Blondes willing to 'war'

According to a new study, blonde women are more warlike than brunettes and redheads. Interesting idea, yes, but once you read through this confusing and contradictory article, the research sounds more than dodgy.

Funny how this idea has never really caught on in the entertainment industry. To name a few:

Famous blonde tv/film warriors:
Buffy

Famous non-blonde tv/film warriors:
Xena
Wonder Woman
Cat Woman
the Pink and Yellow Rangers
Sydney Bristow

More love for film critics

NY Times' A. O. Scott entertained me this weekend with his excellent review of Nine. Although in no way does it inspire one to go see the film, quite the opposite, the review's clever turn of phrase and witty remarks are more than an adequate substitute.

Scott brands the film: "a busy, gaudy fuss," "an impressive feat of casting . . . assembled in the service of [a] dubious and incoherent cause," and "a fatal lack of inspiration." In short it is "a mess." Even poor Daniel Day Lewis "comes off as a jerk, a compulsive liar and seeker of attention — and, in spite of the sports cars, the cigarettes and the occasional run-in with the Roman Catholic Church, not really very Italian at all."

Some highlights from the reviews:

"Ms. Cotillard attains a measure of wounded dignity as Louisa, Guido’s former leading lady and much-betrayed wife. She is not spared the striptease obligations that fall to every other female character."

"Ms. Ferguson stomps and gyrates through a number called “Be Italian,” which, like so much else in “Nine,” resembles a spread in a Victoria’s Secret catalog, only less tasteful."

And to top it off, he draws attention to one of the film's most gaudy excesses by titling the piece: There will be Lingerie (Singing, Too). Scott is certainly a credit to the profession with this one.

In other news:

Taylor Swift lined up to play Supergirl? Oh God, please no. I know everyone loves her and she is basically Tinkerbell with more hair and even more glitter but can we please draw the line some where? And dare I even mention how much muscle mass she would have to gain to be the least bit credible as an action hero?

Want to see something really scary? Watch this. Can we please wait until he has done something critically-acclaimed (and no, that does not count the MTV Movie Awards) before we start making animal sacrifices and get Zeus to adopt him?

I must confess I am rather glad that Kiera Knightely is getting less than rave reviews in her stage debut in The Misanthrope (which co-stars Damien Lewis by the way). She avoids incineration but the Daily Mail describes her performance as "little better than adequate" and the Guardian, though more kindly toward the Mail's "elegant mannequin" ponders: So she's a beautiful young movie star playing a beautiful young movie star … Does that count as acting? Maybe this will be enough to stop her remake of My Fair Lady. One can only hope.

For those who like Brian Cox, Hamlet or toddlers, enjoy this video.

Finally, St. Trinian's: The Legend of Fritton's Gold came out this weekend in the UK. Let's wish the girls luck and hope they give David Tennant a proper hard time.

Fringe 2.09 Snakehead

A friend recently suggested I try doing one of these new-fangled, commentative episode synopses. I thought I'd test run it on Fringe.

Fringe is one of Fox's sci-fi, horror, crime show hybrid. A lot like Bones, another of Fox's slow successes and another favorite of mine, Fringe is proving itself a scrappy little show although its middling ratings keep a prospective season 3 in limbo. Executive producer, Jeff Pinkner, recently likened the show to licorice: "not everybody likes licorice, but the people that like licorice, love it." Although science fiction and horror might not be everybody's cup of tea, the writing is pretty solid even if they do scavenge from other sci-fi shows (um, Doctor Who) and viewers can delight in the excellent cast. John Noble is just wonderful as the eccentric yet lovable mad scientist with food-fetishes and love of psychedelics---I need say no more. Jackson gives Peter just enough adolescent attitude and boy genius witticism to keep him fresh, along with a dash of bad-boy coolness and puppy-dog charm, while Torv gives us Olivia: a strong, independent, competent woman who can both stand-up for herself and show emotion without becoming either a bitch or emotive, blubbering wreck. The two have great chemistry, and while their may be some sexual tension between the two characters, the show does not live just for that meager storyline. What a breath of fresh air that is!

Anyway, the show revolves around some banter, creepy sci-fi science and conspiracy and some good old-fashioned gore. Season 2 Episode 9 is a pretty standard episode, although it does randomly introduce a new and classier wardrobe for Walter. Peter's superhuman ability to be competent and useful also continues to skyrocket.

Enjoy!

Fringe 2.09: Snakehead

Open on distressed, limping Asian man. The rhythmic drums of the soundtrack beat out his fast-approaching demise. "They're dead!" he tells a seemingly grandfatherly old man. Limping Asian Man then melts into a severe case of stomach cramps. The old man produces the appropriate creepy science villain implements. A tentacled green organism explodes from the dying man's mouth. It's actually pretty disgusting, even by Fringe standards.

The hallmark giant floating letters, which I actually love, tell us we are in Boston now. A plethora of Chinese corpses are strewn artfully around in the surf. What do you know, they all have really stomach-turning green tentacles protruding from their lifeless lips. Olivia, Peter and his endearingly furrowed brow are on the case. A surly Walter sporting an uncharacteristically dapper brown sweater-vest, grumps by. His frowny face ain't got nothing on Joshua Jackson's though.

While Peter makes his excellent snippy remarks, Walter takes the classic mad-scientist initiative they pay him for, pulling a 3ft tentacled worm from one of the deceased. "It might still be alive," Walter advises. And guess who gets to babysit it, Peter? The writers save Peter by throwing in the discovery of Token Disaster Survival Girl! Peter drags her helpful across the rocks, thanking his stars that this one doesn't have tentacles between her teeth. Or at least not yet!

Peter and Olivia swagger through the hospital exuding power couple badassness. It makes us want to be like them. Turns out Survival Girl is untainted by the giant worm infestation. Woo! Peter gets to show off his Chinese language skills. Olivia looks into his eyes, "I didn't know you spoke Cantonese!" Then to herself: why the hell did we arrange for a translator then? Joshua Jackson smolders at her and the story continues. Unfortunately for Survival Girl, sounds like her husband and daughter are going to be docking in a few days pumped full of worm outbreak-inducing seasickness pills. Close-up on the hospital-gowned woman's tear-streaked face as she clutches her family photograph. Power couple gaze at each other, realizing that this is going to be one of those episodes involving children, and that one of them will probably have to bond with a traumatized adolescent later on. "It better be you," Peter gripes during the commercial break, "I had my turn two episodes ago when I got mind-controlled by that angsty rich kid who almost made me shoot your boss." But Olivia is distracted by one of her constant urgent phone calls, though this one does not forward the plot.

Walter's PA Astrid or Asterisk, as he frequently calls her, waves some worms in front of the camera to gratify the props guys. Walter declares the worms a parasite, earning his genius stripes! We never would have got that otherwise. And just in case we missed that: "You mean the larva use the human body as some sort of incubator?!" Peter gives an explanatory wink to the audience. Olivia misses out on it as her cellular phone goes off, rudely interrupting their fringe sciencey pow-wow. Broyles has caught one of the traffickers who was smuggling the worm-carriers into the country! Quick, to the interrogation room!

Peter continues to make himself indispensable but revealing his expertise on identifying Chinese gang members. As he channels the trafficker's tattoos inner meaning, Broyles wonders how his department ever got anything done before this mass of oh-so-convenient expertise took human form and walked into his life. But Peter is too busy figuring out that the worms are being smuggled as some new form of illegal drugs to notice just how expendable he makes the rest of them seem. Except for eagle-eye Olivia who is the only one who can apparently see through the observation glass where the suspect is slitting his throat with a concealed razor blade. And gosh darn it, they don't get to him in time! Low marks in reaction-time all around! Power couple sigh, guess they won't be solving this 15 minutes in like they thought. Drat. Broyles cranes his spindly neck, making us a bit afraid he is an alien.

Back in the lab, Walter is all chipper now that he's got the news that he can get high off his new pet worms. Right on cue, the worm Asterisk is stabbing with a hypodermic starts eating his arm, plunging Walter into his preferred state of drug-induced euphoria. Broyles shakes his head at the both of them on his way to joins the Power Couple, who are divining from some official-looking papers the identity of the Stateside buyer for the tentacled worms that now munch away at the complicit Dr. Bishop. Olivia gets a vision: a hunky adolescent boy in a homey bungalow. Turns out he's got a mother, who really needs to learn to invest her money better! The sod explains that she thought she was investing in Chinese construction projects, and Peter strolls around her house making Meaningful Observation faces to the camera as he spies hand-sanitizer and hermetically-sealed windows and showing off his leather jacket. Olivia is too busy doing her job to notice this of course.

At the lab, father and son put two and two together, figuring out that the worms are not meant for recreational drug users but have been genetically engineered to boost the human immune system. In a burst of independence, Walter decides to investigate local Chinese herbalists on his own and tells Peter off for trying to go with him. So Asterisk gets dispatched to stalk him. Poor girl never gets time off. But Peter doesn't care about this, as he runs off to impress Olivia with his Meaningful Observations and subsequent conclusions. Power couple go off to grill the blonde adolescent. Peter realizes it's his turn to bond with the child, and Olivia sticks her tongue out at him until she has to stop to answer her phone. But because he is amazing at EVERYTHING, Peter successfully charms blondie into confessing that his mom ordered the worms to treat his immunodeficiency.

Meanwhile, Walter asks the heavens why he can't go grocery shopping without being supervised! Asterisk apologizes profusely, and they walk merrily, arm in arm through Chinatown right into the lair of the Evil Herbalist, where Walter conveniently wanders off. Asterisk freaks, and Super Peter makes one of his rare lapses of judgment, advising her not to sweat it. Walter is left lost and alone in Chinatown where he uses up his bus fare trying to call Peter, and our hearts actually break a little bit when he realizes he can't remember his son's phone number. We leave him crying at a bus stop and telling his woes kindly Chinese woman who doesn't speak English. Poor Asterisk makes her way back to the lab just to be knocked out by scary, muscled Chinese thugs who steal their pet worm.

The audience is relieved to find that the kindly Chinese woman figures out Peter's number, and because Super Peter speaks Cantonese he is able to rush to the rescue, although he might have reconsidered as we find Walter has donned a rather hideous blue kimono robe instead of sticking to his slimming navy blue waistcoat. Peter stuffs Walter into the car where father and son exchange information and figure out that the Evil Herbalist is evil, and probably smuggling the worm-carriers. Super Peter and Walter stake out the Herbalist, while Olivia raids a ship suspected of transporting the next batch of carriers (including Survival-Girl's family, remember?). But gosh darn it, Olivia is too late and Peter is not there to exchange glances with her. Olivia looks wistfully at a toy butterfly left behind, where are the carriers?

Oh, what do you know! They're traipsing by Stakeout Peter and Walter. Peter phones it in, before deciding to go in alone, forgetting that right now he's just Super Peter and not Power Couple, leaving Walter alone with his guilt over having been the one to blab the location of the worms to the Evil Herbalist and causing Asterisk's concussion.

As expected, Super Peter is not so super. End of episodes are like kryptonite to him. He sits among the blue-tinted corpses of the just-off-the-boat carriers, trying to stop the Evil Herbalist with the power of his frown. But he gets force-fed the worm larva anyway. A thug jams his mouth shut and Evil Herbalist adds hastily, "If you chew it, it will kill you. We forgot about that bit of exposition til now, sorry." Joshua Jackson scowls with all his might. "Swallow!" cackles Evil Herbalist. "Don't swallow!" we shout.

Power Couple member 2 senses his telepathic distress call and Olivia bursts in just as the suspense and lack of oxygen is about to kill him. Power Couple is back together!!! Some baddies get shot. Super Peter, with the stomach of steel, spits out the worm and the crowd erupts in a victorious roar!!!! Well, not really but we all mentally give a little cheer.

For some closure, Olivia returns to the hospital to give Survival Girl's daughter back her butterfly toy. Smiling, in a moment of reflection and softness, Olivia stares at the cherubic little girl who some one tells her is recovering from her de-worming. She stares some more. She continues to stare, and we wonder if Olivia is getting a bit broody now that she's approaching 30 or if it's just bad editing. Elsewhere, Peter and Walter have a heart to heart. It is actually quite touching as Walter explains he wants to be an independent man and not to be treated like a child. We are moved, and so is Peter, that is until Walter explains that he's solved their problem of him getting lost by implanting a tracking device in his neck. Walter gives his son the beeping transmitter and returns to peacefully to bed. Peter puts his head in his hands and we feel for him. But he's Super Peter, if he can't cope with it, no one can. Peter gives us a little smirk and we feel better.

Josh Groban is Sexy! David Tennant goes grey.

It is official. Josh Groban is sexy. You've all heard it from me, but now other 'People' think so to. We now have tangible documentation.

Josh is going to be in the upcoming Sexiest Men Alive edition of People Magazine. Yay Josh!

See the video here.

Josh will also be back on Glee sometime this season.


In other news, St. Trinian's 2: The Legend of Fritton's Gold will be coming out in the UK soon. December 18th to be exact. And on that date we will get a chance to see the lovely David Tennant as the villainous Lord Pomfrey, the leader of a woman-hating secret society. If we were not in love with the girlz already, this is definitely enough to entice us to watch.

DT sheds his typical suave style for a more mature look. But like Richard Gere, he only makes grey gorgeous. And rumor has it, he ends up sloshing through the sea at some point. We can only hope for a Colin Firth/Darcy calibre moment! (Though I actually did not find that as exciting as everyone else seem to.)

Now if only they would release the trailer already!

"The president of the United States is Zac Efron."

"The prime minister of the United Kingdom is Robert Pattinson. Praise be to Robert Pattinson."

So reports Step Hen Fry on his mock transmission from the futuristic year 2034, in honor of his acquiring his millionth follower on Twitter last weekend. It's a pretty standard joke, but it is still funny because oh, it is so true. With the theatrical release of the next Twilight monstrosity and the opening of Efron's newest film in the UK, the rabid brainwashed hoards of crazed fan girls are being unleashed in unprecedented droves.

Some of us women like to think we belong to the more reasonable gender. We are not handicappingly obsessed with sex, horribly lookist and shallow, emotionally repressed, violent and mesmerized by explosions and physics-defyingly ludicrous fictional cars. And yet, at times like these, it seems like girls are willing to gun down their grandmothers and eat their best friends just for a chance to have a 5 second interaction with a handsome man. Caution is thrown to the wind, any rules or guiding principles of logic dissolve. Robert Pattinson recently expressed his remorse for jokingly telling a fan girl that stripping would be the best way to get his attention. Reprehensible statement, as he admits, but the worst part of the story is that the girl actually does it. "She stood there and frantically started taking her clothes off and got dragged out of the room by security," Pattinson recalls.

This is absurd. This cannot go on. Do these fangirls check their self-respect at the door as well as their sanity, manners, and self-control? Swarms of these fan girl mobs follow RPattz, Efron and others around like a plague of locusts, leaving devastation in their wake. Is there really call for such desperation? It is as if girls think that maybe, just maybe, if they can get Pattinson or Efron or Lautner or whoever to see them for even a slit second, it might be love at first sight, the moviestar might take her in his arms, declare to the world that she is someone special and truly unique from the mass of other screaming girls, extract her from her humdrum and dissatisfying life, give her a new one where she is important, take care of all her problems, and live happily ever after. All they want is a chance for a miracle. And this is worth any degradation or harm they might be asked to endure or inflict on a competitor.

This hardly bodes well for feminism. Girls are better educated and have far more opportunities open to them than ever before. Yet, mobs of them are still throwing themselves at the feet of men, begging for salvation. And most reprehensible, we seem to tolerate it as some sort of endearing side-effect of girlhood. It is not! It is a deeply troubling orientation toward not only romance and relationships, but toward self-esteem, self-value, intimacy, achievement, and let's face it, girls' grips on reality. Not only that, it fulfills every stereotype about women unable to survive without men, unable to form independent thought without men, and unable to accomplish anything without the promise of love and romance. This mentality runs rampant among the young (and even older) generations of females--- but we do nothing about it.

The situation is also not helped by the consumer economy, who jumps at the chance to merchandise anything. Already 10 years ago, clothing stories were stocking 'Mrs. Kutcher' bags. Hardcore fandom is now more than ever defined by the amount of purchasing one is willing to stomach--- with fan memberships, calendars, pre-orders, special additions, action figures, dolls, stickers, pins, costumes, hats, t-shirts, magazine clippings, posters, bookmarks, special edition magazines, book signings and appearances in other cities, states, and countries, and the list goes on and on and on. Hardcore fans are also expected to be up on the latest news and therefore to vigilantly update themselves on news, blogs, photo galleries, websites, fansites, radio shows, podcasts, gossip sites and that list goes on and on. Merchandising and media companies can milk these confused girls out of copious amounts of time and money. They encourage the crazedness, which in turn encourages the merchandising. If they'll buy it, we will make it. If they'll make it, we will buy it. Round and round it goes, slowly skewing the entire world.

Doctor Who, horrified

The first red flag went up as I watched the season one finale of Fox's sci-fi, horror, procedural drama Fringe. After 19 episodes of searching for the illusive William Bell, revolutionary researcher, corporate mastermind and former partner to mad scientist turned FBI consultant, Walter Bishop, the determined Olivia Dunham discovers (after several, 'He can no longer be found on this world'-type winks from various minor characters): what do you know, Bellie (as Walter seems to call him occasionally, or maybe Billy which would make more sense) is camped out in a parallel universe! "There's more than one of everything" the episode title tells us while bashing us over the head with significance-laden one-liners.

Hmm. A science-fiction show in which an exclusive branch of the government quivers with fear that part-human, part-machine beings have started opening gates (rifts anyone?) between worlds and are now planning to trek over for a day of universal destruction. Sound familiar? "Yes!" holler the Whovians, waving their Doomsday dvds. [During the two episode plot of 'Army of Ghosts' and 'Doomsday' part-human, part-machine beings march through a rift in time an space from a parallel universe, and make attempts at world domination--- resulting in much consternation and bereavement. "MUCH bereavement," sob the Whovians, again waving their Doomsday dvds, crying and listening to their Doctor&Rose playlists.] Russel T. Davies and friends should be getting out their intellectual property law because J.J. Abrams and co. are not done scavenging for plot points.

This week the show revisits the Observer--- no, not the newspaper, but a mysterious and hairless man who wears dated clothes and with a fondness for hot sauce. Or I should say, the Observers, as Olivia and Peter find out there are more than one of them. Guess what they do? They manipulate the laws of time and space, show up randomly in times of crisis, goof around with strange and wondrous tech, resist the wear and tear of age, and photoshop themselves into famous images from history from the Boston Massacre to the demise of Franz Ferdinand--- see that's one of them right there, right next to the Doctor.

"Who are these guys?" Peter questions dramatically, scowling with his typical frowny face.
"Timelords!" shouts out Walter.
Astrid hits him, "They cut that line dummy!? Remember?"
Walter eats some jelly babies to console himself.

Unfortunately for this new breed of timelord, I mean, for these Observers, one of them goes rogue, radically stopping a girl from getting on a plane that is going to crash into the ocean. Ok, the Doctor would not be too pleased with this type of meddling either, what with the laws of time and space collapsing on themselves and destroying the world, but at least he would draw the line at sending an assassin to kill the poor tied-and-gagged-for-her-own-safety girl. Luckily in the end rogue Observer sacrifices himself and this appears to rebalance everything.

"I think, it is what they call feelings," whispers rogue Observer as he croaks. "I think it is what they call love."
"What good are your skills if you cannot save the woman you love?" cackles back a co-Observer.
Whoops! No that was the dalek in Season 1 epsiode 6 of Doctor Who. Either way, rogue Observer bites the dust. And credits.

We, Whovians, should continue to keep a close eye on Fringe and its infringements, but we can take consolation in the fact that the Doctor is still much cooler than these sudo-timelords. They have none of his charisma, charm, wit, in-jokes, penchant for running up and down corridors, or any TARDIS-worthy equivalent, and they certainly could not pull off the converse sneakers/tuxedo look. And, they definitely have none of the dashing good looks topped with the dynamic explosion of awesomely mussed hair that makes all the girls go weak in the knees.

The Doctor still lords the universe, though we wouldn't mind him taking one pointer from these wannabes. Maybe the next time he is forced to 'genetic transfer' Martha Jones, he could eat some chili pepper first. Just a suggestion.