotten that dramatic intro under way, I can comfortably make the point I came here to make. I think by now, it's safe to say that we all know people are, like, getting the flu. Yeah, some people in my office are coughing and all and others are proudly displaying their self-proclaimed "immune-system-repairing" remedies on their desks as if on display in the MOMA. Okay, yes, I get it...people are under the weather.
This morning while running on the treadmill (undoubtedly coated in a layer of toxic flu germs), I watched The Today Show cut to an emergency segment "The Growing Epidemic" detailing the emergency situation at hand. "Everyone take precaution. Touch nothing and no one," they voiced over while a map flashed across the screen with that threatening red "flu" coating spreading across the states whilst I tranquilly clocked miles on the treadmill. Hmmm. Maybe I should get a mask so I'm not breathing in this very public air? Virtual internal slap across the face...get a grip Rachel! I am sorry but this is the FLU we are talking about, people, not the bubonic plague. Not Ebola...(I don't think?).
Not to don my hypocrite hat for the third post in a month, however even though I do enjoy a good drama-inducing news story every now and again (as previously mentioned), let's just all take a step back here people. It's 2013. And it's the flu. Stock up on Robitussin and Emergen-C (I heart Pfizer), skip the gym for a few days, and become one with your DVR. If we did it when we were six, we can certainly do so now. Being sick absolutely sucks and there is no way around it, but this nonsense has got to stop. No more maps with spreading red virus stats, please, and enough with the threatening surgical masks on the subway, folks. It's winter and you, like all humans, just might get sick. Deal with it.
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