Comments should be enabled now.
Man, I'm kind of embarrassed by how hard this has been.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
King Barry
Someday, probably soon, San Francisco Giants left fielder Barry Bonds will hit his 756th career home run. This is not an implausible thought at all; he has, after all, already hit 754 of these, and barring a catastrophic injury involving (but not limited to) something on the level of the severing of his carotid artery, he will hit 2 more home runs.
There’s a lot of controversy about this, for some reason. A lot of this commotion is based on the speculation that Barry Bonds knowingly used illegal, steroid-based performance-enhancing substances. Did he definitively use these? He has admitted to unwittingly using a cream-based steroid, noting that he thought it was flaxseed oil. Aside from that, though, he’s admitted to nothing else. Circumstantial evidence – clubhouse rumors, speculation from authors ranging from the journalistically-credibly Jeff Perlman to the morally-shaky Jose Canseco, and the kind of visual evidence available to everybody (comparing pictures of a rookie-era Bonds to a current-day photo) – abounds.
I will say this: Barry Bonds probably used steroids.
You know what? That’s okay.
Well, it’s probably not okay on the grand scale of things. The long-term drawbacks of steroid use are only now becoming known, and the odds are high that their use will provide definitive ramifications for users, including the shrinking of testicles and potentially higher risk for cancer. Also, the use of steroids is a crime; Bonds testified that he’d never unwittingly used them, and if this proves him to be a liar, then he’s probably due for a stretch in prison.
However, between the foul lines, I don’t think that Barry Bonds was necessarily wrong. From all accounts, baseball, for the better part of the last two decades, has created an environment in which players were all but encouraged to use performance enhancers. (This was probably true in all major professional sports – we’re probably fifty years or two generations removed from culpability before we’ll see how widespread it was.) Baseball did not provide punishment for players using the steroids, and celebrated the achievements of players widely speculated to have been using such substances. The era of permissibility created a grey area of epic proportions; it was in this grey area that players like Bonds flourished.
As baseball fans, we have to come to terms with the steroid era. This is not a choice. We have to. This is not as easy as it sounds. It means taking your favorite players – for me, it’s any Yankee from the championship run between 1996 and 2000 – and coming to grips with the fact that they might have played dirty. Sure, a player like Curt Schilling might come out and say that he didn’t use steroids; however, unless we can see a lifetime of negative tests, then that player can not escape suspicion. It’s a sad but ultimately necessary designation that must accompany every single player from that era.
Ultimately, it’s no different from assuming that every major leaguer who lived as an adult through prohibition made it to a speakeasy, or that every major leaguer who could possibly partake of the amphetamines widely available in every clubhouse did. In those situations, the culture made it permissible. Would players have played the game better if they hadn’t been partaking of illegal alcohol, or would they have played the game worse if they hadn’t been hopped up on greenies? Possibly, and possibly. The answer, just like it is for steroids, is that we’ll never know.
Baseball should be all about celebrating the achievements that occur on the field. While we can never assume a lily-pure culture, we can look at what we do know: the numbers. Barry Bonds will hit his 756th home run, and it will be something special – because nobody in the colorful, storied, muddy history of Major League Baseball has ever done that before.
Now, will I (personally) cheer Barry Bonds? Probably not. If I’ve learned anything about Bonds from years of following his exploits from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, it’s that Bonds is a selfish, churly individual with the likeability quotient of a boot full of dog poo. There are definitely better people out there who could set the home run record. But that’s my opinion. If you feel differently and decide that you should cheer him, then, by all means, cheer him.
He’s been the best of his time, and with that in mind, he’s earned it. Records are made to be broken. The king is dead. Long live the king.
Granted, I think the king has no clothes, but again, that's my opinion.
Doesn't mean he's not the king.
There’s a lot of controversy about this, for some reason. A lot of this commotion is based on the speculation that Barry Bonds knowingly used illegal, steroid-based performance-enhancing substances. Did he definitively use these? He has admitted to unwittingly using a cream-based steroid, noting that he thought it was flaxseed oil. Aside from that, though, he’s admitted to nothing else. Circumstantial evidence – clubhouse rumors, speculation from authors ranging from the journalistically-credibly Jeff Perlman to the morally-shaky Jose Canseco, and the kind of visual evidence available to everybody (comparing pictures of a rookie-era Bonds to a current-day photo) – abounds.
I will say this: Barry Bonds probably used steroids.
You know what? That’s okay.
Well, it’s probably not okay on the grand scale of things. The long-term drawbacks of steroid use are only now becoming known, and the odds are high that their use will provide definitive ramifications for users, including the shrinking of testicles and potentially higher risk for cancer. Also, the use of steroids is a crime; Bonds testified that he’d never unwittingly used them, and if this proves him to be a liar, then he’s probably due for a stretch in prison.
However, between the foul lines, I don’t think that Barry Bonds was necessarily wrong. From all accounts, baseball, for the better part of the last two decades, has created an environment in which players were all but encouraged to use performance enhancers. (This was probably true in all major professional sports – we’re probably fifty years or two generations removed from culpability before we’ll see how widespread it was.) Baseball did not provide punishment for players using the steroids, and celebrated the achievements of players widely speculated to have been using such substances. The era of permissibility created a grey area of epic proportions; it was in this grey area that players like Bonds flourished.
As baseball fans, we have to come to terms with the steroid era. This is not a choice. We have to. This is not as easy as it sounds. It means taking your favorite players – for me, it’s any Yankee from the championship run between 1996 and 2000 – and coming to grips with the fact that they might have played dirty. Sure, a player like Curt Schilling might come out and say that he didn’t use steroids; however, unless we can see a lifetime of negative tests, then that player can not escape suspicion. It’s a sad but ultimately necessary designation that must accompany every single player from that era.
Ultimately, it’s no different from assuming that every major leaguer who lived as an adult through prohibition made it to a speakeasy, or that every major leaguer who could possibly partake of the amphetamines widely available in every clubhouse did. In those situations, the culture made it permissible. Would players have played the game better if they hadn’t been partaking of illegal alcohol, or would they have played the game worse if they hadn’t been hopped up on greenies? Possibly, and possibly. The answer, just like it is for steroids, is that we’ll never know.
Baseball should be all about celebrating the achievements that occur on the field. While we can never assume a lily-pure culture, we can look at what we do know: the numbers. Barry Bonds will hit his 756th home run, and it will be something special – because nobody in the colorful, storied, muddy history of Major League Baseball has ever done that before.
Now, will I (personally) cheer Barry Bonds? Probably not. If I’ve learned anything about Bonds from years of following his exploits from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, it’s that Bonds is a selfish, churly individual with the likeability quotient of a boot full of dog poo. There are definitely better people out there who could set the home run record. But that’s my opinion. If you feel differently and decide that you should cheer him, then, by all means, cheer him.
He’s been the best of his time, and with that in mind, he’s earned it. Records are made to be broken. The king is dead. Long live the king.
Granted, I think the king has no clothes, but again, that's my opinion.
Doesn't mean he's not the king.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Beating The Drum For: The Films Of Wes Anderson
We have a deep reservoir of affection for the films of Wes Anderson.
Since his emergence in 1996 with the film “Bottle Rocket,” a film which launched the prolific acting careers of Owen and Luke Wilson and heralded a return to form for James Caan, Anderson has made several tremendous films.
We understand that Anderson’s films may not be for everybody. As a screenwriter and filmmaker, Anderson tends towards the pretentious, and we can see how people might be overwhelmed by the stylistic quirks which dominate his films. He’s either your cup of tea or he’s not.
We happen to love Anderson for the way he uses music to underscore character interactions – whether it’s having Jason Schwartzman and Bill Murray go to war in “Rushmore” to the tune of the Who’s mini-rock opera “A Quick One While He’s Away,” the tender entrance of Gwyneth Paltrow in “The Royal Tenenbaums” to the tune of Nico’s mournful version of “These Days,” or the surprisingly moving scene in the submarine as the crew of “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” encounter the fabled jaguar shark to the tune of Sigur Ros’s “Staralfur.”
The trailer for Anderson’s newest film – the preciously titled “The Darjeeling Express” is online. Due in September, it features previous Anderson stars Owen Wilson and Jason Schwartzman, along with Adrien Brody, as three brothers who travel across India. We were lukewarm on this, until we saw the trailer…and damned if he doesn’t do it again. The song this time is “This Time Tomorrow,” by the Kinks, and combined with the beautiful cinematography – well, we can’t wait.
Since his emergence in 1996 with the film “Bottle Rocket,” a film which launched the prolific acting careers of Owen and Luke Wilson and heralded a return to form for James Caan, Anderson has made several tremendous films.
We understand that Anderson’s films may not be for everybody. As a screenwriter and filmmaker, Anderson tends towards the pretentious, and we can see how people might be overwhelmed by the stylistic quirks which dominate his films. He’s either your cup of tea or he’s not.
We happen to love Anderson for the way he uses music to underscore character interactions – whether it’s having Jason Schwartzman and Bill Murray go to war in “Rushmore” to the tune of the Who’s mini-rock opera “A Quick One While He’s Away,” the tender entrance of Gwyneth Paltrow in “The Royal Tenenbaums” to the tune of Nico’s mournful version of “These Days,” or the surprisingly moving scene in the submarine as the crew of “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” encounter the fabled jaguar shark to the tune of Sigur Ros’s “Staralfur.”
The trailer for Anderson’s newest film – the preciously titled “The Darjeeling Express” is online. Due in September, it features previous Anderson stars Owen Wilson and Jason Schwartzman, along with Adrien Brody, as three brothers who travel across India. We were lukewarm on this, until we saw the trailer…and damned if he doesn’t do it again. The song this time is “This Time Tomorrow,” by the Kinks, and combined with the beautiful cinematography – well, we can’t wait.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
ESPN, The Cult of Personality, and "Who's Now"
In the late 1990s, the brilliant playwright/screenwriter Aaron Sorkin, who had been previously known for crafting the script for the play "A Few Good Men," began his career in television (which would lead to the magnificent "The West Wing" and the flawed but intriguing "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip") by creating a sitcom that centered around the ups and downs of the cast and crew of a flagship sports highlight on a 24-hour sports network. The sitcom took its name from the sportscast central to the show: "Sports Night." (If you've never seen it, seek it out on DVD.)
By the time this sitcom aired, the show and network from which it drew inspiration - "SportsCenter" on ESPN - had already been airing for nineteen years. During this time, though, ESPN was experiencing an unprecedented boom-time. Between the years of 1990 and 2002, the network secured exclusive deals with all four major American professional sports (baseball, football, basketball, and, yes, hockey). As these deals fell into place, ESPN gained viewership at an unprecedented rate.
Ultimately, the growth (and resultant success) of ESPN during this 12-year period was contingent on the sports which the network was covering. The network attempted to build on this success this by, in 1994, launching the "This Is SportsCenter" series of commercials, which presented the anchors and reporters of the flagship program as more than just news presenters, but stars in their own right.
For better or worse, ESPN anchors became "names" - people like Chris Berman, Dan Patrick, Craig Kilborn, Stuart Scott, and Keith Olbermann were given exposure on a level that had been heretofore reserved for athletes. In fact, the plots of the commercials featured the athletes and anchors interacting as peers. It was truly the beginning of a "cult of personality" era for ESPN - a time where the people participating in and announcing the sports were treated with more and more reverence than the sports themselves.
Additionally, ESPN has gone above simply covering sports events - they have actually created sports events and assigned them a significance on a par with established sports. Most prominent of these was the 1995 creation of the X-Games, a sports festival of "extreme" sports like motocross, skateboarding, and BMX bicycling. This was joined with the 1997 introduction of the Winter X-Games, which featured snowboarding and snowmobiling. Additionally, ESPN has been instrumental in the coverage of fringe sports like women's professional basketball and arena football - these are sports which, in my opinion, have been covered on SportsCenter primarily because of ESPN's stake in broadcasting them - and as such, have been assigned an "importance" which they hadn't really earned prior to their broadcasting contracts with the network.
As time has gone on, ESPN has continued their emphasis on personality over action. Sports anchors have been given the free reign to let their personalities seize the emphasis in their presentation of the highlights. Commentators have been given extra screen-time, in packaged, sponsored features like "The Budweiser Hot Seat." The highlights - the sports themselves - have taken a backseat.
This summer, in lieu of presenting an actual sports highlight show, SportsCenter has featured a "contest" called "Who's Now." Presented by the ubiquitous, cyclopsian Stuart Scott, it has been a a chance to pit 32 athletes from all sports against each other in a tournament. The point of "Who's Now" -at least as they have stated it on ESPN - is to determine a pecking order based on on-field performance and off-field clout.
The 32 athletes selected by ESPN for this tournament, however, indicate the probability that something else is going on - among the athletes chosen for "now" status are individuals from fringe sports like women's softball (Amanda Beard), ultimate fighting (Chuck Liddell), surfing (Kelly Slater), and snowboarding (Shaun White).
Why would these athletes be chosen for this type of tournament? Does anybody at ESPN seriously believe that snowboarding and surfing are on a par with tennis and golf, let alone the four major sports? My head tells me "no." So, why are they there?
Ultimately, my suspicion is that "Who's Now," a journalistically-shaky competition on all levels, is essentially a focus group. A focus group for what? Well, let's look at it this way: ESPN has obviously been major dabblers in the cult of personality for quite some time. The X-Games, which have been considered the centerpiece of the extreme sports culture for sometime, are an ESPN property. In placing extreme athletes up for consideration with individual athletes in major individual sports (tennis stars Roger Federer, Serena Williams, and Maria Sharapova and golfer Tiger Woods) and star athletes in team sports (footballer Tom Brady, baseball star Derek Jeter, and basketball's LeBron James), they can gauge how they're doing. The X-Games are theirs, and the stars that are central to these events are the stars that ESPN have created and showcased.
With that in mind, it's hard not to think of "Who's Now" as a state of affairs check-up for ESPN - it's a way to see how what they do in the business of creating stars matches up with what they do in the world of broadcasting the highlights of established stars. It's a logical step for a network that refers to itself as "The Worldwide Leader" - to use its resources to see how successful and influential they truly are.
It makes me yearn for the days of the late-1990s, when it was easy to think of ESPN as being a hands-off network, the type that would inspire characters on "Sports Night" like Dan Rydell (Josh Charles) and Casey McCall (Peter Krause) - the type of characters that gave you the hope that your sports-news personalities were ethics-and-responsibility driven, instead of working (as folks as questionable as Stuart Scott and respected as Michael Wilbon seem to be) for the benefit of the advertisers and the almighty buck.
In the great Living Colour song "Cult of Personality," lead singer Corey Glover sings "You gave me fortune/you gave me fame." Which seems to fit the world of ESPN. He then takes it up a notch: "You gave me power...I exploit you, you still love me."
Is that too harsh? Possibly. Does it fit the way ESPN does business? Boo-ya.
Correction: My friend Scott Jennings has pointed out, correctly so, that Amanda Beard is a swimmer (and not a softball player, as I asserted). I stand corrected. That being said, she remains absolutely irrelevant to most Americans, aside from her appearance in "Playboy" magazine. Spank bank material? Probably. A "now" athlete on a par with, say, the leadoff hitter for the New York Mets? No.
By the time this sitcom aired, the show and network from which it drew inspiration - "SportsCenter" on ESPN - had already been airing for nineteen years. During this time, though, ESPN was experiencing an unprecedented boom-time. Between the years of 1990 and 2002, the network secured exclusive deals with all four major American professional sports (baseball, football, basketball, and, yes, hockey). As these deals fell into place, ESPN gained viewership at an unprecedented rate.
Ultimately, the growth (and resultant success) of ESPN during this 12-year period was contingent on the sports which the network was covering. The network attempted to build on this success this by, in 1994, launching the "This Is SportsCenter" series of commercials, which presented the anchors and reporters of the flagship program as more than just news presenters, but stars in their own right.
For better or worse, ESPN anchors became "names" - people like Chris Berman, Dan Patrick, Craig Kilborn, Stuart Scott, and Keith Olbermann were given exposure on a level that had been heretofore reserved for athletes. In fact, the plots of the commercials featured the athletes and anchors interacting as peers. It was truly the beginning of a "cult of personality" era for ESPN - a time where the people participating in and announcing the sports were treated with more and more reverence than the sports themselves.
Additionally, ESPN has gone above simply covering sports events - they have actually created sports events and assigned them a significance on a par with established sports. Most prominent of these was the 1995 creation of the X-Games, a sports festival of "extreme" sports like motocross, skateboarding, and BMX bicycling. This was joined with the 1997 introduction of the Winter X-Games, which featured snowboarding and snowmobiling. Additionally, ESPN has been instrumental in the coverage of fringe sports like women's professional basketball and arena football - these are sports which, in my opinion, have been covered on SportsCenter primarily because of ESPN's stake in broadcasting them - and as such, have been assigned an "importance" which they hadn't really earned prior to their broadcasting contracts with the network.
As time has gone on, ESPN has continued their emphasis on personality over action. Sports anchors have been given the free reign to let their personalities seize the emphasis in their presentation of the highlights. Commentators have been given extra screen-time, in packaged, sponsored features like "The Budweiser Hot Seat." The highlights - the sports themselves - have taken a backseat.
This summer, in lieu of presenting an actual sports highlight show, SportsCenter has featured a "contest" called "Who's Now." Presented by the ubiquitous, cyclopsian Stuart Scott, it has been a a chance to pit 32 athletes from all sports against each other in a tournament. The point of "Who's Now" -at least as they have stated it on ESPN - is to determine a pecking order based on on-field performance and off-field clout.
The 32 athletes selected by ESPN for this tournament, however, indicate the probability that something else is going on - among the athletes chosen for "now" status are individuals from fringe sports like women's softball (Amanda Beard), ultimate fighting (Chuck Liddell), surfing (Kelly Slater), and snowboarding (Shaun White).
Why would these athletes be chosen for this type of tournament? Does anybody at ESPN seriously believe that snowboarding and surfing are on a par with tennis and golf, let alone the four major sports? My head tells me "no." So, why are they there?
Ultimately, my suspicion is that "Who's Now," a journalistically-shaky competition on all levels, is essentially a focus group. A focus group for what? Well, let's look at it this way: ESPN has obviously been major dabblers in the cult of personality for quite some time. The X-Games, which have been considered the centerpiece of the extreme sports culture for sometime, are an ESPN property. In placing extreme athletes up for consideration with individual athletes in major individual sports (tennis stars Roger Federer, Serena Williams, and Maria Sharapova and golfer Tiger Woods) and star athletes in team sports (footballer Tom Brady, baseball star Derek Jeter, and basketball's LeBron James), they can gauge how they're doing. The X-Games are theirs, and the stars that are central to these events are the stars that ESPN have created and showcased.
With that in mind, it's hard not to think of "Who's Now" as a state of affairs check-up for ESPN - it's a way to see how what they do in the business of creating stars matches up with what they do in the world of broadcasting the highlights of established stars. It's a logical step for a network that refers to itself as "The Worldwide Leader" - to use its resources to see how successful and influential they truly are.
It makes me yearn for the days of the late-1990s, when it was easy to think of ESPN as being a hands-off network, the type that would inspire characters on "Sports Night" like Dan Rydell (Josh Charles) and Casey McCall (Peter Krause) - the type of characters that gave you the hope that your sports-news personalities were ethics-and-responsibility driven, instead of working (as folks as questionable as Stuart Scott and respected as Michael Wilbon seem to be) for the benefit of the advertisers and the almighty buck.
In the great Living Colour song "Cult of Personality," lead singer Corey Glover sings "You gave me fortune/you gave me fame." Which seems to fit the world of ESPN. He then takes it up a notch: "You gave me power...I exploit you, you still love me."
Is that too harsh? Possibly. Does it fit the way ESPN does business? Boo-ya.
Correction: My friend Scott Jennings has pointed out, correctly so, that Amanda Beard is a swimmer (and not a softball player, as I asserted). I stand corrected. That being said, she remains absolutely irrelevant to most Americans, aside from her appearance in "Playboy" magazine. Spank bank material? Probably. A "now" athlete on a par with, say, the leadoff hitter for the New York Mets? No.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Beating The Drum For: WEXT-FM Radio
The Tri-Cities (Albany-Schenectady-Troy) may suffer on some levels - mediocre nightlife, a minimum of awesome touring bands, and a disappointing beer scene come to mind - but it is certainly not hurting for good radio.
The latest station here is WEXT-FM, a public-radio, free-form station known as "The Exit" and found at 97.7 FM. It broadcasts out of Amsterdam, I believe. For years, 97.7 was a classical station - however, on July 7, it switched to a free-form format.
Since tuning in for the first time, I've heard tracks from the Clash, Bright Eyes, Wilco, Grateful Dead, Ryan Adams, Spoon, and Jeff Buckley. They've been giving a lot of local acts playtime too, including the Kamikaze Hearts and the revelatory Sarah Pedinotti, who have been touted in publications like "Metroland" but have otherwise been hard to hear.
Check it out. It streams online for those not in the Capital Region. You'll dig it. We do.
The latest station here is WEXT-FM, a public-radio, free-form station known as "The Exit" and found at 97.7 FM. It broadcasts out of Amsterdam, I believe. For years, 97.7 was a classical station - however, on July 7, it switched to a free-form format.
Since tuning in for the first time, I've heard tracks from the Clash, Bright Eyes, Wilco, Grateful Dead, Ryan Adams, Spoon, and Jeff Buckley. They've been giving a lot of local acts playtime too, including the Kamikaze Hearts and the revelatory Sarah Pedinotti, who have been touted in publications like "Metroland" but have otherwise been hard to hear.
Check it out. It streams online for those not in the Capital Region. You'll dig it. We do.
When You Wish Upon A (Family-Friendly) Falling Star
Two of the most fascinating rock-history books I've read lately have to do with the illustrious history of one of the most debauched, bad-reputation bands in the history of the music industry, the Rolling Stones. The first, "Old Gods Almost Dead," was written by Stephen Davis, and traces the forty-year history of this gang of drug-addled villains who just happened to be one of the most musically influential groups ever. The second, "Exile On Main Street: A Season In Hell With The Rolling Stones," by Robert Greenfield, paints a detailed picture of the band's maddest period, the heroin-infused sessions that inspired the epic double album mentioned in the book's title.
When you read these books, it's easy to form some quick opinions about the band, and the rugged, insane gang leader at its core, Keith Richards. The first opinion is undoubtedly a sense of relief that you were not actually there with the band. The second opinion, which should be far stronger, is that those guys, and Keith Richards especially, were lucky to survive their own fame and success.
I found myself thinking about Keith Richards a lot yesterday, especially as the news about Lindsay Lohan emerged across the various media platforms yesterday. It's weird that there are even parallels to be drawn between Richards (a notoriously drug-and-alcohol addicted guitarist and primary songwriter for the Rolling Stones who, as the stories have it, was prone to nodding off in a heroin haze onstage in the 1970s) and Lohan (who emerged onto Hollywood's radar by starring in a family friendly remake of "The Parent Trap" as a 10 year old), but they're there. The mere fact that Lohan's arrest on Tuesday is her second substance-abuse-related incident in three months, and comes on the heels of her second stint in rehab this calendar year, hint very obviously at somebody overwhelmed by substances and addictions beyond her control.
And so it is, and here we are, drawing these sad parallels.
Sadder still, in my opinion, are the bubbles of naivete that are bursting in the hearts and tween and teen girls and boys across this nation, from coast to coast. I don't blame Keith Richards for this, and I certainly don't blame Lindsay Lohan. Neither was the first actor or musician to dabble in drugs, and neither will be the last.
Honestly? I don't even blame anyone connected to the drug world? Me, I blame the Disney Channel.
In 1997, the Disney Channel underwent a paradigm shift of sorts. It was during this year that the folks at Disney unloaded their first salvo in a war of "family-friendly" programming that was simultaneously aimed at their cross-channel rivals Nickelodeon and at a generation of parents dealing with a world which was, in the words of Bruce Springsteen, "57 channels and nothing on."
In 1997, the Disney Channel unveiled a lineup that they called "Zoog Disney," a block of programming which included shows like "Even Stevens" and "Lizzie McGuire" and were a subtler brand of children's television program than the channel had previously presented to the public - these were shows that aired in prime-time, and focused on a demographic who had outgrown overt kid's programs like "Sesame Street" but were not quite ready for the raunchiness of prime-time network programming. The Nickelodeon network matched this with programming like "The Amanda Show" (featuring Amanda Bynes), "The Nick Cannon Show," and "All That." Both networks provided marketing pushes for major pop acts of that era, which were generally squeaky-clean acts like NSync, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears.
The Disney Channel and Nickelodeon became an empire of culture, one that became validated as its influence spread to the music industry and other television channels. It's hard not to see one of the great late-1990s cultural signifiers, MTV's "Total Request Live With Carson Daly," as anything other than an extension of this culture, as it offered up the same bands and talents as the kid-oriented shows on the aforementioned channels.
However, it was as Disney and Nickelodeon became proprietors of culture instead of programming, that the plot got lost. A major reason that parents found these channels appropriate for viewing was because they presented kid-friendly shows; then, the paradigm shifted, and all of a sudden, they were in the business of presenting kid-friendly kid stars.
The streets of Hollywood are littered with the burnt-out chassis of so many kid stars. Some, like Danny Bonaduce and Leif Garrett, are barely surviving as people. Others, like Macaulay Culkin, are occasionally working in the industry. Few, however, have made the leap from child star to successful adult star - most flame out.
Watching the recent escapades of Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears has been like watching a slow-motion trainwreck - to the point where getting caught with cocaine or behaving bizarrely at a photoshoot don't seem surprising, but inevitable. For those of us who have seen episode after episode of "VH1's Behind The Music" or "The E! True Hollywood Story" these seem like utterly plausible conclusions.
However, there's a true sadness there - for so many, people like Lindsay Lohan were marketed not just as actors and characters, but as role models for living in a heavily sanitized version of a teenaged life. And no matter how much we want someone to be a role model, it's not something that's easily lived up to. At the very least, Lindsay Lohan will never be seen as a positive role model again.
My hope is that the parents out there who have used the programming on Disney and Nickelodeon will maybe turn those channels off. Reality can only be sanitized for so long before it becomes overprotection, and can be combated by spending quality time with your kids.
Otherwise, and this isn't too much of a stretch given these channels' tendency to fetishize and idealize their stars, these parents might as well be pointing to a picture of Keith Richards and saying, "hey, you can be that someday."
When you read these books, it's easy to form some quick opinions about the band, and the rugged, insane gang leader at its core, Keith Richards. The first opinion is undoubtedly a sense of relief that you were not actually there with the band. The second opinion, which should be far stronger, is that those guys, and Keith Richards especially, were lucky to survive their own fame and success.
I found myself thinking about Keith Richards a lot yesterday, especially as the news about Lindsay Lohan emerged across the various media platforms yesterday. It's weird that there are even parallels to be drawn between Richards (a notoriously drug-and-alcohol addicted guitarist and primary songwriter for the Rolling Stones who, as the stories have it, was prone to nodding off in a heroin haze onstage in the 1970s) and Lohan (who emerged onto Hollywood's radar by starring in a family friendly remake of "The Parent Trap" as a 10 year old), but they're there. The mere fact that Lohan's arrest on Tuesday is her second substance-abuse-related incident in three months, and comes on the heels of her second stint in rehab this calendar year, hint very obviously at somebody overwhelmed by substances and addictions beyond her control.
And so it is, and here we are, drawing these sad parallels.
Sadder still, in my opinion, are the bubbles of naivete that are bursting in the hearts and tween and teen girls and boys across this nation, from coast to coast. I don't blame Keith Richards for this, and I certainly don't blame Lindsay Lohan. Neither was the first actor or musician to dabble in drugs, and neither will be the last.
Honestly? I don't even blame anyone connected to the drug world? Me, I blame the Disney Channel.
In 1997, the Disney Channel underwent a paradigm shift of sorts. It was during this year that the folks at Disney unloaded their first salvo in a war of "family-friendly" programming that was simultaneously aimed at their cross-channel rivals Nickelodeon and at a generation of parents dealing with a world which was, in the words of Bruce Springsteen, "57 channels and nothing on."
In 1997, the Disney Channel unveiled a lineup that they called "Zoog Disney," a block of programming which included shows like "Even Stevens" and "Lizzie McGuire" and were a subtler brand of children's television program than the channel had previously presented to the public - these were shows that aired in prime-time, and focused on a demographic who had outgrown overt kid's programs like "Sesame Street" but were not quite ready for the raunchiness of prime-time network programming. The Nickelodeon network matched this with programming like "The Amanda Show" (featuring Amanda Bynes), "The Nick Cannon Show," and "All That." Both networks provided marketing pushes for major pop acts of that era, which were generally squeaky-clean acts like NSync, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears.
The Disney Channel and Nickelodeon became an empire of culture, one that became validated as its influence spread to the music industry and other television channels. It's hard not to see one of the great late-1990s cultural signifiers, MTV's "Total Request Live With Carson Daly," as anything other than an extension of this culture, as it offered up the same bands and talents as the kid-oriented shows on the aforementioned channels.
However, it was as Disney and Nickelodeon became proprietors of culture instead of programming, that the plot got lost. A major reason that parents found these channels appropriate for viewing was because they presented kid-friendly shows; then, the paradigm shifted, and all of a sudden, they were in the business of presenting kid-friendly kid stars.
The streets of Hollywood are littered with the burnt-out chassis of so many kid stars. Some, like Danny Bonaduce and Leif Garrett, are barely surviving as people. Others, like Macaulay Culkin, are occasionally working in the industry. Few, however, have made the leap from child star to successful adult star - most flame out.
Watching the recent escapades of Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears has been like watching a slow-motion trainwreck - to the point where getting caught with cocaine or behaving bizarrely at a photoshoot don't seem surprising, but inevitable. For those of us who have seen episode after episode of "VH1's Behind The Music" or "The E! True Hollywood Story" these seem like utterly plausible conclusions.
However, there's a true sadness there - for so many, people like Lindsay Lohan were marketed not just as actors and characters, but as role models for living in a heavily sanitized version of a teenaged life. And no matter how much we want someone to be a role model, it's not something that's easily lived up to. At the very least, Lindsay Lohan will never be seen as a positive role model again.
My hope is that the parents out there who have used the programming on Disney and Nickelodeon will maybe turn those channels off. Reality can only be sanitized for so long before it becomes overprotection, and can be combated by spending quality time with your kids.
Otherwise, and this isn't too much of a stretch given these channels' tendency to fetishize and idealize their stars, these parents might as well be pointing to a picture of Keith Richards and saying, "hey, you can be that someday."
Friday, July 20, 2007
"Hairspray" And The "Art" Of The Remake
One of the most abhorrent things about Hollywood, and the show-business machinery whose core lies within the limits of Los Angeles County, is the utter and replete dearth of original ideas which originate from the community of creative people based there.
Admittedly, I’m thinking about the tendency of the movie industry to recycle ideas that have been previously tried and found to be worthy of consumption. Movie studios of all types, from independent to massively corporate, rely heavily on art that has been previously produced and consumed (on some level) and build from there.
This isn’t always a bad thing, necessarily. There have been many stunning film adaptations of books, plays, and other source material; every year, the Academy Awards present an award for the best adapted screenplay – nominations for this honor have included masterworks including “Dr. Strangelove,” “Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” “Apocalypse Now,” “The Shawshank Redemption,” and “Field Of Dreams.” That’s not a bad little DVD collection there.
Where Hollywood tends to get in trouble, however, is when it shifts away from adapting items of previously-created art for films, and gets into the business of remaking films. Point in case: Billy Wilder’s wonderfully romantic “Sabrina,” a mid-1950s gem of a film which starred the lovely Audrey Hepburn in the title role alongside the fantastic Humphrey Bogart and William Holden. Phenomenal movie; pick it up from your local library or video store if you get the chance. However, do not mistake it for the 1995 remake, which starred Harrison Ford and the beautiful (but by no means Hepburn-esque) Julia Ormond and was an utter, deserved flop.
The annals of Hollywood history are littered with flops like this; some, like the aforementioned “Sabrina” fiasco, are underwhelming from the get-go. Others, like “Psycho,” which was remade by Gus Van Sant in 1998, have higher aspirations (and therefore are subject to higher expectations from the audience). Van Sant, in remaking the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock, decided to remake the film on a shot for shot basis. He got the job done, and technically speaking, that was an amazing feat. However, it was underwhelming because, ultimately, the original “Psycho” thrived on the shock of what was occurring onscreen, while the remake took for granted that the audience had seen the original, which muted the overall impact of the film, and all but ensured that it would die a terrible death on impact.
There are scores upon scores of unnecessary remakes that litter multiplexes on what seems like a weekly basis. Cedric the Entertainer in a remake of “The Honeymooners?” Someone thought that would be good. Billy Baldwin as Barney Rubble in “The Flinstones: Viva Rock Vegas?” That got a green light from an executive as well.
Today is June 20th, and a movie is coming out today that signifies a new low in the remake trend. That movie is “Hairspray,” and, like last winter’s “The Producers,” it follows a curious path to the silver screen: original movie becomes Broadway revue, which then becomes a movie itself.
The purpose of the second movie, I would assume, is to satisfy the desires of the unwashed masses of the lumpenproletariat, who hope to find in the film some semblance of the Broadway extravaganza that they either couldn’t secure tickets for (but wanted to see) or that they spent good money on (and got to see the understudies). In the case of “The Producers,” I understood that. The combination of Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane was a true phenomena when that hit the Great White Way years ago; why wouldn’t you want to capture that on film somehow?
Where the film remake of “The Producers” went wrong, and where it seems like “Hairspray” is bound to go terribly, terribly astray, was in the other casting. Rather than use the actors who made supporting parts in the stage adaptation memorable, the film relied on “name” stars like Uma Thurman and Will Ferrell to carry these parts. Bound by the large number of interpretations of the part that had already been committed to the public’s memory, from Broadway cast to touring company to original film, Ferrell and Thurman failed – possibly because their parts were essentially third-generation copies of the original roles, weighed down with the schticks that were added on from interpretation to interpretation. And then, as such, the film remake failed as well.
“Hairspray” looks like it will suffer from a similar fate. While John Waters’s original film is nowhere near iconic, it served to create vivid comic characters. These characters carried over nicely to musical theater; however, it will take incredibly gifted actors to succeed in these roles in the movie remake because they will need to create their own characters. Unfortunately, the casting department for the movie instead delivered actors like Queen Latifah (who, despite having garnered an Academy Award nomination in her brief acting career, seems to mistake mugging and smug line delivery for comic performance) and John Travolta (who relies so heavily on his persona for movie roles that the majority of his promotion for “Hairspray” consists of statements like “you won’t believe that it’s me). Perhaps I’m biased (I would not mind it one bit if either actor retired from moviemaking today), but the movie looks like a tremendous trainwreck, propelled by “aren’t we clever, aren’t we retro” stylings that do not seem to offer one iota of originality to a viewing public who will (sigh) probably make it the number one movie in America this weekend.
Needless to say, I will not be in line to see “Hairspray.”
Admittedly, I’m thinking about the tendency of the movie industry to recycle ideas that have been previously tried and found to be worthy of consumption. Movie studios of all types, from independent to massively corporate, rely heavily on art that has been previously produced and consumed (on some level) and build from there.
This isn’t always a bad thing, necessarily. There have been many stunning film adaptations of books, plays, and other source material; every year, the Academy Awards present an award for the best adapted screenplay – nominations for this honor have included masterworks including “Dr. Strangelove,” “Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” “Apocalypse Now,” “The Shawshank Redemption,” and “Field Of Dreams.” That’s not a bad little DVD collection there.
Where Hollywood tends to get in trouble, however, is when it shifts away from adapting items of previously-created art for films, and gets into the business of remaking films. Point in case: Billy Wilder’s wonderfully romantic “Sabrina,” a mid-1950s gem of a film which starred the lovely Audrey Hepburn in the title role alongside the fantastic Humphrey Bogart and William Holden. Phenomenal movie; pick it up from your local library or video store if you get the chance. However, do not mistake it for the 1995 remake, which starred Harrison Ford and the beautiful (but by no means Hepburn-esque) Julia Ormond and was an utter, deserved flop.
The annals of Hollywood history are littered with flops like this; some, like the aforementioned “Sabrina” fiasco, are underwhelming from the get-go. Others, like “Psycho,” which was remade by Gus Van Sant in 1998, have higher aspirations (and therefore are subject to higher expectations from the audience). Van Sant, in remaking the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock, decided to remake the film on a shot for shot basis. He got the job done, and technically speaking, that was an amazing feat. However, it was underwhelming because, ultimately, the original “Psycho” thrived on the shock of what was occurring onscreen, while the remake took for granted that the audience had seen the original, which muted the overall impact of the film, and all but ensured that it would die a terrible death on impact.
There are scores upon scores of unnecessary remakes that litter multiplexes on what seems like a weekly basis. Cedric the Entertainer in a remake of “The Honeymooners?” Someone thought that would be good. Billy Baldwin as Barney Rubble in “The Flinstones: Viva Rock Vegas?” That got a green light from an executive as well.
Today is June 20th, and a movie is coming out today that signifies a new low in the remake trend. That movie is “Hairspray,” and, like last winter’s “The Producers,” it follows a curious path to the silver screen: original movie becomes Broadway revue, which then becomes a movie itself.
The purpose of the second movie, I would assume, is to satisfy the desires of the unwashed masses of the lumpenproletariat, who hope to find in the film some semblance of the Broadway extravaganza that they either couldn’t secure tickets for (but wanted to see) or that they spent good money on (and got to see the understudies). In the case of “The Producers,” I understood that. The combination of Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane was a true phenomena when that hit the Great White Way years ago; why wouldn’t you want to capture that on film somehow?
Where the film remake of “The Producers” went wrong, and where it seems like “Hairspray” is bound to go terribly, terribly astray, was in the other casting. Rather than use the actors who made supporting parts in the stage adaptation memorable, the film relied on “name” stars like Uma Thurman and Will Ferrell to carry these parts. Bound by the large number of interpretations of the part that had already been committed to the public’s memory, from Broadway cast to touring company to original film, Ferrell and Thurman failed – possibly because their parts were essentially third-generation copies of the original roles, weighed down with the schticks that were added on from interpretation to interpretation. And then, as such, the film remake failed as well.
“Hairspray” looks like it will suffer from a similar fate. While John Waters’s original film is nowhere near iconic, it served to create vivid comic characters. These characters carried over nicely to musical theater; however, it will take incredibly gifted actors to succeed in these roles in the movie remake because they will need to create their own characters. Unfortunately, the casting department for the movie instead delivered actors like Queen Latifah (who, despite having garnered an Academy Award nomination in her brief acting career, seems to mistake mugging and smug line delivery for comic performance) and John Travolta (who relies so heavily on his persona for movie roles that the majority of his promotion for “Hairspray” consists of statements like “you won’t believe that it’s me). Perhaps I’m biased (I would not mind it one bit if either actor retired from moviemaking today), but the movie looks like a tremendous trainwreck, propelled by “aren’t we clever, aren’t we retro” stylings that do not seem to offer one iota of originality to a viewing public who will (sigh) probably make it the number one movie in America this weekend.
Needless to say, I will not be in line to see “Hairspray.”
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Relatability and "Knocked Up"
The last two times I went to the movies, I saw the film Knocked Up. Being a huge fan of the work of the director (Judd Apatow, The 40 Year Old Virgin), the male lead (Seth Rogen, also of The 40 Year Old Virgin), and the impeccable Paul Rudd (Clueless, Wet Hot American Summer, and Anchorman), I had high expectations for this movie. Without divulging too many of my opinions on the jokes contained in the film, or giving away many of the plotlines, I can say that I enjoyed it.
A friend of mine, however, did not care for it too much. In a critique relayed on a message board that we both frequent, this friend (whose anonymity I will maintain unless I hear otherwise) noted:
"Apatow asks way way too much from us. First, we have to believe that Seth Rogen gets into that club, and then he and Katherine Heigl hook up. Once we get past that, we have to believe that there's no abortion, but since that's all personal and shit, we'll let it slide. But here's the really hard part: we're supposed to like Seth Rogen and root for him and believe he can do this. And here's the thing: he's a total fucktard from the opening credits until about one hundred minutes in. We're supposed to believe that no one at any point tells him, "you're going to have to grow up and get a job now, fool." We're supposed to believe that not even his own father tells him this! So we spend the bulk of the movie watching this overgrown child whine and pout and kick and be completely unlikeable in practically every way, and we're supposed to like him and root for him? Can't do it."
I read this critique about a month after my second viewing of Knocked Up, and I thought about it for awhile - it makes some very valid points, definitely. I immediately realized that I would probably never sit down with this friend and convince him, frame-by-frame, of my point of view on this movie (that it's a very funny movie with a great story).
However, it made me think about why I really enjoyed this movie, and ultimately it boiled down to this: I'm kind of a fucktard, too. That's a harsh realization to have, so let me qualify it: Seth Rogen's character is very flawed, and I can very definitively see shades of his character's flaws in my own personality.
To wit: yeah, I probably wouldn't get in that club either. However, I'd like to think that, if I waited on line long enough, I would. Additionally, would I pull a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Katherine Heigl? Probably not. That being said, there have been a good-solid handful of times where I have hooked up with a girl, and in between kisses, have thought "hey, I'm a little bit out of my league here."
I could go on, I suppose, but it would have the effect of making me simultaneously depressed and wistful about my life. Which I'm not really up for right now. That being said, that leads me to my point: in telling his story in Knocked Up, Apatow does exactly the right thing - he creates a flawed character, but structures the character so that all of the flaws are somehow relatable.
This is not the first time Apatow's turned this trick, either. Look at the aforementioned 40 Year Old Virgin. What made that movie successful? I would argue that he took an odd, somewhat unusual situation - a normal, relatively functional man who happened to be absolutely petrified of sex - and made it relatable.
It's in relatability that movies are made, not in the plausibility of the situation. I think about the character of Toby in the movie American Splendor, as played by Judah Friedlander. In that movie, Toby goes on and on about why Revenge of the Nerds (itself a relatively implausible movie about the human condition, and one which has a major plot point that hinges on a woman's inability to tell the difference between sexual partners due to the impediment of a Darth Vader mask, to boot) is important to him.
Toby drives 260 miles round trip to see this movie, and when questioned about this by Harvey Pekar (as played by Paul Giamatti), he explains why it is important to him:
TOBY: It's a new film called Revenge of the Nerds. It's about a group of nerd college students who are being picked on all the time by the jocks. So they decide to take revenge.
HARVEY: So what you're saying is, you identify with those nerds.
TOBY: Yes. I consider myself a nerd. And this movie has uplifted me. There's this one scene, where a nerd grabs the microphone during a pep rally and announces that he is a nerd and that he is proud of it and stands up for the rights of other nerds.
HARVEY: Right on.
Ultimately, I think that the reason Knocked Up succeeds is that, no matter how implausible the details that Judd Apatow present to the audience, they're never too too far from reality that they never become unrelatable. When it boils down, Seth Rogen's character may not have a tremendous grasp on the reality of his situation, and he might be a schlub, and he might be unworthy of the beauty who winds up in his arms. This is true. But I think we're all there, on some level, at some time. And we watch the movie, and it uplifts us because we see the glimmers of ourselves (the truth in the comedy, if you would).
Right on.
A friend of mine, however, did not care for it too much. In a critique relayed on a message board that we both frequent, this friend (whose anonymity I will maintain unless I hear otherwise) noted:
"Apatow asks way way too much from us. First, we have to believe that Seth Rogen gets into that club, and then he and Katherine Heigl hook up. Once we get past that, we have to believe that there's no abortion, but since that's all personal and shit, we'll let it slide. But here's the really hard part: we're supposed to like Seth Rogen and root for him and believe he can do this. And here's the thing: he's a total fucktard from the opening credits until about one hundred minutes in. We're supposed to believe that no one at any point tells him, "you're going to have to grow up and get a job now, fool." We're supposed to believe that not even his own father tells him this! So we spend the bulk of the movie watching this overgrown child whine and pout and kick and be completely unlikeable in practically every way, and we're supposed to like him and root for him? Can't do it."
I read this critique about a month after my second viewing of Knocked Up, and I thought about it for awhile - it makes some very valid points, definitely. I immediately realized that I would probably never sit down with this friend and convince him, frame-by-frame, of my point of view on this movie (that it's a very funny movie with a great story).
However, it made me think about why I really enjoyed this movie, and ultimately it boiled down to this: I'm kind of a fucktard, too. That's a harsh realization to have, so let me qualify it: Seth Rogen's character is very flawed, and I can very definitively see shades of his character's flaws in my own personality.
To wit: yeah, I probably wouldn't get in that club either. However, I'd like to think that, if I waited on line long enough, I would. Additionally, would I pull a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Katherine Heigl? Probably not. That being said, there have been a good-solid handful of times where I have hooked up with a girl, and in between kisses, have thought "hey, I'm a little bit out of my league here."
I could go on, I suppose, but it would have the effect of making me simultaneously depressed and wistful about my life. Which I'm not really up for right now. That being said, that leads me to my point: in telling his story in Knocked Up, Apatow does exactly the right thing - he creates a flawed character, but structures the character so that all of the flaws are somehow relatable.
This is not the first time Apatow's turned this trick, either. Look at the aforementioned 40 Year Old Virgin. What made that movie successful? I would argue that he took an odd, somewhat unusual situation - a normal, relatively functional man who happened to be absolutely petrified of sex - and made it relatable.
It's in relatability that movies are made, not in the plausibility of the situation. I think about the character of Toby in the movie American Splendor, as played by Judah Friedlander. In that movie, Toby goes on and on about why Revenge of the Nerds (itself a relatively implausible movie about the human condition, and one which has a major plot point that hinges on a woman's inability to tell the difference between sexual partners due to the impediment of a Darth Vader mask, to boot) is important to him.
Toby drives 260 miles round trip to see this movie, and when questioned about this by Harvey Pekar (as played by Paul Giamatti), he explains why it is important to him:
TOBY: It's a new film called Revenge of the Nerds. It's about a group of nerd college students who are being picked on all the time by the jocks. So they decide to take revenge.
HARVEY: So what you're saying is, you identify with those nerds.
TOBY: Yes. I consider myself a nerd. And this movie has uplifted me. There's this one scene, where a nerd grabs the microphone during a pep rally and announces that he is a nerd and that he is proud of it and stands up for the rights of other nerds.
HARVEY: Right on.
Ultimately, I think that the reason Knocked Up succeeds is that, no matter how implausible the details that Judd Apatow present to the audience, they're never too too far from reality that they never become unrelatable. When it boils down, Seth Rogen's character may not have a tremendous grasp on the reality of his situation, and he might be a schlub, and he might be unworthy of the beauty who winds up in his arms. This is true. But I think we're all there, on some level, at some time. And we watch the movie, and it uplifts us because we see the glimmers of ourselves (the truth in the comedy, if you would).
Right on.
Welcome to Boom Thwack Boom
Right now, as I’m writing this, I have no honest understanding of what this site will become. My hope is that this will evolve into a site where I (and perhaps, later on, others – I’m not ruling anything out right now) talk about things like sports, culture, politics, and other pertinent topics.
Actually, I’m not really sure what I’m going to talk about. I’m going to let time dictate it, as it will. I find that the things that fascinate and confuse me in this world change on a day to day basis. This will be, I hope, a way for me to intellectualize and explore that world, hopefully in a readable and not-at-all-confusing manner.
I can’t make any promises, but I’m hoping [fingers crossed] that whatever I do decide to talk about on this site, I won’t half-ass. Like Steve Martin once sang in a “Saturday Night Live” sketch, “I’m not gonna phone it in tonight, not gonna go through the motions tonight.” That said, I’m not just talking about tonight. I’m talking about what will be [looks at calendar] at least two solid days of effort, easily.
So, enjoy. Hopefully, I’ll give you reasons to.
Actually, I’m not really sure what I’m going to talk about. I’m going to let time dictate it, as it will. I find that the things that fascinate and confuse me in this world change on a day to day basis. This will be, I hope, a way for me to intellectualize and explore that world, hopefully in a readable and not-at-all-confusing manner.
I can’t make any promises, but I’m hoping [fingers crossed] that whatever I do decide to talk about on this site, I won’t half-ass. Like Steve Martin once sang in a “Saturday Night Live” sketch, “I’m not gonna phone it in tonight, not gonna go through the motions tonight.” That said, I’m not just talking about tonight. I’m talking about what will be [looks at calendar] at least two solid days of effort, easily.
So, enjoy. Hopefully, I’ll give you reasons to.
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