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.

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.

Everybody loves a critic. Or at least I love this one.

Hollywood, and the entertainment industry in general, is a man's world. Moneyed, opinionated, white men pull the strings, oppress minorities and women, hoard profits, laud over their enslaved underlings, take all the credit, and believe themselves gods. Why the world at large puts up with this is a valid query but is subject for another blog, a 22 volume treatise, and several documentary series.

But we can take some solace in the fact that every once in a while someone makes a swipe at one of these over-stuffed, over-rated moguls, and it is quite satisfying to be validated even if for just that brief moment. And this takes me to BBC Film critic Mark Kermode, who has something to say about Michael Bay.

In brief: Michael Bay is terrible. In long: "His films take millions of dollars but I think he's terrible. His films are rotten." and "If critics made any difference Michael Bay wouldn't be making movies. He's just terrible. Watching a Michael Bay movie is like being hit over the head with tax returns."

What music to mine ears! Finally someone, some man, some man in the industry, speaks out against gratuitous Michael Bay! Maybe all the trailer-editors/producer/whoever makes them will realize that putting "A FILM BY MICHAEL BAY" or similar in their mash-ups makes quite a few of us snicker. I was actually given a Transformers shirt for free by a studio exec and just could not bring myself to wear it. I eventually shame-facedly foisted it off on my sister's boyfriend, who at least is an engineer and has a somewhat valid interest in robots.

Kermode further spouts poetry when discussing Kiera Knightley: "I called her Ikea Knightley as her acting was so wooden." though he somewhat chickens out by adding, "She is better now." Regardless, this Kermode is a critic after my own heart.

**retires to a rose garden and sighs dreamily**

Les novelles britanniques

So random but oh so fantastic bits of news for those of you interested in the goings on in the British entertainment world (and yes some of this is so last month, but I've just heard of it):

(1) Michael Sheen is in the much anticipated New Moon. Isn't he just precious!?!



I mean, he already had a few nice roles in, oh, I don't know, Bright Young Things, The Queen, and Frost/Nixon but this will really kick-off his career.

(2) My much beloved Primeval has negotiated itself back to life after an apparently unprecedented routine of corporate acrobatics. We could even go so far as to call it an **anomaly** (Har har har). The powers that be have also taken steps to "ensure that the spectacular special effects that have made Primeval such a huge success will continue throughout the new season." Cuz where would we be without those? Oh time traveling dinosaur show. We love you.

(3) Gavin & Stacey, which has managed to remain frustratingly absent from youtube, has been picked up by ABC. Thank God!

(4) Russell Brand is in love with Katy Perry. They are dating. It is magical.

As someone who in a fit of madness actually read two thirds of Brand's remarkably enjoyable autobiography this summer, this bit of celebrity gossip cannot help but make me go "Awwwwwww." Despite his being blatantly un-PC and vile, the Western mainstream media consumer still seams to adore him--- as if we know that underneath that gruff sex and drug addicted exterior is a just a quirky, talented teddy bear. (To be quite honest, his book does revealing as quite a lot more lucid and sensitive than he may appear.)

If love of a good woman can turn Brand from his nefarious and self-gratifying ways, well then what more evidence do we need that love conquers all and that there just might be hope for the rest of us?

To the happy couple!