hurt so hard I laughed

In my last "ad-verse" post, I wrote, "If there's any commonality to bad commercials, it might be this: they aim for humor, but imply violence." I should have replaced "commercials" with the broader category of "advertisements," because, according to this NY Times article on the marketing of tampons, this print ad — included in a previous ad-verse rant — was only meant to be funny.

"Young women have a different attitude about this," said Karen Houppert, author of "The Curse: Confronting the Last Taboo: Menstruation" (Farrar, Straus & Giroux; 1999). Girls - 11 years old and up - are more comfortable with their bodies and the topic of their periods, she added, and are "less inclined to sort of accept those mores," associated with a female's cycle including secrecy, shame and embarrassment.

Recognizing the shift, the major players in this intensely competitive category have begun tweaking their marketing approaches. Procter & Gamble, for instance, recently introduced another humorous installment of ads, created in Chicago by the Leo Burnett Company, part of the Publicis Groupe, building on the success of a commercial for its Tampax Pearl brand. In that ad, a couple are on a date in a rowboat when the boat springs a leak. The man is at a loss for what to do when the woman pulls out a Tampax Pearl tampon and plugs the hole.

"It's definitely something that the audience relates to and I think because the topic has been a topic that is a little bit private or taboo or sensitive, when you poke a little fun at something it makes it easy to break through and to talk about it," said Mary Aikenhead, the brand manager for Tampax at Procter & Gamble in Cincinnati.

strung out on carrots

A quick round-up of gross TV ads I've seen this week:

1. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services
   Three new ads, literalizing common weight loss verbs like shedding and dropping, envision a public landscape littered by dieters' fat droppings, loosened from their bodies by diets and shed during the course of excercise. Increasingly unsurprised passers-by discover the droppings, sacked like saline implants, shaped like love handles, double chins, and bellies, and, depending on the shape, thick and limp like uncooked steak or pliant like a mass of play-doh. In the most disturbing ad, two boys playing on the beach approach a shored object: "Check it out, man!" "What is that?" "Looks like someone's belly." The belly, kidney-shaped and unnaturally pink, is half buried in the sand (not attached to a dead owner, presumably); the boys prod it with s stick, puckering and quivering the skin, and growing bored, leave it behind to continue playing.

2. 1 800 CALL ATT
   About a year ago, some friends and I were discussing the rationale for involuntary sterilization: Carrot Top. We'd noticed that, in recent ATT ads, the Carrot was looking increasingly, intimidatingly muscular, like a clown that could rape you.
   Others might think the Carrot's comic impotency makes him pitiable, harmless, and sexless, but the ATT ads have always had one clear message: American men, Carrot Top wants your women. And, on the tenure track to ATT spokesman, the Carrot's finally getting them. In the most recent ad, he tricks a beach stud into taking a fake call from a pay-phone; as the stud takes the call, the Carrot takes his girlfriend. The ad ends with the girl and Carrot Top flirting in the background; the cuckolded boyfriend frowns into the phone's reciever, and the Carrot's hand moves towards the girlfriend's hair. The gesture, cut in mid-action, creates an after-image of the Carrot Cock approaching, the threat of contact imminent and continuing.
   According to a FAQ page for 1 800 CALL ATT, Carrot Top "attended Florida Atlantic U. in Boca Raton, where he says he 'majored in skirt chasing.'" I'll be wearing pants until he's fired.

3. Sprint PCS Video Mail
   If there's any commonality to bad commercials, it might be this: they aim for humor, but imply violence. The detached chins and bellies recall leprosy instead of Gogol, and Carrot Top is too physically aggressive to be funny. A more obvious example of humor gone awry arrived earlier this month, just in time for Mother's Day; in the Sprint commercial "Sharing," a Sprint customer sends his mother a deeply passive-aggressive video message, an accusation in the guise of gratitude. Here's the transcript:

   "Sharing"
   a :15 film by Mark Sweeney

   Mark: Hey, mom. You've told me many times how painful my birth was 30 years ago, so, to sort of share in your experience, I'm going to take my hand and put it on this hot stove."

   He sets his hand down on the stove and screams.

   Voice Over: Introducing Sprint PCS VideoMail. Shoot it and send it instantly.

   Mark (waving burnt hand): Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

4. Dominos and Mountain Dew
   Recently, Dominos launched a series of ads (see one here) depicting men's Pavlovian reaction to doorbells. In one spot, a man teases his dog with a dinner bell -- stupid dog, running on command, he says to his friends -- before a doorbell rings and he and his friends, expecting Dominos, clamber to the door on all fours.
   Mountain Dew, in a new TV spot called "Dog Sled Men" (available here), plays with a similar idea. A pack of men, tied to a sled and running with their hands and legs, move across a snowy field. Dangling just beyond the men's reach is a Mountain Dew, tied to a stick held by the sled's driver, a self-satisfied white dog. A man watching them pass by grumbles, "They win every year."
   The point is, Mountain Dew is tasty enough to deserve such effort, and we should take advantage of our comparatively easy access to it. But both the Mountain Dew and Dominos ads portray the men who want their product as slaves to it, rendered dumb and too easily manipulated by their desire for it.
   Commercials often encourage the idea of rebellion: a new freedom from societal restraints via a new purchase. You're not supposed to laugh at the idea of a rebellious consumerism, or view the commercials as hypocrisy. But the Mountain Dew and Dominos ads depict desire as domestication (humans turned into dogs) or enslavement (to habit or a sled); the difference is, while the first type of ad encourages consumerism with a critique of societal restraints (most likely brought on by consumerism), the second type is a critique of consumerism made more obvious by the total absence of intended critique.

the ugliest show on television

I haven't seen The Swan since its premier, but my thoughts keep coming back to it. (Thought of the moment: a SAT-styled analogy. Beauty: television:: Dorian Gray: Dorian's portrait.) This morning, I also went back to The Swan's website for the first time since writing my review, and found it stocked with new features: a "history of beauty," a "timeline" of beauty pageants ("1854: P.T. Barnum tried unsuccessfully to host a beauty contest, discovered no 'self-respecting lady' would participate." Why is "self- respecting lady" in quotes?), and, oh my, a fan club.

And, of course, the "gallery," showcasing contestants' makeovers, has been updated. Look what happened to Kristy:

Kristy, I hope you never read this. After all that work and surgery, you shouldn't be subjected to my opinion that you now look like a drag queen.

When the show first arrived, many critics and bloggers used the term "drag queen" to critique the makeovers' results. At first, I found the term insulting; I think the women still look like women (and, ok, even if they don't, the show's premise makes me pity them and shy away from disparaging their new looks). But, I think the idea of drag, as applied to women, doesn't have to suggest a compromised femininity -- a striving for an idealized female "aesthetic" that, upon failing, reveals a latent masculinity. Rather, it can suggest that such an exaggeration of femininity is unecessary for a female. Theorists may argue that both genders perform their "sex," and that "sex" is not an inherent quality. But "drag" is about play -- it's parody and exaggeration. The Swan conflates sexual appeal with the most obvious signifiers of feminity (large breasts, lips, hair), and consequently its makeovers can't help but suggest the parody of drag: not feminity, but a desperate exaggeration of it.

And that brings me to my readers' comments, which have been piling up on my two previous posts about The Swan. The first five comments on the most recent post come from bloggers and blog-readers. The next seven or eight come from Googlers, who sometimes (understandably?) don't understand what blogs are. One comment-er, for example, writes,

FOX, We love your show The Swan, My daughter asked me why I didn't try to get on the show. She too feels that I need this type of help. Please get my message to Dr. Randal Haworth.

Another comment-er, Susan, typed up a long defense of The Swan, which concludes,

I don't think it's fair to make women feel bad or pathetic for wanting to change some physical attributes. So maybe it isn't fair to judge The Swan's producers for capitalizing on this.

As women we should support other women's choices. Perhaps we just don't do that so much when it comes to physical appearance because once a woman is a beauty she becomes a threat. She is competition, and in our world it's survival of the fittest. Like it or not, sex drives the human species and more often than not beauty determines who gets it and who doesn't.

Big deal. It's great entertainment and I am not (too) embarassed to get caught watching it.

Further down, a woman writes,

Thank you Susan, I am so sick of reading what's wrong with the show, I can't stand it any more. If you feel so strongly about the motives behind it, DAMN IT! STOP WATCHING. I love the show and would also like to know where to sign up. I can tell you right now, I do not have any issues with myself. Hell I just want a flat tummy and a sexy butt (for free!!!) I have to agree when Susan says "most women don't want to see this happen for other women, because then she becomes competition for all of the self rightous people who fail to see their own physical flaws." Get over it, PLEASE! No one is holding a gun to your head making you watch this show, but if you think that it will be cancelled because YOU don't watch, you have another THINK coming.

Whoa. Where to begin? Speaking for myself: I really, really, REALLY don't think of these women as competition. (Perhaps I'm too vain to even think in terms of competition, but if vanity or narcissism or "self-righteousness" is what women need to defend themselves against comparisons to actresses and models, I'm all for it.) But, seriously: those who criticize the show are the ones least likely to be jealous of its contestants. I don't think extreme makeovers give the contestants an "unfair advantage"; I think the extreme makeovers are "unfair" to them.

That's the point I'm trying to make. I have little against plastic surgery. My point is not to "make women feel bad or pathetic for wanting to change some physical attributes." What I'm mainly saying is that the show itself encourages women to "feel bad or pathetic" -- by calling insecure contestants "ugly ducklings" and criticizing them when their bodies respond poorly to extensive, painful surgery. As much money as it's lavishing on the women's makeover procedures, The Swan seems deeply unsympathetic, border-line abusive, to them. And, while it may be funny to say the women now look like "drag qeens," the fact that the "drag" aesthetic is so similar to the show's indicates that the show is much more interested in a crass signification of beauty than it is in "individual beauty," just as it only pretends to give a shit about the individuals appearing on it.

red tide

I used to like ads, especially TV ads. I thought there was an artistry to caricature: a visual semiotics testing how much can be thrown out while retaining signification. And, while political cartoons essentialized a politician's features, TV ads caricatured everyday expressions: particularly, looks of discomfort, exasperation, and embarrassment. Over time, these caricatures became a cultural anthropology, tracking trends in expressions and body language.
But, sometime in the past two years, I've stopped liking ads. I feel like one of their characters when I'm watching them: my eyebrows rise with surprise, then plummet with annoyance, and I mouth to anyone nearby, what the hell? The ads are like the ridiculous and offensive characters they contain. But I'm not sure if I've changed, or the ads have. And so, I keep meaning to start a regular column here (Ad-Verse), in which I try to summarize the most offensive trends in ad campaigns. (My last attempt at Ad-Verse was in March.)

Today's trend comes courtesy of Andrea, who has "been badly wanting to develop a lecture series on tampon ad campaigns."

The fact is that they're getting more and more horrific, and I have to attribute this "aesthetic of fear" to intense competition between the feminine hygene companies… When I was going through puberty, tampon companies were still playing nice. Ad rhetoric was all about comfort and ease, assuring young teens that tampons were a cinch to get the hang of and that we wouldn't even be able to feel them in our bodies. But then, sometime around the millenium (perhaps this has some cryptic bearing), I began to notice that the tampon companies were leaving behind the idea of the tampon itself as being a benign, helpful product, and were embracing a more all-encompassing projection of the fear that should be involved while having one's period. Now, instead of comfort being the focus, it was the horror of being in a state of menstration and the way that tampons, including packaging and design, could help to hide this horror from those around us… So anyway, I've long been wanting to do this series examining just what is going on in tampon ads, exactly, and what better ad to kick it off than the one that actually made my jaw drop earlier this month, the ad that is so clearly fucked up that I don't really even have to take the time to go into heavy analysis today (which is good, because I'm tired)?

Here's the ad, from the May issue of Seventeen:

getting your freak on … TV

This week, Freaks and Geeks finally made it to DVD, prompting Slate's Alex Abramovich to ask if the show was simply "too real" to have made it on network TV.

How could a show that meant so much to so many disappear so quickly? Watching the DVDs, a better question presents itself: How did a show like this get made in the first place? As it happens, Freaks and Geeks was green-lighted by NBC's West Coast chief Scott Sassa during a lull in which the network found itself temporarily bereft of a programming director. It was written, cast, and filmed with little guidance from network executives, and its roster of mathletes, midgets, bullies, and burnouts had little in common with the Vogue-worthy stars of shows like The O.C. "The problem with TV now," Freaks and Geeks creator Paul Feig told LA Weekly not long after the series was canceled, is that "you have to make friends immediately—which is why the network wants actors to be beautiful. … You become infatuated with them, and you'll watch week after week because they're beautiful and they're your surrogate boyfriend/girlfriend."

…When NBC did appoint a programming director—the preppy Garth Ancier, who would go down in infamy among the show's fans, and go on to run the WB—word filtered down to producer Judd Apatow that the executive was bewildered by Freaks and Geeks' worm's-eye view of life at a blue-collar public school. For Ancier, it seems, television served not to reflect reality, or intensify it, but to offer ways in which we might escape it: "He would like the kids to have more victories," Apatow wrote, in a show diary published in the Los Angeles Times. "I tell him the point of the program is to show how our characters survive the obstacles of high school with their compassion and sense of humor intact." Somehow, Apatow failed to get his point across: "I just want the work to be truthful," he continued. "Why do you want it to be truthful?" Ancier is supposed to have replied. "It's TV."

more is he

John Lennon has sold (about a million times) more records. David Bowie has gone through more dazzling reinventions. Kurt Cobain is the grunge James Dean. Elvis Presley sums up an entire narrative about what is meant to be rich and famous in 20th century America. Michael Jackson has the best moves and is way, way weirder. None of them, however, is Morrissey. To be Morrissey is to be the most feverently worshipped pop star of all time, the man whose song 'Meat Is Murder' turned a generation vegetarian, an icon who promoted celibacy, Oscar Wilde and '60s kitchen sink dramas when all around him was empty '80s flash.

This Charming Man transcribes NME's interview with Morrissey.

"Can we go bigger? F--- yeah, we can go bigger!"

Bunsen previews FOX's latest foray into the reality TV genre: Celebrity Swan.

Amanda: Ok, team, what are we going to do with Pamela?

A woman in a lab coat, the team's therapist, steps forward.

Therapist: Pam's had a lot of turbulence in her personal relationships. I think this makeover can make her feel like she deserves all the love that's showered on her.

Video: Tommy Lee sits on the edge of a waterbed.

Tommy: Yeah, we're thinking of getting back together. She's a great chick, really, she is. Her tits could be bigger though, you know? I mean, they're big? But like, they could be... [inflates his cheeks and pantomimes juggling two beach balls] You dig? Also, I got her when she was a lot younger. Can we do anything with those little wrinkle things around her eyes? I'm banging this chick that pees on people in Penthouse, and she doesn't have those. Whaddya think? Also, fix her ass. I don't think I need to explain that one.

Amanda points to a team member with a stethoscope around his neck. He's the plastic surgeon, and he's trying to look down the therapist's blouse.

Amanda: Doctor, what do you think we can do for her?

Surgeon: This is gonna be a total home run. We're gonna blow up those fun bags like the Underdog float at the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. We'll do the same with her lips, because Tommy looks like a lip man. I'll lipo the inside of her thighs so that there's the official four-inch clearance between them. We're gonna settle for nothing less than Hollywood perfection, Amanda!

Amanda: Anyone else?

Nutritionist: Pam's already on the Atkins, so we're gonna go ahead and cut out all of those proteins. Nothing but water and sawdust for two months!

Amanda: Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, team! Let's meet our next lucky girl!

The mansion's double doors burst open, and Kathy Griffin enters. [more>]

people like that are the only people here

I watch American Idol very infrequently, but I'm always ripe for reading nasty take-downs of Idol performances. Which gets me thinking: If "snark" is wrong, is it wrong because it's easy, or because it's disrespectful? I think the intelligence that cruelty requires is often underestimated, so my only objection to "snark" could be its disrespect to an artist's effort and intelligence. Luckily, American Idol has never required, nor encouraged, respect for its contestants.

And that brings us to Linda Holmes' article from Thursday:

‘American Idol’ gives too much power to the People
Rabid fans help untalented performers

…Unfortunately, more and more, "Idol" is not about the people. It is about the People.
Who are the People? You know them if you've been where rabid "Idol" fans gather. They are the Ruben People. The Kelly People. The Jon Peter Lewis People. And, of course, the People who perfected Peopledom: the Clay Aiken People. They scream. They go to war with opposing factions … They trade low-quality MP3 files of contestants' bootlegged high school choir practices and try to give away sample CDs to unsuspecting strangers on the subway…

Linda observes that the singers loved by People generally have two things in common: youth (which attracts youth, the only ones "blessed with large [enough] quantities of free time" to redial their votes "for the entire time that the phone lines are open"), and a high-pitched loser vibe.

Jon Peter Lewis is a perfect example of a guy who really isn't very good, but has People anyway. They're the ones who fell in love with him during his bizarre performance of "A Little Less Conversation," which featured bad singing, apparent loss of motor control, and quite possibly appendicitis.
…The problem with People, of course, is that they don't respond to talent so much as to the ability to attract vaguely obsessive personalities. A cynic might argue that "A Little Less Conversation" was no accident — it was a well-planned effort at People recruitment. If it was, it was brilliant, because one of the rules of People is that People love geeks. They love underdogs, they love losers, and they love everyone who is picked on by Simon Cowell. Many mid-level performers struggle in the early rounds, but the real stinkers? The ones it hurts to listen to? They've always got People.

swan dive

We love to hate reality TV, and reality TV knows that. It cues our hate to keep us watching, like a bullfighter taunting a bull: waving red to draw our attention and anger. Usually, the red flag — the brandished target for our hate — is a loathsome character, the best example from this season being The Apprentice’s Omarosa. And, for the joy of the game, we pretend that the flag is live prey, rather than a manipulation introduced and controlled by the bullfighter.
But The Swan, which ran an encore debut last night, drapes the red around the bullfighter and knots it like a cape. Other shows have had equally shallow and enraging premises —remember Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? But the premise always drew equally shallow and enraging contestants, while the contestants on The Swan don’t seem shallow so much as insecure and clueless. The show itself is the villain, the only target for our hatred. But the question is, is The Swan purposefully loathsome, or just deeply hypocritical?

In defense of the latter, Swan creator Nely Galan told The Boston Herald that she thinks of The Swan as the "most loving `lottery for women' show in the world." (In each episode, the show gives two contestants a three month makeover, worth about $250,000, and awards one of the two contestants a spot in “The Ultimate Swan” pageant.) “The competition, Galan said, serves dual purposes, to motivate the contestants and to ‘demystify’ the pageant process for viewers.”

If you still have doubts that The Swan is hypocritical rather than intentionally loathsome, it’s worth mentioning that Galan has also cast herself as a “Swan Coach,” placing herself on the “panel of experts” responsible for guiding and performing the contestants’ makeovers. A producer aware of her show’s dubious morality probably wouldn’t award herself a starring role.

Kelly
Rachel
"a lot of work.”
Kelly's stick figure drawing
“a more alluring, tantalizing face”
the "after" shots
Who "surrendered to 'transformation'"?

Recap

Redefining “Cute” and “Average”

Each episode of The Swan begins with a Clearinghouse Sweepstakes-styled door ambush; a contestant unlocks her front door and, too overwhelmed by the news of her winning entry, sobs behind the screen door she forgot to open. Cue a video montage, a “greatest hits collection” of the contestants’ insecurities. Contestant No. 1, Kelly, got spit on as a kid, and, because she hates her body, has only “been intimate [with her boyfriend] seven or eight times in the past three years.” Cue the panel’s reaction: sympathetic winces, sad nods, faux-pensive expressions. One by one, the panel members list the improvements they can offer Kelly. “You know, she’s cute. This will be pretty easy,” one plastic surgeon says, before rattling off the ten invasive surgical procedures Kelly “requires.”

Contestant No. 2, Rachel, confesses in her video montage, “I feel average because I look at myself and that’s what I see.” Her husband adds, “She’s a little average, but when she’s happy, she’s a beautiful person.” The panel, shocked by the husband’s insensitivity, immediately questions the degree to which the “men in her life have been supportive of her.” They all agree that they can give Rachel “new confidence.” “The key will be bringing out her femininity,” notes a male panel member. And then, prepping his Swan associates for the challenge, adds, “It’ll take A LOT of work.”

The Work Begins:

In the dentist’s office, the women’s teeth are cleaned, drilled, and, for the purpose of veneers, ridged like Ruffles chips. At the gym, they’re weighed and assigned workouts and low calorie diets. (“Kelly’s got a lot of weight to lose if she’s going to be the one to win the pageant,” the trainer comments.) Next, they prep for surgery. Rachel looks at her unaltered face one last time; this will be “a nice memory,” she says. And Kelly shows her surgeon a stick figure drawing of herself, each body part circled and claimed by a friend or family member.

The surgery itself whizzes by, edited down to its least bloody moments: a surgeon slices with a foot-long blade, the body barely wobbling with resistance; sheaths of fat are loosened and removed; a surgeon looks at Kelly’s stick figure drawing, calls out the name printed by the butt, and says, “This butt’s for you.” Then, Rachel and Kelly are wheeled away, motionless and mummified, while Rachel’s surgeon proudly states, “I’ve given [Rachel] a more alluring, tantalizing face.”

Though both women have undergone extensive surgery — almost every aspect of their face and body altered —Kelly has a much more difficulty recovery. “I’m concerned about Kelly’s attitude,” Nely Gana, Swan Coach, confesses. “She’s been whiny and depressed since surgery.” And, in a more exasperated tone: “We’ll have to go see her.”

During Nely’s visit, Kelly points to the parts of her body that hurt most. Nely is unimpressed. “She’ll have to pull herself together and fight this depression if she’s going to get into the pageant.” Meanwhile, Rachel, more fully recovered, attends therapy, filmed for the audience’s benefit.

The Reveals: Induced Prosopagnosia

It’s been three months since the contestants arrived, and at least two since they’ve been allowed access to a mirror. So, while other makeover shows stage a “Reveal” for the benefit of friends and family, The Swan’s reveal is meant for the participants themselves.

Finally confronted by their new selves, both women cry and have trouble standing. “I don’t look anything like that girl,” Rachel says, triumphantly, though we’re unsure if “that girl” refers to her image in the mirror, or her old appearance. “How will your husband react?” she’s asked. He’s going to be “stunned,” she says. “There is no way he’ll recognize me.” Kelly, during her reveal, is asked how her boyfriend will respond. “I don’t even recognize myself. I bet he would pass me on a street,” she answers. “Oh, I don’t think so,” someone says —and though that implies her boyfriend has a roaming eye, this cues the panel’s fierce nodding and applause.

Asked about the women’s transformations, Kelly’s surgeon says, “I was concerned Kelly would go into a challenging post-operative depression, but with the help of the swan team, we got her through it.” And Rachel’s surgeon comments, “Rachel’s gone from being average to being a fully confident, beautiful woman.”

In the end, Rachel wins, because, according to Nely, “she surrendered to ‘transformation.’”

Returning to the Question: Loathsome or Loathsome and Hypocritcal?

•The panel expresses shock at Rachel's husband calling her "average," only to use the same word when describing her --- that is, when they aren't using the more premise-sanctioned phrase "ugly duckling."

•In a bid to raise the contestants' self-esteem, they make the contestants believe they need each face and body part resculpted. The women, though, aren't that bad looking, and, in the following weeks, the women, if anything, get cuter.

•While the surgery on Extreme Makeover "improves" participants' faces but keeps them recognizable, the surgery on The Swan turns the women into caricatures, with bloated lips (that look modeled on Nely's), small, curved noses, and x-large breasts.

•The contestants are supposed to "surrender" to the "Swan program" without complaint. Any form of rebellion, like pain or depression, barrs them from the pageant.

Unfortunately, The Swan is loathsome to the degree that it takes itself seriously, and, thanks to the panel's complete lack of intellect, it takes itself very, very seriously. The Swan simply isn't smart enough to realize how disturbing it really is: the panel applauds the idea that the women's husbands will no longer recognize them because it marks their success in creating "transformation," not because they know their applause will reveal a shockingly brazen attitude towards the relationship bewteen appearance, familiarity, and emotional attachment. And, while Kelly and Rachel only have a boyfriend and a husband who might fail to recognize them, future contestants will have children. (At 24, I still remember the day when I was five and my father, having just shaved his beard, picked me up from a friend's party. I cried and cried; even if I recognized him, my emotions for him didn't --a face being both love's cue and its subject.)

Similarly, the panel members are incapable of thinking through the concepts that they hawk (self-improvement, confidence, self-esteem), preferring to equate the concepts with the show's premise -- a conflation as lazy as it is self-congratulatory. The "beauty pageant," which at first we hope functions mostly as metonymy, standing in for the more abstract idea of self-improvement, quickly asserts itself as that idea's replacement. (“Kelly’s got a lot of weight to lose if she’s going to be the one to win the pageant.”… “She’ll have to pull herself together and fight this depression if she’s going to get into the pageant.”)

In the end, The Swan has more sympathy towards its premise than it does for its contestants, and its audience is likely to dole out sympathy in the opposite proportions. We may find a woman's long list of physical insecurities disturbing, but far more disturbing is the person who, by eradicating the source of each insecurity, confirms each insecurity as justified.

while most of us find our own dreams fascinating and others' incomprehensibly dull,

I'm still going to mention that, Saturday night, I dreamt I was a gay man with a crush on Choire. And that, soon after waking, my subconscious was disabused of that crush by Choire's appearance on VHI's "Hottest Couples." Choire, oh God, called Nick & Jessica "adorable," and I can only hope that this is meant as an apology.

and a happy passover to me.

Gibson's 'The Passion' a Hit Among Arabs

CAIRO, Egypt (AP) - Hanan Nsour, a veiled, 21-year-old Muslim in Jordan, came out of "The Passion of the Christ" in tears and pronounced her verdict: Mel Gibson's crucifixion epic "unmasked the Jews' lies and I hope that everybody, everywhere, turns against the Jews."

…Jesus is also a prophet to the Muslims, yet "The Passion" was OK'd by Egypt's censors with no changes. They have not explained why "The Passion" was allowed.

Governments and Islamic clerics are also sending mixed signals.

Kuwait bans any movies depicting any of the prophets recognized by Islam, but one of its top Shiite clerics, Ayatollah Mohammed Baqer al-Mehri, has urged an exception for "The Passion" because it "reveals crimes committed by Jews against Christ."

the best thing i read yesterday

"Cut to Trump, who's seen all he needs to see, sharpening his Downsizing Pinky of Death on a whetstone."

all my posts devolve into awkward self-disclosure

Aimee (scroll down past the ugly dolphin photo) reports that Robert Downey Jr. is a Lorrie Moore fan. That's enough to resurrect my crush on him, which hit its peak back in 1992 with the release of Chaplin. That, though, had more to do with my mystifying, erotic love of Charlie: for any psychoanalysts out there, that's me serving you my id on a platter.

hair, die

We all expect teen pop stars to swap STDs, but who knew bad hair was also making the rounds?

(Shouldn't Avril's stylist be on top of this? Hair styles always give away a girl's real ideology.)

character portraits

Jersey Girl looks so lame I haven't even bothered reading the reviews. Except for Stephen Holden's, which gives good visual summaries of the film's two leads. Affleck struggles "in vain to twist what has become a natural sneer into a semblance of a smile." And Tyler's "monotone matches a face that's the equivalent of pasteurized milk." Now, no more on that.

celebrities take it upon themselves to punish each other

From Page Six:

March 24, 2004 -- RYAN Seacrest couldn't handle Janice Dickinson on his show yesterday, so he went to a commercial and asked her to leave. "He's a big wuss," said Dickinson's manager, Graham Kaye. "These West Coast guys can't handle the Alpha Dog," Dickinson told PAGE SIX. The former supermodel, gorgeous in Dolce & Gabbana, went on the Fox show to promote "America's Top Model," on which she is a judge. But Seacrest panicked as soon as she came onstage, sat in his lap, and purred, a la Mae West, "Is that a rise in your Levi's?" Dickinson later asked Him, "What does your girlfriend call you in bed, Ry, Sea, or Crest? Does she call you Ry? I call you toast."

What I don't understand, though, is why Janice is so quick to admit she's a dog.

transient sunshine

Caution: spoilers ahead.

It's been half a week since I saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and my relationship with the film has turned into the film's premise: I love it, I'm forgetting it, I've forgotten it, and when I see it again that initial love will return swiftly.
Memory, according to the film and current brain research, is an emotional process, which might explain Sunshine's transience. I found the film oddly touching, sweet, beautiful, inventive, but not especially passionate, given its subject matter. In Joel's last (or, really, first, since the erasure worked backwards) memory of Clementine, he was about to witness, in a sense, her death. But the script didn't convey any hysteria; it seemed to ask us to invest emotion in the idea of her disappearance, rather than experience the emotion via Joel's reactions to it.
But that's a small complaint, given how much this film was the type of film I long for. And, in some respect I wonder if what I'd label the film's one weakness isn't a necessary or at least highly probable weakness. In my opinion, the most interesting or appealing speculative (sci-fi) fiction turns theories of emotion into facts. Feelings are transformed into something tangible and obvious: a break-up, for example, becomes a memory-wipe. And, while this narrative technique can, in turn, inhibit -- or lessen the need -- for conventional displays of feeling on the part of the story's characters (my complaint), it also can flesh out feelings' structure and logic.*
After a one-sided break-up, we cry because of our partners' emotional amnesia, not their literal amnesia. But in making Clementine's shift in feeling literal, or 'factually' justified, Sunshine refines common observations on the pain of breaking-up. The pain is a mourning for ourselves as loved ones, and the memory-wipe makes that personal, subjective experience external and inarguable.
The doggedly human aspects of Sunshine's sci-fi work particularly well because the sci-fi, other than as metaphor, makes so little sense. High-budget films break their backs trying to explain the workings of crazy technology, but Sunshine never bothers making the memory-wipe seem plausible. The helmet Joel wears during the procedure is like the cardboard box a kid uses as a car. Whimsy and crudely aplied imagination are much more charming than seamless special effects. And, in some sense, we're more willing to go along with a crazy premise when it doesn't try so hard to convince us, so hard we feel obligated to resist it.
Sunshine has, as Anthony Lane put it in his review, an "unlovely elegance," a so-casual-it's-dirty beauty. It may not be a film for all eternity, but it is, in its best moments, as bright and warm as sunshine.

-------------------------
*A good contrast/comparison to Sunshine is The Time Traveller's Wife: it's shoddily written and its sci-fi premise doesn't mirror and enlarge any aspects of human psychology. The premise's sole point, rather, is to enable a passionate love story.

ad promising orgy on primetime network tv fails to deliver

From This Afternoon in Drama:

For two weeks now I've been hearing about this "orgy," this debacle so shocking, so nasty, that [Tyra Banks] had to go back and re-edit the episode in the wake of Janet Jackson's nipslip. While I haven't seen the lost footage, unless it contains buck-wild, naked partner swapping and double penetration, I'm going to have to call a spade a spade. There are eighth graders in Irvine having a nastier time in the Woodflower hot tub than the girls of Top Model.

But, as is always the case on reality TV, it's the abundance of stupidity, not sex, that's shocking. Selon Stereogum:

This was allegedly the big draw of this episode: The America's Next Top Model "hot tub orgy" where Shandi fucks a stranger. But there was BY FAR a better moment that you might've missed. … While shopping alone in Milan, Shandi comes across an item of clothing she likes. The vendor tries to sell it to her, but she doesn't speak Italian. SO SHE STARTS SPEAKING ENGLISH WITH AN ITALIAN ACCENT. "No, it's-a ... toooo-beeeg," she explains to him. WTF? Shandi, if you don't speak Italian, speaking English with an Italian accent is not a passable alternative.

self-improvement, competitive sport

Reality TV may have the thematic heft of cotton candy, and linger in the memory about as long as uncapped soda keeps its fizz. But despite its newness, its postmodern ditziness, its sensual triviality, reality TV has an ancient and recognizable cosmology: a metaphysics not organized by logic but by faith. For reality TV contestants, laws come from above and are accepted without protest; a higher intelligence promises to guide them to the Holy Land. "Forever Eden" spells it out: for those willingly trapped inside reality TV, it is TV -- and its profiteering producers -- who are God.
Like the God of the Old Testament, reality TV's God can be unsympathetic, even malicious. What other adjective could possibly describe the premise of "The Swan," Fox's upcoming reality show?

WOMEN GIVEN UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY TO REALIZE THEIR DREAMS
IN "THE SWAN" PREMIERING MONDAY, MARCH 29, ON FOX

FOX will debut THE SWAN, an unscripted series that turns a fairy tale into a reality and mirrors the classic tale of the ugly duckling that transforms into a beautiful swan. The series, produced by FremantleMedia North America and Galan Entertainment in association with A. Smith & Company, will premiere Monday, March 29 (9pm/8c) on FOX.

THE SWAN takes women who are stuck in a rut and revitalizes them by restoring their beauty and confidence. It offers women the incredible opportunity to undergo physical, mental and emotional transformations and follows them through the process. This groundbreaking idea culminates in a pageant in which one woman will be crowned "The Ultimate Swan."

Each of the contestants will be assigned a team of specialists -- a coach, therapist, trainer, cosmetic surgeon, dentist and stylist -- that will work together to design the perfect individually-tailored program. The final reveal will be especially dramatic because the contestants will not be permitted to see themselves in a mirror during the three-month transformation process.

This chance of a lifetime comes with a price: hard work. The show does not end once the cosmetic surgery and physical transformations are complete. Rather, contestants must go through an intensive "boot camp" of exercise, diet, therapy and inspiration to achieve their goals. [Ed. note: "Excercise" and "diet" result in something different from "physical transformation"?]

Each woman's work ethic, growth and achievement will be monitored. Two women will be featured in each episode and at that showís conclusion, one of them will be selected to move on to The 1st Annual Swan Pageant and one will go home. The challenging and emotionally charged journey from ugly duckling to superstar-looks will culminate in the selection of "The Ultimate Swan" on the glamorous two-hour season finale on Monday, May 24 (8:00-10:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX.

Participating in a reality game show, accepting its cosmology, its rules, requires such a large idealogical shift that I wonder if reality shows aren't unlike cults. ("This man is our leader. All females must be willing and ready to have sexual relations with him." A cult, or "The Bachelor"?) "The Swan" looks for women "in a rut," and then seeks to "transform" them in a "bootcamp" setting. As a tool of self-reflection, which may lead to questioning or doubt, mirrors are banned from the competition. Women are reminded that without the competition/cult, they will remain, or regress into, "ugly ducklings." "Each woman's work ethic, growth and achievement will be monitored" and judged according to the competition/cult's philosophy and goals. "Therapy" and "inspiration" are made mandatory, and any rebellion results in rejection from the community.
Any therapist worth her degree would help smuggle the contestants out of there. "Competitive plastic surgery? What the fuck are they calling that? 'Revitalizing. . . by renewing confidence'? Here, take this gun. We're busting out of here Chuck Norris-style." That, you know, would be an awesome reality TV show.

not nice observation, no.3892

From the shoulders up, still pretty. From the shoulders down: demonic possession by SNL's Pat.

Frankly, Mr. Shankly

not very timely, but neither is woody

On the heels of Terry's savaging of Annie Hall, The Reading Experience sums up the experience of watching Anything Else: "very painful."

The film's main characters are young--even younger than Allen and his own co-stars in their "younger" days in the 70s--and Allen seems to have no clue what to do with them other than rehearse the old routines in what is only a superficially similar mileu.

How much more interesting it would be to see Allen attempt to portray--comically, of course--characters of his own age (60s) dealing with the kinds of problems they still confront, rather than, as he does in this film, trying to keep up with the kids.

possible spalding gray update

There's no link for this, so I'll just quote Maud:

I heard on WNYC this morning that police have found the body of a man wearing black corduroys in the East River. The pants are similar to those Spalding Gray wore when he disappeared. Most witness sightings after Gray's disappearance place the actor on the Staten Island Ferry. A coroner's report will be available this afternoon.

UPDATE: NY Post link.
UPDATE, 7 PM: Spalding Gray's body idenitified. Really, horribly sad.

Children's TV in Brazil

But we don't stop there. Tiazinha, a sadomasochist personality wearing a mask and brandishing a whip, created a program for teenagers. In this show, Tiazihna, in a bra and panties, menacingly asks an adolescent (who happens to be lying on a bed), "What's the capital of Australia?" If he gets it wrong, Tiazinha depilates a portion of the poor youth's body. [more>]

the man of [my] dreams

The NY Times interviews Michel Gondry, whose much-anticipated Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind opens March 19. Here, Gondry discusses his next feature length project:

[Gondry] has put more of himself in each new film, and he promised that "the next one will be 100 percent me." For the first time, he has written the script himself, which seems a natural progression. After all, he said, "There's a little story in all my videos." He is lining up the production now, probably to be filmed in Paris, partly in French and partly in English. "It's about conquering your dreams," he said of the story, in which the hero "can't wake up any more because the people in the dream don't want him to leave the dream, and they hold him as a hostage." This does sound 100 percent him, right down to the sweet-tempered murder. As he described it: "There's a guy who commits murder in his dream but with an electric shaver. An electric shaver becomes huge and shaves everything in sight."

really, what's the difference between playing a writer and being one when the writer you're playing can't write?

Sarah Jessica Parker Turns To Writing

Sex and the City star Sarah Jessica Parker is swapping acting for writing, after taking inspiration from journalist character Carrie Bradshaw.

The actress has just recently finished the last ever episode of the hit TV series and has already started penning her first novel.

She says, "I've written about half of it already and I'm looking for a publisher who will take it.

"The basic story is about an over-the-hill TV actress who gets a shot at a comeback, but lies about everything from her age to her acting credentials. Then, one by one, they all come out."

And Sarah has even bigger plans, she adds, "I would like to write full-time, but who knows what the future holds? It would be fun to turn this book into a movie, too."

she doesn't know the plath estate would draw and quarter her

"Dunst: I Would Have Been a Better Sylvia Plath" (fourth item)

Actress Kirsten Dunst regrets not grabbing the rights to make Sylvia Plath's biopic for herself, because she feels her portrayal of the poet would have been more convincing than Gwyneth Paltrow.'s The Spider-Man star admits she always wanted to play the suicidal writer on the big screen - and slams Oscar-winner Paltrow for failing to capture the essence of Plath in Sylvia. Speaking to American style magazine Nylon, she explains, "Even though I think Gwyneth Paltrow is an amazing actress, I think that Sylvia was a girl who wanted to hurt. She wanted to feel terrible. I felt like, in the movie, it was more like, 'I'm the victim!' It should have been more that she liked to create all this s**t in her head. She was crazier." Dunst is now hoping to play another real-life tragic figure - actress and activist Jean Seberg, who died from a drug overdose in Paris, France, in 1979. Dunst reveals, "I'd like to produce a movie about Jean Seberg and her whole thing with the Black Panthers... I want to play her."

and, if that last reference made half-sense:

You've been playing -- or should play -- the OC Drinking Game, brought to v.2 by Jessica Lee Jernigan:

When Kaitlin, Marissa's make-believe sister and Julie Cooper's pretend daughter shows up? That's one drink for you. If a new child actress shows up in the role, take three. If the new child actress is conspicuously older or younger than the current child actress: shotgun a six-pack.

seth cohen, sodomized by Mr. Big

Trailer Trash interviews Don LaFontaine, "father of the modern trailer."

Is "The Voice" something that you have to adjust your voice to do, or is that deep rolling bass actually close to your natural speaking voice?

"The Voice" — or "Voices" — is actually very close to my speaking voice. Only not. It's hard to explain. It's my voice, only bigger. I don't mean louder, although that certainly is the case sometimes. I emphasize certain elements of my voice — adding an edge or a cushion of air, and then slightly over-emote. It's not enough to sound like over-acting in the context of a trailer, TV or radio spot.

The thought-concept "context" just snapped free from surrounding synpases, and will never return home.
Returning to the interview, or its introduction:

"My job [back then] consisted of writing, directing, recording, creating music and effects 'beds' for the spots," remembers Don. "Mixing them, mastering, packaging, addressing and even schlepping the packages to the Post Office ourselves. As a writer, I was one of maybe five people in the entire business, Floyd included." Because Don hadn't learned the proper "rules" of advertising, he spent the next several years breaking almost all of them.
These same broken rules would remain broken for the next forty years, eventually becoming the industry standard for how movie trailers are supposed to look and sound.

But the profile never says which damned rules were broken. Pop culture's holy grail, reburied.

usually i'm like a schoolgirl, ignoring her crush on the playground

But today, TMTML quotes from an article on Morrissey --

[H]is brand of loneliness and longing and hopelessness (all the stuff he sings about) is that of a person who finds it natural to have relationships with the unreachable - that's to say, with images and works rather than people. Nostalgia is the be-all-and-end- all of pop, and Morrissey is the king of all that, so when he became a star himself (and began featuring his own mug on his record sleeves) he had succeeded in creating an audience literally after his own image, a tribe inured to the modes and manners of heightened fandom."

-- and then names his next post, on 'holy anorexia,’ Some Girls are Bigger than Others. So, yes, a crush, definitely.

Dawson's creep

When you hear the name "Dawson," who/what do you think of?
Examining the ugly fatalism of names:

Farrell Breaks Dawson's Heart (sixth item):

Colin Farrell reportedly broke the heart of his Alexander co-star Rosario Dawson by splitting up with her to get together with Angelina Jolie on the set of the upcoming movie. Dawson, 24, fell for the Irish lothario, 27, whilst filming Oliver Stone's Macedonian epic movie, but was reportedly dumped as soon as Jolie arrived on the Moroccan set, according to American website Pagesix. A friend alleges, "Rosario said the sex was great with Colin - but he blew her off once Angelina got on the set. Of course, Colin and Angelina ended up getting together. Rosario was devastated. She thought they were going to fall in love or something. But c'mon, it's Colin Farrell. What did she think was going to happen?" The revelation of Jolie and Farrell's reported bedroom antics simultaneously appeared as Dawson learnt her ex-boyfriend, Dawson's Creek star Joshua Jackson is having a baby with his mystery new girlfriend. The pal adds, "She was pretty upset about that." Dawson's spokeswoman has denied her client romanced Farrell, saying, "I'm staring at pictures of Rosario and Colin cuddling at the Bangkok Film Festival, which was two weeks ago. They're good friends. I just saw her in Los Angeles and she's happy, lovely and everything's fine."

Oscar meta-cap

After months of flat-footed media coverage, Salon offers us the manically pirouetting Cintra Wilson. I was a fan by the end of paragraph no.1.

March 1, 2004  |  Squarer than robot shit. All the joy and irreverence of a hotel management seminar. Strictly by the book, and the book was the New Zealand census, apparently, and less interesting. …Not even the clothes were interesting, apart from Uma Thurman, who wore a Fabergé baked potato.

Meanwhile, E! online aims for Wilson's whip-it hilarity but comes across only as drug-addled: alternately slow and fucking crazy. On Marcia Gay Harden:

Marcia Gay Harden channels Liz Taylor, the Fried Chicken Years. She loses out in a bright blue maternity gown with a portrait neckline, H. Stern diamond ribbon chandelier earrings and an enormous braided beehive that looks eerily like a buzzard's nest. Hey, did that thing just move? Back away. These beaked babies can be fierce when startled.

Fried chicken, maternity dress, baby buzzards. That last item, "beaked babies," is too much a right-brain conflation of the first two for my 9 am sobriety.

Meanwhile, at TV Barn, a new Oscar race is brewing: for categories like "Outstanding performance in an Academy Award broadcast commercial" and "Best use of an acceptance speech."

And Bunsen, in what may be the best recap yet, vows to steer clear of "snarkiness, negativity, and schadenfraude." For an example of what he means, here's his comments on Elijah Wood:

Elijah Wood has piercing blue eyes, and is industrious enough to have invented an entirely new accent based on Elvish, Hobbit, and Malibu Cabana Boy in honor of The Lord of the Rings's multiple nominations. Kudos to Elijah!

And, on Diane Keaton: "wonderful as a more-than-passable drug-addled, queer take on the Charlie Chaplin iconography." On Joan Rivers: "Amazingly, a two square-inch patch on the back of Joan Rivers' left knee has escaped the scalpel of her cosmetic surgeon. The very definition of courageous." On the death montage: "The annual 'recently deceased' montage offered a moment of much-appreciated levity as rare, self-shot documentary footage of Leni Riefenstahl cavorting with her fave poodle, Mengele, broke up the morbid procession of clips…"

And, finally, an excerpt from Grambo's comprehensive recap: "11:53 — i hereby issue an official boycott of every single PepsiCo product until they remove Jason Biggs from their commercials. yes, even you Aquafina. y'all be effed."

ad-verse: on the hunt for offensive commercials

I wanted to introduce this feature with some original thinking, but that doesn't mean the thinking must be mine. In a letter to Mars Inc., Return of the Reluctant's Ed details the new M&M commercials' many crimes against his aesthetic sensibility:

M&M/MARS
Attn.: Consumer Affairs
800 High Street
Hackettstown, NJ 07840

Re: Why I Will Never Buy A Package of M&Ms Again

To Whom It May Concern:

Last night, while watching the Oscars, I experienced one of the most disrespectful and horrid television commercials of my life. The commercial was put out by your company and featured animated versions of your product entering a tableau from The Wizard of Oz – specifically, during the famous closing scene in which Judy Garland is waking up from her trip to Oz, only to realize that her family was representatives in her dream, and that, in fact, there was no place like home.

But instead of seeing her family, Judy Garland now wakes up to talking versions of your candies, and she reacts with delight. That you have violated the awe and wonder of the original scene, failing to respect its wonderful riffs on home and family, transforming it into a shameful sell for your product, and that you have seen fit to air this during a time block that is supposed to celebrate movies, demonstrates to me that not only is your company rapacious and shameless in its self-promotion, but that it has become a company I will now boycott with disgust.

Since you have seen fit to defecate upon a work of art, you have lost my business for life in the same manner that Hoover did years ago when they created a commercial in which Fred Astaire danced with a vacuum cleaner. I will avoid M&Ms, Mars bars, Milky Way bars, Snickers bars, Twix bars. If I ever own a pet, I will likewise eschew Pedigree, Cesar, Whiskas, Sheba, Kitekat, Trill, Aquarian and Winergy. No Uncle Ben’s rice for me. No Dolmio or Suzi-Wan, not that I would ever eat that crap anyway. And certainly no Klix or Flavia to drink.

Since your company cannot respect one of the most popular movies in the most popular medium of our time, I will neither respect nor endorse any of your products. I will encourage all of my friends to do likewise (at least three of them have agreed to boycott your company upon learning about the commercial this afternoon). I will also post this letter publicly on my website, so that others can recognize your company’s evils and refuse to give your company so much as a dime.

It’s probably a wise choice anyway, seeing as how your company hasn’t created a single good thing for the human body. But, oh, how you could have profited from my silly midnight munchies, or even the Halloween candy I buy for the kids each year, if only you had actually thought before destroying the poignancy of a really kickass movie.

Very truly yours,

Edward Champion

Unlike Ed, I don't find this commercial more offensive than most. What distinguishes it is its explicit violation of art's sanctity, its unashamed admission that ads' relation to culture is cannibalistic. But these things don't creep me out, and my main problem with contemporary TV ads is how fucking creepy they've become. When it comes to the anthropomorphic M&M ads, I'm most disturbed by the sly implication that we want literal cannibalism, and that the world is not only composed of objects, but sentient subjects, created for our consumption. Anthropomorphized foods are made our equals only so that they can be our willing stomach-servants. And when they're not willing, as in the case of M&Ms, it's meant to be that much funnier. But I've discussed all this before.
What I'd like to discuss, tomorrow or the day after, is ads' more general love of anthropomorphization: anything that can be given human motivations will be given them.

oscars live, and wit on a five day delay

Bronzer can ruin, not enhance, the appearance of health. For example, it turned Charlize's head into a skull.

So far, Sarandon has the best cleavage. Johansson needs a girdle.

I don't think I'll be able to blog this if I play Gothamist's drinking game.

Renee's acceptance speech, as imagined by Fame Tracker :: Galaxy of Fame :: Special Speculative Edition :: What If They Win Their Academy Awards?:

"Hi, I'm Renée Zellweger. Thank you for awarding me the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for my work in Cold Mountain; it really means a lot to me. Not just because it's my first Oscar win after dozens of apparently un-predictive Golden Globes. No: winning for Cold Mountain is so special to me because Nicole Kidman didn't. You see, two years ago we were both nominated for Best Actress -- Nicole for Moulin Rouge!, a movie I'd unsuccessfully auditioned for. We both lost. The next year, we faced off again in the same category -- and this time, I was recognized for my own musical role. Nicole won. This year, getting bumped down to Supporting Actress was a bit of a bummer, until Nicole didn't get nominated at all! In any category! And after she gave all those patronizing interviews about how 'cute' I am! Hey, Nicole. The first time we were put together, I got an Oscar, and you got ignored. How cute am I now?"

No, Renee didn't say that. But she had the gall to thank Tom Cruise during her speech and the camera, instead of cutting to Cruise, found, and lingered on, Nicole's about-to-tic smile.

Girl Hacker, as usual, is tracking the contents of the Oscar gift bag. Included in the winning actors' bags: a consultation with a hair restoration surgeon, African safari, hands on dim sum instruction, and a 50th Anniversary Collector's Edition PEZ dispenser. The bags for the losers contain $32k of goodies, $20k more than the winners' bags. Go to GirlHacker for the details.

Liv is sexy in her glasses.
But taking them on and off for each song's introduction diminshes their charm, and inverts the usual relationship between glasses and vanity. Nowadays, hipster fashionistas slide them on for the camera.

What an amazing gig for Microsoft: taking over design of the interstitials.

Awards scorecard here.

So far, the best breasts of the night: Sarandon's milky bon bons, Curtis' mic-wedging monsters.

Oh, Uma, no, no, no, no, no. A glazed meringue, attacked by bohemian window drapes. (In the comments, Tyler Green writes, "Uma's dress = toilet paper." Tyler, you sure you didn't mean Renee's?)

Sofia lacks charisma in such a charismatic way, no?

Charlize won Best Actress. Zank you. She still has broad shoulders. Stuart's about to cry. Mom's crying. It's sweet, but I wanted the whale rider to win, and Brody to realize the pedophilic implications of his breath spray.

Do Jude Law and Bill Murray have the same hair line?

How did this Oscar ceremony differ from past years'? Slightly blander.

Why Do You need to know about melanoma?

How sad was that NY Times story about celebrities with cancer?

belated SATC comments

1. Big didn't look or sound like himself. His skin was pulled tight; his eyebrows were, in both senses, drawn; his face, like Gest's, looked plastic, denied plasticity. And then, his lines, esp. the ones to curry favor Carrie's friends: "A guy's only lucky to come in fourth." The mechanical delivery convinced me Big had finally solved his Carrie problems by sending to NYC and Paris a Big doppelganger, code name "John."

2. Did anyone else notice that the Charlotte hick was Becky from "Roseanne"? Becky, what did you do to yourself?

3. People on the SATC message boards are not people I care to meet. A sampling of posts from the boards:

Marleneemm - 2/21/04 9:12PM PST Re: Ask HBO

BIGluvsKID: Depends upon what happens to the characters~~~ Would love to see Harry & Charoltte find out she's pregnant,Sam & Smith become engaged ,and her be cancer free,Miranda &Steve have another baby and of course BIG go and find Carrie and him bring her home to NYC.And then aske her to marry him!

Marleneemm - 2/22/04 9:40AM PST
Re: Ask HBO

When it was announced that SJP wanted to end the show I asked why not either put the show into a different city/state/country or just change the lead.This may/maynot have worked, would be interesting idea.

Marleneemm - 2/22/04 4:16PM PST
Re: Ask HBO

HBOAdmin7/Seven: To The Group: Everyone chins up, NO tears if it can be helped!!!!Be brave and strong!!

bigLOVAH - 2/24/04 6:17PM PST
Re: Re:

>
> tripping Biglovah and falling down in hysterical
> laughter - LOL
>

lol, that was soooo great!

neneree - 2/24/04 6:49PM PST
Re: Re:

The reason they never said his name was because he was so withdrawn Carrie could never really know him, so when he finally came around, they could tell everyone his name because he was for the first time really there!

bobhoop - 2/23/04 5:31AM PST
Offended?

As a parent of an adopted child from Guatemala, I couldn't help but cringe when I heard the comment about "2 gay guys buying a Guatemalan baby for $100". I found this to be insensitive, inaccurate and in extremely poor taste. I'm sure there are many more folks offended by this comment and I just lost a lot of respect for Michael Patrick King. There is a continual misconception that the majority of adoptions from Guatelama are illegal and unethical and comments like this just perpetuate the falsehood. Needless to say, I am not only offended and disappointed but can only wonder what this type of imagery does to a child's psyche.

A disappointed viewer.

Momtothree - 2/23/04 5:53AM PST
Re: Offended?

I too am very offended. It is sad that such a hurtful line was allowed in the dialogue. It just was not needed. I have a beautiful child adopted from Guatemala and it is sad that HBO tried to diminish her worth.

Adoptions from Guatemala are not handled in the way portrayed on the show last night. They are legal....take many months....and require the US approval of said adoption before the child can even enter the US. Needless to say you cannot simply walk into a store and pick one up for a hundred bucks. Sad, very sad indeed.

I will no longer be a fan of this show or HBO at all.

oxfordms1fan - 2/23/04 10:49AM PST
Re: Ask HBO

Can you give me the names of a few of the bars and restaurants the "girls" frequented over the last season or two?? Am coming to NYC this weekend, and I wanted to try one or two places out...

Thanks,
Excited in Oxford, Misssissippi

moyl - 2/24/04 8:02PM PST
Re:

I have really learned a lot about myself with this show even though some may say it was only a fictional show but it touched realistic chords. I too had high expectations like Charlotte and Miranda, never thinking that a regular guy with all his faults and warts was someone to consider. I let one go for that and live to regret it to this day.

itscoldinhere - 2/25/04 1:22PM PST
No More 'Sex' ::sob, sniff::

I personally can't wait for the movie (if there is one). I'm looking for Carrie & John's wedding hijinx. We could have a beautiful proposal as the opening scene of the movie and then hilarity ensues. I wonder if it would be too out of character for Carrie to marry John? (BtW I love that Big's name is John. It's very NY...someone said before that they thought of JFK Jr. when they saw it...as did I.)

carly57 - 2/24/04 9:49PM PST
A review I wrote on the finale

I wrote ths review for a class - I'd love to know what you think!!

Last Sunday, millions of women around the country bid farewell to the “Sex and the City”, the groundbreaking HBO series that redefined the modern single woman. Throughout six seasons of watching Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha rely on each other while they made their way through the men of New York, viewers reluctantly said goodbye to the foursome in the poignant and appropriate ending of the series.

The finale begins with Carrie meeting up for lunch with her beau Aleksandr Petrovsky’s ex-wife Juliet. Alek bails from joining them at the last minute, citing problems with work yet again. Carrie’s uncomfortable meeting with Juliet teaches her a key lesson, though – Alek’s passion is clearly his work, with his significant others falling in a distance second. Carrie is left alone by Alek again shortly afterward and falls back into her lonely existence of gorging herself out of boredom, walking solo around Paris, and taking up smoking again since it’s one of the few ways she can feel like she’s fitting in while in Paris. Carrie’s desolate existence and unhappiness are a sharp contrast to the striking city set in the background.

Meanwhile, Charlotte reassures her favorite gay friend Anthony that he’ll always be in her life even after her and Harry adopt a baby. Later, Harry and Charlotte go through yet another heartbreak when a couple that they were supposed to adopt a baby from change their minds. Charlotte reassures Harry that their baby is still coming and Harry replies with, “I’m beginning to think that God lost our address.” The two find additional strength in their marriage as they work through the disappointment.

Smith and Samantha discuss her reduced sex drive, which is a particular sore spot for her since she’s always prided herself on that aspect of her life. She tells him to feel free to have sex while he’s on location for his new movie – her reasoning being that she’s trying to keep him instead of push him away because she knows how important sex is and she doesn’t want him to suffer simply because she’s not in the mood. Smith comes back with, “it’s like winter, just because the trees are barren doesn’t mean they’re dead. Along comes spring, and then, bam!”

While on location, Smith sends Samantha flowers with a card saying, “looking forward to spring”. She is immediately touched and calls him to say she’s changed her mind – she doesn’t want him to have sex with anyone else. For a woman who’s used to keeping men at arm’s length emotionally, Samantha’s clear indication of caring for Smith is an important step for her.

Miranda and Steve deal with one of their first challenges as a married couple when Steve’s mother has a small stroke and become disoriented and confused. Typically cynical Miranda’s tough exterior melts and she rises to the situation. When Steve talks about hiring a nurse or maid, Miranda kindly offers for his mother to live with them. It might not be the sexiest, most exciting lifestyle she would’ve imagined for herself, but Miranda realizes how she deeply loves Steve when she puts her own feelings aside to make room for his mother in their lives.

A few days later, Steve’s mom wanders off and Miranda chases her down the street to find her eating pizza out of the garbage. Rather than feeling resentful of the new role she has to play as part of the sandwich generation, Miranda’s true loving nature comes out as she cares for her mother-in-law.
“What you did, that is love,” Magda, the babysitter, says to her after seeing how she helps Steve’s mother. “You love.”

Miranda replies with, “Let’s not make a big deal of it to Steve, it’d just upset him.” Throughout the show, Miranda’s sturdy exterior has often kept men at a distance. She might still try to keep a bit of the hardness to show that she hasn’t gone soft, although we can tell that deep down she truly loves.

In Paris, Carrie’s spirits are lifted briefly when she finds a few fans of her book that offer to throw her a party. Alek is happy for her, even though can’t make it because of his show’s unveiling at the museum. His good thoughts for her change when he flips out right before his show and selfishly begs Carrie to come with him to the opening, even though it means she’ll miss her party. The instant he arrives at the museum, he drops her hand – literally and figuratively – to go off with his colleagues.
While sitting along waiting for him, Carrie finds her lost “Carrie” necklace in a hole in the lining of her purse and it finally clicks – she’s not meant to be there. In a flurry of excitement with French hip-hop music playing in the background, she rushes off to attend the party her fans are throwing for her.

During her frantic search for a taxi, a car driving Big pulls up alongside her – instantly making viewers around the world shriek – although the car pulls away before the former lovers notice each other.
Carrie finally makes it to her party that’s already over and returns to Alek to discuss her unhappiness. He shoots back by saying that his work comes first and she always knew this. Carrie tells him that she’s important, too. “I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t live without each other love. And I don’t think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come here,” she tells him. During the exchange, Alek accidentally slaps Carrie and she leaves to head to the lobby to get another room. As the front desk clerk searches for an open room, Carrie runs Big in the lobby and tells him about the breakup and the slap. Furious, Big runs up six flights of stairs, planning to teach Alek a lesson. Carrie follows him says she doesn’t need him to rescue her. She finally resorts to tripping him and they end up laughing in hysterics on the floor – something Carrie clearly hasn’t done in ages.

Back in New York, Harry and Charlotte realize that God did remember their address when they hear they’re getting a baby from China. Charlotte says, “That’s our baby. I know it. That’s really our baby.”

At Samantha’s apartment, Smith flies back in the middle of the night to surprise her. “Hey babe. I flew back. I forgot to tell you something on the phone. I love you,” he tells her.

A tear escapes Samantha’s eye as she finally hears the words she never realized she wanted to her. “You have meant more to me than any man I have ever known,” she tells her younger boyfriend. As they kiss, we begin to see the flowers on Smith’s plant blossom.

Meanwhile in Paris, Big tells Carrie, “It took me a really long time to get here, but I’m here. Carrie, you’re the one.” They share a kiss and Carrie admits that she misses New York, and asks Big to take her home.

When Big’s car drops her off in New York, Carries asks if he wants to come up. “Absofuckinglutely,” he replies, using the now infamous line he said in the first episode.

The episode ends with the four girls at the coffee shop, chatting and hugging. We see Carrie typing on her computer and realize that everything has come full circle – Carrie is back in New York where she belongs and back to her true passion of writing. Harry and Charlotte are happy with their dogs and excited about their baby, Miranda and Steve are settling into their version of domestic bliss with all its challenges, and Samantha and Smith’s last scene is of them having sex as Samantha’s plant hits full bloom – an appropriate send-off for Samantha. And for Carrie, we finally learn Big’s name, John, as he calls to tell her that he’s moving back to New York – her dream come true.

With few exceptions, the finale was a dynamic and fulfilling ending. One of the few aspects missing in the finale was the interaction between the friends that is such a strong part of the show. In almost every other show, there’s significant interaction between the two or more of the women, whereas in this show the only interaction we got was a brief interaction with Miranda and Charlotte. I would’ve liked to have seen another conversation between Carrie and Miranda on the phone, or perhaps between Samantha and another woman about her uneasiness with Smith.

Another aspect the show could’ve done without was the slap. Carrie had clearly made up her mind to leave Alek already and the slap seemed like it was forcing the audience to hate him even further. I believe that the scene would’ve been stronger had Carrie simply left on her own. The only purpose it served was to give Big a reason to chase after Alek, which wasn’t a necessary plot point.

Apart from these minor flaws, the series finale providing a satisfying ending for Sex and the City fans. Throughout the show, Big has remained as Carrie’s one true love. Even when she was with former boyfriends Aidan or Jack or Alek, Big kept coming up in her life and viewers always realized that they were meant to be, even though their relationship might not have been perfect. She needed him to tell her that she was the one – not just an affair, not just a convenience – and she finally got what she needed in the final episode.

It was fitting that they didn’t have either Samantha or Carrie end up engaged or married – neither woman has ever seemed to want marriage, and it was fitting that they didn’t change the tone of the show to give viewers a Hollywood ending. Samantha might’ve slept with dozens of men throughout the show’s six seasons, but we realize with Smith’s heartfelt words that what she truly wants is a man who cares about her – faults and all – and someone with whom she can have a great sex life. We saw with Carrie and Aidan’s relationship that she wasn’t ready to get married – partly because she was scared of commitment, partly because perhaps she was thinking of Big in the back of her mind. Therefore, to have her end up with Big – but also not jumping into marriage – is a particularly appropriate ending.

Charlotte ended up getting the husband she’s always wanted, even if he wasn’t with the rich, handsome guy she grew up thinking she’d end up with. And with the addition of the baby they’re due to receive, her fantasy truly is coming true.

Miranda ended up being content and happy with Steve even thought she’d never originally thought that she’d end up married and with a kid. She had always pushed men away in the past, but once she realized that she couldn’t push Steve away and they were meant to be together, she was able to settle into a satisfying life.

Although viewers throughout the country may have a difficult time watching their favorite New Yorkers’ adventures end, they can always find solace in “Sex and the City” reruns and DVDs to help them get over the hump of missing girls’ nights out, shoe sales, and nonstop Cosmopolitans.


MrBigWhereItCounts - 2/25/04 12:13AM PST
Re:

As a man, all I can say is this: THANK GOD for women who are as emotionally unbalanced as Carrie Bradshaw. It is MUCH easier to bang a crazy chick after the first few dates, than it is a sane one....and fortunately for us guys, there are many more of the former than the latter.

In reality, a good-looking & successful guy like Big...regardless of how co-dependent he is, would never marry...or for that matter even look twice at , an old butter-face looking hag like Carrie Bradshaw. Rather, he would be banging cute young hotties who still have the ability to lubricate naturally.

Sorry ladies, but I am just keeping it real!

this is iowa city

The first item on the local news tonight: part two in an ongoing profile of Ashton Kutcher, ex-Iowa City resident. "I'm in Studio City now, where they film 'That '70s Show,'" the reporter says. She continues, "But there was no sign of Ashton today," and gestures towards the grey lot behind her. "So I guess this is the closest that we'll get."
Local news, I've learned, is, state to state, equally depressing: when it's not thoughtless quips by celebs and more thoughtless murders, it's the sad, self-conscious lack of them.

"some sort of inexplicable fuck-dance"

Andrea blogs the most recent episode of America's Next Top Model:

I'm not even sure if Ol' Dirty Bastard is currently warrant-free, what the status of his parole is, or if his time at rehab worked. All I know is that Tyra apparently couldn't edit together a single coherent statement from him, and viewers had to suffice with distant shots of him doing some sort of inexplicable fuck-dance in the VIP room of one of Manhattan's "top" restaurants with Shandi explaining that he's "silly." This is kind of like ABC trotting out Andrew Luster, Max Factor heir and serial date rapist, for a cameo on The Bachelorette. "In the most shocking rose ceremony ever. . ." Someone get Meredith over to channel 13 while the iron's hot.

i call shotgun

more Morrissey links
-CAA Signs Morrissey
-'The songs of The Smiths performed by the stars of the future' EP forthcoming
-Morrissey interview in Index, now online

stand by me, Bertolucci

The Gothamist covers a panel discussion on "Love" sponsored by The Week:

The best part of [the] panel … was when Harold Evans asked Bernardo Bertolucci, via a patchy connection from Rome, about love. Bertolucci said, "What love? Like I have passion for cinema!" and then he went into a story about how he loved Jean-Luc Godard and his work so much that the first time he met JLG, Bertolucci threw up on him - "That was the manifestation of my love for him."

belated grammy notes

I watched the Grammys and took notes, but I'd missed my pills the night before and felt strange. Anyway, here's what I got, in no particular order:

-A music awards show. Towards the end of every act, from rock to country, Beyoncé enters and sings. The audience, consistently surprised by her cameos, applauds wildly. Her singing doesn't blend in and the musicians, confused or pissed, stop playing. Standing ovation.

-Gwen Stefani wins in the best pop performance category. As she stands up, the little girl sitting beside her looks directly into the camera and says in tongues, "Frankie Bs for eight year olds, hisss." She adds: "And Manolo Blahniks in a siiizzzze two."

-The Celine Dion robot malfunctions. A back-up robot is wheeled out.

-I think Christina has a nice suit.

-At some point, birds, who know music, start attacking Beyoncé.

i blink, and

Terry's attacked Woody Allen, and lit bloggers are piling onto him like linebackers.
I think his career is basically dead (link goes to a post from long ago explaining why), but his films used to be alive in a way Hollywood products couldn't match: the hope in Hannah and Her Sisters's final scene, the exact categorizing of show business assholes in Crimes and Misdemeanors, the New York riff on 8 1/2 in Stardust Memories, etc.
Anyway. Just my personal opinion. But Terry, in response to your footnote: recordings of Allen's stand-up comedy are available and worth listening to if you get the chance.

"pinning down" gest's face

Via Gawker, an excerpt from the press release about David Gest's upcoming appearance on Dateline NBC:

Inside sources claim that "this is one show that should not be seen by children." It could have an adverse effect on children as Gest receives around 80 shots with 4-inch needles in the eyebrows, front and back of ears, forehead, head and neck in front of interviewer Stone Phillips and the Dateline staff. One of the producers left at the beginning of the treatment because she could not watch it.

Insofar as the needles obscure hs face, I imagine this would actually make Gest easier to look at. On that grayscale axis that runs from ugliness to deformity, it's hard to place Gest, but it's obvious that his uglimity extends beyond overuse of eyebrow pencils. His face reminds me of the Maxell TV ads in which a man's sound system blows the skin on his face back; but, in Gest's case, the wind's behind him and his skin, paralyzed with Botox, doesn't flap but stretches and shifts. The result: a girthy sweep of flesh from ear to mouth, and features helplessly scrunched towards the center. And then, the proximity of eyes and nose and mouth to each other offers no visual relief; it's uglimity-concentrate.

a random observation

Sometimes, when used improperly, blush makes cheeks look like giant welts.

And that's a Janet Jackson observation you won't see today on any other site. Cup of chicha: hot originality, daily.

note to 'average-sized' women: follow the yellow brick road out of there

The premise of "The Littlest Groom" is simple: Can Glen, 23, who works in tech support for a cellular company, find a sweetheart among 12 women, all little people? Or will he choose one of the "average-sized" women thrown into the mix? [more>]

the breast stroke

Yesterday afternoon, I signed onto AOL to check my most shameful email account, and I noticed a small photo on the home page. At first, it looked like a Star Wars publicity still: Hayden Christensen, trying to look menacing, but really just looking like he had a camp-fire-flashlight propped under his chin. Upon closer examination, though, the photo was authentically disturbing: it was Justin Timberlake trying to look menacing. I don't keep up with popular music, but I thought Justin was widely acknowledged to be about as hard-ass as gummy bears, as spiritually dark as a newborn albino koala. He has even less right to a penis than my kid brother; Justin is sexually nascent, under-ripe, and my body intuitively knows that he's irrelevent.
His inability to spark sexual chemistry, already obvious, was exaggerated by his pairing with Janet Jackson at yesterday's Super Bowl Halftime show. Corseted in Hellraiser leather, Jackson exuded about as much natural voluptousness and hot-bodied willingness as a mechanical wind-up toy -- all hard edges and an unresponsive fidelity to planned choreography. Timberlake, on the other hand, was dressed in boyish street clothes, and humped and grinded her like a drunk clubber who refuses to acknowledge his dance prey isn't moving. Then, in a move meant to convince us that the Halftime number was more bawdy than embarrassing, Timberlake reached for Jackson's bra cup and stripped it.

Watching on my low definition TV, I saw a pale blob flop into the scene, but I couldn't make out details. Journalists and bloggers said they saw a pastie, giving credence to the idea that the unveiling was intentional. From a NY Times article: "… some Janet Jackson fans were, no doubt, disappointed to see that a body part they were eager to see was obscured behind a silver star, more evidence that Jackson might have been planning ahead." (That article, by the way, is particularly icky, kicking off with the question, "How do you keep well-lubricated viewers in front of their televisions…?")
Cleaner close-ups, though, revealed that Jackson wasn't wearing a pastie; her nipple was uncovered and surrounded by a nipple shield, keeping in place a barbell piercing. If it was intentional, it was also intentionally ambiguous; Timberlake looks surprised, but he obviously had instructions to remove some layer of clothing (while, btw, singing, "have you naked by the end of this song"). And while Janet's outfit had a snap-on-snap-off bra cup, she has the expression of a real victim in the photo, right. (Though, admittedly, even intentional flesh contact with Timberlake might be traumatizing.) Either way, there's no joie de vivre in this unveiling -- no sexy daring or fuck-you pride. The sensationalism, if intended, is lazy, as if sensationalism were nowadays more a fact than a performance. Britney and Madonna's kiss, at least, still enacted cultural tropes, virgin bride and whore. Timberlake and Jackson don't even wear matching outfits, or dance well together. If Timberlake wanted to top his ex's public display of sexuality, and Jackson wanted to rejuvenate her pop icon status, they should have at least tried to make their effort sexy.

when you clone an article again and again, the dna begins to mutate

Another SATC article in the NY Times. But this one goes where no SATC article has gone before.

One of the more unusual views of the show's appeal is held by Elaine Showalter, author of "Inventing Herself: Claiming a Feminist Intellectual Heritage." "This show is a total fantasy space in which you ward off danger with clothes," she says, theorizing that the characters' Prada handbags and Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo shoes are really fetishes to guard against the dangerous consequences of sexuality. She cites Freud's essay "The Medusa's Head," in which he uses the term "apotropaic" — from the Greek, meaning safeguarding against evil.

"In my view, the world has not changed all that much," she says. Female sexuality is still punished. "If you look at the newspapers it doesn't seem to have changed — this female body found, that one raped," she says. "I do think the cultural message of the show is about what feminists used to call `pleasure and danger.' It's about sexual adventurousness and its risks."

The "Sex and the City" syndrome seems not quite so dangerous — or symbolic — for Constance Penley, a professor of film studies at the University of California at Santa Barbara, and the author of "NASA/Trek, Popular Science and Sex in America," a study of erotic fantasies about the "Star Trek" series. Like traditional romance novels, she says, "Sex and the City" is all about women trying to understand men, or "the semiotics of masculinity."

"Bertoluccian" dreams

Terrence Rafferty has a short but good overview of Bernardo Bertolucci's career in today's NY Times. On the thrill and disappointment of sex in Bertolucci's films:

Fortunat